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“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“You have a place here in Atlanta?”
“I have a five-bedroom spread in Savannah,” he bragged, “but the school put me up in a place a few blocks from here.”
While Charles and Terrence discussed the sinking real estate market, Kyra noted each man’s physical attributes. Though Terrence was several inches taller, Charles had meatier arms and outweighed him by at least twenty pounds. Olive-toned, with a sprinkling of gray throughout his short, brown hair, Charles Roberts was on the fast track to being CEO of the largest insurance company in the nation.
Kyra’s eyes slid down the hard lines of Terrence’s chest. The NFL player might have been every woman’s dream, but he was her worst nightmare. For starters, he was broad, lean and had more muscles than a professional body builder. He possessed everything she liked in a man and more. Sexy shaved hair, deep brown eyes, ripped arms. And then there was his voice. There was a very sensual feel to it. It was commanding, but soothing and evoked feelings of calm. Charles spoke in a polished, refined way and though Terrence had graduated with a double major in English and education, his speech was cooler, laid-back, street.
“We should all hang out some time,” Terrence suggested, as the elevator came to a grinding halt. “Kevin owns a nightclub in the city called Bollito. Ever heard of it?”
Charles started to speak, but Kyra grabbed his arm and with a burst of superhuman strength, practically dragged him out of the elevator. Going clubbing with Terrence was out of the question. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. He’d made his choice ten years ago, and Kyra didn’t believe in second chances, especially not for someone like him.
* * *
“Is everything all right?”
Kyra snapped out of her daydream. Instead of enjoying a quiet lunch at one of her favorite restaurants, she was replaying her conversation with Terrence in her mind. Thanks to its celebrity investors, big shots such as Russell Simmons and Justin Timberlake, Azure Lounge & Bar attracted a steady stream of powerful executives and rising stars. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been very good company, have I?”
“No, but I forgive you,” Charles said.
Kyra couldn’t tell if he was joking, and didn’t have the energy to ask. Troubled about her meeting with Terrence, and hungrier than a hiker lost in the woods, she reached for another garlic bun from the oversized glass bowl.
“Why don’t you let me order you another appetizer?”
“Because I’ve already eaten a huge plate of peppercorn ribs!” She sliced the bun in half, decided against adding butter and took a bite. “I’d like to lose a few pounds before homecoming, and it’s already September 5. If I keep eating everything in sight, I’ll never fit into the gown I bought.”
“You’re beautiful no matter what size you are.”
Kyra’s mind drifted off. Terrence had once whispered those very words to her, and after one drink too many at a raucous house party, they’d returned to his apartment to “talk.” She remembered that night in remarkable detail. The potency of his cologne. The feel of his lips on her ear, his hands on her breasts and the rush of pleasure to her core when he plunged deep inside her slick walls.
“You feel the same way, Kyra, don’t you?”
Embarrassed that she’d been swept away by her thoughts, she smoothed a hand over her flushed cheeks. Not wanting Charles to know she’d been fantasizing about another man, she nodded in response to his question and choked down so much water, she felt the button on her skirt pop off.
“I want us to be exclusive,” Charles confessed, his awestruck tone teetering on desperation. Eyes glittering like diamonds, he took her hand and caressed her palm. “I think we’re good together, don’t you?”
Her shoulders tensed. It was too soon in their relationship to make grandiose declarations. Charles traveled a lot for his company, and Kyra was lucky if they saw each other once a week. Furthermore, she considered him more of a friend than a potential lover. “I’m really glad we exchanged numbers,” she said, unsure of what else to say. “It’s nice having someone to hang out with on the—”
“Hold that thought.” He swiped his cell off the table, pressed it to his ear and chirped, “Charles Roberts. Talk to me.”
Kyra stared at him, hoping her furrowed brows conveyed her disapproval. Talking on his cell phone at the table was her biggest pet peeve and they’d discussed it at length last week. Now he was back at it.
“Here we go,” the waiter announced, pulling up beside the table and setting down two enormous plates. After refilling her glass, he left.
“I’m sorry about that,” Charles said when he finally ended his call, “but I’m in the middle of a monster business deal.”
Not wanting to ruin their lunch, she accepted his apology. “It’s all right. I understand. Everyone gets a bit crazy when—”
His utensils fell on his plate with a clank, startling her.
“My food is cold.” Charles spit into his napkin. Rising from his chair, his gaze darted maniacally around the room. “Where is that stupid waiter?”
Having worked as a waitress to put herself through school, Kyra had zero tolerance for rudeness and told him so. “Charles,” she began, refusing to be embarrassed in front of the other well-dressed patrons, “your food is cold because you were on your cell phone for ten minutes. What did you expect the server to do?”
The waiter returned. “How is everything tasting?”
“I’d like another steak.” Charles pushed his plate forward. “This one’s cold.”
With a curt nod, the young man was off and running back into the kitchen.
“Charles, that was unnecessary—”
“It’s my accountant.” Phone pressed to his ear, he stood and stalked through the dining room. Kyra watched him walk away. Charles was acting like a petulant child, and she wasn’t going to let him get away with humiliating her. He had to learn to treat her—and everyone around him—with more respect. His behavior was something she’d expect from an actor. Or a rapper. Or a buff, wickedly handsome NFL running back.
Sighing, she glanced out the window, unwanted memories rolling through her mind. Ten years ago, she’d met Terrence on the Hollington College campus, and as she thought about that first meeting, a smile filled her lips. Rushing toward the fine arts building, she’d rolled her ankle and narrowly missed wiping out in front of Terrence. Kyra had seen the star running back around campus, but they’d never talked before. So when he ditched his friends and commanded her to hop on his back, she’d been stunned.
Five minutes later, she was climbing aboard the T-train, as he’d teasingly called it. Arms swathed around his neck, legs wrapped at his waist, he’d carried her to the north building and returned at the end of her African dance class with a pair of pink jelly shoes. To show her appreciation, she’d treated the handsome footballer to lunch.
Terrence was the big man on campus and she was a bookworm, but they’d hit it off immediately. Then one night after they’d had too much to drink they’d ended up back in his dorm room. One thing led to another and the next thing Kyra knew, she was down to her panties, pulsing with a tangible mix of desire, passion and lust. Terrence was her first, and though they’d stumbled in the dark, knocking things over and laughing hysterically at their inanity, she’d counted it as one of the happiest moments of her life.
Within weeks, they were inseparable. They ran with the same crowd, had the same friends and made plans to get married after the NFL draft. “Once things settle down and I finish training camp,” he’d promised. Things never did settle down and that magical day she’d always dreamed of never happened. Pressured by his manager to maintain his cool, single guy image, Terrence had broken off their engagement via email, never to be heard from again. Until now.
Why, after all these years, was she rehashing the past? Seeing Terrence again had stirred something in her. Something that had died the day she’d read that email message. Over the years, Kyra had dated some great guys. Powerful, accomplished men who knew how to treat a woman right. But Terrence stood out in her mind for several reasons. Though he’d been a struggling college student, with a rusted white hooptie and staggering debt, he’d spoiled her silly. He brought her breakfast in bed, walked her to and from class and made love to her with unspeakable warmth and tenderness. Humility had never been his strong suit, but he was chivalrous and respectful of her feelings.
“Ms., I brought a new steak entrée.”
Kyra came to. Oh brother. Not this again. Squinting, as if blinded by the angry glare of headlights, she searched the waiting area for Charles. Where was he? Deciding she’d had enough of Charles and his rudeness for one day, she opened her purse, tipped the waiter and rose from her seat. “Thanks, Miguel. Everything was great.”
He looked confused. “You’re leaving? What should I tell the gentleman when he comes back?”
“I don’t know,” she sassed, winking mischievously. “Be creative!”
Chapter 3
“Good morning, Kyra Dixon speaking.”
“Just the voice I wanted to hear.”
Her heart turned to wax. Terrence was more persuasive than a door-to-door salesman, but if she was going to survive the next eight weeks with him, she had to keep her guard up. “It’s good to hear from you,” she lied, with forced enthusiasm. Swallowing a yawn, Kyra flipped open her daily planner and scanned her list of appointments for the day. “I’m glad you called. I was going to contact you this afternoon.”
“You were?” The inflection of his voice conveyed surprise. “When I didn’t hear from you, I thought maybe you’d forgotten about me.”
I wish, she thought, remembering last night’s restless bout of sleep. Faded memories of her youth had filled her with nostalgia, and every time she closed her eyes, she saw Terrence, his mouth stretched into that cocky, lopsided grin, his arms outstretched like a compassionate lover. To distance herself from the troubling image, she asked Terrence how his day was going.
“I hope you’ve been enjoying this gorgeous weather, because it’s going to start cooling down soon.”
“Do you remember my cousins Neal and Damon?”
“Vaguely.” It was a lie, but Kyra wanted to obliterate memories of their past and lying seemed to be the only way.
“I’ve been kicking it with them. We played pool and had some sushi last night. You used to love eating new foods. Ever tried Japanese?”
“No.” Kyra stared down at the phone, the lines on her forehead bunched into a frown. Okay, now she was just being silly. What would it hurt if she admitted that she liked sushi, too? Before she could retract her words, he spoke.
“You lied to me,” Terrence said. “You’re not married. Why didn’t you say anything when I asked?”
“Because I’m not going to discuss my personal life with you.”
“Do you know what I love most about being back here?”
Kyra could hear the smile in his voice and pictured his broad grin.
“The people. Everyone’s so polite and welcoming.” He paused expectantly. “And then there’s you.”
Right, she thought, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. He couldn’t wait to return to Hollington to see me—the woman he’d dumped and humiliated. Loosening her grip on the receiver, she propped an elbow up on the desk. All Kyra wanted to do was sign Terrence and get on with her life, but he seemed bent on rekindling their friendship. That was too bad. It wasn’t going to happen.
“My evenings are free. Wide open,” he told her. “I have nothing to do but watch TV. It would be great to hang out, you know, for old times’ sake.”
Her heart accelerated. Kyra felt like she was hanging upside down on a cliff. He sounded like the old Terrence. The one she used to love, the one who made her laugh, the one who’d once licked whipped cream and fudge off her breasts.
Deleting the image and his suggestion from her mind, she sat straight up in her chair. Remembering she was the one in control of this conversation, and not Terrence, she asked if he was free tomorrow. “The Lions practice at nine o’clock and I’d like you to come and meet the team.”
“Cool. I’ll see you then.” He added, “Oh, and Ky?”
The phone slipped from her grasp, but didn’t fall. Why was he using her pet name? They weren’t friends anymore, weren’t lovers, so why was he being cute with her all of a sudden? “Yes, Terrence?”
“Don’t work too hard.”
Someone knocked on the door. “I have to go, but I’ll meet you in front of the stadium at nine o’clock sharp.”
“I’ll be there, ready and waiting.”
Kyra put down the phone. “Come in,” she called, adjusting her plum-colored suit jacket. It was probably her boss, wanting to see if she’d made any progress with Terrence yet. He’d been on her back all day, offering ideas on how to win the former NFL running back over. “Nikki, is that you under all those flowers?”
The bouquet was enormous. So big, it covered the top half of Nikki’s body. If it wasn’t for the intern’s teal high heels, Kyra wouldn’t know who was carrying it.
“This is a surprise,” she said, coming around her desk. Her office was inundated with the scent of pineapple and upon closer inspection Kyra realized it was a bouquet of fruit, not flowers. The white ceramic vase overflowed with stems of cantaloupe, guava and watermelon.
Who knew? she thought, popping a heart-shaped strawberry into her mouth. Charles must be feeling guilty about what happened at lunch, because he’d never sent her flowers before. He’d apologized, promised it wouldn’t happen again and admitted he was under extreme pressure at work. Everyone lost their cool sometimes, even sweet quiet guys like Charles Roberts.
Munching on a cube of banana-dipped chocolate, she took the miniature envelope from Nikki’s outstretched hands and ripped it open. “Looking forward to creating new memories with you,” she read aloud. “I had no idea Charles could be so romantic.”
“Mind if I have some?” Nikki asked, setting the bouquet on the desk. “I skipped breakie this morning and the pineapples smell yummy.”
Kyra nodded. “In fact, do me a favor and take it to the staff room. I’m liable to have a sugar overdose eating all this fruit.”
“I forgot your phone messages on my desk, but Terrence Franklin called earlier. You were in with Mr. Morrow and I didn’t want to disturb you.” Nikki’s face shined.
“What’s he like, Kyra? Do you think the tabloid stories about him are true?”
“Every last one,” she blurted out. Casting a glance at her wide-open door, she leaned back against the desk and gave herself five minutes to indulge in some harmless, office gossip. Nikki Wakefield, the department’s high-spirited intern, was in her final year of the business management program and saw to it that everything ran smoothly. Once a week, Kyra took the senior out to lunch and it was always a lively, hour-long affair. “He’s conceited, macho and—”
“Hella fine!” she shrieked. “Terrence Franklin is living proof that God exists. He’s the perfect male specimen, in my book.”
“All that glitters isn’t gold, Nikki.” Kyra put a hand on the intern’s shoulder. “He might seem charming, but be very, very careful around guys like that.”
Nikki’s eyes glazed over and Kyra knew she’d lost her. Trim, chesty and blessed with naturally curly hair, the management student had more admirers than a Playboy Playmate of the Year. “The man is gorgeous,” Nikki cooed, coiling a glossy curl around her index finger. “You could cover him in green slime and he’d still be fine!”
Tell me something I don’t know.
Nikki turned to leave, then spun back around and extended her right hand. “Oh, I almost forgot. Your dad called. He wants you to call him at the church.”
Nodding absently, Kyra took the message slip and shoved it into her pocket. Returning her father’s call could wait. He was always imploring her to live the Christian way and Kyra wasn’t in the mood to hear one of his midday sermons. Not when she had Terrence Franklin hot on her trail.
When Nikki departed, she picked up her pen and got down to work. The business letters weren’t going to write themselves, and Kyra knew Walter would come looking for them at the end of the day. But when she wrote the word fine instead of find for the second time, she got up from her desk and went over to the window.
Students rushed to and from the dormitories, a group of international students kicked around a soccer ball, and couples kissed under the shade of lofty willow trees. Pride filled Kyra’s heart. Few people, including her parents, understood why she’d chosen to study at a historically black college. Scholarships had poured in from other prestigious universities, but she’d turned them all down. Here, among students of every shade of brown under the sun, she’d flourished. Her sorority sisters had cheered her accomplishments, challenged her way of thinking and offered a shoulder to cry on when she needed it most.
Raised in a middle-class suburban neighborhood, Kyra had secretly longed to have friends and teachers who looked like her. She’d grown up wanting to be Debbie Allen and when she arrived at Hollington that balmy afternoon in August just days after her eighteenth birthday, she’d felt like a character on A Different World. Kyra had loved the community so much she’d applied for the public relations position the second she’d seen it in the newspaper, bought a two-bedroom townhouse in East Point and settled comfortably into her new life.
A girl who couldn’t be much more than eighteen pushed a stroller down the street. Kyra rested her head against the glass. Everything she’d ever wanted in life had become a reality, and although she wasn’t a wife or mother yet, she knew in time it would happen. Once Terrence signed on to coach the Lions and the excitement of homecoming weekend was behind her, she’d think more about her future.
For the last three months, the reunion had consumed her and now she had to fill the head coaching position. Her quiet life had suddenly become very hectic and something told her, Terrence Franklin, the former bad boy of the NFL, was going to be more trouble than he was worth.
* * *
“Beverly, what do you mean you’re not going to the reunion?” Kyra asked, her hands propped on her slender hips. “This is a big weekend for the university and I’m counting on you to be there.”
“I don’t see why,” Beverly Turner quipped, straightening a rack of printed skirts. Her trendy, high-end boutique, Hoops, was on North Highland Avenue and a steady stream of twenty-somethings flowed into the store and left carrying enormous white shopping bags with the dainty Hoops logo. The sparkling chandelier, golden cherubs and tasteful furniture gave a chic, intimate feel to the place. “Aside from you and a couple of other people, I haven’t kept in touch with anyone from our graduating class.”
“Beverly, you were homecoming queen and everyone’s expecting you to be there.”
“That’s too bad, because I’m not going.”
“Give me one good reason why you can’t go.”
“I’ll give you three,” she chirped, her low Southern twang taking on a hard edge.
Kyra sighed inwardly. Beverly was a deeply thoughtful woman with a gentle disposition, but she was always poised with a comeback.
“For starters, I’m swamped here.” Selecting a dazzling sheath dress from off the rack, she slipped it off the gold padded hanger and held it up to one of the mannequins in the front window. “I’m putting together the final touches for my new spring line, and I have to design a gown for Gabrielle Union to wear to an awards gala next month.”
“You seem stressed, Bev. Why don’t you let me take you out for lunch?”
“So you can pressure me into going to the reunion?” Beverly shook her head. “No way. I don’t have time for this right now. I’m up to my neck in paperwork and it’s going to take me the rest of the afternoon to fill the online orders.”
“Beverly, you’ve been dodging my calls for weeks and the reunion is less than a month away. I need to help Chloe finalize the rest of the plans for homecoming.”
