Dirty Tactics Read online

  Reagan just wasn’t...girly. The side effect of having grown up in a household of only men. Her mother had died giving birth to her. She never had anyone to help her with picking dresses, trying on makeup and navigating the world of boys.

  Instead, she had her older brother Malcolm explaining to her on her twelfth birthday about all the changes happening in and to her body. To be fair, he had told her in a very straight, calm manner. It had been Dean, Malcolm’s identical twin, who had stood behind him and mimed some crude gestures and who had told her that one day she would wake up with double D sized breasts. She was still waiting for them, but in the meantime she made do. Not too big, not too small and they looked amazing in the little black dress she was wearing. A classic, as Letty had stated when she pushed and bullied her into it.

  All in all, growing up with four brothers, she wasn’t surprised she was more into video games, beer and sports. It was why she chose to become a sports agent. She had no regrets, but being a tomboy did make it hard to have a love life.

  “I don’t want the chase,” Reagan said, softly. “I don’t want grand gestures. Or flowers. I just want to be wanted.”

  “You are. And you will be by someone who’ll love you unconditionally...and fuck you against walls too.” Letty gave her a salacious smile while fluttering her eyelashes.

  “Aww, true love,” she teased.

  “And at least we won’t die alone. We’ll always have each other, great hair and Netflix.”

  “True dat.”

  They clinked glasses.

  “Okay, enough of being antisocial,” Letty said.

  “We’re not being antisocial. We’re just sitting at the bar, trying to get drunk when there is a whole party going on behind us filled with celebrities...” Letty stared at her until realization dawned. “Yeah, we’re being antisocial.”

  “Exactly. Besides, enough time must’ve gone by for the arrival of some hot, mouth-watering, sexy celebrities.” With that last remark, Letty downed her champagne and stood up. “Let’s go. Mama needs to get laid.”

  Reagan sighed. Did they have to? She had already spent an hour in there. Wasn’t that enough?

  Letty leaned over, her mouth close to her ear. “Think of this as work. We go in and see if we can schmooze some more new clients. Hey, you never know, we might even steal some of Brittany’s clients, wouldn’t that just bite her ass?”

  Brittany was, for lack of a better word, their archenemy. Blonde and stacked, Brittany was anything but typical; she was ruthless and smart. Both Reagan and Letty worked for Mitchells, one of the best PR agencies in the country. Working for their competitors, Brittany had the underhanded talent of stealing clients from them. Reagan hated tearing down other women, but she didn’t consider Brittany a woman. More like a hoofed devil sent to make their lives a living hell. Burn, bitch, burn.

  “I’m more concerned about Daniel though,” Reagan said, ruefully. “He’s probably in there, right now, getting a hundred more clients just to spite me.”

  As junior agents, Reagan worked with athletes in Mitchells’ sports department, while Letty looked after models and actors in the entertainment section of the firm. Above them were the senior agents who, as the crème de la crème, held the most exclusive clients on their list, and then each department’s executive managing director.

  To say that Daniel, a senior sports agent, was pissed at her would be an understatement. All because he felt that her newest client should belong to him. Over my dead body.

  “Even with a hundred new clients, he still wouldn’t beat you. Do not let that conniving bastard see you sweat.” Letty paused. “Actually no one should ever see anyone sweat.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve broken that rule, once or maybe a million times. But I hear ya.”

  The day couldn’t come soon enough when Reagan looked around and there was more representation and diversity working alongside of her. As two of the few females working at the agency and the only people of color, Reagan and Letty had bonded over their mutual dislike of Daniel during a coffee run when they had started working at the agency three years ago. How fucked up was that? If she went up in flames, Daniel probably still wouldn’t piss on her.

  Reagan stood up. “Let’s go.”

  Arms linked, they rejoined the party.

  * * *

  The party was in full swing.

  They were in the ballroom of the luxurious Heart Hotel. It was highly renowned tech CEO Steven Costa’s annual party, exclusive and hard to get into. The party, not the man. Reagan was pretty sure he was on his fifth wife. As Mitchell was one of Steven’s closest friends, every year all his top PRs got invited. Reagan felt the thrill of success rush through her as she looked around. She was damn good at her job and this invite proved that.

  The ballroom was large with a diamond chandelier dripping from the ceiling. On the stage, Andy Types, a rising composer, was playing a soothing melody on a grand piano. People stood around, mingling, talking or sitting at the back as discreet staff wandered around with appetizers and champagne.

  “Look!” Letty whispered, fingernails digging into her arms.

  “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

  With a little flick of her chin, Letty pointed to the south corner where a group of ridiculously good-looking, tall men stood laughing.

  “Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?” Letty asked.

  “He always comes,” Reagan said absently as the man in question finally noticed them staring. Aidan broke off immediately from his group and came striding over. Tall, dark and handsome, he was taller than Reagan by a good few inches. He kept his black, curly hair short and wore a black Armani suit that looked good against his mahogany skin. His brown eyes were a little darker than hers. Women watched him with thinly disguised lust in their eyes as he made his way through the crowd.

  “You mean to tell me that you could have gotten us into this party last year, but you chose not to say anything?”

  Reagan frowned. “I am not using my brother for things like this. Besides, they’d all just hold it over my head until the end of days.”

  “Fine,” Letty grumbled, just as Aidan reached them.

  “Reagan,” he said.

  He enveloped her in a hug and she hugged him back. God, she missed him. It had been two weeks since she had seen him last, but they usually never went that long before seeing each other. Aidan was her closest brother in age and friendship. At just two years older, Reagan had practically worshipped him growing up. And now she couldn’t be prouder. He was an ice hockey player for The Comets. She knew it must be hard being one of the few black people in the NHL, but Aidan never complained. Not even in the infamous interview where he was asked if he got preferential treatment because of his skin color and if that was why he was traded to The Comets. Aidan had coolly replied back, “Look at my stats and you’ll see my color has absolutely nothing to do with how I skate.” He proved himself every day as one of the best defensemen in the league and all his hard work had paid off. As the current winners of the Stanley Cup, he and his whole team were currently hot shit.

  “Hey, big brother,” she said in greeting. “You said nothing about coming today. I thought you were still in Vancouver.”

  “You know I come to Steven’s party every year. You’re the one who never said you were coming.”

  Oops, good point.

  “Sorry. I forgot?”

  He sighed. “You’re lucky you’re the baby of the family.”

  Aidan shifted and looked down at her best friend. “Hey, Letty, you good?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled. “What? No hug for me?”

  Reagan turned her head in shock. “But you said hugs are reserved for holidays or only as a prelude to f—”

  And immediately stopped talking when Letty gave her a death glare. I guess she’s being friendly or... Reagan watched as Aidan hug
ged Letty. With her added advantage of heels, Letty wrapped her arms around Aidan’s neck while he lightly touched the base of her back, hands dangerously close to her ass. Letty pulled away.

  “Mmm, yeah, maybe this hugging thing still isn’t for me. I’ll see you guys later. I’m going to go mingle.” With one last wicked smile, she sashayed away, drawing attention as she went.

  Aidan turned to Reagan.

  “What the fuck was that?” he said through clenched teeth.

  Reagan held her hands up. “Don’t ask me. I’m in the dark too. Maybe it was some weird experiment to see if hugging should exist outside of sex?”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “What? Sex?” Reagan grinned.

  “Yes.” Now he sounded like he was grinding his teeth.

  “You know, not only can I say it, but I’ve also had it. Shocking, isn’t it?” Sometimes it was fun having brothers just so she could mess with them. She particularly liked when they got that twitch under their eyes whenever she talked about her love life. The same twitch Aidan had right about now.

  “Stop being such a brat, Reagan. Aren’t we too old for this shit?”

  She pretended to think about it for a moment. “Nope. Besides, I’m twenty-five, not twenty-seven. Still years away from being old.”

  “Hah.”

  A server offered them a glass of champagne, which they both happily accepted. Keep on with the bubblies.

  “How’ve you been, brat?” Aidan asked.

  “Good.” She smiled. “Business is good. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “I can see that. I heard you landed Trent Newman as a new client.”

  Ah yes, Trent Newman. A rookie who just got signed by the New York Giants. The player everyone would be watching this year. And he had signed with her! She thought it would have taken months of ass-kissing, but, with some clients, it just clicked. It helped that Trent hadn’t reached that level of douchery that usually came with fame. Yet. He was still in the “I’m-so-surprised-it’s-happening-to-me” stage and he was sweet with it. She really hoped he kept that sweetness, but she’d been around sports players all her life and it meant she wasn’t going to be holding her breath.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty excited actually. Trent is one of those rare players who doesn’t think with his ego or think he’s hot shit and that everyone should bow down to him.”

  “I hope you are not suggesting that I am anything like that.” Aidan shook his head.

  She laughed. “I wouldn’t dare. I still have nightmares from the prank of ’09.”

  Her brother’s eyes wandered over her shoulder and she watched as his mouth curved into a smile.

  “Zac’s here,” he said, simply.

  Casually, she turned and looked. Her heart stopped, and then began to pound, exactly as it had that night in Muckberry Field when she was fifteen years old. Reagan had already come to terms with the fact that no matter how long she lived, or how much time passed, the sight of Zachariah Quinn would always affect every part of her being.

  What is it about him? She lifted her champagne to her mouth to help with her suddenly parched throat. Was it the way the light gray suit molded to his lean, athletic body? His thin hips and broad shoulders? His full lips that stretched easily into a smile to flash his delicious dimples? She hadn’t tasted those lips in months. Not since that evening at Aidan’s house when they had suddenly found themselves alone in the living room, on the sofa. One teasing smile and casual flirting remark later, she somehow ended up with her hand curled around his nape, kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

  She remembered how he’d brushed his hands up her blouse, to touch skin, making her gasp desperately into said mouth. How she had rocked into him and felt him harden against her and a groan vibrate his chest. They had sprung apart like two teenagers caught necking when they heard the front door open and close. By the time her brothers had walked in, Reagan and Zac looked like nothing had happened at all.

  Whatever it was about Zac that attracted her, it definitely wasn’t the cool and beautiful blonde clinging to his side. Reagan’s eyes narrowed, a Victoria’s Secret underwear model, if she wasn’t mistaken.

  Fixing a smile on her face, she turned back to her brother. “I guess you want to go and check in with your BFF, no?”

  “And abandon you to every desperate guy in the room?” Aidan raised an eyebrow. “Not a chance, sis.”

  She let out a puff of breath. “I can take care of myself, you know—Hey, what do you mean desperate? Do you think the only guy I can get is a desperate guy?”

  “Frankly, I don’t want to know how you get any guy. Desperate or otherwise.”

  “Brothers are just great for a girl’s ego.”

  “Hey.” His mouth lifted into a half smile that had fooled millions of girls around the world to look past his abrasive, rough and tumble personality to only see his handsomely roguish good looks. “You’re not exactly good on our egos either. You’ve always given as good as you got.”

  No compliment could have pleased her more.

  “Go.” She nudged him. “I’ll be fine by myself, mingling with all these hotshots. Go and be a hotshot.”

  He gave her an absent-minded kiss on her cheek and walked away. As soon as he left, the smile slipped off her face and, because she could already feel the familiar tingles of hurt, she clung to the anger of seeing Zac and his “girlfriend,” instead.

  Reagan rubbed the spot on her chest where her traitorous heart lived.

  Even angry, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. Where he stood laughing with their host, Steven, one hand curled around the cool blonde’s waist. They moved away from Steven just as Aidan came to join Zac’s side. The two exchanged their customary handshake and back slap. She watched as Zac introduced Aidan to his date for the evening.

  It was really petty of her, she knew, but Reagan really wished the blonde suddenly got an attack of acne...between her thighs. No, no, not acne! Maybe she had some kind of disease—not a life-threatening one, because Reagan wasn’t that evil—and the disease would make her lose all her hair, teeth and so sad, too bad, it deflated her obviously fake breasts. Yep. That she could live with.

  “Oh god.” Reagan half gasped and half swallowed a mouthful of her drink, just as Aidan pointed a finger to where she stood. Zac’s eyes followed Aidan’s finger and those gorgeous blue eyes met hers. Shit, shit, she thought as he watched her for a second, the champagne in her stomach turning to lead.

  Reagan didn’t know why she did it, but she whirled around. Okay, she knew why she did it. She was a big fat chicken, that’s why. Panicked, she spotted one of the waiters for the night and dropped her half-drunk champagne onto his tray, nearly toppling the whole thing. I can’t speak to him. Not now. Not when all her emotion was so close to the surface, she might take one look at him and blurt out the truth.

  Without thinking, she left the room in the opposite direction of the open bar. Even though there was a rope blocking people from entering this side of the hotel, Reagan pushed it aside and rushed down the hallway. There were three doors in front of her. She took the door to her left and stepped inside.

  The room was lit by a chandelier and there were racks and racks of coats. What kind of hotels had a chandelier in a coatroom? Maybe there was a sale at Chandeliers-R-Us? It’s okay. Everything was going to be okay. She fanned her face, trying to control the blood rushing up to her cheeks. What the hell is wrong with you, Reagan? You would think you would be over a ten-year crush by now. She needed to get herself together and until she did that she was staying in this closet. She and these mink coats were about to get very acquainted with each other.

  Chapter Two

  Arms outstretched, palms against the wall, Reagan took in a shuddering breath. She stood deep in the coatroom, behind the third and fourth rack. The room smelled of fur and musk. The light was on, but it was st
ill a bit dark in her little corner. The wall was painted what the owner probably thought was a soothing yellow, but looked like someone had thrown up on it. Whoever decided on this particular shade as an official color deserved to be shot. It was not helping her calm down. I knew I should have worn a looser dress. But nope, vanity had won out in the end. She wasn’t very curvy, but the little black dress made her small hips look fuller than they were, before it came down to right above her knees. Well, none of that mattered now, because all it did was keep her looking cute while she had trouble breathing through the tight contraption.

  Why did Zac affect her so? Why couldn’t she just ignore him? If she was being honest, she found herself drawn to him even before the day they kissed for the first time. Except now, she wasn’t content with secret accidental kisses and moments of longing. But what can I do? Zac—and all her brothers—had made it perfectly clear that a relationship between them was definitely not in the cards. So, what was she supposed to do? To keep ignoring her feelings seemed like the best possible option. Suppressing them wasn’t exactly helping with her breathing though.

  Creak. The door opened and Reagan didn’t bother looking up. It was probably just the person who looked after the coats—the coat manager?—and here’s to hoping they didn’t come this far in. But, with heavy and determined footsteps, whoever it was walked deeper into the room, not stopping until they reached where she stood.

  Reagan stiffened as she lifted her head. He was close enough that she could feel his heat against her back, smell his aftershave with definite hints of sandalwood, and know exactly who it was standing behind her.

  Why was this happening to her? Coming to Steven’s party was important for her career, but now she just wished she had stayed under her covers while binging on Oreo cookies and playing Future Fantasy.