His Rise (Obsessed by her Curves Book 2), page 1
His Rise
Alice May Ball
TzR Publishing
Copyright © 2021 by Alice May Ball
All rights reserved.
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Cover design by Signs of Desire
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Published by TzR Publishing
Can the feisty girl’s spark bring love back to life for him?
Jackson Caine
Jackson is definitely not looking for love. Not after the hurt it caused him in the past.
Until a barista’s curvy charms and surprising talents put the kick back in his coffee.
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Cyntia Brill
Cyntia is looking for a job, and she’s not looking to get derailed by an older man, however silver-foxy he may be. And certainly not by a man with damage in his past. She’s seen enough of that for herself.
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Cyntia and Jackson both resist the lure to love, but the pull is powerful. If they push with all their strength, could it be enough to drive them on to their happy-ever-after ending?
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Guaranteed to give you hot, tingly thrills and fast, hard twists, and guaranteed happily ever after.
Hot romance, action and suspense
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Obsession for Curves
An older man and a curvy younger girl, risk everything for their fairy-tale Happy Ever After
HER SPARK
HIS RISE
HIS GAMBLE
HER DEBT
HIS RAGE
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Bad Russians
Older men Russian men who know what they want. Curvy American girls. Insta-love action.
Obsessed – Alexandr: Bad Russian Book 1
Possessive – Arkady: Bad Russian Book 2
Protector – Yevgeni: Bad Russian Book 3
Demands – Nikita: Bad Russian Book 4
Dominant – Mischa: Bad Russian Book 5
Powerful – Nicolai: Bad Russian Book 6
Driven – Dimitri: Bad Russian Book 7
Unstoppable – Leonid: Bad Russian Book 8
Urgent – Konstantin: Bad Russian Book 9
Jealous – Valentin: Bad Russian Book 10
Ruthless – Anatoly: Bad Russian Book 11
Brutal – Christof: Bad Russian Book 12
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Secrets of Deep Channel Valley
Hidden Desires
Hidden Loves
Hidden Desires
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Hard and Hot and Fast
Fast-paced insta-love stories with curves, twists, and toe-curling thumps
Hard As Iron
Buck Moon Beach Party
Double Down
His Royal Hugeness
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Hitmen
A curvy girl needs a lot of love
2 Hitmen
3 Hitmen
4 Hitmen
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Perfect
Novel length romantic action and suspense. Crime, action and adventure, with scorching hot romance.
Perfectly Bad – Pierce: Perfect Book 1
Perfect Damage – Luka: Perfect Book 2
Perfect Revenge – Hunter: Perfect Book 3
Perfect Burn – Jack: Perfect Book 4
Perfect Pain – Vassily: Perfect Book 5
Perfect Hurt – Maxim: Perfect Book 6
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Hot romance, action and suspense
Prologue
“When will today’s most eligible billionaire bachelor in business settle down and start a family to found his dynasty?”
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Fools. Imbeciles. I don’t read the business pages for idle gossip about people’s love lives. I particularly don’t want to read about my own non-existent love life.
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Don’t the editors have any real business to print stories about? I read for information. If I wanted tattle, I would bury my nose in the society or entertainment pages. That’s where I expect to find the lives of celebrities exposed, with the non-stop train-wrecks of their private goings-on.
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I had a love life. I never intend to have another one, thanks all the same. Yes, I want children; for sure. Wanda was not even willing to give me that. But first I’ll put a suitable home together, then I can find a way to adopt. Take care of some children who’ve been abandoned or lost in the system. Too many kids have their potential overlooked and wasted. I can fix that for a few of them, at least.
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But for now, all I’m thinking about is building the Hot Start empire into the biggest coffee chain in the world. I aim to overtake The Morning Rise, even with its global reach. I will create a fortress of wealth that nothing can dent.
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And I don’t need a lying, treacherous partner to detonate it all and blow it out from under me.
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Not again.
Chapter One
Cyntia
I arrived for my interview a few minutes early. Apart from the barista and me, the only other occupant in the shiny little coffee bar is the dark-eyed man in the perfectly tailored business suit. Older, maybe borderline silver fox.
When he sauntered to his table with a big togo cup, his swagger made me think, Hey, Joe, before I realized it came from a song. Something like, Where you gonna go with that gun in your hand? Now I’m suppressing a grin.
He looks at me as he sets his coffee on the table. The glow in his gray eyes burns all the way down to set a tingle in my thighs. Looking as sharp as he does, he seems perfectly in place here. This little corner property is the impeccable headquarters of JavaLava, a small, local boutique coffee chain.
JavaLava is not going to displace Cafe du Monde as the local destination coffee house, but for everyday caffeine needs, it’s a strong contender.
He has a hungry look in his eye, like he might be seeing me as a pastry or a cupcake. I sag inside, thinking that I’m more of a box of donuts or an oversized chocolate cake.
A sadly untouched chocolate cake. He makes me wish I had experience, something to offer. I know it’s idiotic, but I so wish someone like him would desire me. He wears that suit so well, it makes me want to sigh. Especially those pants.
He’s distractingly large and insanely hot. His hair is perfect, and he has high, sharp cheekbones. And dimples. I’m a complete pushover for a dimple. He also has bulges. One eye-watering standout in particular.
My hair is scraped back, my white shirt is as snappy as any barista’s. The black pants I chose grip my ass more closely than I would like. I prefer to keep my generous curves more under wraps, but tight is tidy, and tidy looks efficient so, tight it is.
I made myself super-neat in my smart interview clothes. For an office job, it’s always best to shine up with a little glamor. I got my gig in the bookstore with baggy jeans and a cool tee-shirt. A barista’s work is in food service, so the most important first impression is to be extra tidy and squeaky clean. Kitchen clean.
Everything seems to be telling me I don’t want this job. That I shouldn’t be working for JavaLava. But do I know that I need this job, and I have to get it. Yesterday Andreas, the nice barista, told me I was the first to apply for the position. As he wrote my name down he asked, like everyone does, if I was spelling it correctly.
“Cyntia? No ‘H’?”
I nodded. His eyebrows twitched.
He made this afternoon’s appointment with Henry Hoggart for me on the spot.
I was grateful. Even casual barista positions often require phone interviews first. Not that I mind the interviews — well, they grind my nerves — but I want a job I can start immediately. I need to be earning.
When I go into Mr. Hoggart’s office, I know that I’ll have to stand, giving the man in the suit a clear and close-up view of my luxury model, family-serving-sized ass.
Ah, well, Joe. I guess we’re just not meant to be. Damn shame, though.
The owner’s office door opens, and he peers out. He doesn’t exactly smile, but he waves and says, “Okay, I’m ready.”
I stand. The hot guy in the designer suit stands at the same time, and we’re both turning toward the owner’s door. We’re too close. All there is between us is his coffee cup. Under the sheen of that Zegna suit, he’s got more hot, bulging muscles than any man has a right to.
Before I can stop myself, I gabble, “You’re not here for the…” I’m about to say ‘interview,’ but the grande latte in his open twenty ounce togo cup takes a leap into the air. Then it turn. Spins. Out jumps a perfect, huge, single, globular droplet.
Like an anvil in a cartoon, it’s suspended for an instant, looking like it might stay there. Hanging, innocent, frozen in the air.
But why would it do that? Why, when my crisp white shirt and his ridiculously expensive suit are both just here, waiting to be splattered and drenched in a splash of hot brown coffee?
I get almost all of the piping hot liquid, but his dazzling white shirt acquires a long, wide drip.
“Thanks, Joe.” I’m trying not to scowl. I don’t think I’m succeeding.
His scowl is dark and deep.
“You elbowed my cup.” His voice has an alarming effect. I’m trembling in places that shouldn’t tremble. Certainly not in public. “Look at my suit.”
“Mm.” My voice shakes. “Nice suit,” I tell him. “But you’re right, the coffee’s not an improvement.”
His eyes harden. “Now I’ll be late for my meeting.”
The gleam of his eyes rakes over the wreck of my shirt. I feel him in the places where he’s looking. My flesh wants to feel him more. He takes some time, and his eyes burn as his gaze roams over the rest of me.
The owner puts his head out again. I need to get in there first. Wet shirt or not, I have to nail this job before Joe the Dimple can steal it out from under me.
I turn to block him. “Do you mind if I go in first?” He’s about to speak. I lift an innocent finger to my lip. “I have a timed appointment, and I have to get back to babysit.”
All of which is true. Well, nearly. I promised my neighbor I’d cat-sit her little angel this afternoon.
At least Joe is graceful about it. The slow burn in his eye sets off a buzz in the pit of my stomach. I chew the inside of my lip as I think, All’s fair in love and cappuccino, Joe.
Besides, he must be the last man on Earth who would need a job in a coffee shop.
Turning to the owner, I smile and extend a hand. “Cyntia Brill. Good morning.”
And I slip into the owner’s office like it was supposed to be this way.
Fake it till you make it, Cyntia.
“Okay.” When Henry is satisfied with my resumé, he shrugs and says, “I think you may be a good fit here,” with the emphasis on ‘think’ and ‘may.’
I force myself to stay still and not react as Henry’s eyes take another leisurely tour of my body. “I’ll give you a call. Let you know.”
I’m sure he doesn’t have anyone else to see. Apart from maybe Dimple Joe.
But Henry doesn’t make a move to end the meeting. An awkward pause hangs in the air.
Finally, he asks me, “Is there something else you want to say? Something more to persuade me? Show me why you would be my perfect choice for this opportunity?”
Oh. I get it. What could I do to persuade him? Hmm. I wonder? What could he possibly have in mind?
I stand.
“There is something else I want to show you.” I watch his wet grin split the bottom half of his face. It freezes when I tell him, “Let me make you a cup of coffee.”
His face falls. “Like I said. I’ll let you know.” His mouth twists, “I get all the coffee I need, thanks.”
“Not like this you don’t.”
He looks very unimpressed. “You make magic coffee?”
“Judge for yourself.” I take the small sack of coffee beans out of my bag. “Trust me. You really don’t want to miss out on this.”
I lead Henry out of the office, betting that he will be intrigued enough to follow. Andreas the barista flinches a little at the sight of Henry approaching.
As I pour beans into the grinder, I tell Henry, “You’ll only get the full effect when we start with the machines up fresh and all cleaned down, of course.” I pause while the grinder runs and the noise rattles the air.
I’m peeved to see that, in the time I was in the office, the other job applicant has managed to clean up his suit, and his shirt is dry and looks clean. Perfectly, as far as I can see. He stands and comes to the counter to watch.
To get the job, I’m betting everything on the coffee. I have faith, though.
When I’ve ground the beans, I put the powder into two holders, then twist them into place under the espresso machine. I position four little espresso cups under the spouts. While the rich, almost black coffee comes through with a trace of fine, dark golden foam, I ask Henry, “How do you take it?”
Bored, he gives me a dead, withering look. “I told you. I get all the coffee I need. Gimme an espresso. We’ll get this over with.”
As the aroma rises, even Henry’s eyebrow twitches. With the espresso in the cups, I hand one to him and the other to Andreas.
I try to avoid eye contact as I give a cup to Mr. Dimple. Joe. I’m not successful. A spark in his eye makes a splash of shock that washes inside me, all the way down to a shake in my knees.
I’m glad I didn’t use saucers. The cup would rattle as I handed it to him.
The last cup is for me, so I can see how it turned out. I’m pleased.
Henry’s eyebrows steeple. Andreas wears a broad, bright grin. Joe the Dimple is staring at me.
The undertone of cocoa in the flavor and the aroma has all three of the men intrigued. Henry’s eyes narrow. “Have you got enough of those beans for a day here?”
I nod.
“So this is a shakedown, eh? If I want your beans, I have to pay your prices.”
“Show me what you’re paying now. I’ll charge you the same for the first week. After that, we’ll talk.”
“Where do you get these?” Big Joe’s voice stirs me more than the coffee, and it sets me buzzing more. Plus, the coffee doesn’t make my underwear wet.
I start to speak, but I have to clear my throat. “I’m not going to discuss that.”
“Well, I want to buy some.”
“Well, I’m not wholesaling coffee beans.”
“Why not?” He shrugs with a smile. “There must be money in it.”
Henry can see that he’s losing control of the situation. He briskly ushers me toward the door. With his voice almost a whisper, he tells me, “Come here tomorrow at six thirty, all right?”
“I’ve got the job?”
“Yes.” He holds the door open. “So leave. Now, please. We’re closing.”
To me, at this point, getting the job seems like it should be good news.
Sometimes, I just don’t know what’s good for me.
I look back over my shoulder. Henry is pulling down the blinds on the door. I shudder at my last glimpse of the sharp, penetrating gaze of the big man in the suit.
Chapter Two
Jackson
Those curves. That ass! I could get happily lost forever between those soft thighs.
This morning, I was looking forward to taking over Henry’s small chain of coffee bars. I know his territory and his business. It will be a useful addition to the portfolio. A start to the next phase of my Hot Start empire. All of my plans are ready, and I know what it will take to buy Henry out.
He’s weak. He expanded too fast, so he’s vulnerable.
Now, I’ve lost interest. All I can think about, all that I want, is his new barista. All my instincts are to go after her instead of wasting my time in this meeting. He was right to chase her away as fast as he did.
Her coffee is divine. It’s a world-beater. I know the coffee game inside out, and there’s nothing to compare.
But what I want is even more precious. I want her. I imagine the weight of her creamy breasts, the warmth and scent of her golden skin, her silky smooth throat, the grip of her soft, curvy thighs. I want to know the taste of her hot juices. I need to make her moan and sigh, and feel her clench and vibrate.
And I know I have to get my attention away from all that.
