Page 1 of Mr. On Your Knees
Chapter1
The Interview
FIRST WEEK OF MAY
JARED
Jared Desdune was seeing things. That was the only explanation for the pause in his words. Now, the heat that immediately soared through his body to rest at his growing erection had to be the result of working so much there had been no time for his periodic dates to appease his physical needs.
Yeah, that was it. Those two things made perfect sense because there was no way she was standing in the same room as him. Not after three years of her blocking him from her life. No fucking way at all.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Kane?” Mari, his director of events asked from where she sat to his right at the conference table.
“Please, call me Desirae, or—” the woman who had just walked spoke, but Jared cut her off.
“Desi,” he whispered as he blinked in confusion. It washisDesi.
She was dressed in a patterned skirt that hung just below her knees, a black blouse that fit snug over her ample breasts but had full sleeves and black heels. From where he sat, he’d only had a glimpse of her shoes as she’d approached the doorway, but he knew they were designer and skyscraper high the way they both preferred. Her hair was longer now, falling in loose curls past her shoulders, her skin that same glorious honey tone, those pouty lips painted a bold red.
His throat was suddenly dry, his heart thumping just a little faster than it had been a few moments before. He blinked just to make sure he wasn’t imagining this, that somehow those dreams he periodically had, weren’t bleeding into his daytime thoughts. That the woman he’d missed like crazy for the last three years wasn’t actually standing in the same room with him.
Sunlight poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind where he sat at one end of the oval conference table. Combined with the stark white walls marred only by evenly placed framed abstract art pieces, pale gray carpet and the most uncomfortable—but sleekly designed—gray fabric chairs, the space felt airy and welcoming in a professional sort of way. This made it the best place to conduct interviews, to Jared’s manner of thinking. He hated nervous and tension-filled meetings and preferred when the candidates could come in, relax and get right to the business of selling themselves to him. It made his decision process a lot easier and, if the last six years since he’d been sitting in on interviews with the department heads were any indication, had yielded several great employees.
But in just a few seconds the air had been sucked out of this normally soothing space until it filled with a cloud of heat he knew would only rival the high humidity outside.
“Have a seat, Desi and we’ll get started,” Mari said.
Jared cleared his throat and dismissed the quizzical look he caught from Mari. He smoothed a hand down his tie and sat up straighter in the chair.
“Do I have her submission materials?” he asked after a few seconds because watching Desi walk from the door where she’d been standing to take a seat somewhere at the table to his left, wasn’t a good idea.
He knew her walk, had watched the gentle sway of her plump ass whether she’d been clothed, or his favorite, when she was naked, more times than he could count.
“On your tablet,” Mari said as she tapped her long peach painted nails on the white-topped table. “They were attachments to this morning’s email.”
The email he’d meant to read through during the lunch he’d hurriedly consumed at his desk over an hour ago. But there’d been a problem with the linen supplier they’d been using for almost ten years and a quick pivot to a new supplier had needed to be discussed and selected. That call had cut his normal ninety-minute lunch break down to thirty minutes which left him just enough time to eat the Italian cold cut with everything minus the onions—because the last thing he needed was onion-breath when he had an afternoon full of interviews—and answer a few text messages.
Gazing down at the small screen now he swallowed and bit back a groan.
Kane Design and Productions, owner Desirae J. Kane.
The company name was written in a classic block font, her name just beneath it to the right in a lavish hot pink script that was as bold as the woman who’d once owned his heart.
She’d done it, he thought as he continued to read her mission statement and gazed over the event photos that followed. On their second date, she’d told him that she was thinking about leaving the big event planning company she worked for and starting her own company where she could focus on creating the ultimate atmosphere for any occasion. She was a creative, with a bold imagination and an impeccable style. That night he’d been mesmerized, not only by how beautiful she was, but also by how intelligent and competent she’d sounded. He’d known at that moment that he was in trouble.
And now, when he lifted his gaze from that tablet to find her staring at him, he admitted to himself once again that he was doomed. He was never going to stop wanting her.
“There will be many events happening around the city this year,” he began because business needed to be the focus. At least for the moment. If he spent the rest of the day thinking about how good she still looked after all these years, so be it. For the moment, he had an interview to get through. “In the two years since Juneteenth has become a federal holiday, more public celebrations are being held. Most centered in Black communities, but some corporations are jumping on board with formal celebrations to show their support to their Black employees.”
He spoke in the firm and earnest tone he always used at business meetings. The tone that left no argument who was the decision maker in this scenario. To her credit and his continued admiration, Desi sat with her shoulders back, head turned in his direction, eyes locked on his. But not in the way that he’d been used to holding her gaze, not as they both had felt the heat bubbling between them to almost consuming proportions. No, today was different. Today was yet another dynamic between him and Desi that he’d have to learn to navigate.
“You’re correct,” she said when he paused. “Florida International University has their newly implemented scholarship competition show. It’s a weeklong competition and it’s the closest event taking place in Biscayne Bay. There are certainly more happening in and or around other communities, but it makes sense to discuss the ones closest to the hotel.”
So, she’d done her research. He wouldn’t have expected anything less from her. Why hadn’t he known she was applying for this job? Again, that was something he’d have to kick himself over later. How the hell he hadn’t figured that Mari’s idea to advertise for vendors via the city’s exclusive event planning network wouldn’t have caught Desi’s attention, he had no idea. This was Desi’s thing, her passion, it always had been.
“Tell me about their event,” he said propping an elbow on the arm of the chair and rubbing a finger over his beard.
She’d pulled her tablet from the large black tote that she’d clutched in one hand as she entered. Now, she glanced down briefly, her fingers gliding over the screen as she brought it to life. But she didn’t read from the screen once whatever she’d wanted to pull up appeared. Instead, she glanced at him again and replied to his request.
