Free The Way to a Billionaire's Heart: Part Two: BWWM Interracial Romance by Mia Caldwell

Walker
    I’d had a pretty lousy night’s sleep, so I was in no mood to be awaked with a phone call, and sure as hell not one from Mother. You need at least one cup of black coffee before you deal with Mother. Sometimes with a shot of whiskey in it.
    The previous evening with Andrea had set my head spinning, I had been so wound up I couldn’t sleep. Stupidly, I had called Celia to talk about it. We’d been friends since we were little kids, and even though we’d had a few patches of more-than-friends, I figured we’d always be there for one another. Like the siblings neither of us had. Even if it was sometimes more like the siblings in a dirty book.
    She’d been a complete bitch about it. A monster, really. I’ve heard her being catty with her friends before, but because I didn’t know the people she was talking about, I’d never given it any thought. But to have her venom turned on Andrea had really pissed me off. I’m pretty sure the actual words “arrogant bitch” passed my lips. I’m not proud of the language, but I stand by the truthfulness of the sentiment.
    I’ve been running a major corporation for five years, seven if you count the years I shared the helm with my dying father. I’m young, but not stupid. I’ve traveled the world, seen a few things, known all sorts of people. And yeah, I’ve slept with what is probably more than my share of women, if you want to get technical about it. But I know when an attraction isn’t just, as dear Celia so eloquently put it, “jungle fever.” Yes, she did, hence “arrogant bitch.” Doesn’t seem so extreme now, does it?
    So yeah, rough night. And I had to wake to my phone flashing “Mother” on the lock screen. I let it go to voicemail and put a pillow over my head to block out the light and tried to get a few more minutes of sleep.
    I gave up when it became clear that I was just going to lay there rehashing the previous night–the pudding, especially delicious when sucked from Andrea’s finger, the taste of her soft mouth, the beautiful swell of her breasts in that lacy bra…and then the conversation with Celia came back to me and I was angry all over again. May as well get up and go for a run.
    I listened to the voicemail as I drank my coffee. “Walker, you better come by here, I have some information you need to hear.”
    Nice and cryptic. Thanks, mom. But I decided to run along the C&O canal to Rock Creek Park and wind up at Mother’s before coming back to my own house.
    Normally, I’m in the office by eight, but I’d taken the morning off in hopes of waking up with Andrea in my bed. No dice, however. I vow, once more, to make it my life’s mission to stamp out this notion that you shouldn’t sleep with a guy on the first date. You should, I swear. We think girls that put out are awesome. But I admit, there is an old-fashioned charm to longing. If the goal was to drive me mad with the need to touch that silky skin again? Mission Accomplished.
    It was shaping up to be one of those September days in D.C. that make you wonder if Fall will ever come. Every bit as humid as mid-August and today the air was still. I thought of Andrea sitting on a breezy beach in Aruba, high of 80 degrees, trade winds…If I hadn’t had a week full of meetings to try to launch this new line, I’d have hopped on the plane that afternoon. I imagined she wore a sporty two piece, sexy without even meaning to be.
    Once in the shade of the jogging trail, the heat was less oppressive. I’ve never liked going to a gym to workout, so I had a full gym built in my condo. I live on the top floor of a building I own on Water street, far more space than one person actually needs, but hey, “need” isn’t everything, right? But even after putting the machines in front of the tall windows that look out over the city, I seldom use them. I’d rather be outside, running or rowing. That’s where I can do my best thinking, it helps still my mind.
    Usually. But I was pretty sure no