DANIEL'S GIRL: ROMANCING AN OLDER MAN Read online

  DANIEL’S GIRL

  ROMANCING AN OLDER MAN

  By

  MALLORY MONROE

  AND

  KATHERINE CACHITORIE

  Copyright©2013 Mallory Monroe/Katherine Cachitorie

  All rights reserved. Any use of the materials contained in this book without the expressed written consent of the authors and Teresa McClain-Watson, including scanning, uploading and downloading at file sharing and other sites, and distribution of this book by way of the Internet or any other means, is illegal and strictly prohibited.

  AUSTIN BROOK PUBLISHING

  This novel is a work of fiction. All characters are fictitious. Any similarities to anyone living or dead are completely accidental. The specific mention of known places or venues are not meant to be exact replicas of those places, but are purposely embellished or imagined for the story’s sake. This novel is loosely based on Teresa McClain-Watson’s What We Did For Love and was written with her full consent and participation.

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  MORE INTERRACIAL ROMANCE

  FROM BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  MALLORY MONROE:

  THE PRESIDENT’S GIRLFRIEND

  SERIES IN ORDER:

  THE PRESIDENT’S GIRLFRIEND

  THE PRESIDENT’S GIRLFRIEND 2:

  HIS WOMEN AND HIS WIFE

  DUTCH AND GINA:

  A SCANDAL IS BORN

  DUTCH AND GINA:

  AFTER THE FALL

  DUTCH AND GINA:

  THE POWER OF LOVE

  DUTCH AND GINA:

  THE SINS OF THE FATHERS

  DUTCH AND GINA:

  WHAT HE DID FOR LOVE

  THE MOB BOSS SERIES

  IN ORDER:

  ROMANCING THE MOB BOSS

  MOB BOSS 2:

  THE HEART OF THE MATTER

  MOB BOSS 3:

  LOVE AND RETRIBUTION

  MOB BOSS 4:

  ROMANCING TRINA GABRINI

  A MOB BOSS CHRISTMAS:

  THE PREGNANCY

  (Mob Boss 5)

  MOB BOSS 6:

  THE HEART OF RENO GABRINI

  RENO’S GIFT

  BOOK 7

  THE GABRINI MEN SERIES

  IN ORDER:

  ROMANCING TOMMY GABRINI

  and

  ROMANCING SAL GABRINI

  ADDITIONAL BESTSELLING

  INTERRACIAL ROMANCE

  FROM MALLORY MONROE:

  ROMANCING MO RYAN

  ROMANCING HER PROTECTOR

  ROMANCING THE BULLDOG

  IF YOU WANTED THE MOON

  INTERRACIAL ROMANCE

  FROM

  BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  KATHERINE CACHITORIE:

  LOVERS AND TAKERS

  LOVING HER SOUL MATE

  LOVING THE HEAD MAN

  SOME CAME DESPERATE:

  A LOVE SAGA

  ADDITIONAL BESTSELLING

  INTERRACIAL ROMANCE:

  A SPECIAL RELATIONSHIP

  YVONNE THOMAS

  AND

  BACK TO HONOR:

  A REGGIE REYNOLDS

  ROMANTIC MYSTERY

  JT WATSON

  ROMANTIC FICTION

  FROM

  AWARD-WINNING

  AND

  BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  TERESA MCCLAIN-WATSON:

  DINO AND NIKKI:

  AFTER REDEMPTION

  AND

  AFTER WHAT YOU DID

  COMING SOON

  FROM

  MALLORY MONROE:

  ROMANCING TOMMY GABRINI

  BOOK TWO

  ROMANCING SAL GABRINI

  BOOK TWO

  DUTCH AND GINA

  THE PRESIDENT’S GIRLFRIEND SERIES

  BOOK EIGHT

  RENO AND TRINA

  MOB BOSS SERIES

  BOOK EIGHT

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  CHAPTER ONE

  FOUR YEARS EARLIER

  When Nikki Graham stepped off of the elevator on the top floor of the Dreeson Corporate Headquarters building in Wakefield, Indiana, and the receptionist told her that Mr. Crane would see her now, she believed there had been some mistake. Especially since she wasn’t there to see a Mr. Crane. But when that same receptionist pointed her toward a suite of offices with Office of the Vice President written in massive lettering above the double doors, she no longer believed there was some mistake, she knew there was.

  “Just so we’re clear,” she said as she stood in front of the reception desk, her big brown eyes bright with concern. “I’m with the Brannon University Press. I’m with the school newspaper, I’m not with the Gazette. I’m scheduled to meet with an assistant in the PR department downstairs.”

  This concerned the receptionist too. Why would they have brought her up here then? She looked down at her manifest again. “But you are Nikki Graham, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m Nikki.”

  “Then there’s no mistake,” the receptionist said firmly, looking back up. “Mr. Crane will see you now. Just go through those double doors and one of his assistants will direct you.”

  Nikki didn’t know what to think. She knew good and well no assistant would have his office in the VP’s suite. Unless, she thought hopefully as she began heading toward those double doors, the assistant worked for somebody in the VP’s office. He may even work for the VP himself! But why would the assistant to the vice president want to be interviewed by her, a reporter for a school newspaper? Especially since she was there to ask hard questions regarding the allegations made by a human rights commission about widespread abuse inside their China plant. It didn’t make sense. But she did as the receptionist had instructed her and headed for the double doors all the same. If there was a mistake, it was on their part, she thought as she walked.

  There was a suite of offices behind those double doors, many of them sizeable, including what appeared to be one massive office, itself with double doors, at the very back of the room.

  She walked up to the only desk in the outer sanctum of the suite. It was positioned against the wall, undoubtedly so that the small, white woman who sat behind it could see all and hear all. Her desk plate had Whitney Ginsburg written on it. Nikki assumed her to be the secretary, although there was no indication of what her title really was.

  But it didn’t matter. She spoke first. “Miss Graham?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Nikki said, and moved closer toward her desk.

  “Good morning,” Whitney said.

  “Good morning,” Nikki replied, attempting to smile but was far too nervous.

  “Mr. Crane is expecting you, ma’am. You can go on back.”

  Nikki was about to ask which office to go back to, since there were many in the suite, until she looked straight back and answered her own question. Daniel Crane, Senior Vice President, was written on the double doors of the office in the far back. The largest one in the entire suite.

  As soon as Nikki saw his title, as soon as she realized just who this Mr. Crane really was, she went from nervous excitement to a sense of dread. Because she was nobody’s fool. This thing was orchestrated. Why else would the senior vice president consent to some interview with a school reporter? Especially about something as controversial as his own company’s human rights violations? She knew she had to be on guard. She knew she couldn’t let his position cause her to become intimidated, which may be the very reason why
they had her meeting with him, rather than some assistant, in the first place.

  She tightened her grip on her reporter’s notebook, placed her oversized shoulder bag more securely on her small shoulder, and made her way toward the office in the back of the room.

  Inside that office, Daniel Crane sat behind his desk fuming. He was in the midst of a heated telephone conversation and was animated with anger. He leaned forward in his executive chair and made clear to the Portland plant manager how perilously close he was to authorizing the entire plant closure if they didn’t get their act together. His suit coat was off and over his chair, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, revealing powerful arms, as he pointed and yelled and settled himself back down before he blew a gasket over that manager’s intransigency. The manager, however, was equally upset and was taking issue with Daniel’s characterization of the problems. A series of heated exchanges ensued by the time Nikki walked in.

  Daniel didn’t see her when she first entered his office. He was too busy making himself crystal clear about his displeasure with his manager and how he would fire his ass in a heartbeat if he kept minimizing the problems. It wasn’t until he leaned back, and once again listened to the manager’s laundry list of excuses, did he see her at all.

  She was standing there, looking around his office as if she’d never seen anything so opulent. She was a pretty black girl, and was small, but what caught his attention were her eyes. They appeared so large, even from across the room, that had they been a half a centimeter larger, he believed, they might have overwhelmed her face. But as they were now, as they looked around the room unable to conceal her awe, they were stunning.

  Nikki couldn’t help herself. She was a little taken aback by the breathtaking office she had just entered. It was an office so enormous that it seemed to swallow her. It felt to her as if she’d just walked into another world, where everything was marbled and ivory and so luxurious that she felt intimidated already. There was a full-sized bar, a huge sitting area with a high-end sofa and arch top chairs that resembled the living room of a gorgeous home, and there was a conference table as big as a boardroom’s. And, of course, there was the man she assumed was Daniel Crane.

  That was when she caught herself. When she saw Daniel Crane seated behind that desk, talking on the telephone, but staring at her. If the plan was to intimidate her with the power of his office alone, it was working like a charm. Nikki realized that, and decided to forget about that office. She was there to do a job. She, instead, made eye contact with the man, and began walking toward his desk.

  Daniel was inwardly amused by the way she seemed so determined to prove her mettle. She was a young thing, probably no more than nineteen or twenty, and despite her attempts at sophistication she looked exactly like the college kid she was. She sat down in front of his desk, without a seat being offered, and sat her shoulder bag on the floor. Then she opened her spiral notebook, clicked her pen, and crossed her legs. She was ready to get to it. He wasn’t about to intimidate her, her face seemed to say.

  But when the voice on the other end of the phone made yet another outrageous excuse for his employees’ lack of productivity, basically blaming it on the product itself, Daniel forgot about the young reporter and lit into that manager once again.

  Nikki was surprised by his anger, especially since he could have kept her in the waiting area until he finished such a heated conversation. But she wasn’t going to let that bother her either. She was here to get a story, a story that would be the biggest get of her college journalism career. So she turned the table, and started staring at him.

  He was rubbing his hand across his thick hair, as if it was a calming technique, but she could see the strain in his hazel eyes. She stared at those eyes, because they seemed to be the wrong color. His hair was a dark brown, and his skin was tanned, but those eyes were of such a bright, greenish-gray tint that they stood out even on a face that she guessed many would already have viewed as remarkable. His eyes were so interesting, in fact, that she decided to make a note of them.

  She began jotting down other things about his appearance too; small notables that she could use in the article she would ultimately write. She jotted down one word descriptors, such as white, biggish, thirtyish, stern, in her notebook. Then eyes-hazel separately, as if to remind herself when she did write that article that his eyes gave unique definition to his looks.

  Although most women would undoubtedly consider him to be an extremely handsome man, Nikki didn’t think of him as particularly attractive at all when she first met him. Probably because he was a white guy pushing forty, and she was a black girl who just turned twenty. It was hard for her to see anything but an authority figure in an office bigger than her apartment, when she looked at him.

  Finally, after more back and forth and settling down, he eventually hung up the phone. He smiled, as if heated conversations were nothing new to him, and stood to his feet. “So sorry about that,” he said as he stood.

  Nikki clutched her notebook and attempted to stand too. He walked from around his desk, watching her as she stood, because as soon as she did, loose papers in her notebook began to drop out and sail to the floor. She was about to reach down for them, but he beat her to it. He knelt down and picked up every sheet.

  Nikki was surprised that he would have bothered, but she appreciated it anyway. “Thanks,” she said, as he handed the papers to her.

  “You’re quite welcome,” he said, as she began placing those sheets haphazardly back inside her notebook. Up close, her brown skin was flawless, he thought, and when she looked those big brown eyes up at him, in gratitude still for his assistance, his heart squeezed. What in the world was that, he wondered, as he invited her to sit back down.

  “I’m Daniel Crane,” by the way,” he said as he leaned against the front of his desk and crossed his legs at the ankles.

  “Nikki Graham,” she said, looking up at him. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

  “Nice to meet you, Nikki,” he said. His eyes automatically trailed down the length of her. She wore a pair of form-fitting jeans and a Brannon University T-shirt. Like her eyes above, her breasts below were the biggest thing on her, and they stood out like two ripe melons in front of her. He was a breast man and an ass man, had been that way as long as he could remember it, and she had hit a homerun in the boobs department. But he couldn’t see that ass. He couldn’t imagine it being flat, but still. He wanted to see it.

  Nikki, however, was ready to go. “I want to thank you for agreeing to this interview, sir,” she said. “I definitely didn’t think the vice president would feel a need to address these allegations.”

  “I didn’t think a school newspaper would be writing about these allegations,” he shot back. “I would have thought school newspapers would have been more concerned about, I don’t know, school matters?”

  He said this with a very charming smile, an extremely charming smile, but Nikki didn’t fall for it. It was his job to disarm her, she felt, so that she wouldn’t ask the tough questions. “We’re very concerned with school-related issues,” she responded. “But when the human rights commission blasted the largest employer in town as a major human rights violator, we felt we had an obligation to our fellow students to get your company’s side of the story. Dreeson is among the leading manufacturers of technical graphics and custom software in the country and, as I’m sure you know, many of our graduates work for Dreeson. And many of our soon-to-be graduates want to work for Dreeson. They’re entitled to know the full story.”

  Good comeback, Daniel thought. “Point taken,” he said.

  And with that, Nikki got to work. She had already written many of the questions she wanted to ask, so she went down the list. Although he denied each and every one of the allegations she presented to him, he did surprise her when he admitted that Dreeson could do a better job on the enforcement end. They had strict rules in place, he pointed out, but he also admitted that the managers over in China might not always enforce those rul
es as effectively as they should. “Something I’ve dealt with daily since I’ve been here.”

  “You speak as if you haven’t been with Dreeson long?” Nikki asked. She didn’t know why she suddenly veered off script and asked it, but she did. And stared at him as he answered.

  He folded his arms. “I came onboard a couple years ago,” he said.

  “As senior VP?”

  “And head of operations, yes.”

  “By operations, does that include the domestic plants, or just the foreign ones?”

  “Foreign and domestic.”

  Nikki wrote in her notebook, stretched too thin, with a question mark.

  “Just for background, sir,” she said, “before you headed up operations here at Dreeson, were you doing the same at a different company, or were you doing something altogether different?”

  “Altogether different. I was in the law profession before I accepted the position here.”

  That was odd, Nikki thought. You were a lawyer, sir?” she asked.

  “And eventually a judge, yes.”

  “Oh, a judge?” Even odder, she thought. “Then surely you, above anybody else, would understand just how serious these violations are. If they’re true.”

  “If they’re true, yes, they’re quite egregious. But they aren’t true.”

  “As far as you know they aren’t true. Which, even you admitted, your knowledge is limited when it comes to effective implementation.”

  He studied her. She was sharp, he thought. She knew how to boomerang a conversation back to her advantage. The board had decided, in an effort to contain any damage, that he, not any low level staffers, should be the one to address the allegations. The thought was that his gravitas alone would intimidate the local press to where they would only toss him softball questions, if any germane questions at all. But not this kid. She was firing from all cylinders. She might have looked young as the dickens, but she didn’t act young. That commission report was gospel in her eyes, the way she was tossing around accusations.