Every Chance I Get. AlTonya Washington
but realized she’d left it in the baby’s nursery when she first arrived at the party. “Well, I can put Coyt Parsons on it.” She ran down the project in her head. “He’d love the opportunity. He certainly does have a flair for flashy writing and this would probably call for just that.”
“You may want to wait on that.” Gloria scooted to the edge of the lounge. “The board is gonna insist on you handling it.”
“Why?” Misha moved to the edge of the lounge, as well. “I’m an editor, Gloria, not a writer. Trust me, I know my limits.”
“That may be, but you writing the story was the one thing they insisted on.”
“Right.” Misha leaned back and regarded her publisher with clear suspicion in her tilting onyx stare. “Is this what Riley and me are gonna have to look forward to with our new publication? Will the brass always insist on how we should handle our stories?”
Gloria was about to respond, when she paused and looked past Misha. “Not our brass, hon.” She patted her hand to Misha’s knee and stood.
Misha followed the direction of the woman’s gaze to Talib Mason.
Chapter 2
“Talib,” Gloria greeted the man with a nod and soft smile. She hurried from the porch, tuning into the fact that war was in the air.
“What are you doing?” Suspicion all but blazed from Misha’s eyes.
When he approached, she retreated. Talib noticed and it triggered his frustration anew. He moved forward until he’d invaded her personal space quite adequately.
“When would you like to start meeting to discuss the story?”
Misha attempted to make a move around him, but he wouldn’t allow it.
“I can send someone out first thing on Monday,” she said.
Talib slipped a hand into a side pocket of his cream trousers and bowed his head. “Gloria did tell you we expect your personal attention on this, didn’t she?”
“Do you realize that I’m a very busy woman?” She blinked hair from her eyes so he could see the full extent of her emotion. “I don’t have to be involved in every stage of research to write this story, you know?”
“For this story, you do. Take it or leave it.”
Her smile was sweet. “I’ll leave it.”
He stepped aside when she tried to move past him that time.
“Your bosses aren’t going to like that you walked out on one of the biggest stories of the year.”
“Spare me, Talib. You and Asher are everywhere. I’m sure the world knows all about the two former ballers making yet another splash in the agenting world they already rule.”
Talib took a seat on the porch railing. “No one else has this part of the story—the background on who we are—who we really are.”
Curiosity winning out over suspicion, Misha walked toward him. “Exactly what is your intention for this feature?”
“What time may I expect you on Monday?”
Misha muttered under her breath and attempted to control her temper. “Don’t for a second think you can rile me in my own business. I don’t know yet what you’re trying to do—”
“Trying to do, love? I’m trying to give you a story.”
“Mmm-hmm, I know what you’re trying to give me, Tali.”
“Is that so?” She was close enough to touch and he took advantage. “Why do you keep running from me, then?”
Misha didn’t try to twist out of the grip he had on her forearm. Patiently, she waited for him to release her but discovered too late that he had more in mind first.
The kiss and caress that followed wasn’t forced. Misha leaned into it willingly, needingly. Talib loosened his hold on her arm the instant their lips met. He didn’t move from the rail and only began to caress her when she moved closer. Her hair brushed his hands when he massaged her back and shoulders. Whimpering sounds vibrated from both of them while their tongues fought a slow duel. Misha raked the silky curls tapered at Talib’s neck and arched closer into the powerful wall of his chest.
Reluctantly, Talib acknowledged that he’d have to be the one to end things. He’d take her right there against the rail if he didn’t let her go soon. Breaking the kiss smoothly, he let his mouth trail her neck.
“So when may I expect you on Monday?”
The words, no matter the elegant tone they were delivered in, were like a cold splash. Misha twisted away from him.
“I’ll call you.” For the second time that afternoon, she stormed away from him.
Talib’s cool expression merged into one less certain. Slumping on the railing, he prayed this plan of his would have a chance at actually working.
“What’s Talib done now?” Riley drawled while setting her baby’s stuffed animals to a far corner of the crib.
“Why don’t we talk about how long you’ve known about Justine Duke’s new publication.”
Riley’s hands paused on the toys. “You know I always keep up with the competition.”
“But you had to know I’d be interested in something like that. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you flying off the deep end about the woman. You almost lost your mind over the crap she pulled before and with your history…”
“Riley, please, you’ve got no idea about our history.”
Riley made sure the baby’s monitor was on, then firmly ushered Misha into her bedroom which was connected to the nursery.
“I need my phone,” Misha said, remembering.
“It’s already on the nightstand.” Riley motioned for Misha to sit down on the bed next to her. “Talk.”
“What—” Misha spread her hands “—is this about, Justine?”
“This is about you telling me the rest of what happened. Now.”
“We… Justine and I worked together before—”
“Hell, Misha, I know all that.”
Wearily, Misha leaned forward, resting her elbows to her knees. “There was a client…Talib and Asher were preparing to sign him. They were just starting up the agency. Talib had been in town wooing clients while Asher was still setting up shop in Phoenix.”
Riley got up and moved over to sit on the vanity stool before her dresser and listened.
“Anyway, the guy they were going after the hardest…he was a real jerk. Nothing like Vic,” she said, referring to The New Chronicle’s former fact-checker and Hud-Mason’s newest client, Victor Lyne. “Ray Simmons was his name. I got to meet him a few times at some parties Talib took me to. That was enough to tell me that the guy was just in it for the money. At the time, me and Justine were both working for The First Beacon.” She shrugged and curled against a pillow lining the headboard.
“We were good colleagues. Not friends, but good enough coworkers to feel comfortable bouncing ideas off one another. There was the occasional chatter about men and dates. I told her about Talib, meeting his new client and how money hungry the guy was.” Misha leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. “Justine was trying to make a splash with her entertainment features even back then. She was a so-so writer, looked down on being an assistant when what she really wanted were full-fledged reporting creds. She figured Ray Simmons was just the ticket. So she wrote a splashy story on the guy and got the paper to run it because he had connections to the up-and-coming Hud-Mason agency. Humph, Hud-Mason never had the