“Hell yeah,” he confirmed, waiting as Topaz located her keys. “I haven’t even told you about my new job yet, have I?”
Topaz was surprised. “You mean you left the Probe?” she asked, citing the small weekly Casey had written for since graduating from college.
“I start writing for the Queen City Happening on Monday.”
“Get out.”
Casey shrugged. “It’s true. They called the day I left for Vegas.”
Topaz’s arched brows rose a notch. “Well, I’ll have you know I met the head man in charge yesterday.”
“Who? The managing editor?”
“Hmm ... I think he founded the paper.”
“Alex Rice? You met Alex Rice?”
“I did.”
“Damn,” Casey whispered, sounding as though he was awed by the fact. “I didn’t meet him during my interview, but from what I hear, he’s one intimidating brotha.”
“Intimidating?” Topaz parroted, inserting her house key into the lock. “He didn’t come across that way to me.”
“Hmph, he wouldn’t.”
“Meaning?” Topaz drawled, turning to look at him.
“Never mind,” Casey coolly replied, thinking how clueless his friend was about her effect on the opposite sex.
Topaz waved her hand. “Whatever. Listen, why don’t you come with me to this party tonight?”
“Party?”
“Mmm-hmm, for Goldie Sims. It’s his birthday,” she explained, turning back to unlock the door. “It should be fun and you’re probably still uptight from your flight. This’ll help you unwind.”
Casey debated the invite, then told himself he was crazy for doing so. What man in his right mind would decline a date with the lovely Topaz Emerson? “What time do we leave?” he asked.
Casey and Topaz stepped inside the house just in time to catch the end of a message being left on her answering machine. The friends silenced themselves when they realized the caller was shouting.
Topaz rolled her eyes and laughed.
Casey wasn’t quite as amused. “Who the hell would leave you a message like that?”
“Alfred Majors,” Topaz shared, having recognized the voice of her obnoxious menace. “It’s nothing to be concerned about. Trust me,” she tried to reassure him.
“Be careful,” Casey warned, dropping the bags to the silver gray sofa in the living room. “How well do you know this fool?”
“Casey, please,” Topaz whined, unfastening the straps on her heels, “the man’s just a harmless bully.”
“Mmm-hmm, he sounds greedy.”
“Well, he’s that too.”
“And that can be a very dangerous trait.”
Seeing how worried Casey was, Topaz pushed him down to the sofa and situated a burgundy throw pillow behind his back. “Now you listen to me, I promise to be careful, all right?” she prompted, waiting for his gorgeous smile to break through. “Now, let’s get ready for this party.”
Goldie Sims’s party had been under way for two and a half hours and was just getting heated when Alex arrived. Of course, the moment the tall, devastating publisher stepped into the club alone, there were several lovely women ready to offer their companionship.
“You are truly a Renaissance man, Alexander Rice.”
Alex smiled down into Tiffany Green’s upturned face. “How do you figure?” he probed.
Tiffany’s shoulder rose, allowing the wispy thin strap of her clinging magenta frock to slip downward. “The security business and now a successful publishing magnate? You’re a man of many talents.”
Alex fought to hide a grimace over the woman’s mention of the now defunct security business. “You do know that I dissolved Rice Securities, right, Tiff?”
“And I really don’t understand why. It was so successful. I mean, everybody called your company to handle whatever—”
“Tiff, can we not talk about this?”
Tiffany’s full, rose-colored lips formed a pout. “You have to be the only man I know who doesn’t like to brag about his successes,” she complained, while stepping closer. “So whatever will we talk about?” she suggestively whispered.
Alex grinned at the woman’s tenacity, as his brilliant turquoise gaze drifted over her head. His eyes locked on Topaz Emerson.
Of course, it would have been impossible to miss her entrance when she stood at the top of the short stairwell leading down into the first floor of the Limit. She looked incredible dressed in a sable lace tunic with a mock turtleneck. The garment’s fitted shape outlined every alluring curve with its flounce cuffs that almost shielded her hands from view. The sheer lining beneath the tunic gave a man the impression that he was seeing more than he really was. The black matte jersey pants, however, left nothing to the imagination. They fit like a scandalously snug glove and were coordinated with a chic pair of black platform boots.
