скачать книгу бесплатно
She cleared her throat and tried to pull away, but he held her close. “Alicia didn’t know that my mom passed away. I didn’t want to upset her. She’s in the last stages of pregnancy with my godchild, after all.”
“Our godchild,” he corrected. “And she is going to be so mad at you! Alicia’s going to be heated! You know she has to know everything. That’s why she eavesdrops all the damn time. And when she finds out that your mom passed away and you didn’t tell her…” He shook with mock fear.
“It’s not like she could do anything. She can’t fly this late in the pregnancy, and it would have only upset her and given her something else to worry about. I figured I’d tell her when I move there in a couple of weeks.” She pulled away from him.
“You know that won’t be enough to appease Alicia. She could have sent Darren, her mother, her father, my sister and Kendrick, heck, she could have even sent me to be here with you and give you moral support.”
He made a show of looking at her chest, and she crossed her arm in front of her breasts.
“I’m just looking for the S on your chest, because you must think you’re Superwoman or something, Jasmine. Everyone has to lean on someone sometime.”
Jazz knew he was right. But growing up the only child of a hardworking immigrant mother, she had learned early on how to fend for and count on herself. Even though Alicia Taylor-Whitman had been her best friend since college, and through her Jazz’s extended family had grown immensely and she really did have people she could count on now, people that apparently included the bane of her existence, Troy Singleton, she still had a do-for-self attitude.
Great! Now her best friend was going to be pissed at her, too, just when she was finally moving to Detroit and they’d be living in the same city again for the first time since they had graduated from Mount Holyoke.
Alicia could hold a grudge like nobody’s business, too. The woman had stayed separated from her husband the entire nine months of her first pregnancy because he had lied to her about their fathers arranging their marriage.
And Troy might have been boasting about how he would have been there for her, but when she moved to Detroit and took her new job, he would be singing another tune. Even her favorite playboy frenemy probably wouldn’t give her the time of day once she moved to Detroit and he found out where she was going to be working.
She wouldn’t have anyone…
Before she knew it a tear started working its way down her cheek, and it was soon followed by another and then another.
She tried to stop them.
She was Carlyne Stewart’s strong daughter for God’s sake and she did not cry in public. She hadn’t cried in public during the entire week of funeral planning, the funeral or the horrid meeting with her mother’s lawyer. No way was she going to break down in the middle of the Barbados airport in front of Troy Singleton of all people.
Her lip quivered.
Oh, damn. Damn it all to hell!
Troy shook his head and frowned at her before taking her ticket out of her hands and walking away.
She thought about calling after him and asking him where the hell he thought he was going with her ticket. But the tears where falling full speed now and she felt the beginnings of hiccups and snot and all kinds of things that probably wouldn’t have been at all dignified. And she wanted to look at least halfway dignified when she got up the gumption to cuss Troy out. So she ran off to the restroom instead to have a nice good cry in the privacy of a stall.
Troy shook his head as he walked over to the ticket counter after telling his cameramen that he wouldn’t be flying back to Detroit with them. Somebody had to look after Jasmine. The woman was clearly in no shape to look after herself. Case in point, he had never seen her looking like anything less than a million bucks and today she looked as hopeless as a penny with a hole in it.
She was still fine as all get out with her Coke-bottle figure that made a man have all kinds of thoughts and her flawless toasted-cinnamon skin.
It was just clear she hadn’t slept in days and her normally funky fresh natural hairstyle of springy-corky auburn twists all over her head was now just funky.
He had to change his ticket and see her back to Boston. If he went back to Detroit and their mutual friend Alicia Taylor-Whitman found out that he wasn’t there for Jasmine in her time of need, he would never hear the end of it. And since Alicia was married to his best friend Darren Whitman, and Alicia’s cousin Kendrick was married to Troy’s sister, Sonya, the entire family would be giving him the blues.
He paid for his ticket and paid to have her ticket upgraded to first class. No way was he flying coach, and he didn’t understand how she could. He wasn’t private-jet status like the Whitmans, but he couldn’t remember ever flying coach in his life.
Once he’d handled the transaction he went looking for Jasmine. She wasn’t where he’d left her and she wasn’t sitting near the gate, so he assumed she must be in the restroom.
He stood outside of the ladies’ room and waited for her to come out. About fifteen minutes later she did.
Damn! Just when he thought she couldn’t possibly look any worse, she surprised him. Her eyes were bloodshot red. The tip of her nose was red as well, and her cheeks were flushed.
He handed her the new first-class ticket. “I’m going to fly back to Boston with you to make sure you get home safely—”
“You don’t have to do that, Studster. I’m an adult. I think I can make it home on my own.”
He cringed. Nothing irritated him more than her calling him any of her variations on Stud. He didn’t know why it bothered him. He had certainly been called worse. And it wasn’t like she could possibly pass judgment on him. She was as big a player as he was. And it’s not like it should have mattered what Alicia’s little friend thought of him anyway…
But it did.
Ever since he’d been assigned to pick her up from the airport for Alicia and Darren’s wedding ten years ago, it had mattered to him what Jasmine Stewart thought of him. He had been rather late picking her up back then and they had been on the wrong foot ever since.
“That Superwoman routine is going to land your ass in the mental hospital one day, Jasmine. Let me help you, because you know Alicia is going to have a fit when she finds out. You might as well do the right thing now and then at least she won’t be pissed at both of us.” He grinned because he knew that would get her.
She rolled her eyes. “Alicia Taylor-Whitman is not the boss of me and neither are you, Studly.” She glanced at her ticket. “First class? I can’t afford first class!”
“Consider it my treat then, because I’m not flying coach.”
“C’dear, black blue bloods does kill muh de way yuh does put on airs and ting.” She switched back to her regular speech. “Your ass know you can fly coach.” She laughed and for the first time since he’d run into her she was actually looking like her pretty self.
He shook his head.
He reminded himself that Jasmine was like family. At least she was kind of like a distant cousin that you didn’t really like but tolerated during the holidays… And it was not cool to think of her in terms like pretty.
Although, since Troy’s best friend Kendrick had married Troy’s sister and Troy’s other best friend Darren had married Kendrick’s cousin, apparently Troy was the only one who knew it wasn’t wise to hook up with women who were so close that you would never be able to get rid of them. There was no such thing as a smooth break when the ties were that connected. And Troy always had to have an easy exit strategy, especially when it came to the fairer sex.
So Jasmine was not pretty even if she was just about the most gorgeous woman he had ever set eyes on.
“Come on, they’re boarding first class, girl. Let’s see if you still have jokes when you’re enjoying comfy seats, better food and free drinks.”
“Oh, you know I keep jokes, Studmeister.”
“I know you do, Jasmine.”
“Jazz.”
He had no idea why she wanted to shorten such a beautiful name. And he wasn’t even going to think about the fact that he never had any trouble remembering her name from the first time he’d seen her picture and been told it was his duty to pick her up from the airport. But he did like being the only one to call her “Jasmine,” especially because it drove her nuts.
“Jasmine, let’s go,” he said as he started walking off.
“Studaroni, I’m right behind you,” she said, laughing.
He chuckled. It was so easy to be around Jasmine even though she worked his nerves most times. He was glad he could help her during her time of need.
First class rocks!
Jasmine got over her mild irritation with Troy as soon as her butt touched the plush seat and the flight attendant brought her the nice hot towel to wipe her hands before giving her a glass of wine and a package of fancy macadamia nuts to snack on before takeoff.
She polished off the glass of wine and thought about how she was going to have to cut back a little in order to be able to pay Troy back for his ticket and her ticket upgrade. She knew that when he found out where she was going to be working when she moved to Detroit, he was going to regret taking the time to help her. The least she could do was give him his money back for this, because he was going to be pissed.
She yawned. All of a sudden her tiredness came pressing down on her. It felt like a steel weight pushing her into an abyss.
“So you never did say where you’re going to be working in Detroit.”
“I can’t say. I signed a confidentiality clause and I can’t say anything until after they make the big announcement.” That at least was the truth. She couldn’t tell him anything even if she wanted to, not without running the risk of being sued. Never mind the fact that he would probably hightail it off the plane if he did know where she was going to be working.
“It must be big-time if they made you sign a confidentiality clause.”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“Fine.”
She yawned again and her eyes gave in to the pressure. They closed, and her head nodded to the side and landed on his shoulder. She quickly jerked. She moved her head as soon as it touched his shoulder and she realized what had happened.
He chuckled. “You can lay your head on my shoulder, Jasmine. I won’t bite you. You won’t be able to put your seat back until after we reach cruising altitude and you need all the rest you can get, starting now. Those bags under your eyes look like you could have packed your clothes in them.”
She shot him an evil look and he laughed even harder before she begrudgingly smiled herself. She could have caught an attitude because of his rude way of making the offer. Or she could have even argued with him even though he was right; she did need the rest. But she wasn’t stupid. She rested her head on his shoulder and let the sleep take over.
Troy stared at the sleeping beauty for a long while as her head crept from his shoulder to his chest and way too close to his heart. He resisted the urge to throw his arm around her and pull her close for all of about fifteen minutes. And he told himself that he was only doing this because Jasmine was like a third little sister, that she was just like his sister Sonya and their mutual friend Alicia. Even though he hadn’t grown up with Jasmine the way he had with Sonya and Alicia, and he barely noticed that Sonya and Alicia were women, the way he couldn’t help but notice that Jasmine was all woman, it was no big deal to comfort her at this moment.
He might be a player, but he wasn’t a total jerk. He knew how to be a good friend, and that was all this was.
He snuggled her closer and brushed his lips across her forehead just as the very sexy flight attendant walked by to see that everyone was buckled up for takeoff. The knowing expression on her perfectly made-up face should have set off warning bells in his head. He should have been easing away from Jasmine now that she was asleep and trying to get his flirt on with the flight attendant. All of those things should have happened. And maybe one day he would be in the frame of mind to try and figure out why they didn’t. The only thing he knew at that moment was that Jasmine needed him and he was going to be there for her.
Chapter 3
Player, Player…
T roy eyed Jazz’s little red Mini Cooper with more than a little trepidation, and it didn’t seem like he was going to get into the car anytime soon.
Since the long-term parking garage at Logan International was more than a little cold in the middle of January and she was freezing the majority of her ample behind off, Jazz needed him to man up and get his big fine behind in the car so she could warm it up, make it home and go back to sleep. The rest she’d gotten on the plane ride from Barbados had only gotten her ready for more sleep.
“Don’t you have a real car instead of this match-box toy car? I’m a grown-ass man. I can’t fit in this little go-cart.”
Jazz rolled her eyes.
“C’dear, you and yuh won’ts and can’ts. Yuh won’t fly coach. Yuh cain’t ride in a little car. I startin’ to think yuh even more high-maintenance dan dose Black Barbie dolls yuh date. Come nuh, get in de car and let we left dis cold place!” Jazz opened the door, got in the driver’s side, popped the locks and waited for Troy to follow suit.
He glared at her and bent down to get in the car. He had to move the seat as far back as it could go and he still had to sit with his legs bent uncomfortably.
“How do you even get around in this little thing in the winter in Boston? I’m surprised it doesn’t get buried in the snowdrifts. I hope you plan on getting a real car when you move to Detroit. This little thing isn’t going to cut it.”
Jazz rubbed her dashboard. “Oh, don’t listen to the mean old man, Stud Buggie, you’re a great car and you get mommy around just fine in any kind of weather, yes you do.”
Troy winced. “Your car is named Stud Buggie?”
Her eyes widened when she realized that she had essentially named her car after Troy, since she had been calling him some version of Stud from the day she met him.
That’s odd… she thought as she shook it off.
She laughed. “Don’t worry, Stud. You will always be the original Stud, at least until you start calling me Jazz.” She winked at him and he glared.
“Buckle up, Studman. Time to go home.” She pulled off and drove to her condo in what was now called the Mission Hill neighborhood.
Mission Hill had been a part of Roxbury when she was growing up. It was close enough to where she grew up to still feel like home. Her building was on Tremont Street and had a heated parking lot underneath. The neighborhood had a diverse mix of people and a vibrant business district as well. She realized that she would miss a lot about Beantown when she moved. But living there now that her mom was gone wasn’t even an option. There were just too many memories.
Once they reached her condo she started to have second thoughts about offering up her spare bedroom/office to Troy. He couldn’t get another ticket out of Boston back to Detroit until the next morning. And he insisted on staying a day or so to make sure she was okay. Since he was being so nice and everything, she didn’t think it would be right to make him stay in a hotel.
So, him staying at her place was the deal.
Heaven help her!
She glanced around her sparsely decorated condo. Her mother always teased her that her lack of decorations highlighted her intense commitment phobia. She couldn’t even commit to a picture. She had managed to find some pieces she could live with long term. She loved her big plush rust sofa. So what if she had changed coffee tables five times in five years and was thinking about getting rid of the current studio-style glass-top mahogany coffee table and matching end tables before she moved?
“Luckily my new gig is springing for movers and they’ll be coming to pack me up next weekend, or you would be navigating your way around boxes right now. If I had to pack, I would have started last month, because it would have taken me that long with all the moaning and groaning I would be doing. I can’t stand packing. We moved around from one apartment to the next entirely too much when I was a kid.”
“Really?” Troy took off his jacket and took a seat on her sofa. “I lived in the same house from the time I was born until I went away to boarding school and then college.”
“Across the street from Alicia’s folks, right. Your mom still lives there?” She kicked off her Uggs and sat down next to him.
“No, Mom sold the house a year or two after the divorce. She is hardly ever in Detroit any more. She’s a woman of the world, traveling abroad, taking cruises, lounging in Europe, Africa, everywhere. It’s like she became the person she always wanted to be when she divorced my father and that person can’t sit still. I still can’t believe they stayed married all those years only to divorce after Sonya and I finished college. That still trips me out.” His eyes got a faraway look in them and she wondered where he went when he thought about his parents’ relationship.
Jazz nibbled her lips in contemplation. “Hey, at least they managed to stay together until you guys were adults. Better that than a deadbeat for a father that you’ve never even met. Because my father opted out, my mother had to work all the time. So I felt like I never really had enough time with her.”
Whoa, what made me share that?
She stood up. “Are you hungry, Studchickawaawaa? I could order out. I’m afraid I don’t have much in the fridge. Cooking is highly overrated.”
“We’ll have to order out, because I’m not getting back in that soup can you call a car.” He shuddered.
“Oh, stop complaining. Stud Buggie got us from point A to point B. And my car is really, really cute.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, baby carriages are cute, too, but you don’t see grown-ass people riding in them.”
“Ha, ha, ha, you’re like as funny as Chris Rock. Not!” She walked into the kitchen for her folder of take-out menus. She picked up the cordless phone and noticed the flashing red light that signaled lots of messages on her answering machine. Paying extra money a month for voice mail when her phone came with a perfectly good answering machine was not her style because it took away from her Coach bag fund.
She pressed the button and took the folder to Troy. “Here, these are some of my favorite places that deliver.”
“Jazz, baby girl. What’s up? Why can’t you call a brother every now and then? It’s like that now?” The voice on the answering machine sounded familiar but she couldn’t tell and she wasn’t interested. By the time it reached the point of a guy calling to ask her why she hadn’t called him, he was already so far off her radar, nothing could warrant the time or energy to care.
She walked back over to the answering machine and pressed delete.
“Jazzy, baby, you’re breaking my heart—” Delete. She didn’t recognize that voice, either, and didn’t care.
“What’s the matter with you, girl? You can’t call nobody?” This guy affected the voice of Martin Lawrence’s infamous “Jerome, the original playa from the Himalayas” and at least got a chuckle out of her before she deleted the message.
“Jazz, why is it I had to hear from someone else that you’re moving? I mean we went out a few times, and don’t I even warrant a—” Delete.
She sighed as she half listened to the rest of the calls, making quick work of deleting them.
