Let Me Show You (McClain Brothers Book 3) Read online

  (McClain Brothers: Book 3)

  Alexandria House

  Pink Cashmere Publishing, LLC

  Arkansas, USA

  Copyright © 2018 by Alexandria House

  Cover image from Jaida A Photography

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing 2018

  Pink Cashmere Publishing, LLC

  [email protected]

  Let Me Show You

  Nolan McClain is the smart one, the driven one, the one who goes for what he wants, meticulously plans his steps, and thinks he has his life all mapped out...until he lays his eyes on Bridgette Turner.

  Bridgette Turner is just as driven and focused as Nolan, but when her past comes back to haunt her, she finds herself knocked off balance and all her hard work in jeopardy.

  What Nolan feels for her is real, but Bridgette is skeptical. Will she let him show her his heart?

  1

  Her ambition was one of the first things I noticed about her. That, and the fact that she knew how to work a room.

  Like me.

  We often ran in the same social circles because she was my sister-in-law, Jo’s, assistant and friend, but those titles weren’t the beginning and end of her. She was also an actress, a talented one. She was…remarkable.

  What attracted me to her initially was our similarities, our comparable drive and desire to succeed. It didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous in a girl-next-door kind of way—flawless copper-colored skin, cute little pouty lips, big expressive eyes. She was taller than me in heels, but shit, I actually kind of liked that. Thin, with just enough curves and a great ass. Always put together, always on, as if she knew opportunity might knock at any moment and she wasn’t about to miss out. She spoke her mind and laughed out loud. She was...she was perfect, but I froze up around her, couldn’t get my thoughts to align with my words, ended up bringing up something trivial or benign when I tried to have a conversation with her, and that was out of character for me. I was a talker, had always been smooth with it, too. I can’t lie; Bridgette Turner intimidated the shit out of me, but I was going to have to get myself together since I couldn’t shake what I was feeling for her. I’d tried, but just couldn’t.

  The main issue was that I hadn’t really had to try when it came to women in a long time. I just pointed, and the women were handed to me thanks to my membership in the very exclusive Gallery, a place that specialized in fulfilling the needs of any man who could afford to pay the club’s fees. I could pay, and had enjoyed the benefits of that affiliation for years, but now? Well, now I was feeling far less than fulfilled. Now I had a thing for Bridgette Turner.

  Now, I only wanted her.

  “Mm, you vant make sex again?” Galina’s voice was husky, heavily Russian-accented, and drowsy as she scooted closer to me in bed, resting her hand on my Bridgette-induced erection. Yeah, just thinking about her did that to me.

  Before I could answer her, she was sliding down my body, ducking beneath the covers. So I rested my head on the pillow and closed my eyes, imagining that she was Bridgette.

  “Jessie Mae? That you?”

  I took the phone from my ear and stared at the screen. My iPhone had informed me that the call came from Alabama, which was why I answered it. I thought it was my friend, Karen, with another update. She was how I kept up with everyone back home without interacting with them. I knew her number but thought maybe she had a new one or something. However, this wasn’t Karen. This voice…I knew it well, and with it came an avalanche of dark memories, memories that made my hands shake and shit, and I wasn’t the nervous type. I considered myself rather fearless. But this voice? It reduced me to a scared child, a state I absolutely despised to be in. So it was obvious that I needed to hang up, but I couldn’t, because despite the darkness and pain the owner of the voice had allowed to compose my childhood remembrances, despite the years it shaved off my maturity, I kind of missed hearing it. So instead of ending the call, I activated the speakerphone and closed my eyes as she repeated herself.

  “Jessie Mae?”

  I hadn’t heard or seen that name in a long time, not since I legally changed it. I’d gone by Bridgette since middle school, but my high school diploma still said Jessie Mae Turner.

  I wondered if there was a way to change it.

  Because I hated that damn name and the bitch it honored.

  The only reason I didn’t change my last name was because I actually liked my father.

  She said the name once more, mumbled something I couldn’t decipher, and then she hung up.

  I stood there for a moment staring at my phone before tucking it in my pocket, inspecting myself in the restroom mirror, and leaving the sleek office building. I’d killed the audition I’d just finished, but then again, I always did. As I slid behind the steering wheel of my Kia, I threaded my fingers through my freshly-relaxed hair, squeezed my eyes shut, and prayed I’d get the part, because acting was the great equalizer for me. It reduced the amount of Jessie Mae Turner left in my soul. And I needed that more than anything.

  2

  “…I think that’s all I had on our agenda for today. Oh, wait…I rescheduled your maternity photo shoot for this weekend like you asked,” I said, my eyes glued to the agenda on my iPad.

  Jo finished chewing the rest of her apple and rubbed her humongous belly. “Good! I’m so glad we got that worked out since Everett couldn’t reschedule his appearance on that show. He tried to back out, but I wouldn’t let him. His fans would’ve had a fit.”

  “Yeah, I know. Folks love them some Big South, and he’s talking about retiring, too? That might be one of his last shows.”

  She shook her head as she popped a grape into her mouth. I swear this baby made her eat all damn day! “Girl, please. The way he stays in the studio, he ain’t retiring from nothing. He’ll probably just do shorter tours or something.”

  “I don’t know, Jo. He really hates leaving you, and it’ll be hard to tour with two kids.”

  She shrugged as she grabbed a banana from a bowl on the coffee table in front of us. “We’ll see.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, how was your audition from earlier today?” Jo garbled through a mouth full of banana.

  “It—”

  Her doorbell cut me off, and then she just sat there and looked at me.

  Rolling my eyes, I said, “I’ll get it.”

  She swallowed her food, gave me a huge grin, and said, “Thanks, Bridge.”

  I rolled my eyes again, and mumbled, “Lazy, pregnant, always-eating ass…”

  “Uh, I heard that!” she yelled at my back.

  “Good!” I replied, as I made it to the door and checked the peephole, knowing whoever it was had already been cleared by Chink, their bodyguard who was manning the gate that day. I guess it was just a habit since I still lived out in the regular world where you had to fend for yourself.

  Seeing that it was Nolan, with his fine ass—all the McClain brothers were fine, by the way; even Neil with his tortured self—I opened the door and smiled at him. Nolan was a nice guy if a little artless at times. I liked him.

  “Hi,” he said, returning my smile.

  “Hey,
Nolan. Come on in.”

  Stepping over the threshold and into the foyer holding a leather satchel, his eyes never left me. If I didn’t know he had a thing for clear women, I’d almost think—

  “Hi,” he repeated, still smiling.

  I took him in, all of him—smooth toasted brown skin, neat mustache and goatee framing his full lips, thick eyebrows, eyelashes I’d pay good money to have glued to mine, piercing dark eyes, and hair in a precise Caesar cut. He was in his usual attire—buttoned up but not quite formal. His style was that of a relaxed businessman—usually rocking a suit with no tie—well-groomed, expensive-looking, and he always smelled divine. He was about an inch taller than me, and I could tell there was a nice body under his clothes. If Nolan McClain liked black women, I would’ve gladly rocked his whole world, because everything about him turned me on. He ticked off all the boxes for my prototype of the perfect man.

  “Hey,” I said. This entire exchange was awkward as hell, though. You’d think he didn’t know how to interact with a woman, but I’d seen him talk to his sister, Jo, and Leland’s wife, Kim, plus his harem of comrades plenty of times, and he never seemed this odd. He was actually pretty articulate and very intelligent. Maybe it was me…

  “Who is it—oh, hey, Nolan! You looking for Everett?” Jo’s voice echoed in the foyer.

  “Uh, yeah. He here?” he responded, still looking at me. Almost in a flirty way. But…nah.

  “Mm-hmm. He’s in his office.”

  “Uh, thanks. See you ladies later,” he said, giving me another smile before heading down the hall.

  I lifted a brow and stared down at my short friend. “How you gonna have me answer the door then waddle your ass in here anyway?”

  She shrugged. “I wanted to see who it was.”

  “I swear I don’t know why I deal with you.”

  “Because you love me, and I pay you well.”

  “The second part is true.”

  “Hateful heifer. Come on and take me to get a burger. Then we can pick Nat up from daycare, and on the way, you can finally tell me what you and Nolan were talking about at Leland’s and Kim’s party last week.”

  “There’s nothing to tell. He was asking me about that new Michael B. Jordan movie. He wanted to know if I’ve seen it and what I thought about it.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah. What’d you think we were talking about?”

  “I don’t know, but you looked irritated. I thought maybe he was hitting on you or something.”

  “Would you quit that? How was he gonna be hitting on me when his Red Sparrow was a few feet away from us?”

  “Because he likes you. How many times I gotta tell you that?”

  “He likes pastry, not sweet potato pie. Croissants, not cornbread. Kale, not collard greens. Ham and cheese, not ham hocks. Mayonnaise not sandwich spread. You really need to stop playing with my emotions, anyway, bad as I want me a McClain brother, knowing you and your sister-in-law got the only two viable ones.”

  “Nope. He likes you and he’s your type.”

  As I stated before, he really was my type, but I wasn’t going to admit it. “So, he’s supposed to like me because Leland told South he saw him looking at my booty? He was probably trying to figure out if this out-of-control thing is real. I really have got to do something about my ass. I mean, I know I look good, and in any other career, it’d be an asset, but I’m an actress, a fucking thespian, not an Instagram model! It doesn’t go with my body at all…”

  “I’ll trade you your ass for my stomach.”

  “Hell no. You can keep that. It looks like you’re having triplets.”

  “I knoooooow. Damn those Big South genes!”

  “That baby prolly gonna come out six-four with a goatee and some bass in his—or her—voice.”

  “Shut up, hooker,” she groaned, as she rubbed her stomach again. “Back to the issue at hand: why were you looking so crazy when Nolan was talking to you at the party, then?”

  “I don’t know. Tommy was there, and I had gotten used to not seeing him since he moved to St. Louis. It just felt…weird.”

  “You miss him?”

  “I miss his penis.”

  “Bridgette!”

  “What? You asked. Wait, was that your stomach growling? Out loud?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I’m starving.”

  “You’ve been eating since I got here!”

  “Don’t you think I know that? Come on, let’s go get this burger and then hurry back because I need to attack Everett after I eat. I am so horny right now.”

  “Shit, I bet you are. Look, you’re gonna have to start paying me extra for these food runs, and you know good and well you can’t leave without security. You ain’t gonna have Big South jumping on me.”

  “Ugh! Let me text Oba so he can drive us.”

  “And you’re buying me a shake.”

  “Them shakes are responsible for that ass Nolan is so fond of.”

  “You really need to quit,” I sighed, as I followed her out the front door.

  “So we’re actually doing this? We’re casting Honey Combs as the lead? Shit.” Everett shook his head as he stared down at the paperwork I’d brought with me.

  “It’s smart business, Ev. She’s a star with a huge fan base. That’s guaranteed ticket sales and a selling point for negotiating a distribution deal. And did you look at her reels?”

  He dragged his hand down his face. “Yeah. She can act. Shocked the hell outta me considering she can’t sing for shit. All she does is whisper in the microphone. Her fans are crazy.”

  “Yeah, her voice is trash, but shit, she ain’t gotta sing in the movie. Her momager said she’s specifically looking for parts with no singing involved.”

  “Probably because her ass knows she can’t sing.”

  “Hell, she’s got to know.”

  “What you offer her?”

  “Turn the page.”

  He did, then looked up at me. “For real? And she accepted it? How the fuck you get her management to agree to this?”

  I shrugged. “You know me. I get shit done.”

  “What you promise, Nole?”

  “Uh, I had to guarantee roles for her sisters.”

  “Shit. Can they even act?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Nole, man…”

  “No, listen…Jazz, Honey’s character, has three sisters, right? Candy and Sugar are gonna play two of her sisters.”

  He sighed. “At least they’re small roles. One of the sisters doesn’t even speak through the whole movie.”

  “Ev, do I look stupid? I wasn’t giving all three of them big roles and letting them screw them up. The name of the movie is Floetic Lustice, not Confection. I ain’t letting them take over this thing.”

  “You talk to Adams? He on board with Honey playing his love interest?”

  I nodded as I reclined in my chair. “I thought it was gonna be a hard sell, because you know he wanted a dark-skinned chick to play Jazz, but as it turns out, he was good with it. Said his wife would be more comfortable with someone like Honey.”

  “Yeah, Honey is the polar opposite of his wife. You seen her? Tall, dark, real pretty.”

  “Of course I have. She signed on to do wardrobe, remember?”

  “Yeah, yeah. So, Mr. Casting Director, have you found someone to play Cynthia, Jazz’s BFF?”

  “Uh, yeah. That’s a huge role, and we need an experienced actress to fill it, so I was thinking Jo’s friend, Bridgette, would be perfect for it.”

  “Word?”

  “Yeah. Don’t you think so?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t know you’d seen her in action. Did she submit her reels or something?”

  “Naw, I checked out that movie she was in that you produced. She really stood out.”

  “Oh, a’ight. You gonna just…offer the role to her unsolicited?”

  “I was thinking maybe you could…”

  Everett just sat there and stared at me.r />
  “What? You don’t wanna offer it to her? You think she’s wrong for it?” I asked.

  “Naw, I think she’d be great, and I’m cool with offering her the part. I’ll contact her agent, but you know…it’d be cheaper for you to just ask her out, Nole.”

  “What?”

  “You like her, don’t you? Tell the truth. That’s why you’re giving her this part.”

  I shrugged. “No—I mean, she’s a good actress, and she’s-she’s…cool.”

  He kept staring at me.

  “Damn, man! Shit! Okay, I like her,” I confessed. “What of it?”

  Everett tilted his head to the side and stretched his eyes wide. “I don’t know. Just can’t believe it. It’s crazy.”

  “How is it crazy? She’s attractive and talented, got a great personality. What straight man wouldn’t be interested in her?”

  “One who don’t like black women.”

  “Who said I don’t like black women?”

  “You always walking around with them Bulgarian chicks said it.”

  “They’re Russian, Ev. How many times I gotta tell you that?”

  “Shit, ain’t that the same thing?”

  “Really, Ev?”

  He shrugged.

  “Anyway, I love black women. I have my reasons for not dating them.”

  “But you wanna date Bridgette?”

  This time, I shrugged.

  “What does that mean? A shrug ain’t an answer, Nolan.”

  “Didn’t you just shrug?”

  “Yeah, but I ain’t the one with the MBA. Use some of them educated words you love using when you’re doing business and explain this shit to me.”

  “I-shit, I don’t know if I can date her.”

  He frowned. “What you mean?”

  “I mean, every time I approach her or try to have a conversation with her, I freeze up, fumble my words, and start talking about stupid, unimportant stuff.”