Cocky Playboy Read online

  The sex was good but neither of us recognized it as anything more than a basic need. I’m a busy man with a lot on my plate. Getting emotionally involved with someone is the last thing I need.

  Weston and I were supposed to go over some high-level plans for the merger, but his associate never showed up. I desperately need this union with The Hunter Group to be a success. Maybe, after it’s complete, I could think about meeting someone long-term. I’d have more time. Right now, it’s just not possible.

  I’ve known Weston Hunter since my college days, but that doesn’t mean I can afford to not take this seriously. In my private bathroom, I straighten my tie once more. I want Weston to be on board with everything that needs to happen. I have to make sure my people are taken care of in the long-term as well as the short-term. If we can pull it off, there is a lot of mutual benefit to go around the table.

  I exit the bathroom and make my way through the office while giving everything a once over. Quinn, my assistant, has assured me everything is in place, but I’m not risking it. There’s no room for mistakes. Everything has to be perfect. It’s tough to be taken seriously, given my past. Most people see my name and it conjures up images of what they’ve read in tabloids or seen on gossip sites. None of it has anything to do with what I can do in a courtroom.

  I pass my two younger brothers, the twins, Deacon and Dexter. Dexter has a scar over his left brow from a skateboard accident, and tattoos barely peek out from under his suit. It’s the only way most people can tell them apart. Dexter scared the shit out of the whole family when he crashed on a makeshift ramp in our driveway. There was so much blood I thought he was dead. I just knew Mom was going to kill me because I was supposed to be watching him and he was trying to show off in front of my friends.

  Deacon walks ahead repositioning a few pens, then puts them back where they were. He looks up to verify I’m watching as he grins.

  I silently curse him under my breath. They both love fucking with me, have since we were kids.

  Dexter laughs.

  Deacon glances at me and holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Just making sure they’re perfectly aligned with a proper radius to maximize client reach potential. Can’t have anyone leaning over too far and have their tie land in a cup of coffee.”

  Dexter holds in a laugh and looks like he might piss himself.

  Deacon maintains a perfect deadpan stare and turns to Quinn. “Might want to check the chairs with a tape measure. Make sure they’re all four inches from the edge of the table. Four inches, Quinn. Not five, not three. Four! I saw a few that might be outside a tolerable variance. Don’t forget to wipe them down with sanitizer.”

  Dexter has to turn and stare at the wall to try and compose himself.

  I clench my jaw and do my best to ignore them. They love to talk shit and get me riled up. Any other day I would give in and laugh with them. I can be self-deprecating when I need to be. But today is different. I know they don’t get how important this is to me. They can afford to goof off. They may be partners, but they don’t actively manage the firm, and this deal isn’t riding on their asses. The deal I haven’t told them about yet, because I don’t want to hear their shit. I’ll deal with that later.

  “Quinn, is the coffee fresh?”

  Quinn glares at Deacon, and when I turn around to face her, she schools her features in a hurry. “Yes, Mr. Collins. Everything is ready to go.”

  Deacon grins at her. “Did you check the temperature? Needs to be a sweltering one hundred…”

  I’ve finally had enough and shoot him a glare that says shut the fuck up, now.

  He silences immediately.

  I turn back to Quinn. “You’re sure it’s fresh?”

  I can tell she’s slightly annoyed, given that she pays as much attention to detail as I do, but like a good employee she puts on a smile and reassures me for the thousandth time.

  I turn around to get one last look. Everything really does look great. The long table has a file sitting in front of each chair with our company branding on the front. The coffee, water, croissants, donuts, and juice are neatly on display on a table at the back of the room. Quinn will be on hand to serve everyone and to assist me if I need her.

  Donavan, my third brother, walks into the conference room and stands stiff as a board like a soldier in front of me. “Sorry I’m late, Drill Sergeant!” He hollers the last two words and drags out the syllables like we’re on the set of Full Metal Jacket.

  They all die laughing.

  I lower my voice and try not to grin. “You motherfuckers about finished?” I shoot all three of them a dirty look then straighten Donavan’s tie. I’m not even going to ask why it’s so damn crooked. I already have a good idea what he’s been up to this morning, judging by the lipstick stain on the collar of his shirt. I’d hate to see his dry-cleaning bill with the way he goes through women and suits.

  Deacon walks up, finally serious. “Lighten up, bro. You’re going to stroke out if you don’t keep your blood pressure down.”

  “Needs to stroke something,” says Donavan. “Relieve some pressure.” He waggles his eyebrows at me.

  I grip the Windsor knot on his tie and shove it up toward his neck a little harder than I need to, as if I’m straightening it.

  He starts to choke, and finally it’s me who gets to laugh.

  Children. That’s exactly what they are.

  If I wasn’t afraid of Weston being on his way in right now, I’d throttle all of them. “We’re done joking. They’ll be here soon.” I take a step back and wave a finger in front of all three of their faces. “You assholes fuck up this meeting and you’ll be proofreading trusts in the goddamn…”

  I hear a throat clear and turn to see Quinn is at the doorway. Weston is behind her, and there’s a woman with him, but I can’t see her yet, just a pair of tanned calves and heels. “Mr. Hunter and Ms. Reynolds for you, sir.”

  “Thanks, Quinn.”

  She nods and turns to them.

  I glare at my brothers who scurry like fleas to take their seats. They’re lucky I love them. I’m doing this as much for them as I am for me. I’m not the only one who will benefit, though I’d be lying if I didn’t say some days I dream of what it would’ve been like if I were an only child. A hell of a lot less stressful, that’s for damn sure. I do love them, though. They’re assholes, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

  Weston Hunter, head of The Hunter Group, fills the doorway. He’s a bit of a prick, just like me, and he knows it. It’s probably why we get along so well. I don’t know how Brooke, his wife, puts up with him. He shoots me a smug grin as we shake hands, and Quinn shows him to his seat. As he strolls through the room greeting and shaking hands with my brothers, I look behind him.

  No. Fucking. Way.

  My breath catches in my throat. It’s the damn woman I ran into on the sidewalk yesterday in front of the hotel. The smoking-hot one. If I’m being totally honest, I pictured her while I was banging Jessica for the last time. There was just something about her. She was so damn sassy and defiant—flustered. And now, she’s walking right into my conference room.

  I watch and wait for her to recognize me. It would be highly entertaining if I didn’t have so much at stake with this deal.

  She’s ridiculously sexy. I’ll give her that. Her tan legs are lethal in the form-fitting skirt she’s wearing. Her spiked, pointy-toed heels would feel good digging into my ass. I can picture her legs wrapped around me as I thrust into her.

  What the fuck are you doing? Compose yourself.

  Her dirty-blonde hair is pinned neatly to her head other than the one curl she keeps fidgeting with behind her ear. I want to kiss her there, right in that spot, and watch her blush. Like she did yesterday in the street.

  Those lovely honey-brown eyes meet mine.

  It takes all of a split-second for the recognition to set in. At first, it’s surprise, then she scowls at me like she could tear my head off and shit down my throat.

&nb
sp; Without thinking, I smirk at her and shoot her a wink. Fuck, I hope my brothers didn’t notice or Weston for that matter. I can’t seem to help myself. There’s something about her. Something that gets under my skin in the best and worst ways possible.

  “Decker Collins.” I shoot her my best crowd pleaser smile.

  “Tate Reynolds.” Her words are short and laced with venom.

  My cock twitches at the sound of her voice and scent of her perfume. Cinnamon and vanilla? Smells like a damn cinnamon roll I’d love to sink my teeth into. She looks poised—all business. I bet I could break right through her tough demeanor, though. Grip her by the hair and smack her ass once, and she’d be all mine. Despite my best attempts, my mind races with dirty thoughts of sending everyone out of the damn room and bending her over the table to find out.

  I’d lift her skirt and rip her panties. Bite her neck and pull her hair just to hear her moan. She’d pretend to fight it at first, with her sassy attitude, trying to have the upper hand, but before I was done, she’d be begging for more.

  I look down and realize I’m still shaking her hand as she tries to pull away.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  Tate

  I take my seat feeling those blue eyes I dreamed of last night lighting a fire in my chest. It makes me hate him all over again, that he can have this effect on me. I’m Tate Reynolds. I can hold my own with any man in a suit. I shouldn’t be letting this prick toy with my emotions. I damn sure shouldn’t be attracted to him.

  “Missed you yesterday for drinks, Tate.” The jerk from yesterday stares at me, clearly amused with himself. His lips are curved upward, his eyes meet mine, and I swear the man is laughing on the inside at this cruel twist of fate the universe has played on us. I remember it all too well. How good he smelled. How attractive he was and still is. The man is perfection in the looks and voice department. Too bad the asshole seems to be in charge of things here. The universe is a real dick sometimes.

  “It’s Ms. Reynolds.” Tate is my name but that’s too personal, and this is work.

  Weston leans in as Decker Collins—of course he has a hot name—gets on with his PowerPoint presentation outlining the overview of the merger.

  As my eyes dart around the table, his associates appear confused.

  Weston whisper-growls in my ear, “What the fuck is your problem with Decker?” I know he isn’t pleased with my behavior and he can read body-language like a hawk. Couple that with the way I spoke to Decker and Weston looks like he’d pounce on me if we weren’t in the middle of a meeting.

  The bastard had the nerve to wink at me when no one was paying attention. If he wants my approval, he’s going about it the wrong way. I’m not some little tart he can shoot a flirtatious smile at to get his way. I’m Texas born and bred. I’m as tough if not tougher than any man in this room. I can hold my own.

  I whisper, “He was the guy who stole my cab and made me late.”

  Weston snickers and shakes his head. “Of course he was.” His eyes narrow. “It’s done now. Whatever happened yesterday doesn’t exist. You need to be professional.”

  I feel like a child who’s had her hand smacked for sticking it in the candy drawer in the kitchen. And I’ll be damned if Decker Collins isn’t a piece of candy I’d like to sample. He’s infuriating. He makes a PowerPoint presentation sexy. How is that even possible?

  I try not to sulk in my seat as Weston takes over talking about the merger between our two firms and how they’ll be absorbed into The Hunter Group and the appropriate steps moving forward.

  Decker’s brothers look around the room like they want to jump out the window. Something is off.

  “What is all this?” I think the guy’s name is Donavan, and he’s damn near seething as he stares at Decker. They all look like cardboard cutouts of one another, but Donavan has slightly different features than the others. Deacon and Dexter appear to be identical twins except one of them has a scar over his eye. I have no idea how their mother kept track of all of them with their looks and names. It’s quite a chore.

  “What merger?” says Deacon.

  “You’re selling the firm?” says Dexter.

  I look to Weston during the outburst and interruption, but he’s staring at Decker Collins with a what the fuck expression on his face. He’s not exactly angry, but he isn’t happy. Looks like Decker Collins didn’t tell his brothers about his plans for the firm.

  Decker pushes his chair back, stands up, and puts both his palms on the table, commanding the room as he towers over the rest of us with a look of pure power and dominance. Man can he rock a suit like nobody’s business. I hadn’t realized how tall the smug jerk was until now. With a stern expression on his face, he glares at his brothers and says, “This merger is in the best interest of everyone in this room. A letter of intent has been signed. It’s happening. Get on board.”

  The men continue arguing as though Weston and I aren’t here. I know when to fight my battles and right now isn’t the time. It is kind of shitty that he didn’t discuss it with anyone. He’s the only managing partner, but still. The man is a definite egomaniac.

  Weston remains composed and nods toward the table at the back of the room. That’s my cue to make an escape. I’m here to back up Weston, not assert my opinion on family matters.

  I slip off to the back where Decker’s assistant stands by the table with the food spread. The whole meeting is a disaster, but I can tell Weston isn’t thrown off by the family drama. He looks amused, like this isn’t his first rodeo with the Collins boys. The man is used to family squabbles anyway, so he’ll be able to smooth this over far better than I could. He has a firm with his own brothers, so I guess it’s relatable for him. Things have gotten heated between them in the past as well. Everyone wants to be the leader of the pack. The room is full of alpha males who all think they’re the boss. I feel dizzy with the testosterone cocktail that’s filled the air.

  I accept the assistant’s offer for a cup of coffee and ignore the brooding suits until Weston finally interjects and puts a stop to all the bickering.

  “Listen, Decker. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I trust you’ll get your house in order. I have a flight back to Dallas I can’t miss.” Weston pushes up his sleeve and glances at his watch. I can see annoyance flickering in his eyes. He’s always on a tight schedule trying to balance the business and his family life.

  I have none of that on my plate. My career comes first always. I can’t remember the last time I had a steady boyfriend. Most men are intimidated by me because I can beat them in the courtroom and best them at their own sports.

  “Tate will be staying on a day-to-day basis to transition everything smoothly. She’ll be doing due diligence, checking for conflicts of interest, making introductions to clients. She’s more than capable of handling whatever you need.”

  I nearly spit out my coffee. Did he just say he was leaving me here until the merger is complete? No way. He must be insane. Did he not listen to a thing I told him earlier about his friend? Not to mention, I’m not prepared.

  Decker smirks at me and shoots me another stupid wink. I scowl at him and Weston. What’s Weston thinking? I can’t work side by side with this asshole. I move toward Weston once the meeting is over and the room has cleared. “What did you mean you’re leaving me here to see things through? I can do this from Dallas.”

  “I meant exactly what I said. I need you here. You’ll need to meet with clients and I want you close to this, keeping an eye on shit.”

  “I just… I don’t know if I can work with him.”

  “I thought I told you yesterday didn’t happen.”

  “Come on. You weren’t there. You didn’t hear how he spoke to me. The guy is a major jackass.”

  Weston shakes his head, clearly still pissed off about the way the meeting went, and now he’s having to deal with me.

  I already know I shouldn’t have said anything. I should keep my head down and do my damn job, but Christ,
I really don’t know if I can work with Decker Collins without murdering the winking son of a bitch. I can already tell his brothers hate my guts.

  Weston puts hands on both my shoulders and makes sure the Collins brothers aren’t paying attention. “I can’t believe I have to say this to you of all people, Tate. But I don’t give a flying fuck what happened about a cab. You’re an adult. Grow up and do your damn job.”

  I swallow my pride. I’m being a brat. I know I am. I don’t know why Decker gets to me, but he does. That man makes me want to choke him… or kiss him. I put on my best all-business face and nod. “No, you’re right. I apologize. Consider it done.”

  “Good. I don’t want to hear anything else about it. Decker is a good guy, you’ll see. I’ve known him for years. I know you can handle him. This is an opportunity to level up, Tate. You’ve never let me down before. Don’t start now.”

  My chest swells with pride. This is my shot.

  I nod and he returns it. I walk him out as we go over the finer details about my living arrangement for the duration of my stay. I’m given a company card for allowances, meals, and professional attire. Not that I’m concerned with money, but it’s a nice perk of the job. I bring in a lot of big clients to the firm and Weston rewards me handsomely for it. We part ways and I stop and wait for an elevator.

  I watch as Weston walks into Decker’s office and hope I can pull off the impossible. When I turn around, the Collins brothers stand in the hallway staring at me. They definitely do not look happy I’ll be sticking around. For some reason, I can’t stand there and look at their ridiculous stares. I walk off and go in search of the bathroom to get my shit together. I’m a professional. There’s no way they’ll get to me. I just need to go scream into the toilet or flush myself down it first.

  Damn Decker Collins and those blue eyes.

  Decker