by Zuri Day
“Faith probably talked her out of it. She knows how important it is for us to hang out, you know, male bonding and all. And I’ve got to tell you, man, after being surrounded by so many women all these years, I’m sure glad to welcome another man into the family.”
Jake looked up from where he was studying his next shot. “Aren’t you getting a bit ahead of yourself ?”
“What? You’re saying that your intentions aren’t honorable where my sister-in-law is concerned?”
“Ha! No, man, I’m not saying that at all.”
“Well all right, then. Y’all better get to setting a date. Neither one of you is getting any younger.”
“What is this, Aaron, a conspiracy? Have you been talking to my brothers?”
“I don’t even know your brothers,” Aaron said, laughing. “So why would you think that?”
“Because the last time I talked to Harold, he pretty much said the same thing.”
58
The sold-out Oakland Coliseum cheered as the Raiders left the field for the halftime show. That they’d gotten to the playoffs was amazing in itself but that they were ahead of the Vikings by fourteen had the fans starting the celebration early. Justin was beside himself with glee.
“Hold on, partner,” Jake admonished. “There’s still a lot of game left.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Yes, Justin ...” Dominique interrupted
“We’re on fire!” Justin continued. “And now that their quarterback is injured ...”
“He may sit out a few plays, but he’ll be back in the game,” Jake replied. “But trust me, it would take him breaking something to not get back on that field.”
As the boys continued to talk, Dominique was happy to take in the halftime show and the jubilant fans around her. Never one who’d embraced sports, she now saw how one could get addicted to this atmosphere filled with camaraderie and excitement. She watched Jake and Justin conversing and felt warm all over. His ongoing presence and attentiveness continued to have a very positive effect on her son.
“And now,” the announcer began as the band marched off the field, “we’d like to say a special hello to one of our all-time favorite Raider players ... the Big Mac man himself... Jake McDonald!”
A camera zoomed in on Jake and soon Justin and Dominique were staring at his face on the big screen. Jake waved to the roaring crowd.
“And we’d also like to welcome the special lady in his life who is also the editor in chief of Capricious magazine ... Dominique Clark!”
Dominique’s eyes widened as she looked questionably at Jake.
“Stand up and wave, baby,” Jake insisted.
Dominique made a fuss, but finally stood up and waved to the crowd.
“Dominique,” the announcer continued, “Jake has allowed us to be a part of some exciting times in his life. He’s made some of his best plays right here in this stadium. But I think, and folks, you’ll probably agree with me, that this is the best one of all.”
The announcer stopped talking. Dominique looked at Jake. Jake shrugged.
Dominique turned to look at Jake. “What is he talking about, Jake? What play did you make?”
Jake pointed to the screen. “That one.”
Dominique looked at the screen. Her mouth dropped open as she read the words: Will you marry me?
The crowd started cheering. Jake’s heart thudded as he awaited Dominique’s answer. Dominique’s eyes filled with tears as she looked from Jake to Justin, who was grinning from ear to ear.
“Answer him, Mom!” Justin finally shouted.
Dominique couldn’t talk for the lump in her throat. So she simply nodded before throwing her arms around him. “Yes,” she whispered in his ear.
Once again, the screens filled with images of Jake, just in time to see Dominique plant a soft, loving kiss on his juicy lips. He raised his hand and gave a thumbs up. The crowd cheered again.
“Well, folks,” the announcer boomed in his signature deep voice, “it seems that while the Raiders have been keeping the ball in play, our own Jake McDonald has been putting love in play.”
The cameras zoomed in on Jake and Dominique, as he sealed their engagement with a longer, scorching kiss. Justin jumped up and down. The crowd went wild. “Love in play!” somebody shouted. The chant was picked up by those in their section and before long, almost sixty-three thousand fans were chanting: “Love in play, love in play!”
The lopsided grin that his mother loved spread across Justin’s face. Dominique leaned over and hugged him. “I’m glad you said yes, Mom.”
Dominique laughed at how Justin emphasized the correct pronunciation. “Yeah,” she answered with a wink, hugging him again. “Me too.”
That night, as they lay in each other’s arms after a round of slow, tantalizing lovemaking, Dominique and Jake recounted their journey, the ups and the downs, and how both looked forward to a future together.
“Do you want children?” Dominique asked. “You know I’m almost forty years old.”
“It would be kinda nice to have a daughter to go along with our son,” Jake answered.
Our son. Dominique liked the sound of that. It had been made clear that while Leland Clark was the biological father, Jake fully intended to serve as Justin’s full-time dad. “You know what, baby?”
“Hum.”
“I agree with that announcer. I think today’s was one of the best plays you ever made.”
“Without a doubt,” Jake responded, wrapping his arms around Dominique. “Now aren’t you glad we decided to get back in the game?”
“Absolutely,” Dominique replied, as Jake ran a hand down to her backside and gave it a squeeze. “I especially like those touchdowns.”
“That’s good,” Jake replied, as his hand ran along Dominique’s hip, settled in between her thighs, and dipped inside her satin pj’s. “Because I’m getting ready to score again.”
Want more? Check out
LOVIN’ BLUE
Available now wherever books are sold
Turn the page for an excerpt from Lovin’ Blue... .
1
The police! Eden Anderson’s heart leaped into her throat as she pulled behind the police cruiser parked in front of her brother’s Baldwin Hills residence in Southern California. “What’s going on, Michael?” she whispered as she fumbled with her seatbelt, then the lock button, before scrambling out of her packed Acura SUV and rushing to the front door. Her concern had been growing for the past three days—ever since her phone calls and e-mails to her older brother had gone unreturned.
At first she’d shrugged off her worry. After all, her brother, Michael “Big Mike” Anderson, was trying to make a name for himself in the music game. He’d produced a couple B-level acts while working for a major record label. His work often went late into the night, and reaching him wasn’t always easy. But when Eden had left two “call me right now” messages, followed by texts marked with the same urgency, she’d experienced the first twinges of fear. And now, looking at the black-and-white squad car sitting at the curb of her brother’s front door, Eden’s anxiety went into full throttle.
Eden knocked on the front door. No response. She repeatedly rang the doorbell but didn’t hear the chimes that usually sounded when the button was pushed. Eden knocked harder, first on the door, then on the window. The living room was dark; she could detect no movement. But lights were on upstairs. Eden’s fear increased.
You’ve got a key. Out of her panic came a voice that reminded Eden she had a key to her brother’s house. He’d given it to her months ago, when she’d come house hunting and stayed at his place. She’d meant to give it back but hadn’t. Remembering that she’d placed it in the zipper compartment of her large Junior Drake purse, Eden walked purposefully back to her car to retrieve it. Her steps were measured and much slower than before. Eden wasn’t sure she wanted to find out what was happening on the other side of the door.
Jansen McKnight turned off the shower. Did I hear
a knock? He waited a beat, and then another, before turning the water back on and finishing the long, hot shower. He turned to let the water pound against the knots in his shoulders. I need to see Dakkar, he thought dispassionately. Dakkar was the masseuse trained in Swedish massage who had rubbed away tension, stress, and frustration from Jansen’s body for years. For now, however, the near-scalding hot water pulsating from the heavy-duty showerhead was serving as a viable alternative. Jansen rested a large palm on either side of the stall, hung his head, and let the water work its magic.
A loud thud interrupted Jansen’s serenity. His just relaxed muscles tensed, his entire body rigid in alert. He lessened the water pressure, straining to hear beyond the guest bathroom he’d used since agreeing to house sit for Michael the previous week, and beyond the stereo playing in the bedroom across the hall.
Thump. There it was again, unmistakable this time. Either the sound of footsteps, or something being dragged across the floor, or both. Jansen’s officer instinct went into auto mode, and for good reason. A recent rash of burglaries in the upscale, central Los Angeles neighborhood was why Michael had asked his friend to house sit. Jansen loved the comfort of his home in Gardena, and agreed to his best friend’s pleas only after Michael promised that a home security system would be installed immediately upon his return. Well, brothah, Jansen thought with a resigned sigh, looks like I’m getting ready to earn my keep.
With the stealth of a panther, Jansen turned the shower back to full blast, eased out of the stall, soundlessly wrapped a towel around his waist, and reached for the 9mm Glock that was never far from his reach. Tonight he’d unstrapped and rested it on the closed toilet seat, before the rest of his navy uniform ended up in a heap on the bathroom floor.
Thunk.
Jansen eased the gun out of its holster and crept down the short hallway to the top of the stairs. Taking a deep breath, he placed his foot on the top step and prayed the old maple wood wouldn’t creak under his weight.
Eden walked into the living room and dropped another load onto the hardwood floor. Her first thought had been to leave everything in the car until morning, but a chance glance at a crime-watch sign nailed to a post nixed that idea. Even in what she felt was a fairly safe neighborhood, a car packed with clearly visible goods may be too much for either a hardened criminal or a bored teen to pass up. So with the last ounces of energy she could summon after driving for ten hours, she walked in with her beloved stereo system—the final load.
Jansen kept his back against the wall as he noted the shadow passing along the living room’s far wall. Whoever this fool is has a lot of nerve. Normally, especially when it was obvious that someone was home, a burglar would do one quick, thorough sweep—get in and out. But Jansen wanted to catch this perpetrator, believing that in doing so he may nab the person or ring of persons behind this neighborhood’s woes. That’s why he’d left the shower running, to give the thief a false sense of security. The criminal had obviously taken the bait and made himself at home. You may be nervy, but you’re not too bright, son. Jansen quietly cocked his weapon. It was about to go down.
Eden gingerly sat her stereo on the coffee table and then reached for the suitcases she’d tossed on the couch. She couldn’t wait to get in the shower. Her head hurt; her hair—stuffed under an Orioles baseball cap—was in desperate need of shampoo, and the secret that was strong enough for a man but made for a woman was about to become public news. Oh, I’m funky, she thought as she used the sleeve of her long-sleeved Bison Blue T-shirt to wipe her face. As she did so, her earring caught on the sleeve and came out of her ear. She’d planned to replace the clasp on her favorite hoops before leaving DC, but like many other plans she’d made in the past two weeks, these, too, had changed. Ever since resigning her job on Capitol Hill, her life had been a series of unexpected interruptions. Part of what she was hoping for with this move back home was a life without surprises.
“Freeze! Don’t move!” Jansen eased off the last step onto the floor, assumed a strong, wide-legged stance, and pointed his gun at the back of the scrawny, ball-capped thief who’d been wreaking havoc on the neighborhood. “Get your hands up and slowly turn around.”
Eden stood frozen, unable to speak or move. What’s going on? Where’s Michael? After hearing the music, and the water running, Eden had assumed it was Michael upstairs. But these strong, authoritative commands had definitely not been uttered from her brother’s lips, and her womanly intuition, along with a rapidly beating heart, told her this was not a joke.
“Do it now!” Jansen took another step toward his suspect.
Eden began to shake as she slowly turned around. She took one look at the huge man whose face was hidden in the darkness, noted the gun that—unlike his countenance—was clearly visible from his outstretched hands, and did what any normal, law-abiding citizen would do under such dire circumstances. She fainted.
2
Jansen frowned as he slowly eased his finger off the trigger. He’d seen a lot of reactions from suspects in his near-decade of life as a cop, but he had to admit—this was a first. Are you bluffing? Huh? We’ll soon find out. “Stay on the floor. Don’t move,” Jansen commanded, even though it seemed quite clear that the suspect had no intention of changing positions. Jansen moved the coffee table with his foot and, with the gun in his left hand still trained on his target, used his right hand to turn over the intruder so he could see his face. As he did so, the baseball cap came off, and a head of long black hair cascaded over the hand clutching the suspect’s shoulder. Jansen’s frown deepened. He kept his weapon trained on the unconscious female and hurried over to turn on the overhead light. As the harsh, bright light flooded the room, the suspect groaned and opened her eyes.
Eden! Jansen’s heart clutched in his throat. He’d thought often of Michael’s younger sister in the past few days, especially since staying here at her brother’s house. Michael had told him that Eden was moving back to Los Angeles, but he’d mentioned nothing about her staying at the house. In fact, he’d assured him that they’d probably not cross paths at all because the condo she’d found was in a totally different part of town—Santa Monica, an area Jansen rarely frequented. Yet here she was, sprawled on the floor. Jansen hadn’t seen the girl-turned-woman he used to mercilessly harass in at least ten years, and he quickly took in the curves he’d missed in the heat of the moment, and the onion that begged to be peeled. Jansen had to admit ... she looked good lying down.
“Girl, you sure know how to make an entrance,” Jansen scolded to cover his concern and unexpected attraction, even as he hurried to her side to help her up. “Breaking into someone else’s home, even your brother’s, is a good way to get shot!”
Eden’s eyes narrowed as reality dawned. She hadn’t seen Jansen, otherwise known as her childhood tormentor, in ages, probably since marrying her college sweetheart. After the divorce, she’d buried herself in work, and her trips back home became infrequent. Except for the house-hunting trip, Eden hadn’t been back to LA in three years, ever since her mother relocated to Phoenix. The last she’d heard of Jansen, he was married and living in Chicago. She also remembered Michael saying he’d become a police officer. But still ... what was he doing here? And why was he one towel shy of being naked?
“You!” Eden spat, her ire part anger, part chagrin, but mostly relief. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, now, little sis,” Jansen responded, his voice soft but firm. “I could ask you the same question.” He assumed his favorite wide-legged stance, crossed arms across a massive chest, and noted Eden’s eyes were larger and more almond-shaped than he remembered. And were her lips always so full and luscious?
Jansen’s arm-folding action caused Eden’s heart to flutter a bit as she watched his pecs ripple with the movement. Her eyes slid to the wide, muscled shoulders, down the six-pack to a narrowed waist, inverted navel, and over the strong powerful legs that held up a man she determined had gotten finer with age. And why was she imagining what lay jus
t beyond the beige-colored towel shielding his manhood? Eden closed her eyes and licked suddenly dry lips.
A lazy, knowing smile crept across Jansen’s face. “Liking the view?” he asked cockily as he leaned against the stair banister. “I can part the, um, curtain, if you’d like.”
“Still arrogant, I see,” Eden said, turning away from him and reaching for her suitcases—just for something to do.
“Arrogance is when a person thinks he’s all that,” Jansen shot back. “Confidence is when he knows it.”
Eden ignored Jansen’s comment. Dang, I was looking at him like he was a piece of chicken, and I was the colonel getting ready to fry. She picked up the ball cap from the floor and placed it back on her head, feeling a semblance of composure coming back. After all, this was her brother’s best friend, the one she’d known since she was five years old. The one who had stuttered as a child, squashed bugs, and then picked up their remains and chased her with them. Who had collected the most Halloween candy but still stole the mini Snickers bars Eden received. Who had refused to take off his “Thriller” jacket Christmas gift for a whole week, but later scared the bejeebers out of her by donning a monster mask and jumping out of her bedroom closet. This was “germy Jansen”—the name she’d called him when they’d gotten older and Jansen and Michael had begun to play sports. They’d come home sweaty and funky, and Jansen would insist on nabbing a hug, giving Eden the willies. This was Jansen all grown up ... but Eden tried not to think about that now.
“What are you doing here?” she asked again. “Where’s Michael? And can you put that ... thing away?”
“Are you sure you want me to?” Jansen asked, wriggling his eyebrows. Eden huffed. “Oh, you mean the gun.” The Glock was almost an extension of himself. Jansen had forgotten he was holding it. He placed it on the third step, where Eden couldn’t see it. “Is that better?”