Are you a dreamer? I am. I love to dream and visualize my life. In The Good Girl, Gabriella Townsend had one dream, work for Morgan Grant Holdings. In her mind, it’s the best company in the world and they offer the most opportunity for advancement. Unfortunately, like in real-life, dreams don’t always happen in our time frame, but in God’s. I like that, because it means when I put my dreams in His hands, they turn in into so much more.
In The Good Girl (free on Amazon through Friday, September 25!), Gabriella was content waiting for her dream job and when it happened, she got more than she expected.
We pulled up next to a huge jet and parked. My nerves were on edge. I should have known we’d be traveling on the company jet. Tony got out and opened my door. “Mr. Marchant will be here shortly.”
“Thank you.” He helped me out of the car and my mind filled with a thousand possible ways this could be bad. I walked up the stairs and when I crossed the threshold of the plane, my mouth dropped open. I looked around the beautiful space and figured if I were being sold into white slavery, at least I was going in style with a great dress.
“Good afternoon Miss Townsend. I’m Gil.” Oh great another strange man. Am I the only female working for this man?
“Hello.” I shook the gentleman’s hand.
“Can I get you something while we wait for Mr. Marchant?”
Alcohol wasn’t an option, I needed to stay alert. “A mineral water please. Thank you.”
“Have a seat and I’ll be right back.”
I sat down and watched as Tony loaded the bags, then disappeared. I closed my eyes and said a little prayer, followed by a couple of deep breaths. Then I sent a text to my mother, “So far so good.”
Gil returned. “Here you are Miss.” He looked out the window. “Mr. Marchant has arrived.”
My heart leapt into my throat. I took a long sip from my glass, popped a breath mint, and stood up. I brushed the imaginary lint off my sleeve, rubbed my tongue across my teeth checking for lipstick, and folded my hands in front of me. I looked out the window hoping to get a glimpse of the elusive Phillippe Marchant as he got out of the black Bentley, but Tony “The Wall,” was blocking my view.
I held my breath and aimed my eyes at the entrance, but all I saw was his back, followed by the voice from the phone.
“Tony, make sure Marcos knows to go to my place and check on things. Have him forward anything that looks important to the D.C. office, and I’ll see you on board.”
Now I was confused. I thought Tony was the driver. Who the crap is Marcos? I’m surrounded by strange men. I looked down briefly. When I raised my head, my eyes landed on a very tall, young, hot man walking towards me. My body reacted in a way I had never experienced. I was trembling from head to toe, and a strange sensation settled in the lower half of my body.
I’ve never seen an executive or man that looked like this. Most of the executives at Morgan Grant were older and definitely not this fine. This man’s skin looked like rich black coffee. I wanted to touch his face to see if it felt as smooth as it looked. He was wearing a light grey suit and a simple white shirt, with the first few buttons undone to reveal more of that beautiful dark skin. He continued toward me and his spicy scent filled up the plane. This couldn’t be…
“Phillippe, we finally meet.” He extended his hand and I saw his guns. My God, every muscle in his body was at attention and now he was giving me permission to touch him.
“Hello.” I shook his hand and a spark erupted. No really, an electric shock.
“Must be the carpet,” he joked.
“Sir,” Gil appeared.
“Gil, thank you for taking care of Miss Townsend. Once we get on our way, please serve lunch. I haven’t eaten since this morning. When Tony gets back, tell the pilot wheels up. Thank you.”
“Yes sir.” Gil disappeared to the rear of the plane.
“Gabriella,” he looked at me and the most salacious thought crossed my mind. For a moment, I forgot I was a good girl excited about this amazing job God had blessed me with. “Have a seat. We have a lot to discuss before we land.”
I smiled, sat down, grabbed the necessary files, and buckled my seat belt. I reached for my iPad and when I straightened up, Phillippe was sitting across from me. He had taken his jacket off, revealing more of his incredible build. He removed his cufflinks and began rolling up his shirt sleeves. I was fascinated by the crisp white cotton bending at his will, releasing more of his demanding, intoxicating scent. I tried to focus on my iPad, telling myself, Don’t look at him. If you do, you might suffer the same fate as Lot’s wife and turn into a pillar of salt. I lifted up my iPad and pretended to read. All of a sudden the plane seemed dark. I looked up and Tony was walking towards us.
“I told the pilot we’re ready,” he said to Phillippe.
“Let Gil know, and ask him to bring me a glass of ice water. Thank you.” He looked at me and I was grateful to be sitting because every muscle in my body was numb. “Turn your iPad off until after take off.” He capped off his comment with a smile. Dimples. Are you kidding me?
His looks are strong and commanding until he smiles and then he becomes a real life sex fantasy. His eyes look like black diamonds, and those have got to be the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen.
What is wrong with me? He’s not even my type. Like I have a type. My last relationship was with Todd Elliot, my lab partner. Even then, I think it was a pity thing on both our parts. He was short, fair skinned, sweaty palms and every time he kissed me, it felt like I was being kissed by a fish.
I looked at Phillippe’s lips and wondered how those, gorgeous full lips would feel pressed against mine. I bet they’re soft. He probably doesn’t kiss like a fish, but like a man who knows how to take charge. His kisses are probably filled with a lot of passion. I bit my lower lip, lost in my fantasy of kissing him.
I tried not to stare at her, but I’m shocked at how beautiful she is. Nowhere in Tony’s report did he mention how beautiful Gabriella is. My last assistant was a pretty woman in her mid sixties. Mrs. Reynolds was more like a mother. However, this woman sitting across from me is a lustful distraction. I’m not sure if this is going to work.
I tried to play off that spark thing, but it was real. Nothing like that has ever happened to me, not even with Chantal.
I’m trying not to stare at her, but those are the sexiest lips I’ve ever seen. Full and juicy. I could watch her talk all day. I wonder how she kisses. Did I just say that? What is wrong with me? She’s not even my type. But her petite frame and those curves are doing something to me. I wonder how her hair looks straight. The curls framing her face make her look sweet and innocent, but those lips…maybe I should send her home and just communicate via the phone and a few video chats. Who am I kidding? That wouldn’t help, because even talking to her on the phone, her face would be in my head and I’d be envisioning those lips.
When I sat down across from her, I was glad she couldn’t see how my body was reacting to being so close to her. How am I going to spend the next month or so on the road with her?
“Turn your iPad off until after take off.” When she looked up at me with those big brown eyes, I was done. I polished off that glass of ice water in one swallow and it didn’t seem like the air was working.
I was exhausted and planned to sleep, but when I saw her, that plan instantly went up in flames. I didn’t want to miss one moment being in her presence.
What is that parfum she’s wearing? It’s taken over the plane. When I wiped my mouth with my napkin, her scent was there. It’s like spicy vanilla and tobacco, unusual for a woman, but very seductive. I’ve never been around a woman as mesmerizing as she is.
“Were you able to reach your mother?” I asked. Maybe hearing her talk about her mother will kill the lustful thoughts I’m having.
“Yes. I promised I’d call when we land.”
No such luck. The sweet sound of her voice traveled into my ear and danced around my head before journeying to my core, awakening something I assumed had become immune to sweet talk. The funny thing is, she didn’t say anything seductive or enticing. It’s just something about her. I can’t quite put my hand on it, although I wouldn’t mind touching every inch of her.
After we reached cruising level, Gil served lunch. I was starving. I drank so much coffee in Seattle, I think if you cut me, I’ll bleed Sumatra roast coffee.
So far the only thing that matches up to the report Tony gave me, is that she’s very smart. Considering the amount of time she had to gather the information I requested, she did very well. I’m convinced she’ll be able to handle any task I assign her.
She caught me off guard with her question. She’s a lot more perceptive than I anticipated, which is what she’ll need working with clients and the other executives. However, I’ve got to be careful not to slip up and make her suspicious of me. I need to keep the truth about her job and my position a secret as long as I can. I want her to be fully trained and comfortable working with me and Tony, before telling her why I really hired her. The longer she believes she was hired to be the Assistant to the new President, the better. She needs to believe there’s someone I report to.
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About Tracy Reed:
I am a single Christian woman who loves God, Fashion and Cute Guys. Not all women who write Christian fiction will admit to that.
The subjects I write about are considered taboo in Christian fiction. If you want to read about Christians dealing with unrequited love, apprehension to give love another chance, arranged marriages, physical attraction, divorce, annulment, controlling their urges, infidelity, abortion, dating younger men, being a single mother, slipping up and sleeping with your estranged ex, standing up for yourself, being honest about not liking your in-laws, still being attracted to your ex, battling postpartum depression, having challenges in your walk with Christ or if you aren’t too proud to admit you sometimes get angry and yell at God, then you’re in the right place.
The people that read my books have a thing for designer clothes and accessories and aren’t ashamed to admit it. To them a cute Christian guy on their arm is the finish to the perfect outfit. Sort of like lipstick, you don’t have to have it, but it sure makes you feel prettier when you do.
Check out Tracy’s other books at her website: www.readtracyreed.com