Bro-mance 101 Read online

  For days, he’d relieved their encounter. The sweet smell of her perfume wafting through the elevator cab. Her soft lips pulling at his. Her velvety tongue dueling seductively in his mouth. The feel of her round, soft ass cradled in his palms. The warm wetness that enveloped him as he thrust inside her over and over again. He’d had his share of sexual conquests, but nothing as explosive as his experience with Zhané.

  When she left him in the elevator that day, he wasn’t sure what to say or do. He’d never been stumped for words. He called out to her, but she was gone, swallowed by the downpour outside. Although she’d vanished, her words remained to haunt him. She’d had the nerve to call him out about his motives. He was not hosting Bro-mance 101 as an act of revenge. His show was about helping the fellas move on, just like he’d done with his ex-girlfriend.

  Yeah, right. Who are you kidding? It took you a year to get rid of the toothbrush she left in your bathroom!

  “What do you think?” the caller continued. “Should I just hit it and have a little fun with her. Can I take a woman seriously who screwed me the first night we met?”

  Devlin gave the caller an honest answer. “Yes…you can take her serious. You don’t give yourself enough credit, man. Just because she had sex with you doesn’t mean she’s the type of woman to do it with everyone. Maybe she felt a connection with you. Give her a break.”

  Silence clouded the line as the caller seemed to mull it over. “You’re right,” the man finally said. “I mean, damn, I got skills. Maybe she was feeling me like that.”

  “That’s right!”

  “I can’t assume she’s a slut just because my homies say so.”

  “Now, you’ve got it.”

  “We could have a made a love connection.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t take it that far, but you get my point.”

  “Thanks man. I gotta go. I’m at work, and I don’t need to get caught on the phone.”

  Devlin laughed, and then took a few more calls before going to commercial break. The minute the mic was on mute, Ramon burst into the studio, pulling loose the fat knot of his abstract patterned tie.

  “What the hell is wrong, Dev? Did somebody spike your latte?”

  Devlin chuckled. “What are you talking about?”

  “What’s with the warm and fuzzy feelings? It’s as if…as if…you’re getting in touch with your feminine side. God forbid! This is not your usual blend of advice.”

  Devlin batted the air as if swatting a horsefly. “You’re nuts, man.”

  Ramon waved a piece of paper in Devlin’s face before reading it aloud. “The Devlin I know wouldn’t say, ‘Not all women are bad.’ And ‘c’mon man, you need to put yourself in your girlfriend’s shoes.’ Oh, and the coup de gras: ‘Relationships are a give and take, bro. You can’t do all the taking and no giving.’ Ramon squinted in a feeble attempt to give Devlin the evil eye. “I feel like you got kidnapped and brainwashed by a bunch of bra-burning feminists!”

  Devlin smirked. “It was actually one panty-dropping feminist–and she would not appreciate the ‘kidnapping’ remark.”

  “I’m serious, Devlin.”

  “Me too.” The look of confusion on Ramon’s face was so comical Devlin was compelled to launch into a discussion about his encounter with Zhané in the elevator last week.

  “And you say she was looking for me?” Ramon asked incredulously.

  Devlin leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yep. Good thing she finally found me. In addition to finding each other’s sweet spots, we had a fascinating conversation.”

  Ramon sank into one of the empty chairs in the studio. “This is no good. This woman, this Jhane…”

  “Zhané,” Devlin corrected.

  “However you say it. She’s got you going soft. You need to get your edge back.”

  “She said some things that made me question the advice I’ve been giving. I’m starting to look at things from a new perspective.”

  “No!” Ramon leapt up, nearly knocking the chair on its side. “Hell no! You can’t let her do this to us.”

  “Us?”

  “Uh, I mean you,” he backtracked.

  Devlin chuckled. “No, you didn’t. You meant us.”

  “Okay, us.” He sat back down and ran a hand through his head of thick, black hair. “You’re my top ranked show, Dev. You fill a niche. Men need you.”

  “Zhané said I need my listeners more than they need me.”

  “You don’t believe that, do you?”

  “Maybe.” The crazy thing was, the more Devlin thought about it, the more Zhané’s argument had validity. The show had become an outlet for him to vent. He couldn’t deny he saw a little of himself in each listener who called in. Perhaps he really was telling them to do all the things he wished he’d done. Instead of getting back on the horse and trying again, he’d been afraid to show vulnerability. It occurred to him that maybe he was living vicariously through his listeners. Zhané was the only one who’d had the balls to say it to his face.

  “Well, I need you,” Ramon said. “KLUV needs you. We’ve got bills to pay, bro. So, put this woman out of your mind.”

  Devlin rubbed the stubble on his chin. “You don’t know how hard I’ve tried.”

  Ramon stood. “Try harder,” he ordered. “We have a set formula. Listeners have a certain expectation when they call into this show. Everything is riding on you. If you deviate, listeners will drop off, sponsors might pull their ads, and we won’t have any money.”

  Devlin nodded, letting the effects of Ramon’s words sink in.

  “And while you’re at it,” Ramon added, “take your own advice: Don’t Get Got! It sounds like you’re falling hard for this chick.”

  Devlin blew out a deep breath. “I heard you the first time.”

  “Good.” Ramon clapped him on the back as he prepared to leave. “Remember, our livelihood is in your hands.”

  SEVEN

  Zhané tried to concentrate on the PowerPoint presentation displayed on her computer screen. In less than an hour, she was scheduled to present this proposal to a panel of fifteen employees, which included her direct manager, an important client, and members of the marketing and finance departments. Under normal circumstances, she could use her superb oratory skills to deliver a flawless presentation, but today didn’t qualify as normal. In fact, no day for the past two weeks could fit into that category. Ever since she’d found herself trapped in that elevator with Devlin Hart, she hadn’t been able to push the incredibly erotic encounter from her mind.

  Random thoughts of the man kept creeping into her subconscious, popping up like a spring-loaded jack-in-the-box when she least expected (or welcomed them). She had work to do. She was too busy to waste her time thinking about him. With a roomful of her peers and managers who would be watching her every move, she needed to bring her ‘A’ game. She closed her eyes, and willed the words on the screen to embed themselves into her cerebrum.

  I just need fifteen minutes to think. I can do this!

  The moment she found some semblance of focus, her secretary, Marji, peered through Zhané’s open office door. Her deep blue eyes matched the lapis colored blouse that was fastened at her neck to the top button. “Sorry to interrupt,” Marji announced, “but you have a visitor.”

  “Damn,” Zhané stood and cursed under her breath. “Is the client here already? He’s early.”

  “Nope.” Marji shook her head, causing her long, blonde ponytail to sway in response. “This visitor doesn’t look like any client we ever had.”

  Marji left the room, and Zhané looked up to see a handsome, Hispanic man stroll into her office. Within the few seconds it took for Zhané to scan the man’s deeply tanned skin, jet-black hair, and tailored gray suit, he’d crossed the short distance from the door to her desk and extended his hand.

  “Ramon Aiello,” he smiled, flashing what had to be thirty-two pearly white teeth. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I heard you got sidetracke
d looking for me a few weeks ago.”

  Zhané’s heart ping ponged as she locked eyes with the man. No doubt, he was here to tell her to keep her nose out of KLUV’s business. She steeled herself for a fight as she accepted his firm handshake. “To what do I owe this honor, Mr. Aiello? And how on earth did you know where to find me?”

  “Zhané Williams is quite a unique name. Go to any search engine and you’ll find that name attached to one of the new rising female stars in the oil and gas industry. I decided that any woman who is tough enough to melt Devlin’s cold exterior is a woman I had to meet.”

  Immediately, she realized Ramon knew what had transpired in the elevator with Devlin. She smirked. “I guess Devlin Hart never heard of don’t kiss and tell?”

  “Well, you did more than kiss!” Ramon kept his altar-boy smile in place, which helped soften the blow of his words. “Of course, any man would brag about that. And as beautiful as you are,” he added, “I can’t say I blame Devlin one bit.”

  She shot him what she hoped would be a look of reproach. “My business with KLUV studios is concluded, Mr. Aiello.”

  “Or so you thought,” he answered slyly.

  Zhané pulled her blazer over the sleeveless designer wrap dress she wore. “I have a meeting to attend, so if you don’t mind…”

  Instead of retreating, Ramon invited himself to sit down, easing his long limbs into a chocolate colored leather chair near her desk. He crossed one slender ankle over the opposite knee. “It seems you made quite an impression on Dev.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “He must not be easily impressed.”

  Ramon’s deep chuckle echoed throughout the room. “I can see why he’s so enthralled with you.”

  “Yeah, meaningless sex will do that.”

  Ramon’s smile faded. “Dev doesn’t think your encounter was so meaningless. In fact, he’s taken a lot of what you said to heart.”

  “Good.”

  “Bad,” Ramon corrected. “You’ve got his thinking off-kilter. After one conversation with you, he’s losing his edge.” His green eyes quietly studied her. “That edge is what makes our show successful.”

  Zhané picked up the visual aids for her presentation from her desk, and added her iPad to the top of the stack. “As I said earlier, I’m trying to prepare for a meeting. Give my regards to Dev. And tell him to keep his mouth shut about us.”

  She prepared to make a dramatic sweep past him, but Ramon stood and blocked her path. “Why don’t you tell him yourself?”

  “Aren’t you his boss?”

  “Devlin is his own boss. And you’re one of the few people he’s listened to. From what I heard, you didn’t back down. You gave as good as you got and you didn’t take his crap. I think he called you an independent woman who had her shit together.”

  Zhané bit back a smile at that remark.

  “I tend to agree with him,” Ramon offered. “I have a proposal I think you’ll appreciate.”

  “The only proposal I wanted didn’t happen–thanks to Dev.” She shrugged. “But I’m over it. That was the other good thing that came from my rendezvous with him.”

  “Please,” Ramon held his hands up in surrender, “just hear me out. I think you’ll like what I have to say.”

  ********

  “Tonight’s question is how many dates should you go on before you can expect sex from a woman?” Devlin paused, imagining his words floating through the microphone and mingling with the radio waves. “One of my listeners, Jonas P., made a comment on the blog,” Devlin continued. “He says, and I quote, ‘I’m not trying to invest a whole bunch of time in a relationship only to discover we’re not sexually compatible. If I don’t get some coochie by the third date, I’ll dump a woman.’

  “Whew!” Devlin whistled. “Jonas, stop beating around the bush and tell us how you really feel. Another blogger, 2SMOOV4U, writes ‘I tell a woman on our first date that if she doesn’t give it up within a month, it’s not going to work.’”

  Devlin chuckled. “I see my listeners are serious when it comes to getting some nookie. This guy is calling it quits after one month. Everybody knows their breaking point. I ain’t mad atcha fellas.” Devlin noticed the switchboard was lit up with callers. He quickly took the next one. “Caller, you’re on the air. Who am I speaking with?”

  “This is Miss Independent,” the sexy voice cooed.

  Devlin’s heartbeat stuttered. He knew that voice. The owner had chewed him out. Then, pleaded in his ear for him not to stop his sensual assault on her. He could still smell her scent on his body. He had to fight the erection he got just remembering the feel of her warm thighs wrapped around him.

  He recovered, eager to speak with her. “Caller, this show is romance from a man’s point-of-view, but I’ll hear everybody out.”

  “Good, because I’d hate to think you were a sexist pig. I’ve been listening to your show, and the female viewpoint is definitely underrepresented.”

  Devlin smiled. “Uh, in case you haven’t noticed, this show is called Bro-mance 101.”

  “Honey, you can’t have any Bro-mance without the ladies. Are you scared of females or something? Worried we’re going to inject some logic into your paranoid arguments?”

  “If you’d seen some of the deranged women I’ve dealt with, you wouldn’t think I was paranoid.”

  “Speaking of deranged, let’s take a look at tonight’s asinine topic: how many dates do you take a woman on before you demand she give it up? You cannot be serious.”

  “Hey, it’s a legit question.”

  “Just a few weeks ago, you were talking about women who give it up too soon. You are by far the most schizophrenic host I’ve ever listened to. You want to have your cake and eat it too!”

  “Hell yeah! While you’re at it, throw in the candles and the balloons.”

  “You men don’t know what you want.”

  “Ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black? Everybody knows women have flip-flopping down to a science. First, you push your three month rule on us. Then, you flip the script and try to give us all the candy at once.”

  “That’s not the point,” Zhané quipped. “Even if we only had a one month rule, men would be trying to get into our pants the first week!”

  Or in my case, the first night.

  “Well,” Devlin demanded. “what other options do you have to offer? Most men don’t want to wait three long months.”

  “Ever hear of phone sex?”

  “Oh no! That’ll give a brotha a case of the blue balls!”

  Zhané’s light-hearted laugh cozily wrapped itself around him. “Women have sexual frustrations too,” she admitted, “but if you want it bad enough you’ll wait.”

  Devlin enjoyed bantering with her. “You’re right,” he conceded. “I’m such a hypocrite.”

  She laughed again. “You’re just saying that to get me off this phone.”

  Her humor was infectious, and Devlin chuckled along with her. “Yeah, you’re right about that too. I can’t have crazy women calling into my show.”

  “You men need us crazy women,” she insisted. “If not for us, you wouldn’t have a damn thing to talk about! Goodnight, Mr. Devlin Hart-less.”

  Zhané hung up before Devlin could get another word in. In her wake, she’d filled the void that he’d been feeling for the past few weeks. His heart rate soared. His adrenaline was pumping. Zhané gave him a high like no other.

  He turned his attention back to the board, which was lit up like a Christmas tree. Callers were desperately trying to reach him. He took one call after another, and each person had something to say about the mysterious female caller.

  “…Miss Independent made some good points...”

  “…Hell yeah, we want to have our cake and eat it too!”

  “…Man, you can’t let that woman call you schizophrenic…”

  “…I need me a tough lady like that to keep me grounded…”

  Devlin glanced up to see Ramon standing behin
d the glass divider doing his version of a happy dance. Devlin didn’t need to see the ratings charts to know that Miss Independent was a hit. He knew Ramon well enough to figure out exactly what the man was going to do next.

  EIGHT

  One of the perks Zhané enjoyed about her job was that it was located less than a mile from where Katina leased an office as a private consultant. No matter how hectic their schedules, the two always made time to have lunch together at least once a month. After a leisurely lunch of seared tuna salads at Houston’s Restaurant, they returned back to Zhané’s office so Katina could show off a new computer program she was working on.

  “I can’t believe you don’t trust me to view this on my own,” Zhané complained as the pair took the elevator to the tenth floor, and walked through the glass doors of the spacious lobby.

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Katina assured her. “I just can’t let that flash drive out of my sight. It’s top secret.”

  “Who’s your client? The FBI?”

  Katina shot her a deadpan look. “If I told you comrade, I’d have to kill you.”

  Zhané rolled her eyes. “If you keep mangling that Russian accent, I might have to kill myself.”

  Katina cracked up laughing as she followed Zhané past Marji’s desk. Her secretary had a carved-on grin wide enough to make a jack-o-lantern envious.

  Zhané immediately picked up on her mood. “Uh oh. What’s going on?”

  “You’re keeping me on my toes with these impromptu visitors,” Marji answered.

  “You’ve met Katina before.”

  “Yes, of course, I was referring to the client waiting in your office. He says he has an appointment, but I don’t see it on your calendar.”