Taming Kane Claiming Mia Read online

CHAPTER TWO

  Mia’s cell phone rang as she merged into traffic on Coventry. Tinley’s number appeared on the screen. Taking a cleansing breath, Mia answered the call through the Bluetooth connected in her car. “Good Morning Tinley, how are y—”

  “Question,” Tinley seethed interrupting her.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you remember what today is?”

  “Of course I do,” Mia answered in a sing-song voice she knew would irritate Tinley.

  “Obviously you must be suffering from amnesia because you are not in my office.”

  Taking a deep breath Mia said, “Let’s just say something told me that you would be in the mood for a delicious latte. Being the nice individual that I am, I thought hey why not bring you—”

  “Your babbling is starting to give me a headache. How far away are you?”

  “I will be at the office in about twenty minutes.”

  “Mia, I’m going to offer you a word of advice, if you plan on making a serious career in this industry. You need to learn how to manage your time more efficiently.”

  As Mia attempted a rebuttal, Tinley hung up.

  Mia laughed. “You know what? I am so not going to dignify her ignorance with an answer.” Mia gritted her teeth long enough to gather her bearings. Seconds later she pulled into a space. “I will have the last laugh, and I will not stoop to Tinley’s level.” Mia exhaled and flicked her bone-straight auburn hair with honey blonde highlights over her shoulder.

  When are you going to stop being so naïve and move forward with a real career? Mia could hear her mother’s words berating her. Mia winced. Her mother’s words were brutal and as they floated through her mind she tried not to allow them to occupy too much space in her mind. Her mother Marcia was principal of Shaker Heights High School and frowned upon Mia’s profession. Marcia was disappointed that her daughters did not follow in her and her superintendent husband’s educational footsteps. Marcia believed writing and entrepreneurship was a risk and waste of time and would not give her girls the financial stability they both needed to survive in the real world. Marcia and Thomas earned their undergraduate degrees from The Ohio State University and received their Masters and PhD’s through Case Western Reserve University. Marcia was disappointed when she learned that Mia had chosen Ohio University’s Scripps School of Journalism program and Marlo had chosen to attend Xavier University in Cincinatti and majored in Business Marketing.

  Mia felt guilty. How could she not? Her mother dreamed of her following her footsteps, but her heart just wasn’t in it. Writing was her first love. She tried explaining her feelings, but Marcia turned a deaf ear implying writing was just a temporary phase.

  “A temporary phase that has been with me for twenty-nine years,” Mia said to the emptiness of her car.

  What Marcia seemed to forget was that her mother, Barbara, was a journalist. Mia reminisced to when she was eleven-years-old. Her mother was teaching eighth grade at the time and thought Mia would use the teaching supplies she brought home to make up mock lesson plans and flash cards. Frustration hit Marcia when she discovered Mia used the notebooks to write short stories instead.

  Mia shook her head. She willed the memories and the pained expression of her mother’s face away. She knew her mother meant well and just wanted the best for her, but what her mother didn’t realize was that writing was what was best for her.

  You just have to do what’s best for Mia and not what Mom wants you to do. Marlo’s words swirled through her mind.

  “Marlo is right. I have to do what’s best for me, now,” Mia said. She had to make moves now, and the only way for her to advance in her writing career was if she took some sort of initiative. If she didn’t, then who would on her behalf? She had come to the conclusion that Lauren was threatened. Mia was always writing circles around her and coming up with innovative topics for columns, columns most of which Lauren wrote badly. No. Sometimes an individual did not have to have formal writing training to make it in the writing world, but Lauren lacked creativity, ability, and the natural talent displayed by writers.

  Lauren Hayes is a talentless wannabe writer. It was true. She rarely had ideas during their team brainstorming meetings, but she was sure to jump on the bandwagon or pass someone’s ideas off as her own. Lauren’s grammatical errors were also an issue. Tinley’s red ink was always evident on anything Lauren dared to write. Mia jumped at the tinkling sound alerting her of a new text message. Retrieving her iPhone from the confines of her Coach bag, Mia read her best friend December Reynold’s text.

  I am in hell, where are you chica rica?

  Mia laughed. No doubt. She could only imagine what was happening at the meeting. Mia shot her bestie a quick text, her fingertips lightly grazing the sensitive touch screen.

  I would’ve been on time but my friend Lauren sent me on a dummy mission for Tinley…will share the deets shortly…

  December replied, OMG that little minion midget! I cannot believe her! Witch! All that’s missing is the pointy hat and broom!

  Mia cracked up. December was a comedian and always knew how to make her feel better. Mia met December, CHIC’s head graphic arts designer, three years ago when she started. December had been there a year before Mia arrived, and the moment they met the ladies were inseparable. Mia had served as December’s maid of honor two years ago and was godmother to her thirteen-month-old baby boy, Tristan.

  You are a nut. See you in a minute, Mia texted and shook her head. December was just too much.

  Hurry, the meeting hasn’t officially started but I can tell Tinley is on the warpath, and I don’t want her taking her aggression out on you.

  “Oh no. I cannot allow that to happen,” Mia said as she hurriedly slid her phone into her purse. Gathering her belongings, she positioned the purse across her chest and smoothed her hands down her dress. As she eased out of the car, Mia cautiously cradled the cup carrier containing their lattes. Securing the carrier on the hood of her car, she bumped the door closed with her ample hip and hit the power locks. Mouth watering, Mia could no longer deny herself of her guilty pleasure. Smiling, she wrapped her hands around the sturdy cup, tilted her head back and savored the flavorful goodness of vanilla and whipped cream. Just as the sexy coffee danced across her palate, a frown formed on Mia’s face when she observed the gray thunderclouds decorating the sky. “I know it better not r—” Before she could finish her thought, sheets of icy cold rain pelted her.

  “Seriously!” Mia shrieked.

  Unleashing her cup, she shielded herself as best she could with her purse, and scurried toward the aesthetically pleasing Signature Square building forgetting Tinley’s drink as well. Her stilettos clicked noisily as she attempted to dodge the puddles taking refuge against the asphalt. All Mia could think about was the three hours she had spent straightening her naturally curly hair as it began reverting back to its super curly state.

  Mia gnawed her bottom lip to keep from swearing. She was drenched and could feel the cold droplets of water dripping from her ringlets sliding down the arc of her back and to her backside. Mia did a little dance. The awkward sway of her body did little to remove the lace thong panties from the confines of her shapely derriere. Mia’s little dance move only moved the provocative lacy butt floss deeper into her crack. Her eyes began twitching crazily. “Ugh.” She raised a hand to her stinging eyes in an attempt to get the running mascara out of them. “Waterproof my behind.” She grimaced at her unkempt reflection in the sliding glass doors. Water splotches clung to the material hugging her curves. Dark circles began to congregate beneath her almond shaped eyes. This day could not get any worse, could it?

  “Trust me, from where I am standing, you have no reason to frown.” A sultry male voice emerged seemingly out of nowhere intermingling with her errant thoughts.

  Hey now. The tiny hairs on the back of Mia’s neck tingled. She paused, shivering slightly. His voice was titillating. Smooth and strong as it glided through the air, into her ear canals
implanting itself in her mind, body, and soul. A delicious tremor infiltrated her body. Goose bumps prickled her arms. She shifted her weight from one Mary Jane to the other as her nipples pulsated, stiffening against the soggy material of her padded strapless bra.

  Stop tripping chick.

  Mia desperately wanted to beat her body up for responding so freely to this man’s dreamy bedroom voice, but first things first. She needed to handle the man. Clearly, he had no idea whom he was talking too. She clenched the straps of her purse. She twirled on a stiletto so she could get a better look at him. His intimidating reflection in the sliding glass door was too blurry. “Excuse me?”

  He shrugged a strong pair of running back looking shoulders. “I’m just saying, it takes fewer muscles to smile than it does to frown, and a stunning woman like yourself should have no reason to frown.”

  Mia noticed the smile taunting his full, soft, inviting lips. Thick kissable lips she couldn’t help but wonder how they would feel trailing kisses along the nape of her neck, her breasts and maybe even between her…

  Wait. Oh. No. He. Didn’t.

  The lines in her forehead deepened, his words finally resonating with her. She folded her arms beneath her breasts adding to the lift of her strapless padded bra. She was already pissed and here this creep was adding fuel to the fire. Why should she be smiling? She had just been sent on a dummy mission, she was wet, her hair, make-up, and dress no longer cute, and to add icing to the cake–being hit on by a stranger, a striking stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.

  Who is this guy? Who does he think he’s fooling with his tired come on? Does he expect me to fall for it? Come on! Mia tilted her chin further, her eyes flitting over the Candid Casanova. A tiny gasp escaped through her pouty lips accompanied by a quick flutter in her chest when her eyes collided with the most piercing pair of smoldering greenish blue eyes she had ever seen.

  Oh my. Mia opened her mouth. She was ready to give Casanova a tongue lashing for his pitiful attempt at flirting, but she couldn’t speak due to the lump sitting there. The lump? She realized it was her heart playing a game of patty cake inside her rib cage. Sheesh, get a grip chick.

  She glanced. No. She. Openly. Ogled. The delectably delicious hunk of man meat positioned a few feet away from her was hot. He stood about six feet three inches tall was sensuously cut with a muscular physique. Broad shoulders and from what Mia could see in his expensive, classic gray cut suit, crisp white shirt and striped tie, wide chest. Her eyes could not seem to get enough of the sculpted specimen. His blonde hair was cut low reminiscent of Paul Walker’s in Takers – showing off a ruggedly handsome face. Faint traces of a five o’clock shadow aligned his prominent jaw. Bronzed skin. Suckable salmon pink lips that were taunting her to “come and get a taste.”

  No doubt about it, the man was yummilicious and had this hip swag about him that she was undoubtedly digging. The lighting in the lobby brought out the reddish hue of his skin. Mia shifted her weight from her left foot to her right as she fought back the urge to run up to him and suckle his kissable lips that she could have sworn were taunting her to “ come get a taste.”

  “Really?” Mia snorted annoyed by how insufferably smug he appeared.

  Confusion draped his handsome face. “Excuse me?”

  “Come on.” She tapped a stiletto against the shiny linoleum. “How tired was that line? Please do not tell me women actually fall for that?”

  Casanova paused. His eyes flitting up and down her body. He tossed his head back and cracked up. His laugh was full of vibrato and gusto.

  Mia inhaled sharply and placed a hand to her chest. Ooh no he does not have a dimple. A winsome sigh escaped past her lips before she could stop it. The adorably deep dimple dented his right cheek. Mia had a serious thing for dimples, but now was neither the time nor place to go there. “What’s so funny?” She snapped.

  “You think that I was feeding you some sort of line. Explain this to me. Why is it a man gets his head bitten off for just trying to make general conversation?”

  She planted a hand on her ample hip. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she smirked sarcasm dripping from her lips, “But you call this pathetic attempt trying to make general conversation?” Mia watched intently as Casanova’s greenish blue eyes danced playfully and he shrugged.

  “Well, I must have done something right because I got your attention didn’t I?” he said and his lusty lips curled into a roguish smile sending shock waves through her body.

  Her eyes reconnected with that dimple. Damn, it was driving her crazy. Hmmm, she thought, Touche. How could she dispute that? He was right. His smart aleck remark did snag her attention, but she would never willingly own up to it.

  “Look Casanova,” she expelled and exaggerated sigh, “Your game may work on the ditzy air heads you’re used to conversing with—”

  “Whoa. Casanova?” He thrusted his hands in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels. “I’ve been called many things, but Casanova is definitely a first.”

  “How about arrogant ass?” She mimicked through wide eyes.

  “Ah,” Casanova nodded. “Now there is a name I can relate too.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Hey love—”

  “Love?” Mia fumed. “Oh no,” she shook her head adamantly, “You cannot call me that.” Although she had a small attitude with him, it did not stop the jolt of warm fuzzies tickling her core when Casanova used the term of endearment.

  “My apologizes.” He surrendered as he lifted his hands. “It’s just a word I use.”

  “I can see that,” Mia flashed him the once over, “But trust me I am not the one to use it on.” She could not help it, but her eyes instantaneously scanned his ring finger. It was bare. No hints of a tan line indicating he was unavailable. Her stomach turned somersaults in relief. Wait! Hold on! I do not care about his situation. She overlooked the other thoughts that begged to differ with her and straightened her posture.

  “I was not trying to flirt if that’s what you are thinking.”

  “Then what do you call it?”

  “I call it making small talk, being polite.” His nonchalance aggravated her.

  “Typical.” She scoffed.

  “What’s typical?” Now it was Casanova’s turn to fold his arms across his chest while his eyes roamed her body.

  Mia chewed her bottom lip as the heat of his stare liquefied her insides. His voyeuristic gaze sent a delicious tingle through her body. Men often stared at her a lot, but this time felt different. If you do not get your life! Mia thought and quickly straightened her posture. She narrowed her eyes at him while attempting to shield herself with her portfolio. Casanova was probably trying to picture her naked. Mia gritted her teeth trying to regain her ground. “Men.” She ridiculed and continued, “You all kill me. You’re always so quick to become defensive when a woman clearly is not interested.”

  “If you’re not interested, then why are you still standing here talking to me?”

  That did it. The vein in her neck twitched. “Exactly.” She strutted in the direct of the elevator bank deciding that he was not worth her time or energy, no matter how delicious he was.

  “I see, when Miss Congeniality does not get her way, she pouts and runs away,” he called after her playfully.

  Mia bristled as she jammed her index finger into the elevator button. Scowling, she whipped her head over her shoulder. What was she supposed to counter with? She was all out of witty repartee as her eyes traveled over his strong shoulders enjoying how the suit melded against his body as if it were tailored specifically to his wondrous physique. Mia was a sucker for a well-polished looking man in a business suit, and baby there was something about the way this man was holding his own that made her do a double take. He looked as if he should be modeling for GQ with is chiseled features instead of sharing space with her in the lobby. By the looks of him, she knew that he wasn’t a traditional “suit guy” and figured he probably was not afraid to get down
and dirty if he had to. Ooh, and when was the last time you allowed yourself to get down and dirty?

  Mia’s mind drifted to a naughty place. Him. Her. Alone. Her long lithe legs wrapped ever so tightly around his brawny waist. She felt a swift pulse between her legs and without realizing it began doing Kegel exercises. Stop it!

  His lips curled into a grin and that did it! Mia marched over to Casanova, her legs wobbly as rubber bands, but she did not care. She was about to give him a piece of her mind. She inhaled a sharp breath and paused. His cologne, a masculine mixture of citrus, patchouli and oak moss clouded her judgment. That was it right? Why else would she devote so much vigor to this man? Mia raised a hand and placed it on her stomach. She sucked her bottom lip to quell the sudden barrage of butterflies taking refuge there. It was wild, but the closer she got to him the more her breath snagged in her chest. Inhaling, she counted down from ten, a trick Marlo showed her to calm her nerves, but the trick meant nothing now. The more she inhaled, the faster her heart raced.

  This game has to stop now.

  “I see someone has jokes,” Mia snipped. Motioning her hands between them, she continued, “I can’t.” She shook her head. “The silly banter combined with your lame tines. My day has already started off poorly and now I am very late to a meeting, thanks to you.”

  “Wait. Now you’re blaming me?” He chuckled not seeming to care one bit that their conversation was keeping her from her meeting.

  “Who else do you suggest I blame?” Mia’s eyes roamed the nearly empty lobby. “Bob?” They peered over at the seventy-something security guard slouched over in a folding chair snoring loudly.

  “You are just as much a part of this conversation as I am.”

  “This is too much.” She seethed. She was ready to tell Casanova about himself. She needed to be on her way, but her feet would not allow her to move. Something was drawing her to him. Must have been the fact that she had not had any type of one-on-one male contact in a while. That’s what it is! Now since that itch had been scratched, what she needed to do was leave this dude where she found him, by himself, but deep inside she was enjoying their little tit for tat game.

  Casanova leaned against the beige wall sizing her up. “Sweetheart, I am not the one claiming to be late for a meeting, but not leaving. You got caught in the rain. You were pissed. All I am saying is that you’re beautiful soaking wet or not, although I have to admit the way the water has the material clinging to your body makes you look even sexier.”

  His honesty caused the blood to rise in her cheeks. Shielding herself so he could not see her blush, Mia stepped away as his eyes continued ravaging her body. “N-no one told you to say anything to me, you know.”

  Oh what a great way to tell him off chick!

  He pushed off the wall and ventured into her space. Leaning his body into to hers, his enticing lips just mere inches from her. He came back with, “You did not have to respond.”

  Mia tried to step back, but he surprised her by planting his strong hands on her shoulders and lightly pinning her against the wall. “Let me let you in on a little secret.” He drew her closer, his eyes darkening.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” She gasped her voice barely above a whisper. The warmth of his touch flowed into her body. Why on earth did his hands on her skin have to feel so right? A warm pool of moisture trickled past her slick wet folds and seeped into her panties. The way her breasts heaved up and down in anticipation gave him indication that she was turned on by the closeness of their bodies. “I didn’t ask you to come for me.”

  “Trust me.” He inched his body closer to hers so that she could feel his warm breath tickle the base of her neck. “If and when I decide to cum for you, you will know it.” His voice possessed a gruff masculinity that made her knees weak.

  Pushing past the quaking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Mia decided she felt froggy, so she jumped. Glancing up at Casanova through lowered lids, she gently wrapped his tie around her left hand and drew him even closer. Running her tongue across her bottom lip she saucily whispered, “Too bad you suck at flirting. If your skills were on point like you believe they are, you would probably already know my name and maybe even have my number.”

  Before he could respond, Mia gently pushed past him, her hips swaying hypnotically as she sauntered over to the elevator. Pressing the button, she felt his eyes scorching her backside. Seconds later, the doors softly dinged open and she sashayed inside. A grin tickled her lips as she slid inside. Twirling on a heel, she faced him and noticed his mouth gaping open.

  “Hey love, you may want to close your mouth before you draw flies.” Mia wiggled her fingers at him and blew him a kiss as the doors closed. As the elevator shifted upward, she shuddered backing against the slick silver walls.

  Today would just have to be the day I have a run in with a gorgeous guy wouldn’t it? She glimpsed down at her attire and shook her head. Running a manicured hand over her massive curly afro, she recoiled with embarrassment. “I would have to look like a hot mess wouldn’t I? She groaned wondering what it all meant. Would they ever see each other again? Or was this just a one-time coincidence? Whatever it was, Mia speedily told herself to get over it. She was on a mission to jumpstart her career, not focus on distractions like Casanova or any man for that matter. On the flip side though, she had to give him credit. Her day from hell was undeniably starting to look up thanks the unexpected interruption.

  Mia slipped off the elevator and with quick strides, headed in the direction of Tinley’s office mentally preparing herself for what was to come. Tinley loved using her intimidation tactics where she liked to put writers on the spot for being late. Sometimes she would allow them to join the meeting, then sometimes depending on how late they were, she would send them back to their cubicles, and they would end up working on poll patrol for the upcoming issue. Mia had never experienced Tinley’s wrath in this capacity and decided that whatever her fate was, it wasn’t going to stop her from discussing her future at CHIC. Mia squared her shoulders and expelled all the nervous energy from her body. With a confident stride she promenaded towards Tinley’s office, confident and ready for anything Tinley Malone would throw her way.