Monday, October 12, 2009
The elevator doors pinged and she stepped out into the small foyer. She straightened herself popping her top shirt button before knocking on the door.
Jon peered through the peephole, pausing a moment when he saw the fish-eyed version of this Cooper woman. GI Jane, his ass. She was fucking gorgeous. "Great," he muttered and opened the door.
Fish-eyed lens was way off. She passed beautiful by yards. Her dark hair was a little windblown, but pulled away from an angular face. Her clothes matched what he assumed a PI would wear, but he was pretty sure that the jeans weren't supposed to be that hot on her. He met her eyes, and gave her a polite smile. The blue was intelligent and patient as she gave him a once over as well. He wasn't quite sure he passed muster.
"Thanks for making time for me, Ms. Cooper." He held out his hand. "I appreciate it."
"Not a problem Mr. Bongiovi, and please call me MacKenzie," she took his hand and shook it, the zing shooting straight up her arm to the back of her neck, as he squeezed her hand. Her eyes flicked back to his, still very much fixated on her. Well shit. When she'd thought of Jon Bon Jovi, she thought spandex, glitter and long wavy rock star hair. The man that stood in front of her was a long way off from that now.
The glint of silver drew her eyes to the opening of the silk navy button shirt, nestled deep in a generous scattering of chest hair. Don't do it, her eyes couldn't help but go all the way down. Men still looked this good in jeans? Right down to the leather boots he wore he fascinated her. He was easy on the eyes, way too easy. She managed a smile meet baby blue eyes, shaped with high cheek bones and a generous splattering of cinnamon hair which sat a little ruffled. She sucked in her breath before her tongue rolled right out of her mouth onto the floor.
He waved an arm into his foyer. "Well c'mon in. Can I get you a soda? Bottled water?" She walked by him and something spicy drifted behind her. He couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn't the usual female cloying scent. It was...lighter somehow. Not what he expected.
"He grinned, I only have Diet Coke though, be forewarned."
She licked her lips, the floury-after taste of apple still there.
"Water would be great actually," she said settling her case down on the leather couch and taking a look around. It was huge, well for the penthouse she expected nothing less. 360 degree views of the New York skyline had to come at a hefty price, and the art that hung on the walls wasn’t the kind you found in any run of the mill art shops. It was spacious and had a modern artistic feel to the place. Very male, she decided.
"Have a seat, I'll be back in a moment." He strode to the kitchen trying not to be uncomfortable with how she'd sized up his person and his home in less than five minutes. He pulled the Pur pitcher out of the fridge and poured two highball glasses. Going green was a pain in the ass sometimes.
He hip checked the door closed and headed back into his living room. She was facing the view, as most people did when they came into his house. His home was in the heart of the village and the people, but high enough to get a bit of the skyline as well. His eyes skipped over the military posture and slid down her back. The jacket was boxy, but suited her. It fell just above her hips, leaving a curve of hips and lean thighs framed by a damn fine ass. He cleared his throat. "Here we go."
"Thanks" she took a sip and walked away from him doing a lazy circuit around the room. She knew it freaked most people out when she did, but she always liked to get a feel of the place. Always told her a lot about the person, almost like a little game she played with herself. If she had to guess, the black and white prints meant he was all about business but the random splashes of color here and there told her he had a relaxed easy side, when the mood called for it and only reserved for some. The piles of sports magazines on the coffee table flashed an image of him sprawled out on leather watching the game, maybe his shirt would be a little unbuttoned. Damn it.
She settled down on the couch and waited for him to join her, sitting opposite in the leather recliner. The hint of ass she saw, tight curved and toned made her eyes widen. Oh great, I now have an ass-tastic client, just what I need. Her fingers curled around the glass as she tried mentally not to compare his ass to being as hard as glass. Shit.
She leaned back and crossed her legs "So tell me Mr. Bongiovi, what can my services do for you?"
Jon sat across from her, years of training had him seeking out the pile of coasters that littered the table and selecting one before lowering his glass. The line of her legs could be ignored. He was perfectly capable of not looking at them. Yup.
Hell. He kept his eyes on her face. "I need help with a new addition to the Soul's roster for next season." He forced himself to sit back against the leather, crossing his arms lightly. Rubbing his left bicep, he sighed. "I have a strict no thug rule to the Soul. I recently signed a kid named Weston Blake from St. Mary's in downtown Philly. Some things have come to my attention that might cause problems down the road."
Her eyes followed his hand, such a simple thing but it made her shift in her seat. She leaned forward selecting a coaster placing down her glass. Bet that was learned by Nagging Wife Syndrome, she chuckled to herself as she shrugged off her jacket and laid it neatly beside her. Jesus it was hot in here. Probably the stupid run down the stairs didn't help. She popped another button on her shirt open and fanned the material. "Sorry, I seemed to have grown hot in the last the few minutes," she blew her breath out before continuing. "So you think this kid may have gang connections or something?"
"I'm sure you've heard the rumors that the Bloods have come into Philly." He crossed his ankle over his knee and concentrated on not bouncing his thigh. The hint of a shadow at her neck had him keeping his eyes firmly on hers.
"That I have, and I can tell you they are not rumors Mr. Bongiovi, in fact both the Crips and the Bloods seem to have descended on Philly of late," the thick silver necklace was distracting, her fingers curled as she fought the urge to follow it down into his shirt. Christ, Mac. You’re behaving like a randy teenager.
"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of." He sighed, kneading harder. His muscles ached something fierce. He'd been working out to forget about his lack of sex life. Lifting was becoming an obsession, with the help of his trainer. Marc wanted him to be a beast like he was for fuck's sake. "When I was at a game we saw Wes talking with a few guys matching the gang colors of the Bloods. Not just any gang members, the leader." He uncrossed his legs with a thunk of his boot on the marble floor. "I don't want to think the worst of this kid, but I have to know if he's involved or getting recruited."
He stood, walking toward the expanse of windows. "As good as this kid is, I have the reputation of the team and the charities we take care of to think about first."
There it goes again, that damn ass. I bet he could crack nuts in that thing, Shit. Stop it, just because your panties haven't seen a guy’s bedroom floor in over a year. No need to go crazy over the first male that actually revs your engine. God. He's probably married, although the place did suggest bachelor pad. She stood and briefly let herself take in his full profile. He worked out, no way could he have those killer biceps, broad shoulders and lean waist without it. "Ok, so we know the kid's definitely hanging out with some interesting people." She admired him for taking such caution and care in what he was doing, but he was smart. There were much bigger things at play here than just the kid hanging out with the wrong crowd. "So what do you want me to do? Follow him around for a little see what he's doing in his downtime?"
He turned back to her. "Yeah," he scraped his hands through his hair, gripping the back of his neck. "I hate to have to resort to spying on the kid, but I need to know that the team and my organization are going to be okay."
Her eyes fell to the flash of skin on his tummy as he reached behind him. Flat as a damn pancake. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. The gleam of the belt buckle distracted her further. Not like she hadn’t seen men with hot bodies before, she trained and worked with them for god’s sake. She forced her eyes away and folded back the cuffs on her shirt and resting her hands on her thighs. "You're doing the right thing here. Trust me. You don't want to get messed up in that circle, and the risk to your team and foundation. And I'm discrete, never been busted on the job yet...I think people assume I'm not who I am," she winked.
"I appreciate the discrete. I don't want to ruin this kid's life if I don't have to." He walked over to his bag, flipping it open. "I've got an initial file on him from the quickie background checks that Roger's PI does. He didn't find a record, just some kids stuff in high school." He shrugged. "You know, team bull shit pranks and that sort of thing. At least you'll have something to go on."
He handed her the file, watching her quickly scan the slim manila file. "I've talked to this kid personally. I like him." He crossed his arms again, tucking his fingers under his pits to keep him focused on anything but MacKenzie Cooper. She was that Angie Harmon kind of beautiful. Athletic and lithe, fresh faced and unconcerned with fashion, but not sloppy or off the rack either.
She was an enigma. Female and yet not overly feminine. Distracting as all hell, and about as off limits as it got. One thing he never did was get involved with an employee, twice removed or not.
"This is great, don't worry ,I'll be thorough and make sure I have my facts right on this one." She slid the folder into her briefcase and picked out one of her business cards and handed it to him. "This is my business card, it has all my numbers and email contacts. If you need to know anything or you have any more information that comes to light just give me a call." she snicked the clasp back on her briefcase picking it up. "It'll take me a couple of days but I'll make it my top priority.”
The way he held himself, the confidence exuberated out of him. It became obvious that he could not only command an audience, but a boardroom as well. He was very good at what he did, she knew the type. The worst part was, along with the confidence came the overwhelming sex appeal he seemed to invoke without trying. It had been months since standing in a room with a man that made her want to jump him. But it couldn’t be this one, business was business. End of story. "Ok, well I'll give you a call and we'll meet again once I get some new information, it was a pleasure meeting you."
He tucked her card into his hip pocket and clasped hers. "I really appreciate you taking this on personally. Roger speaks highly of your company." Her shake was businesslike firm, but not going for the power play.
The line of her collar opened, leaving creamy curves peeking from the man-style button down shirt. He swallowed, letting her go. "If you can't get a hold of me, you can go through Roger or my assistant Julie Saunders. I've got a full plate next week with the stomps for Obama. But I'll be around the rest of this week."
Her eyebrow arched, "Obama? I'm impressed. He's running a good campaign." that was one she didn't expect. Rock star, with the possible future president of the United States? "Sounds good, okay I can show myself out," she said striding for the door. She needed to go, before she had to find something else insanely attractive about him but she paused at the door turning around.
“Bye Jon, it was nice to meet you.” She winked and slipped out the door.
"Bye MacKenzie." The corners of his mouth kicked up.
Jon watched her walk away, already focused on whatever was next on her schedule. He fingered the ridiculous skull, tucking it back under his shirt. Hell, he wasn't all business. As she stepped on the elevator he closed the door, groaning as the phone on his hip buzzed manically. "I'm surprised it stayed silent that long," he muttered and sighed at the display. It was time to put his politics hat on now. "Hi, Mrs. C. You ready for the rally on Wednesday?"