by Koko Brown
“Old times, eh? I hope you weren’t trying to steal her from me.” Shane’s voice dripped honey, but his eyes were cold.
A nervous, choking sound erupted from Ralph.
“No, no,” he said, holding his hands in front of him in a defensive manner. “We just haven’t seen each other in a while and we were just catching up.”
“Good.” Shane pulled her against him and Celeste sucked in her breath. Despite the odd undercurrent, he set her body on fire. “I’ve no plans of letting her get away from me anytime soon.”
As Shane’s words sunk home, Ralph slowly melted into the background. He seemed to sense their moment had passed as well because he offered a semblance of closure.
“Well, I better circulate,” he said, but before leaving he reached out and touched her elbow, temporarily arresting her attention. With more effort than she cared to admit, Celeste dragged her gaze from Shane’s. “You know I wish you nothing but the best?”
Celeste untangled herself from Shane’s embrace. “Of course, I do. And I wish the same for you and Beatrice.”
Ralph opened his mouth, but when his gaze drifted over her head to Shane he shut it. Curious, Celeste glanced back.
Shane still wore a sly grin, but his gaze was trained on her. Despite being in mixed company and Countess Vaughn’s other guests milling about, a wave of heat slammed her, practically knocking her over. She even swayed a little.
Sensing her change in mood, Shane pulled her against him.
Celeste groaned. He felt so darn good, rock hard and solid.
“Are you okay?” Like warm syrup, his voice rolled over her. Each syllable made her feel all moist and sticky.
“F-fine,” she managed to choke out, “just a little lightheaded. It’s hot in here and you’re holding me rather close…”
“Want me to let you go?”
What could she say to that?
Before she ended up telling Shane when, where and how he could have her, she decided to use Ralph as a scapegoat.
Celeste twisted about, but found him gone. “Where did he go?”
“Don’t know…don’t care.”
Ralph’s sudden absence put a damper on Celeste’s mood. She would have liked to have said more, to further cleanse the old wounds, but the tiny window of opportunity had been shut.
Since their audience was gone, Celeste stepped back. She didn’t get far.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Shane grabbed her wrist, trapping her. “You have a debt to pay. And you owe me big time for that boob,” he said, jabbing his thumb in the direction Ralph had most likely run.
Ready to tell him where he could stuff his debt, Celeste tipped her head back. But when her gaze met his, the angry retort on the tip of her tongue melted faster than spring snow. Hands down, Shane Brennan had to be the most virile man she’d ever come across.
“W-what do you want?” she asked, stumbling over the words. And not liking it one bit. He had the darnest way of making her lose her cool.
He let her go and lifted his champagne glass.
“Everything.” Shane jerked his hand, pulling her back against him. The full body contact made Celeste moan. “Right now, I wanna dance with the most beautiful woman in the room.”
“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” she said, “Are you familiar with the jitterbug?”
Shane didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled her behind him and into the other room. He deposited her in the center of the dance floor then walked over to the four-man orchestra playing in the corner.
Curious, Celeste watched him talk with the piano player. They exchanged a few words and then Shane reached into his breast pocket and deposited a couple of bills into the bowl sitting on the baby grand. Whatever the amount, it must have been satisfactory because the sweating musician grinned from ear to ear.
The dizzying music stopped and the piano player started yelling orders to the rest of the orchestra. Several people expressed their discontent. However, the moment was fleeting when a melancholy wail erupted from the trumpeter’s horn.
“Oh go ahead Daddy!” Someone yelled as the trumpeter held the note.
Expelling the rest of his depleted breath, the trumpeter trilled through several melodic notes. He paused mid-note and the rest of the band jumped in. The piano player trickled on the keys, the drummer rasped out a beat with a wire brush and the bassist plucked out several chords. The number was smooth and mellow, perfect music for intimacy.
“This is more like it,” Shane said, rejoining her. Before she could escape, he hauled her into his arms.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Celeste didn’t protest when he pulled her closer, fitting them together like spoons in a kitchen drawer. Blushing, she focused her attention on the couples around them. Unfortunately, their impassioned expressions and grinding bodies did little to help her current predicament, only caused it to grow and expand like a wildfire.
Why fight it? It wasn’t like she was a virgin. That ship sailed long ago and docked at several ports multiple times. Accepting the inevitable and loving the sway of his hips, Celeste laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes.
“This is nice, no?”
Celeste nodded. “Really nice,” she said, relaxing both her body and her guard. She just needed to enjoy the moment and stop worrying about the consequences.
The more she relaxed, the more she became attuned to his body, his rhythm and she soon marveled at how light he was on his feet. Must be his training as a boxer.
“Have plans this weekend?”
In her element, she decided to hedge. “Why?” she asked.
“Don’t be coy.” His arm tightened around her waist. “You already have me wrapped around your finger. You don’t have to play games.”
Embarrassed yet delighted by his admission, Celeste ducked her head.
“Do you have plans?” he asked again.
Deciding to play it straight, she shook her head.
“I picked up tickets for Mulatto. It’s run—”
Before he could continue, Celeste cut in. “At the Post Modern theatre?” she gushed, unable to hide her excitement. “It’s a revival of the original that ran on Broadway.”
In the face of her enthusiasm, he chuckled. Not caring a whit, Celeste continued, “My old man died in a fine big house/My ma died in a shack/I wonder where I’m going to die/Being neither white nor black.”
“So you’re familiar with Hughes’ works?”
“Anyone who’s colo…I…I mean anyone familiar with the Harlem Renaissance knows of Langston Hughes.” Suddenly filled with a ton of questions, Celeste glanced up at him. “How were you able to get tickets? I heard they’ve been sold out for weeks.”
“Stop worrying your pretty little head,” Shane said. “I got connections.”
Celeste pursed her lips. A part of her was pleased by his compliment, the other half was miffed that he’d been able to score the most sought after ticket in Harlem.
Just yesterday, she and Trudy had tried to swindle tickets from Robert Dillard, one of the show’s executive producers. But they’d come up empty handed and ears burning. Dillard hadn’t liked being the butt of Trudy’s onstage jokes. So much so, he’d regaled them with a salty tirade that lasted almost ten minutes.
“So what’d you say?” Shane squeezed her hand, pulling her out of yesterday’s antics.
Celeste didn’t think twice. “What time should I expect you?”
Before she could finish, Shane grinned. Although his expression could’ve been misconstrued for smugness, it didn’t detract from his good looks only added to them. Celeste cleared her throat because her heart was sitting in it.
“Six o’clock sharp,” he said, “Unless that’s too early for you.”
Still unable to speak for the lump in her throat, Celeste shook her head. What the heck was wrong with her? She was acting like a wallflower not the femme fatale her peers made her out to be.
“Is six no good? Or is it too early for you?”
�
��Six is good,” she choked out. Feeling herself falling in much too deep for her liking, she looked for an exit. “Since that’s settled, I’d better beat it.” Celeste cringed. Whenever she was nervous she used the corniest vocabulary. “I’m sure my cousin is beating the carpet looking for me.”
Instead of letting her go, Shane brought her closer. “Do you have to leave so soon?”
Grasping onto the last vestiges of her crumbling composure, Celeste took a deep breath. Unfortunately, the combination of patchouli, starched linen and his unique manly scent filled her nostrils, intoxicating her.
“I…I…guess I can stay for one more dance.”
Light on his feet, Shane maneuvered them into the center of the dance floor. The amount of oxygen and space was quickly swallowed up by the close proximity of other couples, whose bodies glistened and throbbed with ecstasy as they strained to get closer to one another. The press of Shane’s body into hers and the antics of the other couples made her think of rumpled sheets and cigarettes.
“I heard you were trouble.”
Startled by his admission, Celeste stiffened. “Then why do you want to keep on seeing me?”
He leaned down until his lips lined up with her ear. Celeste gulped as she derived the wickedest pleasure from the subtle brush of his chin whiskers against her cheek.
Celeste waited. She listened to his breathing as it teased the hairs at her temples. In and out. In and out, he breathed. She was so enraptured with this simple action she almost jumped out of her skin when he finally spoke.
“I like trouble,” he rasped. “And it doesn’t hurt that you’re beautiful, so perfect.”
Blushing from head to toe, she admonished him, “Mr. Brennan, no one is perfect.”
“You are. It’s taking every ounce of will to keep from kissing you.” Lifting his head, his gaze locked with hers. For the longest moment, neither of them said a word and then a determined glint entered his beautiful green eyes.
“Something wrong?” Celeste whispered huskily, responding to his changed demeanor.
Without answering her question, Shane turned about and guided them through the crush of bodies, toward the exit.
“W-where are we going?”
“Some place private.”
“Why?” she asked even though deep she knew the answer.
“So I can kiss you.”
Taking the stairs two at a time, he half dragged, half carried her up the flight of stairs to the third floor. His pace was so rushed Celeste barely had any time to wrap her mind around his intent.
Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Shane opened the first door on the right. They barely stepped over the threshold when a sweet, acrid smell tickled her nostrils. Despite the smoky haze lingering over the room, Celeste could make out several people lounging around on silk pillows passing around a pipe.
Celeste wasn’t green. She’d tried plenty of things, but she’d steered clear of heroin. Too many of her peers had tried to tame the beast, but were trampled for their efforts. So, of course she didn’t balk when Shane pulled her from the room and shut the door behind them.
Moving farther down the hallway, Shane opened the next door.
“Hey close the do’!” A man shouted from somewhere inside. For added emphasis, a pillow came hurtling toward the door, smacking Shane in the chest. In seemingly high spirits, he simply backed them out of the room and shut the door.
One by one, Shane checked every room on the floor. All of them were occupied, even the hall closet.
It was for the best, Celeste mused as she sat down on the arm of a club chair, sandwiched in between two book shelves.
At the end of the hall and situated in a recessed wall no one would have known the nook, lit by only a standing lamp was even there.
“I guess the early bird really does catch the worm,” she said, somewhat relieved yet strangely disappointed. The boxer made her palms sweat and her belly feel like it was turning somersaults. Did she have the same effect on him?
Celeste studied his expression. Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected. He probably seduced women every minute of the day and didn’t think anything of it. He was the perfect foil to her former self. The one that used to eat men for breakfast, right after her morning cocktail.
He had this effect on her only because she was dry, Celeste deduced. Of course that didn’t explain how he had her foaming at the mouth at Café Society the other night.
In a nut–shell, Shane Brennan was dangerous to her sensibilities! Getting caught up with him would be like trading one addiction for another. Either way, she’d wind up the loser.
Pissed at herself and the unfamiliar feelings clawing to the surface, she decided to lash out at him.
“You’ve must have paid a pretty penny for those tickets,” she said, picking the leather binding to a book of poems.
Unaware of her motives, he smiled. “You’re company was worth every penny.”
“How much?” she hedged.
“I never talk money?”
“A prize fighter that doesn’t talk money? I guess you fight for free.”
“My manager, Ollie, handles my fee.”
The monkey still riding her back, Celeste chose a different tactic. Coyly, she sat down on the arm of the chair. “Do you go all out like this for your other lady friends?”
“There aren’t any others. You’re it.” The wind knocked out of her sails, or more like her bravado, Celeste slumped. At every turn, he was becoming more and more of an anomaly.
“Anything else you wanna know?” he asked, while she struggled to figure out his angle.
Since being churlish didn’t knock him off the scent, Celeste decided to go for the jugular. She’d never met a man who wanted to talk relationships. “Where is this interest of yours going to lead?”
Shane leaned against the wall, and regarded her with intense scrutiny.
Celeste could almost bet he could see through her ploy. So she rushed forward, “You see…a lot of your kind come uptown, become fascinated with the scene and want to sample all of its dark pleasures.”
Her plan worked. His smile had melted and with every word, a muscle jumped in his cheek. If she didn’t know any better, he looked as if he wanted to clobber her. So much so, she almost cowered when he stepped forward, towering over her.
Before she lost her nerve, she twisted the knife, “but, I’m telling you here and now that…that this curiosity of yours will lead you nowhere.”
“You finished?”
Celeste nodded only because she suddenly found herself tongue tied.
“I love all women. All shapes and sizes. Light or dark, it doesn’t matter to me. But you’re beginning to make me think we might not be a good fit,” he said it so quietly and yet for some reason it pierced her to the depths of her soul. What was left of it anyway.
Celeste bit her lip, wondering why she was letting his capitulation upset her so.
“I guess we’re on the same page.” Thinking she was in the clear, Celeste stood up and edged around him. Something inside her told her he’d turned around, but she didn’t look back.
“I keep thinking about that kiss the other night at the club and I keep wondering if other parts of you taste as sweet.”
Try as she might, Celeste couldn’t move. Her legs felt leaden, glued to the spot.
“You and I might not fit together perfectly, but that kiss makes me think otherwise.”
Before she could figure out how to put some distance between them, Shane spun her about then covered her mouth with his. In a last–ditch effort, she tried to object, but that only served as an easy opening for his diabolical tongue.
His kiss was so intoxicating, any and all protests flew out the window. His mouth conquered hers in varying degrees. Shane kissed her tenderly, then deepened their contact, as if he wanted to take her right there in the middle of the hallway, then went back to lazily outlining her lips with his tongue.
Celeste answered in kind. Impatient and wanting to taste him, she
pushed past his firm, wet lips. Finding his tongue, she stroked back and forth before slowly drawing him into her mouth to suck on him.
Her actions proved fruitful when a moan rumbled against her lips and his arms wrapped around her tightly. Pleased and aroused by his response, Celeste smiled to herself–nothing like having a man wrapped around her finger.
Shane brought their bodies even closer. As he did so, the evidence of his strong reaction to her pressed hotly against her belly. His response was like a cup of cold water thrown in her face. Tearing her lips from his, Celeste scooted back.
“Not yet,” Shane snarled, as he moved to pull her back into his arms. Celeste tried to sidestep him, but he was quicker and more agile than she’d expected. And it didn’t help matters when he nibbled her jawline and her legs turned to mush.
“Is it just me or is it suddenly hot in here.”
Shane answered her with a devilish chuckle that made her toes curl.
Confident she wasn’t going anywhere, his hands began to roam. The only reason she didn’t protest the liberties he’d taken was because he was making her feel so damn good.
When his fingers traced her shoulders and arms, she shivered. He caressed her back she moaned like a sow in heat. Unnerved by her reaction, she flung herself from his lap.
“I–I’d better be going.”
“No. Want more,” he reached for her, but Celeste stumbled backward out of the alcove and into the hallway, safely out of reach.
“So, this is where you’ve been all night?”
Recognizing the feminine voice, Celeste turned around to answer her cousin. What greeted her wasn’t a pretty sight. Trudy and Lenny were leaning upon the other, trying to keep their balance. Celeste felt Shane come up behind her and for the briefest moment, words eluded her.
Unfortunately, Trudy didn’t have the same problem. She looked past her to Shane and then the private alcove he’d emerged from. Putting two and two together, her eyes widened. “You were making whoopee in a cubby?”
Lenny stopped kissing Trudy’s neck and joined in the conversation. “Is this one of your birds?” he asked, eyeing Shane up and down.