Jocelyn sniffed. It was obvious she had been crying.
“Did you put him out?” Jayla asked tentatively.
“You damn right I put him out,” Jocelyn snapped. “I was so disgusted, Jaye. I really thought we were working toward something serious. I hate to say, you were right.”
Jayla struggled to erase the image in her mind of Jasmine grinding on Alex in the hotel. That damn smirk, though. The sneaky bitch had known exactly what she was doing.
“But that’s not why I called,” Jocelyn went on. “I have a question, but I’m not sure how you’re going to react.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I was wondering if I could move in with you until I have the baby,” Jocelyn said and rushed on before Jayla could answer. “I know how you feel about your space, but I really need someone to help me. Getting around this apartment is becoming more and more difficult. Hell, even going to the kitchen to get some water is a damn Boston Marathon. And now with Alex’s stupid ass outa the picture . . . ,” she said, trailing off.
Jayla took a breath. She loved her sister. Absolutely loved her sister. But damn, she wasn’t looking forward to having her around 24/7. Jayla glanced through her open bedroom door and caught a glimpse of the other bedroom across the hall.
Her storage room, for the most part. There was a full-size bed in there, but that was the only piece of furniture among a pile of boxes, pictures she hadn’t hung, and other junk she’d just shoved in there to get out of sight. She’d have to clean, for sure.
And then there was work. How the hell was she supposed to work with Jocelyn waddling around? Not that she thought her sister would go snooping, but she would have to watch what she said, keep her files out of sight, and pretty much walk on eggshells for another couple of months. Not to mention waiting on her hand and foot. Jocelyn was right. It was becoming more and more difficult for her to get around painlessly, and Jayla would have to make herself available. She sighed, already regretting the decision, even as the words left her lips.
“Of course you can.” She couldn’t very well jeopardize her sister’s or, better yet, her nephew’s health and safety. She would just have to make it work.
By the time they got off the phone, Jayla had promised to move her in that weekend. Plus, she had decided it was best to move her office into the spare bedroom upstairs and her sister into the space downstairs that was now her office. That way, the office was out of the way, and Jocelyn would have no reason to worry about climbing to the second level. The room downstairs had gorgeous French doors for privacy and more than enough room for bedroom furniture. Jayla glanced in the second bedroom again, did a quick scan of the full sleigh bed. She would see if she could find some matching dressers. Two months sure as hell wouldn’t go by quick.
Her phone rang in her hand, and already expecting more instructions from her sister or bullshit from the anonymous caller, she clicked it on and placed it to her ear. “Yes?”
“Bitch.” The harsh whisper stung her ear and had fear snaking up the back of her neck. “Your time is almost up, you fucking slut bitch. I can’t wait to watch you die.” Click.
Jayla dropped the phone, as if the person was about to come through the receiver and choke her right then and there. She didn’t realize her hands were shaking until she covered her mouth and felt her fingers tremble on her lips. The caller had spoken to her this time, and it had scared the shit out of her.
Immediately, Jayla’s mind flipped through a multitude of clients as quickly as if she were paging through a glossy catalog. Her mind became cluttered with the mixture of women, some angry, some grateful, but all harboring some disgust toward her for being “the one.” She could almost taste the fear as she struggled to focus on an image. Who? Then, as if in response, she saw Tracy’s face as plain as if the woman was standing in front of her. She’d been upset, of course, but she’d been past horror stricken when Jayla played the tape in front of her and her sister. Maybe that had pushed her over the edge. But when Jayla had seen her at the mall, Tracy hadn’t actually confirmed or denied making the threats. She couldn’t think of anyone else. It had to be Tracy and her raging hormones.
Desperate for an answer, Jayla clutched the thought of Tracy as the evildoer like a lifeline and struggled to swallow the bitter taste of fear. Crazed bitch, she thought as she stumbled toward the bathroom. She leaned over the sink, turned on the water, and cupped her hands under the glistening faucet to catch some. She barely felt the sting of the cold water as she splashed it on her face. All she could think about was Tracy and Marcus. He hadn’t even been worth it, and she’d just been doing her job. Doing what Tracy had asked. Jayla willed herself to be angry, but the fear gripped her mightily. She splashed water on her face over and over again, until it was in her throat, nose, and eyes. She jolted back, gasping for air. Who could she turn to?
Deciding to ignore the phone for a little while, Jayla busied herself with getting dressed.
When she emerged from the house a few moments later, Jayla couldn’t help scanning the neighborhood. All was quiet. A little sun peeked from behind a few clouds, and a gentle breeze rustled the trees. Jayla shuddered. Part of her expected some masked intruder to jump out of the shrubbery, and the thought had her nearly running to her truck.
Her movements jerky and sloppy, she fumbled with her keys when she reached the truck.
Somewhere in the distance, a car’s tires screeched, and her breathing hitched. She put her hand to her chest and felt her rapid heartbeat like a steady pounding against her palm. Breathe, she instructed herself. She inhaled and exhaled, concentrating on slowing her heart rate.
The voicemail indicator light on her phone flashed on at that moment, and not sure what to expect, Jayla put the phone to her ear to listen to the message.
Hi. This message is for Jayla Morgan. The professional tone caught her completely off guard. I’m calling from Regency Medical. We saw you last week, after your car accident, and we have received the results of your lab work. Please give us a call at . . .
Jayla hung up the phone, and though she was curious about why the hospital was calling, she had to admit she was feeling slightly better now, thanks to the fact that the voicemail wasn’t another psychotic message.
* * *
“What’s wrong?” Derrick asked as soon as he opened her car door.
Jayla feigned a smile. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you look like something is bothering you.”
“I’m fine,” she lied and looked away, took her time collecting her purse and cell phone. She hated that it was so obvious. She wondered if he could tell that she had checked her rearview mirror numerous times on the drive over. That she had glanced at the pedestrians at every intersection, searching and waiting, for what, she didn’t know. And that was the disturbing part.
Jayla flipped down her mirror and pretended to primp a bit while she studied herself, Derrick looking on. She had put on a little makeup, and yes, she looked gorgeous. But her face showed a loss of color, and beneath the shadow and mascara, the fear in her hazel eyes was evident. Get a grip, girl, she scolded herself and turned to step out the car.
“Well, don’t you look sexy,” she commented. She watched Derrick’s eyes narrow at her exaggerated attempt to deter his scrutiny. She was relieved when he merely smiled to lighten the mood, and she felt her muscles relax little by little. Jayla didn’t object when he grabbed her hand and led the way to his black Nissan Altima. They both climbed in, and he started the engine.
“So where are we going?” she asked as he maneuvered the vehicle out of the complex. “I wasn’t going to ask, but you have got me curious.”
“Can’t you just sit back and ride?”
“Not really. For all I know, you could kidnap my ass.”
Derrick laughed. “I assure you, you would go willingly. Or maybe you don’t like surprises,” he replied.
“Negative. I do like surprises.”
“Well, you must not like me.
”
Jayla smirked at the loaded question. “What’s your point?” she asked.
“My point is if you enjoy surprises, and you enjoy me, then you should be able to relax and know you’re going to have a good time.”
A charmer. She had pinned that label on him the first time she met him. Damn, he was good. “Do you always get what you want, Mr. Lewis?”
Her amused grin froze when he took her hand and lifted it to his face. The kiss was gentle, a reassuring brush of lips on her knuckles, but enough to have her heart stutter.
“I’m not going to say I usually get what I want,” he answered. “But I will say, if there’s anything I want, I go for it.”
Derrick drove leisurely. The windows were down to let the comfortable breeze drift through; the radio was soft enough for conversation, but loud enough to have Jayla nodding along to the music. When he placed his hand on hers on the armrest, she didn’t budge at the casual gesture.
After a short drive, Derrick eased the car up a brick driveway and under the arch of a stone building. A spa amor sign hung suspended between two columns, and large windows allowed a glimpse of the elegantly decorated reception lobby.
Before she had even gathered herself, a valet was opening her door and extending his hand to help her out. “Welcome to Spa Amor,” he greeted as she stepped out of the car. Then he rounded the hood to the driver’s side. Jayla was surprised to feel the simmering of excitement. Her body had grown hot with anticipation.
Inside, candles, plush cream couches and ottomans, lap throws, and glass shelves adorned the lobby. Someone had lit the fireplace, and a mellow flame licked at a stack of crackling firewood, filling the room with the smell of hickory.
Derrick headed to the reception desk, while Jayla wandered to a set of French double doors toward the back of the room. She peered through and admired a pool, hot tub, and rock-formation waterfall, all surrounded by an assortment of palm trees, hammocks, and patio furniture.
“Gorgeous, huh?” Derrick touched the small of her back as he joined her at the doors.
“It really is,” she agreed, then turned to share a generous smile. “Thank you for this.”
“No problem. First things first, a couple’s massage. Then you can do your girly thing.”
She laughed. “What’s my girly thing?”
“You know, your nails, face.”
“Oh yeah,” she said, flirting. “And what’s wrong with my face?”
“Too damn sexy,” he responded and had her laughing again.
They were shown down a spiral staircase, from there a young attendant led them to their respective areas.
The women’s changing room had the same high-end finishes as the rest of the mini resort, from the deep chocolate lockers lining each wall to the patterned tile floor in rich shades of rust and sage.
When she removed her socks and shoes, Jayla could only smile as the underfloor heating radiated gentle warmth to each foot. As instructed, she changed into the monogrammed spa robe, savoring the distinct smell of honeysuckle that infused the locker room and drifted suggestively into the attached bathroom. Damn. The depth of this serenity had her body nearly throbbing in appreciation. Yes, she would allow this place to spoil her for the day. She deserved it.
The attendant led them into a European-style room, dimly lit and decorated with a range of earth tones. The room had two massage tables. “If you two will get comfortable on the tables,” the attendant said, adjusting the lighting on the wall, “your masseur and masseuse will be in shortly.”
As soon as the door closed, Jayla watched Derrick turn his back to her. She smirked. Respectful indeed.
“What’s the matter?” she teased. “You afraid to see me naked, Derrick?”
He chuckled and glanced over his shoulder long enough to toss a wink in her direction. “No, I’m afraid I won’t be able to lie down flat on my stomach.”
Jayla laughed as she loosened the belt on her robe. She let the robe slip from her shoulders and pool at her feet. Her breath quickened, and her eyes remained fixed on Derrick’s back. He had to feel the sudden spike in sexual tension, which nearly had the room vibrating. She waited.
When his own robe fell to the floor, she sucked in a breath. Damn, the man was cut. She could easily visualize her nails raking over each chiseled area of his chocolate frame, from the defined angles in his back down to those ripped thighs, taut with, Jayla fantasized, enough aggressive power to handle even her wildest orgasm. He shifted slightly, and she eyed the tattoo on his shoulder. The deep black ink magnified the delicate feathers of angel wings. The words My Sister’s Keeper were written on a banner that coiled around the image.
“What happened to your sister, if you don’t mind me asking?” Jayla asked. She watched as Derrick climbed onto the table. Even though he still managed to keep his eyes from gazing in her direction, she saw the crease of his forehead as he tensed, then relaxed.
“She died,” he said. “I was young. About seven. She is two years older than me.”
Is. Not was. Jayla could almost feel the ache of his distant memory.
“I wasn’t there,” he went on. “Really don’t remember the details. She had spent the night with a friend, and the mother was bringing her home when she had a car accident. Moms hasn’t been the same since.”
“I’m sorry.” Jayla didn’t know why she felt the need to apologize. Or the urge to walk over and hold him. Sensing he probably wouldn’t delve deeper, she climbed onto the table, lay facedown, and adjusted the sheet to cover her waist and legs.
They rested in silence for a few moments as a soft jazz melody played through an in-ceiling speaker.
A man and woman walked through the door, dressed identically in crisp white T-shirts and white cargo shorts. Her masseur was Jude, a young blond dude with a stocky build and huge hands. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of warm oil being dribbled on her back. She couldn’t be sure if Jude was actually trying to hold a conversation with her, and honestly, she couldn’t care less. Instead, she focused on her body, which began to hum with his delicate presses, his fingers gliding over her skin like satin.
She pictured Derrick’s hands on her, kneading her back, easing down to squeeze her ass, slap it, then massage the sting with gentle strokes. He would replace his hands with his tongue and would use the tip to coat her skin and lap the oil. Then he would trail down. Down. He would spread her thighs just enough to access her pussy from the back. It would already be glazed with her juices, and he’d moan and lick his lips, prepping to devour. When she wiggled in anticipation, he would dive in, fuck her with his tongue, alternating between feathery grazes and deep penetration to taste her honey walls. She’d moan, grind against his face, allowing him to greedily suckle and swallow every last drop of—
“Ma’am?”
Jude’s nudge snatched Jayla from her daydream. She eyed him, curious if she’d made some outward display of the damn good fantasy her mind had played for her.
“You’re all done,” he said.
Jayla stifled a moan when she felt her clit throbbing between her moist thighs. Not hardly.
After they dressed, Jayla and Derrick were shown to the lobby, and Jayla had to admit her body tingled from the bodywork. Derrick brushed his knuckles on her cheek before fingering the hair at her shoulder.
“You look good,” he commented.
“That’s always,” she teased, with a wink. Her smile faded when she read his face: passion had darkened his eyes and had him running his tongue along his bottom lip again.
“For real,” he said. “You needed that.”
The hunger clawed at her, and after releasing a yearning exhale, she spoke. “So what else do you have planned?” she asked. “Didn’t you mention something about me doing my girly thing?”
He had. And Jayla easily complied when he insisted she go and indulge in more of the included spa services. She got some type of milk and honey treatment, and the rejuvenating scrub left her skin throbbing, with
a pristine radiance. She allowed the nail technician to talk her into a hot stone manicure, and she went ahead and agreed to the facial, because the idea of a cleansing was very attractive. Plus, the paste left her skin smelling like a delicious ripe fruit.
It was while Jayla was getting her pedicure that she glanced up just in time to see Tracy’s sister, Lauren. The woman strolled by the window, a laughing Marcus on her heels. The world had just got smaller and smaller once she had started fucking everybody’s man.
Jayla glanced around. Tracy was probably there as well. She quickly stepped out of the jetted footbath, not caring that her pedicure was only half done. She didn’t need a scene here in front of Derrick. The nail tech was confused, but Jayla explained that she wanted to hurry up and get back to her “boo thang.”
“Feel better?” Derrick asked when she met up with him a few moments later in the lobby.
“Much better,” she said. “You’re spoiling me.”
The nail tech came over and told them both that it was time for their final treatment, the lavender-scented sauna.
While Derrick had waited for Jayla to have her facial and other exotic treatments, he had sauntered off to buy her a little sexy something. He pulled a bag out from behind his back. The spa’s logo was printed on the bag. A curious smile tugged at Jayla’s lips as she lowered her hand in the bag and pulled out a black-and-gold bikini.
“For the sauna,” he explained. “Unless you want to go in naked.”
Jayla laughed when he toyed with the belt keeping her robe closed. “I’ll wear the bikini. Thank you.”
The sweltering room was made of natural hemlock wood and had two tiered rows of benches and recessed lighting that cast a soothing green tint over the space. Jayla climbed onto the upper bench, while Derrick stretched out right beneath her. She let her foot dangle in his face and giggled when he stuck out his tongue, as if he would lick her toes.
“Thank you again,” Jayla said when they had relaxed in a cozy silence. “I really do appreciate this, Derrick.”
“No problem, sexy.”
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