Ahmed wondered how much his sisters had told her. For a long stretch of minutes, he bought some time with the steady pounding of his sneakered feet on the pavement, the puff of his breathing in the morning air. But his mother easily waited him out in silence. Finally, he mentally sighed and bit the bullet.
“Did you hear about the radio show?” he asked her.
“Yes, but I didn’t bother looking at the YouTube clip the girls sent me. I figured I’d just ask you first. Save myself the trouble of speculating.”
He huffed a soft breath and debated how much to tell her. If there was even anything to reveal. He and Elle were adults. The sparks he’d felt that first morning at the station were mutual. He was both heart-achingly relieved about that and scared out of his mind.
He told his mother everything.
“So,” she said when he was done, her breaths even despite their quick pace. “You have no intention of asking this girl out on a real date?”
“That was never the agreement,” he said. Not to mention he was a little worried that, despite the kiss they’d shared, Elle wouldn’t be interested in seeing him again. Yes, they’d laid whatever animosity he’d created between them aside. But he’d damn near jumped on her in the hayloft once he realized the attraction was mutual. Wild animals had more self-control than he’d had in that situation. If she hadn’t stopped things, he was very sure they would’ve ended up naked, with hay in uncomfortable places and something scandalous to not tell Clive when they met up next to talk about Elle’s business.
Maybe that was why she’d clammed up on him and practically threw herself out of the moving car after their date was over.
“Unless you signed some sort of contract, agreements of attraction are made to be broken,” his mother said with a breathless laugh. Her face glowed with sweat.
“It’s not that easy,” Ahmed argued. He realized he was running faster and faster in a subconscious race against the topic of conversation, so he slowed himself down.
His parents had had their love practically handed to them on a bed of roses. They met as freshmen while in the same philosophy class at Emory University, both of them the youngest and most spoiled children in their large families. Ahmed easily imagined them arguing into the night—it was much more comfortable for him to imagine them doing that than other things—while discovering they didn’t want to live without each other. They got married before the first semester was even finished.
“Things can be easy if you let them, if you don’t try to control them,” his mother said.
The thudding of their running shoes against the blacktop washed over Ahmed. It was peaceful at nearly eight in the morning, the risen sun bathing his face in warmth, the temperature only a little cool despite it being winter. Yeah, it was peaceful. Except for the whole being forced to rethink the whole philosophy of his love life.
But what love life?
He didn’t have one, and that was the whole point his mother made. He had a lust life. He invited women to hotel rooms and the VIP upstairs rooms of clubs to share his body and his company for a night. But that was it. These encounters were all about control. He’d freely admit that to anyone who asked.
After his breakup with Christine, a woman one Atlanta newspaper had accurately described as a greedy groupie, he hadn’t allowed another woman to get close enough to hurt him. Either financially or emotionally. Christine had taken a naive boy with too much money in the bank and trust in his heart then twisted him into this—a man who negated everything his mother believed in.
“What is life worth if you can’t control it?” he asked his mother, knowing he sounded like the ass Elle had often accused him of being. But he couldn’t stop. “Being out of control without your emotions, with the people you let in, is the first step to losing everything, the second step to sadness.” He ran harder, not trying to rein himself in anymore, but his mother kept up with him. “Look at you. Even though you loved Dad, you’re alone.” The word felt like it scraped his throat raw. “And I bet after this great love the two of you had, you never thought you’d end up by yourself. You probably thought you’d raise your kids together, retire together, go visit vineyards in California or some other bougie crap.” He hurt himself as much as he hurt his mother with each word he spoke.
But Anita Clark was stronger than his misplaced anger.
“I don’t regret falling for your father and creating three beautiful children with him, and I certainly don’t regret my life now.” Her feet slapped the pavement next to his, running even faster to keep up with him. “Would I have preferred for him to live through that heart attack than being by myself now—”
“Instead of being saddled with a disrespectful son?”
But she ignored him and continued, “I would love to have the greatest love of my life still by my side. But that’s not what happened. Love doesn’t happen independent of life. And sometimes life screws you, but the love your father and I had never failed me, not once. So no, I don’t regret it.”
Regret twisted like a sharp knife in Ahmed’s belly. Of all the things he’d set out to do today, insulting his mother wasn’t one of them. Of anyone, she was the reason he’d come this far and had been able to make the money to help his sisters, his mother and himself.
Ahmed slowed to nearly a stop, his breath coming harder than the fast jog warranted. “I’m sorry,” he gasped.
“I know you are, love.” She briefly squeezed his arm. “And I know you’re still hurting after that Christine business. I wish there was some way I could take that pain away.”
Ahmed drew deep breaths in and out, trying to steady himself. Truthfully, he wasn’t in pain from what Christine had done to him. Hell, that was almost ten years ago now. It was the mistrust that still lingered. The suspicion that inside every good thing life handed to him was a fanged snake waiting to attack.
He and his mother ran on again in silence.
Long minutes later, a bright-colored car eased down the gray road toward them. Ahmed didn’t recognize the vehicle.
“Who’s that coming here so early?”
His mother glanced at her watch, her breath slowing. “It’s probably for me,” she said.
The car, an S-class red Mercedes convertible with darkened windows, slowed as it approached. The driver’s-side window slid down.
“Am I early?” A youngish man sat behind the wheel wearing sweats and a baggy University of Miami T-shirt. The look didn’t at all mesh with the over-a-quarter-million-dollar car. He grinned up at Ahmed’s mother and showed off his bright, if slightly crooked, white teeth and a youth that caught Ahmed by surprise. Was his mother cradle robbing?
Ahmed bristled. “Who are you?”
The young man didn’t look at all offended by Ahmed’s abrupt tone. If anything, his grin widened. He stuck his hand out the window to shake. “Temple Diallo.”
Ahmed hesitated to offer his own sweaty hand.
“Don’t be rude, darling.” His mother patted his shoulder, although it felt more like a slap.
He held up his sweat-slicked hands and shook his head. “No offense. Even I don’t want to touch me right now.”
“No worries,” Temple said with a gracious dip of his head. Despite his obviously young age, he looked supremely confident in the driver’s seat of the Mercedes, simply watching Ahmed and his mother and waiting for…something.
Whatever it was, Ahmed didn’t have time. He gestured ahead of him to the road. “I need to finish my run.”
“Okay, darling.” Without waiting for an invitation, his mother climbed into Temple’s car and settled into the ruby-colored leather seats, sweaty clothes and all. The boy didn’t seem to mind. “See you later?”
“Yeah…” He looked at Temple’s license plate and made a mental note to have Sam check it out later. “Nice chat.”
“Wasn’t it, though?” Her eyes glittered with amusement. “Let’s have dinner later on this evening. And just to satisfy that little birdie of curiosity I see fluttering
away in your brain, Temple and I have some investment business to discuss.”
“All right.” He nodded to the much younger man. “See you later.” Then he sprinted all the way back home, consciously not thinking about Elle and how she was driving him straight out of his mind.
Chapter 9
Shaye spent the rest of Saturday night at Elle’s place, giving up her usual date night with the lucky bachelor of the week to go over sales projections and create marketing strategies for Romance Perfected. With the bankruptcy finally behind them and the recent influx of clients from the radio spot, things were starting to look up. Next year, if they maneuvered very carefully, the company might even see a profit. Elle and Shaye worked until well past 3:00 a.m.
Early Sunday morning, Shaye woke up to make coffee then set off for a breakfast date in Buckhead with identical twin male models whose bodies she described in loving detail before speeding off in her yellow Mustang.
With her friend gone and her morning free, Elle slipped back in bed with a luxurious sigh. But after only a few blissful minutes between the cool sheets, she started thinking about her afternoon with Ahmed. Their kiss. The way he tasted. How the date had ended.
Bad idea.
And because she knew when to take a hint, even if it was from her own subconscious—idle minds and all that—she left the bed and got into the shower.
Over an hour later, she walked out of the house, purse swinging, with no particular destination in mind. Once she got in her car and started driving, the destination, decided by the lingering taste of Ahmed on her tongue despite her two teeth brushings and a quick breakfast of oatmeal and fruit, became clear: her favorite bakery in Grant Park.
Yes, she could admit it. Ahmed’s kisses made her think of dessert. Of melting and sweetness and all kinds of delicious and wicked things that were bad for her. So, The Baked Good it was.
The bell above the door rang as she pushed into the bakery then held the door open for a woman struggling with two large pastry boxes and a kindergartner who didn’t look ready to leave the shop. After a breathless “thank you,” the woman rushed out, her young daughter clinging tearfully to her skirt.
The Baked Good smelled like heaven. The little pastry and coffee shop was tucked away in an up-and-coming area that was already home to a few clothing boutiques, an ice-cream parlor and a wine bar. The Baked Good had quickly become one of Elle’s favorite places after she discovered it on the way to an appointment at the wine bar. The wine bar she eventually added to Romance Perfected’s list of date venues while The Baked Good went on their website as a recommended business.
“Elle!” The young woman behind the counter, voluptuous and gorgeous in an African-print dress that flared out around her generous hips, didn’t look older than nineteen, but she was all of twenty-two and the brains behind The Baked Good. “I haven’t seen you around here in a while.”
“I’ve been trying to be good, Carole.”
The baker winked at her as she finished settling a red velvet cake behind the display case. “Why be good when you can just be good to yourself?”
Elle grinned. “It’s your bad influence that made me gain these last ten pounds.”
“Girl, since I can’t tell about those supposed ten pounds, you must have needed them. At least on that skinny body of yours.”
“If you keep those compliments coming, you’ll never get rid of me.”
“That’s been my devious plan all along,” Carole said, joining in Elle’s delighted laughter.
Still smiling, Elle skimmed the display case, already trying to decide which yummy thing would do the least damage to her figure.
The bell above the door sounded again, but she didn’t pay any attention to it, her focus already on a red velvet cupcake with a sprinkling of rainbow hearts on top of its creamy crown. She could practically taste the sweetness of the cream cheese frosting on her tongue. Two of the cupcakes stood side by side. Maybe she could have one now and save the other one for later…
“Good morning.” The sound of the familiar voice, unexpected and all too close, made her stand up so fast she almost gave herself whiplash.
Ahmed stood near the door of the shop, looking delicious himself surrounded by the shades of pink and chocolate Carole had used to decorate her bakery. Carole responded warmly to his greeting, but his eyes stayed on Elle.
“I thought that was you,” he said with a glance up and down Elle’s body. “I’d recognize your—” he cleared his throat “—hair anywhere.”
Behind the counter, Carole giggled, not even bothering to pretend she wasn’t eavesdropping.
He didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed. He flashed Carole a smile and moved closer to Elle. “It’s a nice surprise seeing you again so soon.”
Elle was painfully aware of Carole and her attentive ears, but she raised her chin and tried to shake off her self-consciousness. “I felt like a needed a little sweetness in my day.”
“After yesterday?” He made it sound like he’d left her soured. But after the night of sensuous dreams and the morning spent remembering his kisses, Elle was anything but. She’d reacted badly in the aftermath of their kiss. That wasn’t his fault, though.
She bit the inside of her cheek then abruptly decided on honesty. “Actually, yes.” The look on his face made her rush to reassure him. “It was a sweet date. I wanted some more of that for the rest of my weekend.”
“And now you’re getting more than you asked for.” He gestured to himself.
She rolled her eyes but didn’t suppress her laugh. “So very true.” The warmth in her belly only spread when he nodded. “What are you doing here? I didn’t figure you for a man who liked sweets.”
He raised an eyebrow in her direction. “I’m not, usually, but I’ve been making an exception lately.”
A tiny butterfly wriggled happily in Elle’s stomach at his words. Watch it, girl.
“Actually, I saw this place listed on your company’s website and thought I’d try it out,” he said, turning the wriggle in Elle’s stomach into a full flutter. He was checking her out in more ways than one. “I’m getting something for my mother and sisters. I’ve been a bit on the unbearable side lately.”
“Oh, imagine that. I’m glad I’m not the only one who gets the gift of your particular moods.”
“I’m a nice enough guy. Or at least I can be.”
“Then what do you have to apologize for?”
For a moment, he looked uncomfortable and tossed a gaze toward the counter where Carole was obviously listening. Just then, the store’s bell chimed and two women walked in, chatting excitedly about an upcoming wedding. They headed for the counter, and Carole stepped forward to help them. Without Carole’s obvious attention, Elle relaxed.
“Tell you what,” Ahmed said. “I’ll give you all the gory details over coffee and a…” He looked at her empty hands. “…whatever it is you’re having.”
“I’ll take you up on that offer.” Gladly.
Once Carole had a break in her discussions with the two new customers, she served Elle one of the cupcakes in the case, a croissant for Ahmed and coffees for them both. They sat at one of the tables far enough away from Carole to give themselves some illusion of privacy.
The table was small and the chairs close. Their knees brushed under the delicate white tablecloth while they leaned in over the pastries and coffees in front of them.
“What terrible thing did you say to your mother and sisters?” Elle asked.
Ahmed tasted his coffee, made a surprised sound of appreciation and went back in for a bigger sip. “They got into my business and wanted to know about our date.”
“Oh!” That definitely wasn’t something Elle expected. As far as anyone else knew, their date had been all about promotion, arranged by the radio station to get more listeners and advertisers. The good time they’d had that afternoon—before their kiss had jump-started Elle’s libido and destroyed her peace of mind—had been accidental. Anyone who li
stened to Ahmed’s show knew it was all pretend.
“They know it was just for the radio station, right?” Elle asked, even as a tiny part of her wanted him to insist it hadn’t all been pretend.
“That didn’t stop them from hoping.”
She dipped her head and toyed with the largest diamond in her ear. Disappointment clogged her throat, for a moment making it hard for her to speak. “Hoping what? I don’t imagine you have a shortage of women lined up to go on dates with you.”
“In their minds, it’s not quantity, it’s quality.” When Elle didn’t say anything—she didn’t know what to say—he went on. “They’re convinced you’re a better class of date than the rest and wanted to make sure I didn’t mess it up.”
Even though the women in his family obviously didn’t know her, Elle felt warmed by their opinion. She took a sip of her coffee to hide her smile. “Are you in the habit of messing up your own dates?”
“They seem to think so.”
“What do you think?”
“I think they need cake.”
Elle choked on a laugh. “So, what actually happened?”
On the radio, Ahmed was a natural storyteller, reeling in his audience with his compelling voice and his way of bringing a tale to life. He could do better than the little summary he just gave.
“You seriously want to hear this?”
“Of course. Especially since I know it’s about me, or at least about our date.” It felt strange to say “our date” versus “the farce,” as she had been calling it in her mind. But maybe it had been so long since Elle had been on a real date that now she didn’t even know the difference. She mentally rolled her eyes at herself.
He leaned his forearms on the table, and Elle forced herself to look away from the powerful flex of muscles and focus on what was actually coming out of his mouth. “Okay,” he said. “This is what happened.”
She propped her chin up on an upraised palm and listened.
*
Ahmed felt tired, exhilarated and frustrated at the same time. After the kiss he’d shared with Elle, the arousal hummed steadily through him, amplifying his awareness of his body and distracting the hell out of him. He’d wanted to do much more than kiss Elle. Even the reminder that it really hadn’t been a real date, not one they’d both agreed to out of the mutual attraction sizzling between them, hadn’t quite done its job to cool him off. Even the awkward way they’d left things hadn’t softened his desire. He got home frustrated in every sense of the word.
On-Air Passion Page 9