by Pamela Yaye
“How did you know where I lived?” he demanded, scooping up the pack of frozen vegetables that had fallen out of his plastic grocery bag.
“You’re in the phone book, Sherlock.” Her eyes darkened. “I have to give it to you, Marcel. You’re one smooth operator. I actually believed you were a smart, upstanding guy who respected women. You certainly had me fooled.”
Marcel heard a door creak open and wondered which one of his neighbors was listening in. “Let’s go inside my apartment. I don’t want to talk out here.”
Suddenly she was laughing, but the sound was hard on his ears and made him think of a cauldron-stirring witch. “You’re embarrassed to be seen with me? You certainly enjoyed my company last Friday at the Sheraton Hotel. You introduced me to your friends, bought me drinks and kissed me in the coatroom.”
“Yes, well, that was before I knew you were—”
“Before you knew that I was what?” she jeered, swiveling her neck in a tight circle.
That was the universal sign of an angry black woman, and since Marcel wasn’t interested in being escorted out of his own apartment building in handcuffs, he took a giant step back. This was a quiet, family-oriented community, and his neighbors wouldn’t hesitate to call the police.
“I read that little letter you left last night. How dare you insinuate that I’m a whore!”
“I did no such thing.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” Muttering peevishly under her breath, she shot him an icy glare and pulled out a wrinkled sheet of paper from her jacket pocket. “‘Thanks for the massage,’” she read aloud. “‘I really enjoyed the extra services. You’re incredible at what you do, and there’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll make it far in this business.’”
Hearing what he’d written, out loud, in the open, made Marcel cringe. He was ashamed of what he’d done, but he schooled his features to remain impassive. “After we made love, you could barely look at me, and now you’re screaming at me. What’s your problem?”
Dominique stared at the floor. His words seemed to take the edge off her anger, but the tirade wasn’t over. “Last night shouldn’t have happened—”
“I’m glad we agree on something,” he snapped. “But I still don’t understand why you’re here.” Widening his eyes, he smacked his forehead with his palm. “I didn’t leave enough money, did I? Why don’t you come in and let me write you a check?”
Dominique raised her hand, and for a moment, Marcel thought she was going to slap him. But instead of beating, she flung a wad of crumpled bills at him. “You can keep your money. I don’t need it.”
He shrugged. “It’s a good thing I know how you girls operate at Destination Wellness or my feelings would be really hurt.”
“Is that what you think? That I screwed you to boost my tip?” Her anger escalated. “Are you forgetting that I’m a branch manager at one of the largest and most reputable banks in the country? I make great money, and I’d never do anything to compromise my morals.”
“If all that is true,” he challenged, “then why did you kick me out seconds after making love?”
“I’m going to say this once, and then I’m going to leave before someone calls the police and I’m charged with assault. I don’t sleep with my clients. Ever.”
“So, you’ve never had sex for money before?” Stunned that the question lurking in the back of his mind had sprung out of his mouth, he rubbed a hand over his head. Marcel expected her to yell at him or kick him in the shin, but something more shocking happened. Tears filled her eyes, and when she sniffled softly, he felt lower than a ringneck rattlesnake.
“I’ve never had sex for money, and I never will.”
Marcel heard the anguish in her voice and knew that he’d pushed her too far. He studied her with a critical eye. Dominique King was a no B.S.-type chick. She was a self-made woman who could fend for herself, but underneath the designer clothes and expensive Cartier jewelry was a tender, sensitive soul.
Was she telling the truth? She seemed calm, back in control, like last night in the Euphoria suite after they’d made love. Had he misread her embarrassment for indifference? Was that why she’d turned away from him? Because she was ashamed of what they’d done? Of how willingly she’d given herself to him?
Marcel hated himself for hurting her but couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Admitting that he’d been a jerk, that he’d made a mistake writing that spiteful note made him feel pathetic and asinine, as if he was somehow less of a man.
“I didn’t seduce you, and I resent you implying that I did. Last night was a mistake—” she lifted her head high “—and so was coming here.”
Dominique turned and marched down the hall. Secretly hoping she’d come back, he watched her disappear around the next corner. Marcel heard a door slam, then another. How many people had listened to them argue? He glanced over his shoulder and was surprised to see the redhead down the hall glaring at him. Sighing inwardly, he shook his head. His argument with Dominique was sure to be the hot topic in the laundry room, and before the day was over, all his neighbors would know he’d gotten a brutal tongue lashing from a woman dressed in peach.
Marcel thought of chasing her down, but he didn’t. Instead, he went inside his apartment, grabbed a Corona from the fridge and collapsed onto the couch. He should have stopped her. He should have apologized. But it wasn’t too late. He could fix things.
Marcel took a swig of his drink. He didn’t like being insulted or cursed out, but he smiled to himself when he thought about their five-minute exchange in the hallway. It was going to be a tall task winning Dominique over, but he wasn’t prepared to just let her go—not when she’d given him the best sex of his life and captivated his heart. He’d give her a few days to cool off, and then he’d reach out to her. Getting involved with another feisty, drama-loving woman was the last thing he wanted, but Marcel didn’t want any bad blood between them. He only hoped the next time they talked they wouldn’t have another riveted female audience hanging on to his every word.
“What’s eating you?” Will asked, chalking his pool cue. To be heard above the noise drifting in from the adjacent lounge at Fuel Pub, he turned toward his best friend. “Your head isn’t in the game. You’re not thinking about Sarita again, are you?”
“No, I put her out of my mind weeks ago.”
“Good, because I can’t afford to lose any more money to the guys.”
Marcel frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“We placed bets on how long it would take for you to get laid again, and right now the pot is sitting at nine hundred bucks. I can buy a lot of Cuban cigars with that money, so you better get over Sarita and move on to the next chick.”
Will threw an arm over Marcel’s shoulders. “How about I help get you back in the saddle? I was telling one of Thalia’s friends about you yesterday and she said—”
“No, thanks. I’ll pass.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Marcel paused. Because what? Because he couldn’t stop thinking about Dominique? Because she was the only woman he wanted? She’d stomped out of his building two weeks ago, and he hadn’t seen her since. She’d been a no-show at the party he invited her to and hadn’t responded to the text messages he’d sent either. He’d called her a dozen times and even returned to the scene of the crime yesterday. The receptionist at Destination Wellness said she’d called in sick, but he had a feeling the waif-thin brunette was lying. “I met someone.”
Will lifted an eyebrow. “Really? Anyone I know?”
“Remember the masseuse I hung out with at your bachelor party?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“I introduced you to her last month at First Fridays,” he said, hoping to jog his best friend’s memory. “She’s the branch manager at the First Centennial Trust on Ninth. She has long hair, brown eyes and the wickedest shape I’ve ever seen.”
Will nodded. “Now I know who you’re talking about. Every
guy in the Sheraton ballroom was eyeballing her that night.”
Pride filled his heart. Dominique was a perfect ten. Why wouldn’t other guys be checking her out? Endowed with charm, beauty and intelligence, Dominique King was the complete package, and remembering how passionately they’d made love filled him with longing. The thirty-three-year-old beauty had everything going for her. He loved her essence, her spirit, the way she took care of her family and friends.
“Don’t leave me hanging,” Will said, jabbing him in the side with his elbow. “I want to hear more about this chick you’re sweet on.”
Marcel didn’t make it a practice to kiss and tell, but he was going to go crazy if he didn’t tell someone about what had happened with Dominique. He took a deep breath, ignored his feelings of trepidation and told his best friend everything. Will listened intently, only interrupting once to remind him about the dangers of having unprotected sex. When Marcel told Will about the note he left for Dominique, his eyes widened. “If the sex was off the chain, and you were diggin’ her, why leave such a nasty note?”
“I was pissed off,” he said, fully prepared to defend himself. “After we made love, Dominique did a complete one-eighty. In the space of five minutes, she became cold and distant and when she told me to get out I lost it.”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe she was embarrassed? Women who have sex on the first date get a bad rep. Dominique probably thought she’d blown her shot with you.”
“I understand what you’re saying, and it might very well be true, but at the time I was too angry to think clearly. I assumed the rumors I’d heard about the massage therapists at Destination Wellness were true, and—”
“What rumors?”
Marcel told him. “What was I supposed to think when she turned away from me?”
“My family’s been going to that spa for years, and I’ve never heard anything like that. Who told you the girls at Destination Wellness provide extra services?”
“Caesar.”
“Caesar who? My delusional kid brother?” Guffawing, Will laughed until water filled his eyes. “I love the kid, but I don’t believe anything he says. If Caesar tells you it’s sunny outside, you better pack your umbrella because it’s probably raining!”
Marcel laughed, but he was dying inside. He’d insulted the woman of his dreams and needed a miracle if he wanted to have another chance with her. Raising his beer bottle to his lips, he noticed the large group of people camped out in the waiting area. Happy hour had officially started, and the lure of half-priced drinks at Fuel Pub drew employees from nearby law firms and office buildings.
“Now what?” Will asked. “Are you going to call her?”
“I tried.”
“Then try again.”
“I can’t,” he argued. “Where I come from men don’t chase women down. We just don’t have it in us to pursue females relentlessly the way you American men do.”
Will lowered his gaze, a sly smile on his thin lips. “Well, I suggest you step up your game, brother man, because if I lose that bet I’m going to kill you.”
Both men laughed. Marcel was glad Will had called him. It felt good to be out. Playing pool and hanging out with his best friend was a great stress reliever. He should be studying for his certification exam, but he needed to unwind and clear his head. Tomorrow he’d get caught up on his work and find a way to make amends with Dominique.
“If you want to find a good woman, you have to be prepared to put the time in. Don’t expect Ms. Right to just fall into your lap, because it’s not going to happen,” Will warned, shaking his head. “Why do you think I’ve been single for the past five years? It’s not because I didn’t want to get married. It’s because I couldn’t find the right girl. And now that I have her, I’m not letting her go. My brothers think I act like a punk whenever Thalia’s around, but she’s the one who keeps me warm at night, so who cares what they think?”
“I never imagined that dating in the United States would be so much like having a full-time job. Who knows? Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should step up my game a little.”
“A little? At this point, you need to go full throttle. Women like to know they matter, that they’re important to you, that you’d move heaven and earth to be with them. Trust me on this one, Marcel. Step up your game, and you’ll win the girl. It’s as simple as that.”
“I wish I had your confidence,” Marcel said, taking a quick look around the pub. The lounge area was crawling with women, and there was a petite Toni Braxton look-alike who caught his eye, but tonight he didn’t have the energy to strike up a conversation. Besides, how could he romance someone else when he couldn’t get a certain bank manager off his mind? “I’m going to go see Dominique on Monday. Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it, man. We’ve been friends for years, and my inherent charm has rubbed off on you.” Chuckling, Will slapped him on the shoulder. “I know you’re stressed out about the visa situation and your woman troubles, but if there’s anything you need, just—”
Trailing off, he surged to his feet and rested his pool cue against the table. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Thalia and one of her friends to join us.”
Marcel glanced at the door. Sure enough, Thalia and a slender brunette were headed their way. This smelled like a setup, and the wide smiles on the women’s faces confirmed his suspicions. He watched the women approach and greeted them both.
“Hey, Marcel. How are you doing?” Before the question was off Thalia’s pearly pink lips, she was wrapped in Will’s arms, kissing him passionately.
As he watched the love-struck couple embrace, Marcel wondered if he’d ever have another shot at love. The way he saw it, God owed him. After subjecting him to the likes of Sarita Bradshaw, the man upstairs better send him an angel the next time around. One thing was certain, though: when he found love again, he wouldn’t squander it. He’d put his lady up on a pedestal where she belonged. He wouldn’t spend the entire weekend cooped up at the library, and he’d spoil her, too. What was it Sarita had called him? A romantically challenged penny pincher? Marcel thought about the night he’d spent with Dominique in the Euphoria suite. What could be more spontaneous than having wild, passionate sex in an orchid-scented room? Proud that the label no longer fit, Marcel felt his grin double in size. This week, he was going to track down Dominique, and this time no one was going to stand in his way.
Chapter 10
“Marcel Benoit is here to see you.”
The pen fell from Dominique’s hand. Lifting her gaze up from the documents sprawled in front of her, she stared intently at her office assistant. Her ears must be plugged, because it sounded like Lynn said Marcel was in the waiting area. “I’m sorry. I missed what you just said.”
“Mr. Benoit says that you have an eleven-thirty lunch date, but I don’t have the appointment written down in my planner.”
Panic flared in her stomach. Marcel was here? At the bank? To see her? “Give me five minutes to finish up what I’m working on, then send him in.”
When her assistant left, Dominique sprang into action. Yanking open her bottom drawer, she unzipped her purse, plucked out her makeup case and retouched her lipstick. Tilting her head back, she ran a brush through her hair until it fell smoothly across her shoulders. She sprayed a little bit of perfume on herself, and popped a breath mint. Now she was ready to face her one-night stand.
By the time Marcel stepped inside her office, Dominique was wearing her game face. Masking her true feelings, she nodded at him in greeting. He was holding a flower bouquet, but it was his smile that stole her breath. Dominique hated herself for gawking at him, for running her eyes over his shoulders and along his torso, but she couldn’t help it. It wasn’t her fault he looked gorgeous in his brown sports coat and jeans, was it? To keep from reaching out and touching him, she folded her hands in her lap and stared at her computer screen. The truth was, the man made her nervous, and it was hard to act normal when he was around.
“Hi, Dominique.” Stepping farther into the room, he lowered his hands, offering her the sweet-smelling gift. “These are for you.”
“Roses,” she drawled, reaching for her coffee cup. “How original.”
“Actually, they’re not roses, they’re orchids. I saw this arrangement in the florist shop across the street, and I immediately thought of you.”
“Isn’t that nice.” Pretending to be unmoved, she watched him lay the bouquet across her desk. It was his scent, not the smell of the flowers, that flooded the room and sent her thoughts into an erotic tailspin. Not only was Marcel seriously hot but he possessed all the qualities she wanted in a man but had never seen exhibited in the flesh. “The flowers are lovely.” Dominique waited impatiently for him to leave. When he didn’t, she decided to speed the process along.
“Thanks for coming by. Have a nice day.”
“Can I have just five more minutes of your time?”
“That day at your apartment, I made it very clear that I didn’t want to see you again, so why are you here?”
A frown touched his lips. “You didn’t come to my party.”
“I had to work.”
“I understand,” he said smoothly, “but you were missed.” By whom?
Straightening her spine, she sat stiffly in her chair. She had to keep up her defenses. She had to remember that Marcel had already hurt her. Letting up, even for a minute, was risky. The last time she’d let her guard down, they’d had sex, and Dominique didn’t want to get fired from First Centennial Trust for doing the nasty on her desk. “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”
“I came to ask for your forgiveness.” He looked uncomfortable, but his eyes were warm with feeling. “I shouldn’t have left that note, or implied that you were…”
“As you can see,” she said, interrupting him midword, “I have a lot of important work to do.” Squinting, she made a great deal of searching for a pen on her desk. “Please leave. I don’t have time for this.”