reached for the ringing phone while waving Richard away.
“Billings and Tate…”
“Hey, baby.”
Savannah’s insides did a slow sensuous dance. Her eyes darkened and a warm smile moved languidly across her mouth.
“Hey, baby, yourself.” She cuddled the phone close to her. “How’s everything?”
“Busy as usual,” Blake said with a light chuckle.
Savannah and Blake had been married for six years. Most people thought they were still newlyweds. Savannah adored her husband. He was the man she’d dreamed about since she was a little girl and when they met at an out of the way lounge in the West Village she knew that dreams did come true.
The attraction between them from the very first night was comparable to what authors who write romance novels call “hot and instantaneous.” Blake wasn’t just good-looking—Blake Fields was f-i-n-e, with a capital F. It always amazed her that she was the one who landed him. She knew she was no showstopper. Actually she was quite ordinary looking and had to watch her weight with the diligence of a priest trying to save souls—it was an unending job. But she cleaned up well, as she would tell herself when she looked in the mirror. She knew all the makeup tricks and what clothes complemented her solid frame. More often than not, many people mistook her for Nia Long. Not to mention that Savannah could make Blake Fields see heaven when they made love.
“Busy is good,” she said in response to his statement.
“I think I’m going to have some exciting news to share but I don’t want to be premature.”
Savannah grew jumpy with excitement. “You know I hate secrets,” she pleaded, although she kept plenty herself. “Can’t you at least give me a hint?”
“Okay, you beat it out of me.” He cleared his throat. “Remember I told you about the housing-complex deal that was on the table?”
“Yes.” Her pulse kicked up a notch and she held her breath. The housing complex would revitalize downtown Brooklyn and was touted to be the biggest single development in decades in the area.
“W-ell…” He drew out the word.
“Come on Blake,” Savannah begged.
“We won the bid and they love my design.”
“Blake!” she squealed, and jumped up from her seat. “Oh, my goodness, that’s incredible. I knew you could do it, baby.”
Blake laughed deep in his throat. “I am sailing! This is major. This project is so high profile. I’m going to be on the map for good.”
“I’m so proud of you,” she said, breaking down each word.
“This calls for a celebration. I thought we could go out tonight.”
The wheels of elation came to a grinding halt.
“Tonight?” she croaked.
“Yeah.” He paused. “Oh, you have that thing tonight.”
She heard the disappointment in his voice. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think. There was no getting around missing the meeting at TLC, not to mention the extra time she would have to spend at work.
“Look, I’ll be finished by nine, nine-thirty. It’s Friday. Let’s go for a late dinner and spend the day in bed tomorrow.”
“Hmm, I like the sound of that already,” he said, perking right up. “I’ll make reservations at The Cabaret and I’ll leave tomorrow in your very capable hands.”
“Perfect,” she purred into the phone. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant no later than ten.”
“Can’t wait. I’ve been aching for you all day,” Blake said, his voice growing thick.
Savannah squirmed in her seat and licked her lips. “I’ll make it worth your while,” she cooed.
“I intend to hold you to that. See you tonight.”
“Love you,” she whispered.
“Love you right back.”
Slowly Savannah hung up the phone. Well, she certainly had her day cut out for her.
Chapter 2
B lake hung up the phone just as his assistant Jasmine poked her head in the partially open door.
“Blake, they’re waiting for you in the conference room.”
“Thanks, J. I’ll be right there.” He took his jacket from the back of his chair and put it on as he walked out. Jasmine handed him a manila folder as he passed her desk.
This meeting would be brief, Blake mused as he continued down the short hallway. Tristan Montgomery said she wanted to confirm some dates. That was something that could have easily been taken care of on the phone, but Ms. Montgomery never missed an opportunity to visit his office under one pretext or another.
“Sorry for the wait,” he said, opening the door and stepping right inside. He shook hands with Tristan and then her latest assistant. As usual Tristan was dressed to exploit all of her attributes. Today it was a burnt orange number that dipped a little too low for nine to five.
“Not a problem,” Tristan said. “Jasmine made us very comfortable.” She let her eyes wander up and down his body.
Blake cleared his throat and smoothed down his tie as he sat. “So what do you need clarified, Ms. Montgomery?”
She pouted. “Please, Blake, we’re in bed together, so to speak. You can at least call me Tristan.” She rocked him with her expensive smile.
Blake sidestepped the comment and straightened his tie again. He opened the folder that Jasmine had given him before glancing up and across the hardwood table. Tristan was staring at him as if he were a rare delicacy that had been set on the table for lunch. He wanted to tug his tie off. It was suddenly cutting off his circulation. Being in the same room with Tristan Montgomery always did that to him.
She was one of the few black elite that was born into money. Her late father, Graham Montgomery built his fortune in the real-estate game. He’d started off by renting apartments for a small agency. Learning everything he could about investment property, he bought his first building at the age of twenty-five. Upon his untimely death at sixty-two, Graham Montgomery was a billionaire with property dotting across the country, from high-rise office buildings to luxury condos and strip malls. Before his death he started to stake a claim on one of the Hawaiian Islands. With his passing, his only child inherited it all.
“Uh, based on the rollout schedule I don’t anticipate any problems,” Blake said, keeping the conversation on track and his eyes on the documents in front of him.
Tristan slowly rose from her seat and rounded the table like a panther on the prowl until she stood slightly behind him. She placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned down to read the notes in front of him. Her left breast brushed his shoulder.
Blake tugged at his tie. “I was pretty sure that Jasmine gave you a copy,” he said, trying to keep his voice light.
“You know how it is with copies…”
He was forced to look up at her. “No, actually I don’t.”
Tristan grinned and eased back. “They’re nothing like the real thing,” she said as she returned to her seat with the folder in her hand. She made show of reviewing the timeline.
“Were there any questions that you had in particular?”
“Actually, yes.” She flipped the folder shut. “With you being so busy with the design and overseeing construction, when will you ever have any free time?”
“Excuse me?” He couldn’t believe that she went there—and in front of someone else.