Acquire Your Touch Read online

  Acquire Your Touch

  Hadley Raydeen

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Author Hadley Raydeen Appreciates you

  About the Author

  Also by Hadley Raydeen

  Prologue

  “This is a bullshit idea, plain and simple!” Nathan Phillips landed a fist on the conference room table, pushing back and nearly toppling his chair over as he stood. He peered at the members of his executive team, and the consultant they’d brought in, all seated around the table, staring back, wide-eyed with no rebuttal. He waited for one, but he was sure they wouldn’t say a damn thing the way he was pacing the room like a wild, caged animal. His suit jacket and tie were now thrown across a chair in the far corner of the room, and he was pretty sure his shirt was unbuttoned a few buttons too many. He wanted to shed the damn thing. All these tight, unnecessary dress clothes were not him. He was used to wearing sweatpants and t-shirts, sitting in his dorm room or his parent’s basement coding to his heart’s content. That was his passion. That is what made him start this application development company, not this corporate bullshit.

  But everything he loved about this, those days were long gone by at least a decade.

  He’d grown this business from there to where it is now. He went from owing to lending, asking for ideas to giving them out like candy. He’d built this business from the ground up, with a little help from his friends of course. He looked over at his best friend and number two Tristan St. Claire. The man was his best friend and roommate in college. He’d been there since the origin of this thing, when Nathan created his brainchild while staying up late, jotting down ideas in their dorm room. Nathan was even Tristan’s best man when he’d married his college sweetheart, last summer. But now, Tristan, the C.F.O. of his company, sat with a hand to his forehead as Nathan shot down every suggestion the business consultant made.

  “Can you all give us the room, please, just a minute is all we need.” Tristan slowly pushed from the table and stood, glancing around the room of the small, senior leadership team, including the consultant, who for some reason sat back in his chair with a smug expression on his face.

  This last blow up was not a good look, Nathan knew it, but this guy’s know-it-all attitude was rubbing him the wrong way. He didn’t need some arrogant consultant telling him how to run his company. He should have never agreed to this. But, looking at the other members of his team, he felt terrible. They didn’t deserve his mood.

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.” Nathan tried a feeble attempt at smoothing things over, but they threw him a sideways glance as they heeded Tristan’s request and vacated their seats.

  Everyone filed out the boardroom; the last person out was the consultant Eustace Grere. He gave him a once over before shutting the door behind them. Something about that look didn’t sit well with Nathan.

  He narrowed his gaze as he turned to Tristan to see if he’d seen that, but before he could say anything, his friend held up his hand.

  “Man, just shut the fuck up, already,” Tristan said going over to the credenza and selecting a twenty-one-year-old scotch from the collection to pour.

  “You want one?” he asked throwing the question over his shoulder.

  Nathan nodded quickly pulling at the fabric of the too-tight, dress shirt. He needed this thing gone, or he’d start clawing at the walls.

  “Geez, Nate, what is going on with you and the shirt? You’ve been pulling at the damn thing all day. Are you okay?” Tristan turned on him, and he looked down where his hands were in the middle of his shirt, fiddling with the middle button. “You gotta stop that. No one's gonna take you serious pissing around with your clothes, man. You look nervous as hell. Take a damn drink.” Tristan encouraged pushing the glass of brown liquid into his tense hands before taking a sip of the one in his. “Drink, damn it.”

  Nathan took a sip, savoring the dark liquor and the smooth burn it caused from throat to stomach. It warmed him and calmed him at the same time. His friend nodded, seeing it had the needed effect on him.

  “Okay, now that I see you are getting your head back, you want to talk about the freak the fuck out you just had? When did we start Hulk smashing tables, Nate?”

  Nathan took another sip before dropping into a nearby chair. He regarded his best friend, annoyed.

  “Tristan, I didn’t even want to take this meeting. Hell, it’s already getting late. We’ve been holed up in here for far too long talking about the same shit. We don’t need to make these decisions now.”

  Tristan glanced at the window as if he’d just realized he had a view of the outside. “Okay…is baby boy afraid of the dark? What are we even talking about right now, Nathan?” He let out a long, hearty laugh that was needed to knock Nathan back into reality.

  Tristan sobered his laugh quick and narrowed his gaze on his best friend. “This is closing time, fool. Let’s get our heads screwed on right. Drink that damn scotch and take a breath,” Tristan said, holding up his generously poured cup to his best friend.

  Nathan reluctantly raised his. “What the hell are we toasting, right now. We still need to close this big contract, and you spring this consultant on me in the last hour.”

  “The contract is as good as ours. We both know that. Once we land that, we are golden. The consultant is just here to help us get that push over the finish line. Everyone just needs to take some breaths and have a drink..” Tristan raised a brow and his glass again.

  But, Nathan lowered his.“ Breathing and drinking aren’t taking this uneasy feeling away, Trist. I don’t like this guy. Something isn’t right about him. It’s my gut. You know it never lies.”

  “You and your damn gut. You never like anyone. Hell, I’m surprised you like me.” Tristan rolled his eyes, ditching the toast and sipping from his glass.

  “The jury is still out,” Nathan mumbled.

  Tristan tossed him a look before he trudged on with his theory. “We’re both sitting around this table, man; they are ready to sign on the dotted line. Eustace is right. Now, we need to start bringing in new talent, designers, developers, business analysts, project managers.” Tristan ticked off the positions they’d need to hire at the company to help with this new contract. It was a shit ton of people to bring on board and little time to do it.

  Nathan shook his head. “They want to use outside help. We can hire our own people. We have developers and all that.”

  Tristan sighed. “You don’t think I know this? But, we don’t have enough for this large scale project. You can’t do it all on your own. You need help, just accept it. Take a step back and look at the entire picture. With your short ass fuse, we aren’t gonna make any of this happen. We need to hear what Eustace has to say and maybe even meet with the staffing consultant team. Let's just see what they have to say. Are you good? Can we call them back in now?” Tristan asked, nodding at Na
than’s near finished drink.

  Nathan swallowed the last bit of liquid and set the empty back on the credenza at the back of the conference room. He fixed his out of place buttons on his less than fresh, white dress shirt and looked at his best friend.

  “I’m good, Trist. Let's get these folks back in here and close this deal one way or another.”

  Tristan nodded. “Now we are talking.”

  Chapter 1

  Crossing eggs and milk off the list, Savvon Stephens just needed to pick up fresh fruit as the last item and the hour she spent at the grocery store would be complete.

  She enjoyed shopping on Tuesday nights. It was never as crowded like Sundays when the ‘after church’ shoppers seemed to make a mad dash to the store as soon as the pastor said, ‘see ya next week and amen.’

  She could fill her cart without bumping into anyone because the store was packed with people. Always the introvert, she’d rather keep her head down, pick out her items and get the hell out of dodge.

  Her best friend, Trish, went to pick up shampoo and would meet her at the checkout. She came along with her to shop on Tuesdays as well but not by choice. Trish was more of the chatty type. She liked the crowds and thought Sundays were the best time for ‘guy watching.’

  But, since Savvon had all the good coupons, she resorted to coming out with her on Tuesdays even though she grumbled about how much of a

  ‘snooze-fest’ it was.

  “The only ones here are one cashier and the guy buffing the floor, Savvy. Yawn.” Trish called her by her nickname, whining about their shopping experience just last week.

  Savvon smiled to herself, and stood in the aisle checking, her wallet and planner for the coupons she had spent Sunday morning clipping. God, she needed a hobby other than coupon clipping.

  How lame is that?

  “Psst! Savvy.” She heard Trish before she saw her.

  She looked up. “Trish? Where are you?” She looked around.

  “Shh! Don’t look suspicious. Come here, behind the oranges,” Trish said.

  Savvon backed her cart up a few feet behind the oranges to find her friend hiding behind the display.

  “What in the world are you doing now?” she asked rolling her eyes, knowing Trish was up to no good.

  “Do you see that guy over there...three o’clock.”

  Savvon turned slightly and noticed a man at the ready-to-eat hot food counter several feet away. He was tall, six-feet maybe more, dressed in black pants and a white dress shirt minus a tie. Savvon watched him slip a hand in his back pocket and pull out his wallet to pay for the food he had just ordered. She had to admit, he was handsome. “Okay, I see him. What about him?”

  “He has been following you around this store, totally checking you out.”

  “Oh, please; you are crazy. You pulled me over here to tell me some guy has been checking me out? I would have noticed if someone was following me around a grocery store.”

  “I’ve seen him four different times since we got here. He has been near you and checking out your ass.”

  Savvon laughed. “You are delusional. Now, if you would please move, I would like to get my fruit.”

  “You should get his number.”

  “I’m not getting his number.” Savvon shook her head, placing oranges in a clear bag.

  “Why on earth not? Women can do that kind of thing. Go get him!”

  “I am not walking up to someone who is just trying to get his dinner for the evening, and asking for his number. Do you know how desperate I would look, doing that?”

  “Honey, after you broke up with that loser, what’s his name after wasting your time in college, you haven’t gotten laid in—”

  Savvon interrupted her by holding up a hand. “Yes, we know, I’m going through a dry spell,” Savvon said.

  “The Sahara Desert has nothing on your dry spell, sweetie. I mean honestly, you are spending your weekends clipping coupons for your big Tuesday night out grocery shopping. That is pretty bad.”

  “Shut up! You make me sound like a spinster.” Savvon shot her friend a look.

  “Well, if you don’t put yourself out there, you will turn into just that. Next, you’ll be taking in stray cats.” She turned to look over to the ready-to-eat counter, but the man was gone. “See, you lost your chance.”

  “I’m not picking men up here, Trish.”

  “Okay, cat lady.” Trish laughed.

  “You are impossible. It’s time to go,” Savvon said, putting the last of the fruit into her cart.

  He noticed her talking to a red-headed woman over by the fruit. Trying not to be too obvious about looking at them, he ordered his three-piece chicken meal with green beans and mashed potatoes and put the hot container in his cart. He’d seen her a few times walking around the store, meticulously following a list and scratching off items as she stretched to reach the wheat bread from the top shelf. She wasn’t short, but shorter than him maybe five-seven or five-eight.

  He wanted to go over and help her reach the bread, but just when he tried to move his cement-heavy feet from the floor, she’d grabbed the loaf with the tips of her red nail-polished fingers. He supposed it was for the best. He didn’t need her thinking he was stalking her. Her whole vibe came across as ‘leave me alone’ since she kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone she passed. He just happened to see her, and she caught his attention right away.

  She was dressed in dark gray, yoga pants that hugged curves that made him lick his lips. A white t-shirt topped off with an oversized black sweater completed her ensemble. She didn’t wear much makeup, and black horn-rimmed glasses adorned her face. She wasn’t out to win any fashion contests with the look, but she sure did win the prettiest, comfy woman he’d ever seen in the grocery store at eight o'clock at night in his book. And, after that hellish meeting, he struggled through at Tristan's request, she was a sight for sore eyes. He smiled at the thought. She wasn’t trying to pick up anyone in that outfit. Her black hair was pulled in a top knot. He wondered how long her hair was. He could run his hand along her chocolate skin and remove the band around her hair out of place and run his fingers through her hair. He shook his head at the idea. What the hell was he thinking, standing here between the large soup kettles and cookies, those really sweet ones with too much icing on them, thinking about seducing a woman he had just seen in the grocery store. Thank goodness. He was out of view of them, now; he didn’t need to keep looking at her. He needed to get home, eat his meal and catch up on ESPN, but the sportscast was running an umpteenth report about what NFL team would acquire the showboating, egotistical wide receiver. He’d seen it all before. He needed to get out more. His work was starting to be his wife and sports news his mistress. Enough was enough. He picked up the sugar-laden cookies, knowing good and well he had no business getting them but to hell with it. He made his way to the checkout.

  Chapter 2

  “Do you see him?”

  “See who?”

  “Savvon!”

  “What!”

  “That man.”

  “I’m not thinking about that man,” Savvon said pushing her wheat bread over the self-checkout scanner.

  “The two of you would look great together, a little ‘Ebony and Ivory’ acton,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Oh yea; that’s hot.”

  “Hush, Trish,” Savvon said trying to ignore her meddlesome friend.

  He is just the right height for you, cause we know you like ‘em tall. And, he looks like a professional—white collar type. Sexy—clean-cut, very masculine. I didn’t see a ring did you?”

  “I wasn’t looking,” Savvon replied in a dry tone, not looking up.

  “You need to look. Oh my God! You are so freaking stubborn; that could be your future husband walking out the damn store!” Trish stomped her foot.

  Savvon looked up to give her friend a sarcastic response, but then she saw him. He was selecting an Ice Tea from the cooler three aisles over. She looked at him—really looked thi
s time. One, so Trish would shut the hell up and two, because he was worth a second glance. He looked up from the checkout and locked eyes with her. They were light green maybe, hazel. She’d have to get closer to see. She took in the sight of his chiseled jaw and lips set behind a shadow of a beard. He looked tired, like maybe it was a rough day at work because there were stress lines around his eyes. That sexy, sad, worn-out look made her want to help. What could she do to take the burden away? She bit her bottom lip. Trish was right. The girl knew my type, and this guy was sexy as hell. But, how embarrassing, she was still staring, and he hadn’t averted his gaze either. She smiled awkwardly and continued swiping her groceries.

  Oh shit, did he smile back?

  Trish followed her gaze. “Oooo, see!! He just grinned at you,” she said with glee. “Was mama right or was mama right?”

  “Shh, you are so damn loud,” Savvon hissed back.

  “You can admit it, Savvon; that man is hot. If you don’t ask for his number, I will.” She held up her hand as if it were a scout’s honor. “I’ll be that one; I’ll take one for the team.”

  Savvon hefted a bag into the cart. “What do I look like picking up some man at the grocery store?”

  “Get him in the parking lot, then,” Trish protested.

  She hooted a laugh. “Like picking up a man in the grocery store parking lot is any better.”

  “You are boring!”

  “You are annoying.”