Because He's Perfect Read online

  Walking through the rows of cubicles I stop in the office of our account manager, who also happens to be my best friend. Camile and I grew up together, so she’s seen me at my best and at my worst.

  She’s parked at her desk, no doubt in my mind that she arrived at the office long before the rest of the staff and her eyes are narrowed as she focuses on the screen.

  “You gonna stand there and stare at me?” she asks without glancing up from the computer.

  I begin to open my mouth, but she looks up at me with an arched eyebrow.

  “Mmmornin,” I force out, and I watch as her eyes widen in surprise and she rushes out of her chair, swings around her desk and closes the door.

  No one in my office knows about my upbringing, about the secrets that I keep close to my chest, only Camile. My stutter isn’t something I’m ashamed of, but I’ve worked at it for years to keep it at bay. I only speak when it’s necessary, one of the many reasons why my past relationships never worked out.

  “When did this start?” she asks as she brushes her hand up and down my arm in consolation.

  “Nn. . .nnow,” I growl as I squeeze my eyes shut hating how I’ve reverted back to the young boy I used to be, living in hand-me-downs and in a dirty slum apartment.

  “Okay, you have a meeting this morning, right?”

  I nod.

  “Right. On your way to your office repeat the poem we used to practice in school. And then if you still can’t control it, you can just let her do her spiel and send her on her way. Let your secretary do the talking. Or I can come up?”

  I shake my head, turning down her offer.

  “Repeat the poem. We’ll figure it out. It’s been what? Like ten years?” she mumbles to herself. “You’ll get it under control again.”

  What she doesn’t know is that I recite the poem on a daily basis. A stupid rhyme she forced me to repeat to get a better handle on my consonants and vowels. I’m not sure that it really works, but it makes her happy.

  The more comfortable I am around people or a situation, the less likely my speech impairment is going to flare up. I’m able to keep it in control. But as I whisper the poem to myself I take the small flight of stairs up to my office, I see a flash of red in the visitor’s chair poised in front of my desk. And I know exactly why my speech has gone haywire. This pushy vixen makes me nervous – something I haven’t felt since I hit puberty.

  My assistant flags me down as he exits my office from escorting the woman inside.

  “Your 9 o’clock is here. I hope you take this one up on her offer because she would really be nice to see around every once in a while,” he comments before scurrying off. The kid is lucky that I’m biting back my tongue because his remark is severely out of line.

  I feel a soft touch on my elbow and I turn around to find Camile, my rescuer. She must have known that I would blow this meeting. BH Marketing is up and coming but I’ve seen their work, and they’re brilliant. Sometimes the best things come in the smallest packages.

  Especially this woman that stands from her chair, smoothing down her skirt as she shakes Camile’s hand before her eyes widen in surprise as they land on me.

  “And this is Mr. Donovan, CEO of C.D. Developments,” Camile introduces.

  She holds out her hand for me to take and as our palms touch I hear her whisper, “You should definitely have pictures of yourself online.”

  “What was that?” Camile asks.

  “Sofie Milan, and we met this morning.”

  “Oh.” Camile looks between us in confusion as we continue to shake hands, neither of us wanting to pull away from the strange and sizzling connection we’re having at each other’s touch. “Well. . .should we get started?” she asks, and Sofie and I wordlessly pull apart.

  I turn away and take my place at my desk, my need to assert some sort of authority over the situation running rampant through my body. This woman already had me on edge the moment her deep brown eyes locked on mine down in the lobby, but up close the energy between us flickers and flashes. I’m not sure how Camile can be oblivious to it.

  “Ms. Milan, please tell us why your company should be our first choice in marketing Mr. Donovan’s flourishing company.”

  Sofie looks at me bewildered, probably wondering why I haven’t said a word, probably words like freak and weirdo are running through her mind. Which of course only ignites deep-seated anger in my stomach.

  I’m unsure how long we’ve sat in the room together, but my eyes never waiver from her face. She looks familiar, like I’ve met her before. Her skin is naturally tan, a beautiful canvas for the light blush on her cheeks and the deep hazel of her eyes. I’m completely mesmerized. Luckily, I’m still able to focus on her words.

  What neither women knows is that I’ve pretty much already decided to go with her company. Especially after speaking with some of their previous clients, but I know that Sofie is here to sell me on it.

  Finally, her plump lips stop moving and she looks at me with a triumphant smile showcasing her perfectly straight teeth. Something about the woman tugs at me in a way I’ve never felt before. And that feeling leaves my hands shaking on my thighs.

  I want to speak up and thank her for coming, but I know I’ll embarrass myself. Instead, I opt for Camile’s commencement of the meeting and she guides Sofie from my office.

  Moving away from my desk I aimlessly stroll over to the floor to ceiling windows that run along the outside wall of my office. I started this company from scratch while I was in college. In an Introduction to Information Technology class my freshman year I found how easily coding came to me. My first app, a program that could combine all of a person’s social media accounts, took off like wildfire. The app made more than I could have ever imagined and before I knew it, I was graduating from college as a millionaire with offers to join other software companies. But instead of taking them up on their offers I took my time and built my flourishing business up from scratch. I wanted the best people working for me and I stopped at nothing to make sure that it happened.

  Three apps later we are on the verge of launching our very own dating application, one completely built off of using someone’s social media presence – their likes, dislikes, people in common, and interests. So if someone watches funny cat videos, the app can connect them with someone else that watches funny cat videos. It’s just one of the many tools we installed in the app.

  But now I worry that it’s all for naught. All of my years of hard work completely derailed by the vixen in the red skirt.

  Staring at the parking lot across the way I can see Sofie making her way to her car. Even from this height and angle, I can make out her hunched shoulders and downward gaze. She must be assuming that I am not going to sign the contract. But even through her downtrodden stance, she’s beautiful, far more than any average man deserves. And way more than a man born in the poorest section of town is worthy of.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Camile jokes as she struts back into my office, a stack of papers in her hand.

  I growl at her dig. “F…f…funny.”

  Her eyebrows arch in surprise at my stutter. She probably assumed as I had that once Sofie left I would have been able to go back to normal, but we should have known differently. Sofie has flipped me on my ass.

  “It’s still happening?” Camile asks as she comes to stand behind me, both of us watching Sofie climb into her Mercedes SUV. Interesting that someone so young has the money to afford that type of vehicle.

  When I don’t reply she narrows her gaze at me and hums. “We have the staff meeting in twenty minutes. Want me to ask Smith to head it up?” Smith is the Chief Operations Officer and typically holds meetings in my place if I am away. He’s also my roommate from college and a business genius if I’ve ever met one. He also has had his eyes on Camile as much as she tries to dodge his advances.

  As I nod, Camile hands me the stack of papers and I look down to find the contract in my hands.

  “I think it’s the right way
to go. She sold me on it, and you know how difficult it is to get me on board for anything.”

  “I. ..I. ..I. ..I agree,” I say, closing my eyes hating how I struggle to say the simplest word.

  Camile leads the way to the conference room down the hall, her head buried in her phone most likely messaging Smith about the change in plans for the meeting.

  Smith leads the meeting as if he was prepared the entire time, but something about the familiarity of Sofie has my mind elsewhere as he talks about budget and changes that need to happen in my app.

  Pulling up my phone I bring up a search engine and type in the name Sofie Milan. It takes a split-second for the page to populate with hundreds of thousands of posts and images of Sofie and articles about her family business. Hotel heiress, I should have known by the way she carried herself in my office, that air of confidence about her. Her inheritance explains the luxury SUV she drove away in, but why is she working for a small marketing firm?

  My curiosity is broken as the room turns their attention toward me as Smith addresses a question to me. “Mr. Donovan? How do you feel about postponing the launch of Meet Your Match?”

  Looking up at the team I grind my teeth and recite the poem from earlier in my head. “No,” I growl, masking my stammer only slightly.

  “Okay, team,” Smith addresses the group and pulls the attention away from me. “Looks like we’re slated for a launch in two months. Marketing will begin in the next few weeks with the team that Mr. Donovan has contracted with. Any other questions?”

  The table remains silent, only a few pairs of eyes look over at me. Usually, I’m bringing up a few key points at this portion of the meeting, and their expectant gazes are waiting for me to speak up. They’re going to be sorely disappointed.

  Smith trains his eyes on me, and as I shake my head, he concludes the meeting and the teams scatter back to their offices, including Smith. Camile sits at my side and without a word grabs my phone off of the table, the phone that still has the search engine brought up on the screen.

  “Interesting. Maybe that is why your speech issue returned.”

  “Ww. . .wa. . .why?” I look at her inquisitively.

  “You like her.” As I try to deny her suspicion, her smile grows double in size. “Yes, you like her like her. Can’t say that I blame you. If I were interested in women, I’d be attracted to her too.”

  “I. .I. . .I’m n. . .n. . .n. . .not,” I argue.

  “Oh, you definitely are,” she boasts as she stands from the table and puts her pen on top of the papers stacked in front of me. “Sign it, and then take it to her. Personal delivery could go a long way. She may even be impressed. I mean, there are only a few ways to impress a woman like that. A woman that can buy herself anything she wants and has willing men at her disposal. So, what makes you different? How can you get her attention?” I try to ignore her rhetorical question by keeping my eyes trained on her pen, but as silence ensues, I finally drag my gaze up to her requesting her answer. “You give her something she can’t give herself. That’s how you get her attention. And who knows, maybe you’ll get something out of it too.”

  With that, she leaves me in the room by myself considering her proposal.

  Maybe I need to make Sofie a proposal of my own. Now the question remains, how will I make my request.

  Chapter Three

  Sofie

  The highway passes under me without a second thought. I’m not even paying attention to my driving for the half hour trip. Probably not the smartest thing, but I can’t help that my mind is elsewhere. It’s back in the office with Carter Donovan. I can’t shake the feeling I got as he stared at me with his incredible blue eyes. Eyes that match the Caribbean Sea, and I should know since I’ve vacationed there every year since I can remember. I had to put in an extra effort during our meeting to refrain from meeting his gaze. I made a mistake for one split-second of meeting his eyes and it took his partner Camile calling my name a few times to pull my attention away. He made me feel something other than just the irritation I had felt in the elevator. He made me feel desire. And though I have had my fair share of boyfriends and lovers, desire is a new sensation for me.

  “Shit,” I mutter as I almost miss the exit ramp, cutting across three lanes of traffic to the sound of honks from the other cars.

  I don’t know why this man I’ve just met has me so mixed up. I’m feeling things I’ve never felt before in my life. I’m not one to ever speak so sharply toward a stranger, but when I witnessed him letting the elevator doors close something inside me snapped. My old nanny Edith would be so disappointed in me after she worked tirelessly to ingrain proper manners in me.

  A spot on the street opens up and I easily pull my vehicle in between two other cars right in front of our small office. Blake and Zack are leaning against the front desk and from what it looks like they’re patiently awaiting my return.

  “How did it go?” Blake asks as she rushes toward me excitedly and grips my hand before I can even move a step into the office.

  She looks so hopeful and optimistic that it actually hurts when I have to tell her the truth. “He didn’t sign.”

  “Really?” Her smile drops and she pulls back to look at me in bewilderment. “I could have sworn. . .”

  Moving further into the space I smile sadly at Zack and then take my place behind the front desk, someplace that I’m sure I’ll be stationed for a long while, and slide my jacket and purse down my arms. “It’s okay. I guess I just couldn’t convince him. I’m sorry to let you both down.”

  “Oh, Sofie, don’t beat yourself up about it. We’ll get another one,” Blake tells me sweetly, but I know that she’s just trying to soften the sting of my failure. I know how much it meant to them to grab this contract with C.D. Developments. It would have put their firm in an entirely new stratosphere.

  I spend the day overanalyzing my every move from the morning. How could I have done things differently? What else could I have done to convince him to sign with us?

  Then I think back to how I spoke to him in the elevator, my sarcastic quip most likely costing me the contract from the beginning. Carter probably only allowed our meeting to continue so that he could watch me squirm, knowing that he wasn’t going to sign.

  “Dammit,” I grumble as Blake sashays out of her office, her purse dangling from her hand. She looks as if she’s ready to head home, and when I glance at the clock on the computer screen, I notice that it’s already past 5 p.m. I can’t believe that I spent the better part of my afternoon miserably replaying my morning.

  “You still moping?” she asks as she leans across the desk.

  Grumbling I tell her that I am.

  “Don’t beat yourself up over it. It was your first time.”

  “And how many contracts have you ever lost?”

  She ponders for a moment, her gaze trailing off behind me, then shrugs. “None, but Zack has, obviously,” she points out since he lost a bid on a contract for Fleming Coffee to Blake, which is what brought them together.

  From the back, Zack shouts that he hears her comment and she finally achieves the small smile on my face that I’m sure she was aiming for.

  “Anyway, Zack and I are going to grab some dinner. Want to join us?”

  “No, that’s okay. I have a few things to finish up here since I’ve spent most of my time in la-la land.”

  “Sofie. . .”

  “Blake. . . I’m fine. I need to confirm some of your meetings and conferences, and then I’ll leave. All right?”

  “Fine, don’t work too late. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Zack steps up to her and lovingly wraps his arm around her waist, tugging her into his space just a smidgen more. They both wave goodbye as they leave the office and I make it a point to follow behind them and lock the front door, flipping a few of the lights off so that it is obvious we are closed.

  I pull up my calendar and sync it to Blake’s and Zack’s and confirm a few of the outside meetings for later this
week and next. Then I pull up the expense sheet and start adding in the supplies I recently had to order.

  I’m so deep in thought I barely register a knock on the door, but when a triple knock sounds again, I look up to find a pair of blue eyes pointed at me. Even with the twilight falling all around him outside his eyes shine brightly within the shadows of his face.

  It takes me a moment of staring before I finally jump from my seat and move toward the door.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask after I untwist the lock and pry open the door. Carter remains stoic but as I gesture for him to come inside he steps into the small lobby of our office. I take in his casual appearance, dark jeans that hug his thighs and a tight white shirt pulling at its seams against his chest and back. The light color highlighting his tanned skin and dark hair. He looked good in his suit this morning, but the man in casual wear could make a sinner out of a nun.

  “Mr. Donovan, can I help you with something?” I ask him again, and he finally turns around to pin me in place with his stare. It’s then that I can make out the torment in his eyes. I can’t help but wonder what put it there. Or worse, that I’m the cause of his distress.

  But of course, me and my big mouth seem to get the best of me as I snarl, “Look, if you’re here for something just spit it out. I’ve already had a terrible day since I didn’t get the signed contract. And to top it off that means I won’t get the promotion I was hoping for.” I continue to stare at him as his eyes narrow at me. His chest rises and falls, that T-shirt I had been previously admiring attempts to pull my attention toward his solid pectorals, but I fight against the urge. Carter’s jaw ticks and it looks as if he tries to say something, but is holding back.

  “Nothing to say at all? Even after the elevator? Nothing to put me in my place?” I bicker toward him, watching as his face reddens with each word.

  “Ss. ..s. . .sto. . .” he forces out, and my eyes swim with confusion until realization dawns on me.

  “Carter. . .” I begin as I watch in fascination as his lips move silently like he’s reciting something to himself. “Carter, do you have trouble speaking?”