Sex And The Single Braddock

Before she could get any words out of her mouth, he was pulling her close.

The next thing she knew, she was flattened against his chest and his soft, firm lips were on hers.

A flash of hunger shot through her in his strong, purposeful embrace. Shondra gave herself a moment to enjoy his kiss—soft and heated with just the tiniest flick of tongue—before she pulled away, breathless.

“Connor,” she said when she finally regained her voice. “Thank you for dinner and a really fun evening. But as much as I’d like to continue where we just left off, I really don’t think it’s wise for us to get involved. After all, you’re my boss.”

ROBYN AMOS

worked a multitude of day jobs while pursuing a career in writing. After graduating from college with a degree in psychology, she married her real-life romantic hero, a genuine rocket scientist. Finally, she was able to live her dream of writing full-time. Since her first book was published in 1997, Robyn has written tales of romantic comedy and suspense for several publishers, including Kensington Books, Harlequin and HarperCollins. A native of the Washington, D.C., metropolitan area, Robyn currently resides in Odenton, Maryland.

Sex and the Single Braddock

Robyn Amos

This book is for Adrianne, A.C. and Brenda.

It was a pleasure working with you, ladies.

Dear Reader,

Participating in a continuity series can be both a lot of fun and a really big challenge. The most fun I had writing Sex and the Single Braddock was getting to talk to three other extremely talented authors about how our books were going to fit together. Adrianne Byrd, A.C. Arthur and Brenda Jackson were so easy to work with and as a team we came up with some great ideas.

The most challenging part of writing this story was conquering unfamiliar territory. When I received the story line, I realized I was going to be writing about Texas oil wells, fancy sports cars and decadent escapades to exotic locations. These things were all new to me. Since I couldn’t convince my husband to take me to Monte Carlo on a private jet, I had a lot of fun letting my imagination run wild.

I hope you enjoy reading about how Shondra and Connor find love despite the contrary demands of their families. It takes Shondra a while to learn that it’s okay to let go of control and let new experiences happen. And this is definitely a lesson I learned for myself while working on Sex and the Single Braddock.

I love to hear from readers. E-mail me at robynamos@aol.com or visit me on the Web at www.robynamos.com.

Happy reading,

Robyn Amos

Contents

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 1

Shondra Braddock navigated the narrow metal stairs leading down from the helipad. She was on an oil rig in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. And it was hot.

She shook hands with the liaison from Stewart Industries who’d met her at the airport that morning. “And now I’ll leave you in the capable hands of the crew,” the young man said as he turned to leave.

Out of the jumble of workers milling about, an oil-stained man stepped forward. Other than the blond hair brushing his collar from under the hard hat, Shondra couldn’t make out much. Hidden among the streaks of grime were a few patches of golden tan, a pair of ice-blue eyes and a smile containing the straightest white teeth she’d ever seen.

“I’ll be showing you around.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “I’d shake your hand, but…” He nodded to his oil-covered hands, which he continued to wipe on a rag. “Sorry about this. I had to do some emergency work on the bottomhole assembly. I didn’t want to make you wait while I showered.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand anyway. “I’m Shondra Braddock, the new chief compliance officer.”

His fingers were strong and firm in hers, and Shondra felt a little jolt when their skin made contact. Deciding the ninety-degree heat was getting to her, she took the rag he offered and wiped her hands before passing it back.

Dressed like the others, he wore brown work pants and a shirt with C.J. stitched on the breast pocket. He’d ripped the sleeves off the shirt, revealing his tanned, muscular arms. Shondra forced herself not to drool. It was no secret that she had a thing for buff, working-class men, and something about this guy was pushing all of her buttons.

Once again blaming the heat, she forced her mind back to the business at hand. “It’s nice to meet you…C.J.?”

He nodded, flashing her another grin worthy of a toothpaste ad. “Let me find you a hard hat, and we’ll get this tour under way.”

Less than a minute later C.J. returned carrying a yellow hard hat. Expecting him to hand it to her, Shondra found herself holding her breath as he reached out to settle it on her head himself. Lifting her chin to inspect his work, he nodded with approval. “Perfect fit.”

Then he winked at her and Shondra felt a tingle shoot down her spine.

Before she could analyze whether or not he was flirting with her, C.J. was leading her down a narrow aisle. “Have you ever been on a jackup rig?” he called over his shoulder.

Shondra stopped cold, thinking he’d said something obscene. “A what!”

“You’re standing on a Tarzan-class jackup rig. We drag it to the drilling site, drive the legs into the sea floor and then jack up the entire rig above the reach of hurricane waves. Once we strike oil, we’ll cap the well, jack down the rig and drag it to the next site.”

“I see,” Shondra said. She had to pay better attention. It wasn’t like her to let the proximity of a man she’d just met affect her this much.

As C.J. showed her around the rig, Shondra became convinced he was touching her more than was necessary—guiding her through narrow passageways with a hand on the small of her back or tugging gently on her wrist.

And she knew he was flirting with her when he asked, “What’s a pretty girl like you doing working in oil?”

“Come on,” she said. “I was born and raised in Texas. It’s practically in my blood.”

“And you’re a chief compliance officer? That sounds very official. Do you enjoy that type of work?” His tone implied that he couldn’t imagine that she would.

Shondra laughed. “I love everything about my job. I work best under pressure, the travel keeps me interested and, believe it or not, I enjoy the meticulous attention to detail that risk management and compliance require.”

“Whoa.” C.J. laughed at her. “Now you sound like you’re on a job interview. You can’t really love all that paperwork, filing and forms…”

“I do and I think I’m going to really like working for Stewart Industries.”

Her new job was shaping up to have everything she needed. She’d only been with the company for a week and before she could set up her desk, she’d jumped on a plane to Mexico to research compliance issues for a new drilling site.

That alone would’ve been enough to keep her interested, but this was more than just a job to her.

A chill tingled her skin despite the heat.

She had a mission that was both personal and deeply painful. So painful, Shondra had to carefully balance her emotions on the subject lest she crack her cool exterior and crumble to pieces on the spot.

Narrowing her gaze on C.J.’s back, she was able to keep her thoughts focused. It was up to her to find out all she could about Stewart Industries. This was a crucial task because her family believed someone within the company had a connection to her father’s recent death.

When her father’s former personal assistant received an anonymous call stating that Harmon Braddock’s fatal car crash hadn’t been an accident, Shondra couldn’t sit back and wait for answers. Then they found evidence of a flight to Washington, D.C., and calls made the day of Harmon’s death that traced back to the main switchboard of Stewart Industries—which made no sense. Her father’s personal assistant, who knew everything about her father’s business dealings, knew nothing about a connection to Stewart Industries. Clearly something wasn’t right.

This information had left Shondra and her brothers, Malcolm and Tyson, with a lot of questions. For the time being, their mother, still deeply in mourning for her husband, was being kept out of the loop. At least until they had solid answers.

Her family needed to know the truth about Harmon Braddock’s death, and Shondra had found a way to get on the inside at Stewart Industries. She’d called in a few favors and wrangled herself a position with the company.

She was good at what she did and the Braddock name carried a lot of weight in Houston. Even though she had her own agenda, she would do her job to the best of her abilities. Her pride wouldn’t accept anything less.

After showing her the technical side of the rig where all the hard work got done, C.J. took her to the crew’s quarters, the cafeteria and the rec room.

Occasionally some of the roughnecks would ogle her openly. Shondra knew she was an attractive woman, but she didn’t take the extra attention personally. She suspected some of these men hadn’t seen a woman in weeks, which could account for their admiring stares. At least that was how she explained the heated looks she felt coming from her tour guide.

But if C.J. did have a bit of a crush on her, she could use it to her advantage and do some subtle probing about the company.

“I was hired by Carl Stewart,” she said, dropping the name of the company’s CEO. “Does he ever come down to the rig and see you guys?”

“Not too much,” C.J. replied, and to Shondra’s disappointment, he did not elaborate.

“I guess he’s starting to pull back from some of the operations. It’s my understanding that he’s preparing to pass the title of CEO on to his son Connor,” she prodded.

C.J. simply shrugged. “That’s my understanding, too.”

Shondra was puzzled. Up until then, C.J. had been chatty and forthcoming. Now he seemed to be holding back. Her initial research suggested that SI was really tight with information. If she couldn’t even get an oil-rig worker to schmooze about the bigwigs, maybe SI really did have something to hide.

“I’ve never met Connor Stewart. What is he like as a boss?”

C.J. turned up the wattage on his winsome smile. “Are you nervous about meeting the company president?”

Shondra shook her head. “Overpaid suits with fancy titles don’t scare me. Trust me, I’ve dealt with enough of those. My only concern is learning the ins and outs of this company so I can do my job effectively.”

C.J. laughed. “Well, I’m sure that’s all that really matters.” He led her around a corner and stopped in front of a door. “I think that covers everything. We’ve got an empty office here where you can start reviewing the paperwork for the new site.”

“Thanks for the tour.” She reached out to shake C.J.’s hand. Once again, she took a moment to appreciate the firm grip of his strong, work-roughened hands.

She found herself wondering what all that grime on his face was hiding. Though his features were smudged, she could tell they were well put together.

Shondra knew it was wrong to mix business with pleasure. But growing up in a household of overprotective men had nurtured her rebellious streak. Besides, it was more than likely she’d never see this man again. In a few hours she’d be on a plane back to Houston.

What would C.J. say if she asked him to join her in that empty office? He’d been eyeing her with those wicked blue eyes all afternoon. He’d probably say yes.

With a sigh, Shondra waved goodbye and ducked into the office alone. As usual, her rebellious streak never extended past her thoughts.

At the end of the day, Shondra was a good girl with a naughty imagination. She grew up under the heavy weight of expectation, and despite temptation, she couldn’t bring herself to let anyone down.

The daughters of African-American families in prominent positions in politics did not make scandal. That made backroom romps with oil-rig workers strictly forbidden.

But she could daydream…

That evening, Connor Stewart reclined in the butter-soft leather seats on the company jet. A smile curved his lips as he watched a helicopter land on the airfield.

Shondra Braddock popped out of the aircraft, waving what looked like an airline ticket. She vigorously pointed toward the terminal.

Connor laughed out loud.

Her company escort shook his head and pointed toward the jet where Connor sat. Finally, clearly confused, Shondra began to approach the plane.

Her professional polish hadn’t faded since he’d left her that afternoon. She wore trim tan slacks that molded her hips, a matching vest and a short-sleeved white blouse. Her long dark hair was pulled back from her face and fastened at her nape in a low ponytail.

Connor watched as she marched, briefcase in hand, up the steps to the plane. It was easy to appreciate her warm brown skin and her elegant beauty. Despite the attraction he’d felt between them from the start, she’d appeared unflappable. Well, he’d just see about that.

Shondra stepped through the curtain and stopped dead in her tracks. Connor grinned wickedly.

Raising her brows, she said, “You could have told me you were Connor Stewart.”

He stood to take her briefcase and pointed her toward the seat across from him. “I could have. But I wanted the chance to get to know you without wondering if you were just putting on a show for the boss. The last two people I took on that tour thought they were too good to rub elbows with the workers that make all of our jobs possible…at least until they were told who I was. Their employment didn’t last long after that.”

“Ah, so they never figured out that you’re just an overpaid suit with a fancy title?”

Connor threw back his head and laughed. She was unflappable and he was charmed. “Touché. Although I have to say, even though I’m paid well, I think I’m worth it.”

She leveled him with her gaze. “Of course you do.”

“But I’ll give you the other two. I do wear a lot of suits, and I guess my title is pretty fancy.” Of course, he was hoping his father would stop dangling the CEO title over his head just to keep him in line. The old man needed to go ahead and retire as promised.

Shondra looked him over. “Speaking of suits, it’s nice to see that you clean up well.”

Connor shifted in his seat under her intent stare. He suddenly felt like he was no longer in control of this situation. “Thanks.”

“So that oil-covered getup was just for my benefit?”

“Not exactly. I met you covered in oil because I really was working on the bottomhole assembly,” he answered.

“A man who’s not afraid to get his hands dirty—impressive. And, C.J.?”

“Connor James. C.J. is what the crew calls me when I’m on a rig. It helps them remember I’m just one of the team.”

Shondra nodded. “So I take it that I passed your little test, then?”

Connor simply smiled.

Shondra looked around, taking in the luxury interior of the private jet. “Then riding back to Houston with the company president must be my prize. What happens to those poor suckers who don’t pass? Do you throw them in the baggage hold?”

He found himself laughing yet again. He had to remind himself he was on a business trip, not a date.

“No, if you don’t pass, we just drop you in the ocean and let you swim for the border.”

“I guess I’d better be on my best behavior then. Sounds like you’re hard to please.”

“Maybe. But you don’t have anything to worry about. Your reputation and résumé are outstanding.”

“Yes, but that clearly wasn’t enough for you,” she said, referring to his little test. “Are you always so distrustful?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a matter of trust. Just experience. Haven’t you met someone who looked perfect on paper but couldn’t live up to their own hype?”

Shondra nodded.

“Then you should understand. I like to rely on what I can see and hear for myself.”

And he was more than a little impressed with Shondra. She was even better in person than she was on paper. Not only did she have a genuine passion for her work, but she had a natural charm that had won over everyone she’d met on the rig. Himself especially.

It wasn’t unusual for him to pour on the charm to put his employees at ease, but he’d found himself going overboard with Shondra. Something about her made him react as a man first and employer second. He’d never let that happen before.

Meeting women came easy to Connor. Finding one that could hold his attention was nearly impossible. Once he weeded out the gold diggers, he was usually left with women who were either brainless or vapid.

It wasn’t lost on him that he was in the presence of that rare find who was intelligent, quick-witted and unfazed by money or position. And all that aside…she was hot.

He’d never dated a black woman, but that had more to do with opportunity than anything else. Everything about Shondra was sexy. From the husky tease of her voice to her fit and firm curves.

But there were obvious obstacles in his path. Not the least of which was that he was Shondra’s boss. He had to tread lightly, because if she didn’t share his attraction, he could find himself in the middle of a sexual harassment incident. His father would love that.

But he had a feeling that the attraction was mutual. At least that was the vibe he’d gotten when he’d been streaked in oil and wearing his work clothes. In that last moment before they’d said goodbye there was…something in the air between them.

She was in sassy mode now, using her acerbic wit to make him pay for trying to trick her. But earlier…there had definitely been some tension.

Maybe she had a thing for the working man. She’d already said she was impressed by a guy who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty.

Connor shifted uncomfortably in his seat again. Thankfully, Shondra’s attention was caught up with the flight attendant discussing their dinner options.

He had to pull it together. His father had made him promise that his phase of youthful rebellion was well in the past, and that Stewart Industries would be his only priority.

That made having his way with Shondra on the sofa bed to his left strictly off-limits.

He smiled at Shondra from across the table. Unfortunately, Connor had never been able to resist making his wicked thoughts a reality.

It was just a matter of time.

Shondra slipped into her condo and dropped her briefcase on the floor. This could be a problem. She was not supposed to have waking fantasies about buttoned-up blonds in expensive suits—especially when they turned up in the form of her boss.

Her taste normally ran to ranch hands and construction workers. There was something about a blue collar that she found very sexy. The bigger the muscles the better. Plus, it didn’t hurt that it was an easy way to get a rise out of her family.

But getting involved with Connor Stewart went way beyond subtle rebellion. Shondra got a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach when she thought about how her brothers would react. She’d like to hope that their feelings would have more to do with his family business than the fact that Connor was white, but she really couldn’t be sure.

And now wasn’t the time to put Malcolm and Tyson’s progressive thinking to the test. Her family was grieving and everyone needed to pull together. This was Shondra’s opportunity to step up and prove she was her brothers’ equal.

She was a big girl. She could handle her libido. What mattered most was that she had a job to do. Two in fact, because the compliance work had to be done, and she wouldn’t sacrifice her professional reputation for an investigation that might not turn up anything.

When Harmon Braddock died, everything in Shondra’s world came to a halt. Their family hadn’t been perfect, but no one had expected it to be ripped apart by a devastating car accident. The past month had been like living inside a bubble. She watched the world like a bystander—no one could get in and she couldn’t get out.

As Shondra struggled to come to terms with her father’s death, her family got word that his crash may not have been an accident.

It shocked Shondra to think someone might have killed her father…but, somehow, the anonymous message rang true. Politicians couldn’t please everyone, so it was conceivable that Harmon Braddock had made some enemies during his climb from Senator Cayman’s legal counsel to congressman.

Shondra felt, in her heart, that Harmon Braddock had been a good man. And for many years he’d been popular with his constituents. But the family observed his gradual change as years passed. As his hours away from home grew, he became more the political stereotype, working more for corporate interest groups than for the people. It was this change that eventually forced Malcolm out of their father’s footsteps.

When Malcolm and their father became estranged, the Braddock family began to grow apart. And it broke Shondra’s heart that it took losing their father to reunite the family. In the past month they’d all begun to lean on each other again. Then, once more, things started unraveling.

First, her father’s assistant, Gloria Kingsley, had found a mysterious number on Harmon’s phone logs that traced back to Stewart Industries. Gloria had no knowledge or record of any official business between Harmon and SI. And what was up with Harmon’s credit card bill showing a plane ticket to Washington, D.C., on the day he died? Gloria always booked his travel. So why not this one? She received a call implying that Harmon had been murdered, which also tracked back to the multimillion-dollar oil company.

With these new events, Shondra found her purpose again. Investigating her father’s death brought her out of her bubble.

Finally she had something to do besides cry.

Realizing that she’d been standing in the foyer lost in a reverie, Shondra picked up her briefcase and headed for her bedroom.

Fueled by the thought of a relaxing bubble bath, Shondra picked up speed, only to come to a startled halt as her foot squished into a brown mess just inside her door.

“Lisa! Lisa, have you been bringing your dogs to the house again?”

Within a few seconds Lisa appeared in her doorway. “Oh shoot, I thought I’d found all of Muffin’s little presents. I’ll clean that up for you.”

Rolling her eyes, Shondra kicked off her flat sling-backs. “And you owe me a new pair of shoes. These are now yours.”

Lisa, now on her knees scrubbing at the stain, looked up incredulously through her veil of micro braids. “Are you kidding? It’s just a little dog poop. It cleans right off.”

“But the memory lingers. Girl, are your braids too tight? You promised me that you’d stop bringing those dogs to the house. You’re lucky I don’t charge you extra rent for all the cockadoos and peekachoos you have running around here.”

Lisa sat up. “They’re called cockapoos and peekapoos. And I had to bring Muffin here…just for the afternoon. The air conditioner at the shelter broke, and we each had to bring an animal home with us until it was fixed.”