"I think this is a great idea. Building a club." Malcolm claps as he stands to shake Eric's hand across the table. "I don't know why I never thought of it, honestly."
"Lots of money can be made in nightclubs," Michael chimes in as he and Malcolm shake hands next. "And being a music exec, with a little bit of pull in the game," He chuckles. "will help our start up greatly. Now we need to bring the vision for the building to life, since we already have the land."
"This is going to be great." Malcolm claps again.
"So, Mr. Jackson, you don't mind being partners in a club that will probably rival your own brother's?" Eric asks with a cocked brow.
"No, I don't have a problem with that, Mr. Southern." Michael asserts, sincerely. "My brother has his business ventures, and I have mine. We have the same blood, but we are complete opposites."
"I can tell." Malcolm smiles as he turns to me. "Can I see your notes, bunny?"
"You're bunny, Tamera?" Britta chortles and I arch a brow at her as the room falls silent.
"She is." Malcolm replies calmly through the silence and Britt swallows. "Do you not like my daughter's pet name, Miss Sails?"
Something lights up in Britta's eyes and she smiles at me before looking to my father.
"No, sir, Mr. Stewart," She practically purrs. "my father calls me "dumpling"."
"Why?" Malcolm asks then I tune out the rest of their conversation.
Rolling my eyes, I walk to the end of the table away from them.
"Can we compare notes, Miss Stewart?" Michael asks as he walks up behind me with his own.
"Why?" I scoff, staring at the scribbles on the notepad.
He didn't take any damn notes. He just wanted a reason to come up to me... yet again.
"Do you always have to reply to my questions with that?" He asks, seemingly annoyed.
"Why--" I begin, smirking at the fact that I've annoyed him. "yes I do. Why?"
Michael smiles and mine disappears, because I see it doesn't annoy him. Dammit. "More and more, Tamera. Now, where do you wanna go talk?"
"Who says we're talking?" I scoff, packing my things.
He cocks a cocky brow. "I do."
"And who are you?" I ask, staring into his eyes.
Michael leans close to my face and I gasp quietly as he whispers. "A man who really really wants you."
"Just to fuck." I whisper back.
"Trust me, Tamera, if I only wanted to fuck you, I would have already fucked you." He asserts while licking his lips. My eyes narrow then I push past him. He sighs loudly and curses himself before calling my name. "Tamera."
"Where are you going, Tam?" Eric asks when I reach the door and open it.
"To lunch."
"Well, don't--"
I walk out of the office before he can finish his sentence, but the door doesn't close behind me.
"Where are you going, Tamera?" Michael calls as I walk around my desk to grab my handbag.
"To mind my business." I mumble, digging around for my wallet to make sure it's still there. "Maybe take a cue?"
"I'll take you to lunch." He offers as I walk around my desk toward the elevator.
"I'm good and I'm actually going with Andrew."
"You're not going with Andrew."
"And, why not?" I ask, stopping at the elevator.
"Because he has work to finish. He ordered in, Tamera."
I turn around to face him. "Did you do that on purpose, Mr. Jackson?"
"What?" He smiles, amused.
"Give Andrew work so you could trap me into having lunch with you?"
Michael pauses, for dramatic purposes of course, before answering, "Actually, Miss Stewart, I didn't. He really does have work to finish."
"Yeah, right." I roll my eyes, pressing the button for the elevator. "I so believe what comes from your mouth."
"Look, Tamera," Michael begins, softly, leaning against the wall. "let me take you to lunch."
"Why?"
"There's that lovely question again." He smiles, I roll my eyes, and he goes on. "I want to take you so we can talk and this could be our first date."
I give him a look and scoff. "Who says I want to date you?"
"Who says you don't?" He asks back, giving me the once over.
I open my mouth to speak, but lose my comeback.
Dammit.
Michael smiles at my lack of response. "Tamera, just let me take you out. You know you want me to anyways."
"I don't want to do anything, Michael," I sigh as the elevator dings. "But since it's obvious you will not be leaving me alone, in this century,... let's go."
"Please. Please. Pleaaaase." He smiles that killer panty-dropping smile and I can't help but smile back at him. "Try to control all of that enthusiasm."
"I'll try to contain myself." I dryly reply. "And, please, know that this is not a date, Mr. Jackson. We're having lunch as colleagues, okay?"
"This is a date, Tamera," Michael smiles, shrugging, as the elevator open and we walk inside. "but if that's what you'd like to call it. Call it."
I roll my eyes, suppressing a smile, as the elevator closes.
*
"Where's Tamera?" Malcolm asks Eric, looking around the office.
"She went to lunch." Eric answers without looking up from the papers on his office desk.
"Where's Mr. Jackson?" Britta asks as she walks up next to Malcolm.
"He left too." Eric answers in the same manner.
Then he pauses and slowly looks up from his paperwork.
*
"Have you ever been here?" Michael asks as he pulls out a chair for me to sit at the table.
We arrived at the Italian restaurant Michael chose for us to have lunch at five minutes ago.
Since the staff seems to know him, we were seated in a private area.
"No, I have not," I answer as I sit and he pushes my chair up to the table.
"The food here is magnificent," Michael sighs as he sits across from me. "I'm familiar with the chefs and many members of the staff so they'll make you anything you'd like. Order whatever you'd like."
I place my menu on the table and smile. "Chicken Parm would be nice."
"Well, Chicken Parmesan is what you'll get." Michael smiles brightly as a waiter approaches our table.
He takes our drink orders then walks away.
"Have I told you how very lovely you look today, Tamera?" Michael comments as I stare down at my phone in my lap.
I look up slowly regarding him and his compliment. "No."
"Well, you do. You always look good, Tamera, so--you know."
The waiter returns, placing a basket of warm bread sticks on the table, before leaving just as fast as he'd appeared.
"Aren't you going to reply?" Michael asks, breaking my stare upon my phone again.
"To what?" I question, looking at him again.
"My compliment."
"Oh," I pause as the waiter returns. He places our drinks before us, takes our food orders, then walks away again. "Umm, thank you. You look well yourself."
"Just well?" Michael smiles and I arch a brow.
"Stop digging."
He starts laughing as he grabs a breadstick. "Your attitude is so sexy, Tamera. What am I going to do with you?"
"Leave me alone, perhaps?"
Michael chews his bread as he arches a devious brow.
"Tamera, baby, why would I do that when it's obvious I make your... nature rise?" His sudden sexy tone causes me to squeeze my thighs together. My eyes widen as the sexual tension coils. "Is it rising now?" He asks staring at my neck as he bites his bottom lip. "What I would give to lick your neck, baby, and make you shudder my name."
I visibly shudder before closing my eyes and turning my head to compose myself.
SHIT! What is this man doing to me? Control yourself, Tamera!
"Wh-What do you want to talk to me about?" I ask, still looking away from him and his burning stare.
I can't look at him yet.
Seriously, his stare is so poignant, I'm afraid I might strip down right here and give us both what we want.
Each other.
And that would not be wise.
"Us." Michael speaks and his voice is as soft and sexy as silk. "Before... I know I was an ass--Tamera, look at me." Slowly, I turn my head to look at him again and he smiles. "Are you okay, sweetie?"
"Peachy, pudding pop." I mumble as I grab a breadstick too. The sarcasm has return. I'm composed enough... I think. "Go on. What were you saying?"
"Alright," He takes a sip of his drink then clears his throat. "I was saying I went about everything the wrong way before."
"Ya think?" I mutter and he goes on as if I hadn't spoken.
"I didn't think you could affect me the way you do, and have, Tamera, because no woman ever has."
"What do you mean?" I frown as I tear the bread apart.
"I honestly don't know, but something about you draws me to you, Tamera. You have this scent, this look, it's your lips, your smart mouth--it's you and it entices me." I look up from my plate as he goes on. "Truly, I wasn't trying to hurt you before and I do apologize. I'd just like to start fresh with you. If you'll give me the chance. Tamera, I want you to get to know the real Michael, not the Michael you knew before, because he was not me."
"He was just as annoyingly arrogant and smug as this one." I point at him. "What's so different?"
"The fact that he's not playing games with you anymore." He answers, seriously. "I will always be smug and arrogant. That's just who I am, Tam." I smile at my nickname coming from his mouth. "I could maybe tone it down with you, but you should know I cannot completely turn it off."
I study his movements and the emotions in his eyes.
Oh my damn, he-he's serious.
I shake my head as I go back to staring at my bread.
"I don't want you changing for me, Michael." I mumble.
He tilts his head, curiously. "You don't want me to change, Tamera?"
"No." I answer, looking from my bread to his eyes.
He smiles a little. "What are you saying, Tam?"
"Just what I said, Mike."
"You don't want to change me, but you don't like how I am? I'm not understanding you, Tamera."
"Welcome to the world of wanting a woman like me, Michael." I smirk then his eyes light up. "I'm quite difficult."
"And you want me too." He states, matter-of-factly.
"Is that a question?"
"Nope." He bites his bottom lip. "It's a fact and quite the beautiful statement, babe." I roll my eyes, smiling, and he continues. "You do want me, Tamera. You like the arrogant, smug asshole that I am. And you don't want to change me because you want me to be and stay an arrogant, smug asshole."
"I didn't say all of that." I laugh as the waiter places our hot plates before us. "Thank you. This looks delicious." The waiter nods then walks away. "But I have to admit, your arrogant fuckery does keep me on my toes."
"Could I be the fuck--" He pauses to stare into my eyes. "ery keeping you on your toes and wrapped around my waist?"
I run a finger along the length of my neck, slowly, and Michael's eyes follow it intently.
"Well, since we've talked, cleared the air, and you're hellbent on making me want you---" I pause to catch his eyes. "let's."
"Let's what?"
"Michael, it's obvious we both want to do it, so why don't we?" I smile, staring into his smoldering eyes.
Michael swallows and his Adam's apple bobs as he stares at me rubbing my lips together.
"You want to have sex with me, Tamera?" He asks, and he almost sounds shocked (which makes me feel good).
Obviously, I wasn't such a forgone conclusion if he's seriously questioning this.
"Do you think I do?"
"Are you answering my questions with questions, Tamera?" He smiles.
"Am I?" I smile back and Michael laughs before cutting into a piece of chicken on his plate. "While it's true that I would love to let you fuck me ninety-seven ways 'til Tuesday--" His head pops up and his eyes are wide. "you're gonna have to do a lot of begging and kissing up to make up for the ways you treated me when we initially met."
"I'll forever be on my knees for you, Tamera." He grins, wickedly. "And while I'm down there, do you mind if I lick around a bit?"
"You do have to lick it before you stick it, Mr. Jackson." I smirk and he chokes on his drink. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," He hoarsely replies, patting his chest. "just went down the wrong pipe."
"Oh." I smile to myself as I cut into a piece of chicken on my plate.
"So," He sighs, clearing his throat. "is this a date or a lunch with a colleague?"
"You have more kissing up to do." I smile. "Ask me at the end of whatever this is, okay?"
Michael winks, smiling, before taking another bite of his chicken.