Curves for Days Read online

  As he walks past me, our eyes meet. I feel like I’m about to melt as he slows down his gait just enough to notice his eyes angling down … looking up and down my body? Am I going nuts!?

  And just as soon as this Adonis of a man rocks my world, he’s gone – walked past me right into our office! I walk, still, short of breath, into the elevator and press the button for the lobby. If someone asked me what my name was, I don’t think I could tell them! By the time the elevator lets me off at the lobby, I’ve composed myself enough to at least remember the task I’m doing.

  Unbelievably, I’m hardly even thinking about my story as I pick up the lunches and walk back to the office. I find myself tingling with anticipation of the possibility of crossing his path again.

  CHAPTER TWO – RYAN

  “Listen, sis, I have more important things to worry about”

  I’m on the phone with my sister again. As always, she’s nagging me about setting me up with someone now that I’m in town. I’ve told her that I’m not going to be staying long, but she won’t let up. I’m just here to talk to my business partner about the media company we founded.

  Cutting Edge Mag. started fifteen years ago. He and I both wanted a magazine that wouldn’t be afraid to tell the whole truth, that wouldn’t pull punches. My partner, Vincent, was more on the business side while I was the star reporter. I’ve always been obsessed with rooting out corruption, and that job has taken me all over the world. Just now, I’m back briefly from covering protests against a new, repressive government in South America.

  What brings me back is the sad fact that as my reporting has launched Cutting Edge into one of the biggest media companies in the world, with one of the most popular websites on the internet and a new cable news station, Vincent has been more focused on the business than the journalism. He called me last week about an offer from some investment company to buy us out.

  Forget that! This is the platform I’ve dedicated my life to building. I’m not going to retire, and I’m sure as hell not going to go back to working for some media company where bosses will be breathing down my neck. I do things my way. And we’re rich enough already. My work means more to me than the extra money.

  But not to Vincent. So, I’m here to try and talk him out of it. And as if that weren’t hard enough, I have to deal with my sister, Nicole, sticking her nose in my love life again.

  Like I said, she means well. But she just doesn’t know what I want. She’s always setting me up with these high society type girls – models, actresses, socialites. She thinks that because I’m successful – and, let’s face it, good-looking – that must be what I need. But it’s not what I want. To tell you the truth, I’m not quite sure what I want. I’ve been with plenty of women, but none of them really made me feel that spark.

  But whatever it is I want, it’s not whatever ninety-pound supermodel Nicole is trying to set me up with this time.

  “Nicole, I’m sorry,” I say more forcefully, to finally bring the conversation to an end. “Even if I wanted to I just don’t have the time. I have to handle my business and be back to my reporting as soon as possible. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I hang up right as the Uber I’m in pulls up to our office building. I thank the driver and give him a nice cash tip before getting out of the car and walking up to the building.

  I get into the elevator and stand there more than a little annoyed as the elevator ascends up to our floor. Scratch that – “more than a little annoyed?” I’m pissed. I’m in the middle of covering one of the biggest stories of the year – of the decade! – and Vincent makes me fly back to deal with some dumb get rich quick idea of his to sell what we spent our lives building?

  It’s intolerable. But I’m not going to give up my company, so I have to come here and talk him out of it. With me away across the world reporting the kind of stories that brought all the prestige and renown to our company, Vincent probably has the votes of the Board of Directors to ram the decision through. So, I have to make my presence felt while I’m here to keep that from happening.

  And I always make my presence felt.

  The elevator doors open. Just as I’m puffing up my chest and getting ready to walk to Vincent’s office with purpose and lay down the law, I’m floored by what I see outside the elevator.

  This girl … now this is my type. She was standing there beaming, looking lost in her own world. Her big, brown eyes met mine vividly and we both stopped in our tracks for a second. Even though I knew she was probably a bit too young for me, I couldn’t help lowering my gaze to check out her body.

  And man, what a body. Plump and juicy with curves for days. Curves for weeks! Her impeccably stylish jacket and blouse house her round, generous bosom. A nice mid-length skirt hugs her luscious hips. My gaze rises up to meet her welcoming, emotive eyes as we both continue our paths: her into the elevator, me into the office.

  Is she a writer with us? She was probably young enough to be an intern. I’m a man who always gets what he wants – but an intern with the company I own? That’s not exactly proper.

  But as I turn around to catch one last glance of her round, plump ass as she walks into the elevator any thoughts of propriety are erased from my mind.

  She’s mine already. She just doesn’t know it yet.

  But first I have to take care of business.

  CHAPTER THREE – JENNA

  I’ve just about regained my composure as I walk into the Chinese restaurant down the block to pick up the lunches. They’ve sent me on this task enough times that all I have to do is shoot a friendly nod to the nice older lady who works behind the counter and she hands over the bags for me to haul back to the office.

  As I walk through the big glass doors of our downtown Manhattan office building and approach the elevator, I find myself tingling at the thought of crossing paths with that man again. Who is he, and what could he be doing here? Does he work for the company? Oh my, that would make these last two weeks of my internship more interesting. Well, at least, it would hopefully give me something delicious to look at whenever he was in the office. Not like a guy like him would reciprocate.

  But that wouldn’t make feasting my eyes on him any less sweet.

  I get into the elevator and depart on my. As I walk through the doors into our office space – I see him. Through the glass windows of the office of our CEO, Vincent Smith. Mr. Smith is hardly ever around, and he’s certainly never deigned to actually speak to a peon like me. Wow, on top of his looks this guy has to be a big shot to be having a one on one meeting with Mr. Smith!

  I can see Mr. Smith sitting behind his desk, hands folded in front of his chest, calmly talking. But I notice the mysterious hunk pacing back and force, his sturdy, powerful legs propelling the muscular frame now more visible thanks to the subtraction of his suit jacket. He has his shirt sleeves roll up, revealing forearms so muscled and powerful that I could see the bulging veins from across the room.

  He looks agitated. Every now and then he makes some forceful hand gesture. It actually looks like they’re arguing! And –

  “JENNA!!!”

  A sharp cry of my name jolts me back into reality. I looked around the room with wide, surprised eyes until I see Mr. Jeffries walking toward me with an annoyed look on his face.

  “What the hell are you doing?” He asks. “I’ve been calling for you since you walked through the door, but you’re just standing there.”

  Geez, how long was I entranced by looking at the unknown Adonis from across the office floor? Ugh, how embarrassing. I overcome the slight humiliation and blushing, say, “Sorry, Mr. Jeffries. I, uh, have the lunches here.”

  “Yeah, just leave them at the front desk, then come with me,” and he perfunctorily turns around and walks back to his office. I leave the lunches with the secretary at the front desk and follow him back.

  Once in his office, he walks behind his desk and before sitting down motions toward a chair in front of his desk for me. Could this be … actually … a
sign of respect!? I’m trying to keep myself from blushing as I lower myself into the chair, anticipating the mounds of praise about to be heaped upon me.

  Once seated himself, he clears his throat and leans forward, propping his elbows on his dark wood desk. “It is quite a story you have,” he begins. “It’s a very, very sensitive issue, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

  I nod, not sure exactly what to say in response.

  “Look,” he says briskly, now leaning back in his chair, “We have a lot of, let’s say, interests in this company. A lot of connections. A lot of people we need to keep happy – or better said, people we don’t want to make mad. You get my meaning?”

  The ends of my mouth involuntarily lower themselves into a frown. “Um,” I start, “I don’t know if I do.”

  “I’m sure you’re not naïve,” he says, looking straight at me, “as a major company operating out of New York City, we can’t afford to make the wrong enemies. This story of yours, well … it really would make the wrong enemies.”

  I feel myself tensing up and short of breath, unsure of how to respond. No, I’m not naïve, but … a story like this!? Big time corruption, and he wants to bury it under the rug!? The thought of it begins to fill me with a courage I didn’t know I had.

  “But this is too important,” I protest. “The people, our readers, have a right to know!”

  His face screws up into an arrogant and dismissive expression. “You say our readers,” he retorts. “But you’re just an intern here. You’re leaving in two weeks … and to be frank, it’s not like you’ve done a lot around here anyway.”

  The nerve! My lips are pursed in anger and I’m staring a hole through him.

  He continues, “And let me make one thing clear. Since you wrote this as our intern and sent it to me, we own this story now. You try to publish it anywhere, not only will you never work in this industry – I’ll see to that – but you open yourself up to a lawsuit.”

  I’m stunned into silence by this point, more than a little afraid of the threats he’s making, but still wanting with every ounce of me to fight for this story.

  “Look, don’t take this the wrong way,” he now tries to soften up after he’s made his threats. “That’s just how this business works. But know that I’m serious. Anyway, why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Of course, come back tomorrow and finish up your internship … as long as you don’t have any crazy ideas about pushing this story any further.”

  Unable to say anything, I stand up and walk out of his office. I gather up my things from my desk and head to the elevator, holding back tears. Once inside, I press the button for the lobby. Right before the door closes, I notice the man from earlier storm out of Mr. Smith’s office, but the elevator doors close before I can see where he’s headed.

  CHAPTER FOUR – RYAN

  “Dammit Vince,” I shout. “When the hell was this about the money? Some hedge fund asshole wants to buy us because we’re a hot name thanks to this TV deal, and you want to throw it all away? You don’t have enough damn money!?”

  “Come on Ryan,” he replies, stand up from his hand and trying to calm me down, “you know this was a business. It always was. If it wasn’t a business, how do you think we ever would have afforded to send you all over the world to do your reporting?”

  “I did that report to build something!” I say back. “Not as some ‘investment’ to sell off to a Wall Street jerk, but meaningful work to build a media organization that people can trust, that does something good in this world.”

  Vincent diplomatically tries to place a hand on my shoulder, but I shrug it off.

  “Hey,” Vincent starts. “It’s not like once we cash you, you can’t do your reporting anymore. You’ll be so filthy rich you can do whatever you want.”

  Cash out? Can he hear himself? I know he was always the business mind behind this operation, and he’s right that if we didn’t run it as a business I wouldn’t have been able to do all the reporting around the world that I lived for, but he never talked like this before.

  “It’s not just about what I want to do, Vince, but it’s about the fact that I’ve – we’ve – built this into a platform that people trust. If we sell it off, that’s all thrown away.”

  “Ryan, we’ve known each other for a long time, and I don’t want any hard feelings. But this is an opportunity we can’t pass up, and the board of directors agrees with me. You know we’ve had other investors that funded us over these years, and they have a say, too. The fact is, we have the votes to make sure this sale goes through. And it will go through.”

  I can see in his eyes, that’s it. No argument is going to make him come to his sense – or maybe, he is at his senses, and these were his senses all along: how to make more money, how to cash out, how to sell out to barrels of Wall Street money.

  I look him straight in the eyes and say bluntly, “This is bullshit, Vincent. And you know it.”

  I pick up my suit jacket that I took off during our heated argument and put it back on. I straighten up my tie and take one last look at him before leaving.

  I need a drink.

  CHAPTER FIVE – JENNA

  Try as I might, I can’t help but let a couple years fall on my way down the elevator. A woman next to me is nice enough to offer me a tissue, which I take to try my eyes.

  “Thanks,” I tell her as we reach the lobby and the elevator doors open. She gives me a sympathetic nod and we all exit the elevator.

  I walk across the lobby’s expansive marble floor and plop myself down into one of the expensive leather couches. I’ve calmed down a bit, and the small act of kindness by the woman in the elevator lifted my mood up just enough to keep me from breaking out into sobs. I sit on the couch for a couple minutes trying to clear my mind, watching the hustle and bustle of mid-day New York. Well-dressed executives, naïve and fresh-faced interns like myself, busy delivery men, all pass through the lobby, in and out of the elevators.

  I decide to pull out my cell phone and text my roommate, Chrissy. We met through a roommate-finding app to rent a place together for the summer. She’s interning too, with a photography company. But her internship ended just last week, so these next two weeks she’s just hanging around enjoying a stress-free New York summer.

  How luck she is, I now realize more than ever.

  She’s been a real God-sent this summer. We’ve become good friends and no matter what comes of this internship, I know in her I’ve made a friend for life.

  Hey Chrissy, I’m done work today early … long story, I text her. Please tell me you’re free to get a drink right now.

  Like an answer to my prayers, she texts back right away, Yeah! Let’s meet at Chez Nous? I’ll leave now.

  Sounds great, thanks, I text back. I take one last deep breath, collect my thoughts, and head out the door into the sweltering New York summer.

  The humidity is just about enough to make me forget all my other troubles. I power through it and finally arrive outside the bar to see that Chrissy is already outside waiting for me. I’m just about drenched in sweat as I greet her with a hug.

  “What happened,” she asks, concerned.

  “Let me a get drink in me before I give you the whole story,” I say as we enter the bar, and the air conditioning hits me with blissful relief. “Actually – let me get two or three drinks in me first.”

  We grab two seats by the bar and after I down those two drinks in record time, I run down everything that happened. By the time I finish the whole tale, I’ve polished off an extra drink and a half. Good. I need it.

  “That’s unbelievable,” Chrissy replies with shock. “They can’t get away with something like that, can they?

  I just chuckle. “Of course they can. What am I supposed to do? This is one of the biggest news companies in the country and it’s only growing. If I cross them and try to take this story somewhere else, they’re sure to carry out those threats. I can kiss my journalism career goodbye.”

  Chrissy sighs an
d rests her hand supportively on my knee. “Don’t let this keep you down,” she says. “If you were able to write a story like this while wasting your time with that dinky internship, you’ll write a thousand stories just as good, or better.”

  I take my time finishing up that fourth drink, not wanting to get wasted or anything. Just enough to finally relax. After about fifteen minutes of chatting about other stuff to take my mind off of things, Chrissy gets another text message.

  “Who’s that?” I ask.

  “It’s Josh,” she responds. A guy she’s been dating for about two weeks. A great guy, I have to admit. Pretty good looking, really nice. Good job. The kind of guy I’d love to be able to land for myself – that is, until I saw that gorgeous man in front of the elevator today. Thoughts of him come flooding back into my mind and I wonder how I’ll ever be satisfied with a normal man after seeing a specimen like that.