One in a Million Read online

  BYRD-One in a Million

  Chapter One

  A vicious headache settled between Gregory's temples as he pushed back in his chair to make eye contact with each of the ten members of the board. He hid his anger safely behind a solemn mask, while everyone shifted under his close scrutiny. No one wanted to admit to the fault of losing the Fulton Mall contract.

  When he finished with his inspection, he stood from his chair and mumbled under his breath. Nothing could change the course of events. Tech Design had lost the contract to their top competitor. But, he would feel better if someone could tell him how that happened.

  For almost a year Tech Design pursued the rights to design the new mall. They all had put in long hours for the deal to go through. However, everyone realized that none of them had sacrificed or worked harder than their President: Gregory Woods.

  Their body language suggested that they expected him to go into another rampage. He was known for it. His reputation of being a hard man to work for preceded him. He expected and demanded the best and he made no apologies for it. But he was tired. They all were.

  Gregory caught the sympathetic gaze of the company's Vice President, and his best friend, Lenny Danza. The anxieties of the day drained away and Gregory decided to let the matter drop.

  "Let's move on to the Simmon's contract." His voice sounded harsh, but he didn't miss the surprised looks that passed between his colleagues.

  Julia Foster, an executive assistant, stood, then passed out copies of the Simmon's syllabus to each member. Moments later, the Board engrossed themselves in their new assignments. When the meeting adjourned, everyone filed out of the room except for the President and Vice President.

  Gregory slumped back in his chair and massaged the pressure points of his temples to ease his ensuing migraine.

  "I thought I would never see this day," Lenny admitted.

  "God still performs miracles."

  "I can testify to that after today."

  A smile creased Gregory's face as he stood to gather his things. "There was nothing to say. We lost the contracts, end of story." He walked to the door, then waited for his friend.

  "My point is--it's not like you to just drift into the by and by. We expected you to take a chomp out of our backsides."

  "Maybe I figured I needed to change tactics." He looked at his friend's backside. "Some of you don't have much left for me to chomp on."

  Lenny laughed and joined him at the door. "I'm sure that I speak for all of us when I say thanks for having mercy on our behinds."

  The men closed the conference room’s door, then continued their conversation as they strolled down the hallway.

  Gregory loosened his tie, then continued to pinch the bridge of his nose.

  "Did anyone tell you that you look like hell?" Lenny joked.

  "No. I'm sure that they were holding back so you could bestow me with such a compliment."

  Lenny laughed.

  "I mean it, buddy. You don't look too good."

  "I'm just tired."

  "You need a vacation."

  Gregory twisted his face into an amused expression. "I don't have time for a vacation."

  "I'm telling you, Greg. You need to take some time off. There is no way you can keep this crazy pace up much longer." Lenny stated in a concerned voice.

  “I will take a day off when I will get the Simmon’s account.” The two men entered the President's suites. Gregory slapped a hand against his friend’s back for assurance.

  Lenny rushed a hand through his raven-colored hair and heaved in frustration. "That's what you said on the last project. You know, Tech Design is not going to collapse without you, Mr. President."

  Gregory went behind his desk and dropped into the leather chair. "I'm a business man." he held out both hands out. "This is who I am. I enjoy my job. The last time I checked, that wasn't a crime."

  Lenny strolled over, placed his hands on the desk, then leaned down. "What you are, my friend, is a workaholic. That's not a badge of honor for you to wear with pride." He stood erect. "How about spending some time with Lisa. I'm sure she would like that."

  "We broke up." Gregory clicked on his computer and checked for e-mail.

  "Does she know? My wife said that she saw Lisa at one of their mutual girlfriend's baby shower, and she was still cooing your name."

  Gregory shook his head. "I can't deal with Lisa right now. Tech Design have a lot riding on this Simmon's account."

  "I think the term a lot is a gross overstatement. Every contract to go after doesn't mean its a do or die, buddy. Now, about you and Lisa. I know that it shouldn't surprise me that you broke up with her. You were drawing close to your three month limit weren't you?"

  Gregory gave him a look meant to intimidate.

  "I wish I could meet this martyr you compare these women to. She must be something to behold."

  "My love life is not your concern." He clipped each word out in anger.

  "Apparently it's not your concern either."

  Silence.

  Lenny rushed his hand through his hair again then met Gregory's hard glare. "I'm concerned about you."

  "Not too concerned if you want to pawn Lisa off on me. The woman is only concerned about one thing."

  "Money." They said in unison."

  "Still, Greg. You need to find a relaxing outlet. A hobby or something. If you keep this pace up, you're going to work yourself into a early grave."

  Gregory observed his friend's genuine distress, then dropped his hands on the desk and leaned back in his chair. Before he could respond, the intercom buzzed. He held up a finger, then answered his secretary. "Yes, Barbara?"

  "Mr. Woods, there is a woman in the reception area who wants to see you."

  "I don't want to be disturbed today. Have her leave a business card. I'll get back with whoever it is when I get a chance."

  "We've already tried that, sir. She claims it's a personal matter and insists it's very important. She also refuses to leave until she sees you," Barbara's voice lowered to a whisper. "Mr. Woods, she's been waiting almost three hours."

  Gregory pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hide his annoyance. "Who is she?"

  "That's just it. She won't say."

  His brows burrowed in curiosity while Lenny laughed.

  "Well, well, well. Is this a new lady friend you have neglected to inform me about?"

  "I'll be right down," he responded into the intercom in a tight voice then returned his attention to Lenny. "We have four lucrative contracts to bid on for within the next month. I don't have time for a relationship right now."

  Lenny shrugged his shoulders. "Of course not. What was I thinking?" his voice dripped with sarcasm. "Just tell me one thing. Is this martyr's name still Whitney Jackson?"

  Gregory tensed.

  Lenny shook his head. "I can't believe you're still pining for your antediluvian college sweetheart. If I remember correctly, didn't that relationship last three months, too?"

  Gregory shot him a glare of warning, which his friend ignored.

  "Talk about a dreamer. When will you realize that you need to let go of the past and try to live in the present?"

  "My dreams have gotten me this far," Gregory answered in a serious tone.

  "You need a reality check. The girl is probably married with four kids by now. I bet you still carry a picture of her in your wallet."

  Silence.

  "Look, if she wanted you in her life, she would have written or called. Hell, she could have tied a message to a sparrow heading due east and it would have still gotten to you by now. You're not that hard to find, you know."

  "Whitney was married ten years ago. She chose another man. I'm pretty sure that she's not looking for me. So, drop it," Gregory
cautioned.

  "I was just trying to heal it with laughter," Lenny sobered.

  "I better see what this is about," Gregory stood from his chair and walked around to pat his friend on the back as he headed toward the door. "I trust that we'll continue this conversation about my work ethics and my love life later?"

  "I'm free tomorrow morning. How about you?"

  Gregory laughed aloud.

  "I still think you're letting life pass you by." Lenny followed him down the hallway.

  "You know, Lenny, ever since you retired your Playboy title and tied the knot, you've taken great pride in ordaining yourself as Cupid here in the office."

  "Don't act like you don't need a personal matchmaker. Look at yourself. You're thirty-one years old, but you act like you're sixty or something. I'm just saying, you need to stop and smell the roses once in awhile," Lenny drilled in as they entered the reception area. "I know since I met Jan, I'm the happiest man alive."

  Lenny pivoted Gregory's shoulders and forced their gazes to connect. "I just want the same thing for you. You can't expect the right woman to come and tap you on the shoulder."

  Gregory opened his mouth when, suddenly, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned around and froze.

  "I stand corrected," Lenny murmured.

  The emotional impact couldn't have been more powerful if someone had punched Gregory in the stomach with a wooden bat. She wore a simple white pants suit that hugged at her petite waistline. Her hair color was the same as he remembered dark brown with auburn-hues highlighting each strand. It seemed longer now since it lay comfortably on her shoulders.

  She possessed a flawless, radiant, amber complexion, which he remembered to be baby soft. He battled the desire to reach out to caress its texture. Her smile revealed perfect, pearly, white teeth surrounded by full, fuchsia-colored lips. But it was her eyes, those hauntingly, beautiful, ginger-brown eyes that commanded his attention. They were the same ones he had dreamed about for the last ten years. They were older now, wiser, but just as beautiful. He assessed her elegant shaped face and, for a moment, convinced himself that this was all a dream.

  Gregory snapped out of his daze, but the vision still stood in front of him.

  "You probably don't remember me," she began.

  He closed his eyes to her angelic voice and he basked in its heavenly sound.

  "Greg...I mean, Mr. Woods?"

  His eyes opened as his face broke into a wide smile. "Whitney."

  "Well, I must be getting back to my office." Lenny coughed to hide his laughter. "I'll talk to you later, Gregory," he said then smiled at Whitney. "Excuse me, Ma'am," he added, leaving them alone.

  "Whitney, I can't believe you're here." Gregory trusted himself to whisper again. When she smiled, his heart quickened its beat.

  "I was afraid that...that you wouldn't see or remember me. I've been trying to see you for the last three hours."

  Not remember her? Is she kidding? "There is no chance in that." He looked around. "Why...what brings you here?" His smile broadened. Her hands fluttered in a nervous manner. Why had she come?

  When he looked around, he caught a few curious stares from passing associates. "Would you like to come into my office where we can talk in private?"

  Her smile falter, momentarily, before she nodded in consent.

  "Follow me." He wheeled around. As they strolled back to his office, her floral perfume encircled and enchanted his senses. A part of him couldn't believe she was here. It was as if an angel had granted his deepest desire.

  Gregory fought onerously to transform his smile back into his usual stern expression as he continued to pass more of his employees. Once they reached the suite, he opened the door then gestured for her to enter first.

  Whitney took a deep breath, then crossed the threshold of his office and stopped in awe at the magnificent sight. Original artwork donned most of the walls, while different cultural artifacts graced all the shelves and glass tops.

  The room came alive with a myriad of vibrant colors. There was even a smaller lobby area within the office. The mixed-matched colors of burnt orange and crème complemented the leather sofa and love seat, which sat, catty-corner on one end of the office. On the other side, his desk sat adorned with primary autumn colors, revealed more of Gregory's complex, but fascinating characteristics.

  It was the vision of perfection that weakened her knees and vacillated her courage. His office had to be the same size as her small two-bedroom apartment, she decided.

  "Would you like something to drink?" Gregory asked, walking over to the open bar.

  Whitney shook her head and replied, "No, well, can I just get a glass of water?" When her eyes caught his, the air turned dense and her stomach performed acrobats worthy of the Olympics. By the time she pulled her gaze away, he had witnessed her face blush a deep maroon.

  Gregory poured two glasses of water from an ice-cold pitcher and felt certain that something was wrong. He left the bar to hand her a glass. "Would you like to have a seat?" He gestured to the leather sofa.

  Whitney nodded and sat almost in the same motion. She gulped down the cold water in two sips, then placed the glass down on the table in front of her.

  He hid his amusement.

  She braided her fingers in her lap and gave him another nervous smile. "You have done well for yourself," she said warmly.

  "You know I've always dreamed of having my own company. It took hard work and determination, but I finally did it." He looked around. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm living an illusion or a dream, and at any moment, someone is going to wake me." He sat next to her.

  Her gaze filled with compassion, while her voice held sincerity. "I'm proud of you, Greg."

  Those simple words made everything: the hard work, the long hours, and even the sleepless nights seem worth it. "Thank you."

  "I remember you with so many dreams," she continued. "You wanted the moon, the stars and just about everything else in between and promised..." She dropped her head to study her hands.

  Gregory lifted her chin with a single finger. "And I promised to deliver it all to your feet," he finished for her.

  Her eyes moistened. "That was a long time ago, another lifetime," her voice softened into a whisper.

  Gregory leaned down with his eyes centered on her inviting lips. He was less than an inch away when he felt her warm sweet breath against his skin. He closed his eyes in anticipation.

  Whitney pulled away before their lips connected.

  Gregory's heart throbbed with pain and disappointment as his eyes opened. Embarrassed, he reached for his glass and took another sip of water. "Would you like a refill?" His voice sounded hoarse in his ears. He coughed to clear it.

  “Please.”

  Whitney watched him as he took her glass, then walked to the bar. She wanted to melt against him and drown in the pleasure that only he could give her. She wanted to be that college student again, the girl with no cares or troubles, the girl with youth and innocence on her side. The reality of her not being that simple girl of yesteryear shook her from her stupor.

  But she wanted to etch every detail into memory. He seemed to have grown an inch or two while his shoulders had broadened. The short haircut left only a wisp in length, but it was shaped and tapered in the back to complete the look of distinguished masculinity. The Italian, black, silk-suit couldn't hide his muscular frame, which made him the perfect model to pose for the cover of G.Q., she thought.

  "So what are you doing now?" he asked from the bar.

  "I...I'm doing some temporary secretarial work for a trucking company out in Duluth. Right now I’m on an extended leave of absence. The money is okay. It pays the rent, but not much else," she laughed.

  Gregory noticed the misery in her eyes. "If it's a job you need..."

  Whitney shook her head. "No."

  His curiosity piqued, but he decided to let her take her time. He returned to the sofa and handed her the glass.

  "Thank you," she said,
accepting the water. "I lived in California until a few years ago."

  Gregory took his seat beside her. "How are your parents doing?"

  She paused before answering. "They died in a plane crash five years ago."

  "I'm so sorry to hear that." Gregory reached out and seized her hand. The touch was as powerful as an electrical current.

  Whitney jerked away and stood.

  He masked his hurt of her reaction like a seasoned actor, while she pace the carpet in front of him.

  "The reason I had to move to Atlanta is because of--" She faced him, "My son."

  Gregory dropped his gaze.

  "You see." She began to pace again. "The doctors are...well, he has leukemia." She stopped and looked at him.

  Gregory stood, walked over to his desk then leaned against it. With one arm across his chest and the other grasping his chin, he resembled the statue of The Thinker.

  Whitney followed him to where he stood and continued with her story. "Leukemia is a malignant disease of blood-forming organs. The doctors have explained to me that the disease has drastically reduced my son's body's ability to produce normal white blood cells." She closed her eyes, but the tears settled in her long eyelashes.

  Gregory moved from the desk to encase her in his arms. She released a flood of tears that drenched his shirt while her sobs jolted throughout her body in violent tremors.

  "Shh, shh," he tried to soothe as he gently stroked the back of her hair.

  Flustered, she pulled away from his chest and looked at him through tear-soaked eyes. "I'm sorry."

  "There is no need to apologize."

  She wiped away her tears and stepped out of the comfort of his arms. "My baby, he's so tired all the time and the constant hemorrhaging practically ravishes his body. He experiences so much pain." She sniffed again. "He has difficulties breathing and he has lost so much weight."

  Whitney whirled around and looked at him. "We've tried almost everything, including chemotherapy. The doctors have suggested a bone marrow transplant." Her hands fluttered again. "But the doctors are having difficulties finding a match for the procedure." She maintained eye contact with him.

  "That's the reason I came here today," she confessed.