“No, Quinton, thank you,” she said softly. “You helped pave the way to my son when everything seemed hopeless, and you made me see I could love again.”
“So you do still love Marcus.” Quinton turned to face her, crushed by the confirmation that Tara loved someone else. His eyes glassy from opening up to her, but he refused to release any of the emotions churning inside.
“I flew back to tell you . . . to show you I can love you in ways you never imagined, if given a chance, but if that’s where your heart is leading you.” She smiled warmly at him and reached to touch his face. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “It’s what you deserve. You’ve been beating yourself up far too long not to have that one simple joy in your life. It’s what you wanted all along.”
“Sssh,” Tara said, placing her fingers against his mouth. With all seriousness, she boldly said,
“The only man I love is you, Quinton.”
“I’m sorry. What did you just say?”
“Quinton, I love you and right now all I want is to make love . . . with you.”
With a passionate gleam in her eyes, Tara kissed him and spoke no more words.
* * *
Tara woke up in his arms, hearing a song in her head she had never heard before. Outside her window, dawn was trying to break. Tara quietly rose, trying not to wake Quinton. She then took out her notebook and sat in the bay window, reveling in how beautiful the day was after yesterday’s cleansing.
Inspired, Tara started to put the words to what she had just experienced with the man she loved on paper. She glanced at Quinton as he slept and thought about his promise to help her find the love song hidden within her.
She heard rustling of the covers over the scribbling of her pencil as Quinton turned to face her.
“What in the world are you doing?” he asked, sitting up with the sheet draped below his waist.
Putting the pencil down, Tara replied. “I’m writing. Isn’t that what you want me to do?”
“Woman, you can write later. After all this time, you choose to write now? I can think of plenty of other things to do at a time like this. Here’s an idea to get you started: wake me up,” he quipped. “We still have a few more hours before I have to get back to New York for my meeting. Come on back to bed.”
Tara tossed the book aside and hopped in beside him.
* * *
Tara sang along to a song streaming through the speakers as she removed items from the refrigerator. Quinton enjoyed watching her dancing along. He then snuck up on her and kissed her on the back of her neck.
“Morning,” she sang happily. She placed a carton of eggs on the counter and kissed him.
“Baby, what are you doing?”
She looked surprised at his question and gestured at the food on the counter. “I’m making breakfast, sweetie, if only I can decide what to fix. I figured you worked up one heck of an appetite last night.”
He took her into his arms and hugged her. “Now you know you can’t cook,” he reminded her. “I love you, but let’s be real. I better handle this.” He reached for a skillet hanging above the island.
She smirked. “Well, at least I know how to make mimosas.”
“Okay, baby, you do that. If it makes you believe you are a chef, I am all for it,” he teased her. “For someone practically raised in a restaurant, I still can’t figure out how you learned how not to cook.”
Tara took out a glass pitcher and the required ingredients and started making the beverage. Once she had completed her simple task, she sat on a barstool and watched Quinton prepare pancakes with fresh fruit.
“I wasn’t good enough to make you come in here to whip out omelets?” she said teasingly, referencing the movie Love Jones, knowing Quinton knew what she meant. She often made him watch it with her when they spent time together in Los Angeles.
He looked at her and winked. “You have me in here cooking, don’t you?”
Quinton moved the final pancake to a plate and took it and her glass to the breakfast table. He then sat in front of the only dish of food. “Okay, now that is just wrong,” Tara said sassily, standing in front of him.
He motioned for her to sit on his lap. When she obliged, he cut a piece of pancake and fed it to her. He kissed away a drop of syrup on her lip. “Well?”
“Tastes good,” she said softly. “The pancake, that is.”
He continued feeding her, in between taking bites for himself. His phone buzzed on the table, and he glanced at it, quick to return it to the table face down before Tara could notice.
“Can’t you reschedule your meeting?” she asked. “I don’t think I can let you go after this.”
“Trust me,” he replied. “I’m definitely coming back as soon as it’s over. It should be quick since they have to catch a plane later on.”
“What’s the meeting about?”
Shrugging it off, Quinton cut into a pancake. “A quick meeting for one of the companies I invest in. Nothing major.”
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to leave then so I can have you all to myself all the sooner?” she asked. The look of wanting drew them closer.
“Why? You want to help me get dressed?” he asked. Taking his hand and pulling him along, she headed for the shower.
Chapter 17
Quinton dreaded making the trip to the Village, but it was one that was necessary if he had any hope of seeing Tara again. There was no way he could look her in the face knowing what he did. He had to stop it.
When he reached a trendy converted warehouse building that now housed loft-style apartments, Quinton got out of his sedan. After checking in with the doorman, he rode the elevator to the fifth floor and got out, walking up to an oversized steel door separating him from his future.
Robyn responded to his knock almost immediately. “Well, hello, Q. I missed you earlier,” she said, stepping aside to let him into her apartment. He walked into a room that he not only paid for but also furnished with his earnings. She made that clear when she gained everything finding glee that he had to pay alimony for three years. Images of Robi the model on the walls dominated the room. “I’m getting dressed to go to a party. I hope you don’t mind if we make this visit short. Then again, you never were one to satisfy quickly.”
Quinton stood with his back to the closed door and looked directly into her conniving eyes. “How much is this going to cost me?”
Wearing a silk floral robe over her nude body, she glided up the stairs to the open area of her sleeping quarters without answering. He called out to her.
“Everything is my guess,” she said, tossing uncertain hands up but followed the gesture with a wicked laugh.
“I brought my checkbook, and I’m ready. How much?” he asked again.
Robyn stood at the guardrail, now without her robe, and exposed herself to Quinton. It had been years since the two had been intimate, and if he didn’t despise his ex-wife so much, he would’ve appreciated the view before him. “Do you honestly think a bank will cash a personal check that large without question? How about you come up here and secure our deal with a little security deposit? Later, I’ll give you my banking information, and you can route the money to my account.”
“Robyn, I’m not interested in playing games with you. I want out.”
“Add comedy to your skill set, because you were the one who insisted you hold on to KINSON when we divorced.”
“I found out what you’re up to.”
“Me?” Robyn pointed toward herself and laughed. “My hands are clean, Q. I can’t help it if my cousin is a beast with business. Bottom line, your little girlfriend talks too much for her own good, and that little seed she planted in Becca’s head was all she needed to hear.”
“Your father started KINSON to help artists, not hurt them.” Her father’s vision helped Quinton get his foot in the door in the music industry. KINSON made it easier for him to navigate the business side of music that Quinton was naïve to as a young creative.
“Your point?”
“You’re only doing this to get back at me.”
“I don’t have time for your bitching, Q. I have things to do, so let’s speed this up. Besides, you’re too late.” Robyn turned her back and disappeared out of view. “Check your emails lately?”
“What are you talking about?”
She returned to the railing wearing a dress. “KINSON is buying Spin, which means we will also own Tara Russell’s entire catalog.”
Quinton pulled out his phone, and one of the most recent emails caught his eye.
“Fuck!” he yelled.
“I know. It’s all so exciting. I’m telling you when Becca Kincaid wants something, she makes it happen. But keep this quiet for now. As if I need to remind you you’re bound to confidentiality, anyway. I doubt they’ll let the infamous bad boy stay in Martha Stewart’s old cell if you’re caught running your mouth. The board is waiting until next week to make it official and share the announcement. You can break the good news to her then. Can you come up to zip this for me?”
Quinton turned to leave, slamming the door on his way out.
* * *
Throughout her home, she set the mood for Quinton’s return. A mix of music played softly throughout the house, and candles lit from the front door to the bedroom. Tara even spent an hour making a trail of ivory, cream, blush, and crimson petals, forming a path to her bed. When she heard the alert that someone was at the gate, she looked out the window and watched the headlights of his truck make its way up her driveway.
She rushed to the door, meeting him when it swung open and greeted him wearing a seductive periwinkle chemise and a sexy smile.
Quinton walked inside and closed the door, leaving a thundering storm behind him. Her alluring appearance was in sharp contrast to the all-black clothing he wore under his rain-splattered coat.
“Hey, Quinton,” Tara said, brushing her mouth against his. “I missed you.”
Quinton pulled her body close to his, dropping his head until their foreheads touched and closing his eyes. For a moment, their rushed breaths mingled as they absorbed each other’s presence. “You know I love you, don’t you?” he asked quietly, his tone serious.
Tara nodded and looked into his troubled eyes. “Sweetheart, what is it?”
Quinton just shook his head and pulled her closer.
He held her, clinging like where he stood with her meant everything to him. His damp attire was soaking through the silk. “Then come, let’s go get you out of these clothes.”
“What I want right now is just to hold you.”
Never once letting her leave the comforting place within his arms, Quinton took her to her bed, holding Tara well into the night.
* * *
Pulling Tara closer into his embrace, he kissed her as she slept. Admiring everything about the woman in his arms, he kissed her again, this time brushing his lips against hers. Tara stirred into waking and smiled at him.
“Hey,” she said.
Quinton licked his lips and smiled back. “Hi.”
Tara eased her body on top of his resting the softness of her sweet spot on his morning erection. She straddled him, leaning down to shower his chest with soft kisses, arousing him with even more need to be inside her.
Quinton reached for the hem of the chemise and lifted it, pulling it over her head and taking her left nipple into his mouth, tasting its ripe sweetness. He sucked and teased it until it hardened against his tongue, and she twisted her body, encouraging him to do the same to the other.
Tara reached between her legs and released his engorged penis from his underwear. She wrapped her soft, gentle fingers around him and squeezed it before stroking it, distracting him from his feast on her breasts. Quinton moved his lips to her neck, and Tara rose to rub him against her silk covered mound, letting him feel her damp, wet heat. She slipped the thong over and eased him inside her, slowly grinding to the end of his length.
He reached for her waist, placing a hand on each side and watched the tip of him moving in and out of her slickness. Quinton moved his hips, thrusting into her increasing the intensity of their lovemaking. Tara gripped his shoulders and held on as she remained mounted, taking all he had to give her, with both working feverishly not once breaking apart until she collapsed against his chest spent from their lovemaking.
“Mornin’,” she mumbled and moved from atop him.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, reaching for her hand to hold it. He lifted it for a kiss and noticed that she was wearing his ring. “Wow.”
She snuggled closer to him as he stared at her right hand with amazement. “Yeah, that’s some ring.”
“No, that is not what I was thinking. I know why I gave it to you. I wish it were for a different reason now.”
Confused, Tara eased up, propping her head on her elbow to look at him with a frown line between her brows.
“Looking at this ring and you here beside me. This should be us always.”
“You hear no complaints from me.”
“I want to marry you.”
She all but stopped breathing. “Wait… Are you serious? But we just started dating,” she said, stumbling over her words.
“For two years.”
“I’m serious.”
“And so am I. I’m not proposing marriage right this second, but Blue, I already know that I want to share every day I have with you. Can you see yourself marrying me one day?”
She glanced down at the sheets, and he watched her lashes flutter. Tara pressed her kiss swollen lips together nervously before a sliver of space between them appeared, and she exhaled softly. “You see yourself wanting to spend your life with me? Me?”
Quinton reached to slip a hand behind her head, nudging her face close to his. “Damn straight, I do. Tara, you’re my everything,” he said, staring back into her innocent, loving eyes.
“I love you.” She closed the precious space between them to kiss him tenderly.
He reached to touch her cheek, drawing a thumb down it. “I love you, too.”
* * *
Quinton called a session break and pulled Tara down into his lap.
“Changing up the hook works for you? You can manage going right into it after the second verse if you ever perform it live?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing a hand over his eyes. “The way you delivered it the last time has the best sound to me.”
Tara turned to face him and stared into red, tired eyes he barely kept open. Earlier that morning, Quinton’s barber met them at his place to shave him and cut his hair. Then she accompanied Quinton to a producer’s workshop and Grammy press conference for The Recording Academy, as they both were supporters of NARAS.
“You didn’t have to book this studio. I know you enjoy working here, but your place is ready and would have been just fine.”
Quinton pulled her closer, the energy between them more powerful than spoken words. “You aren’t ready to go back there. I know you still have nightmares.”
She turned her face away, not ready to admit the truth of what he’d said. The one she had the night before woke them both from their sleep. Looking back at him, she changed the subject. “Aaron is coming over this weekend. Since we aren’t going to the AMAs, I thought it would be cool to keep him until Wednesday.”
Quinton agreed but added, “His father went for that?”
“Yeah,” Tara said and laughed. “Why would you say that?”
“No offense, Blue, but Aaron’s father seems uptight. I understand his strictness with your son, but he still makes me wonder what kind of guys you were into back in the day.”
Tara laughed but tried hard not to. “Stop it. Marcus is a good guy.”
“Uh-huh, and then I came along, and you were like wow!” Quinton said. In a high-pitched voice mocking Tara’s, he continued his good-humored parody. “Oh, Quinton, you are such a bad boy. I can’t believe you curse. I can’t believe you had your ears pierced. Tattoos? Oh my! My old boyfri
ends were never as crazy as you.” Returning to his normal voice, he nuzzled close to her ear, asking, “Did I mix things up a little for you, baby?”
“Hush!” she laughed.
He winked and whispered into her ear. “What I tell you about hushing me, Blue. Gonna find yourself telling one of our kids they were conceived in a vocal booth.”
“You sure you want to be stuck with me forever?” she teased. When he nodded and kissed her, she asked, “And kids?”
“Of course.”
Her face softened. “You’d be a wonderful father.”
Quinton leaned back in his chair and checked his watch. “How about we get through this project before we go there?”
“What did I say?”
“Nothing, baby,” he smiled, trying to reassure her. “I just want you to tackle this project first and deliver the masters to Spin. Once you do, we can clear the path for you becoming Mrs. Quinton Jonathan Ellis.”
“I like that.”
“Me, too,” he replied. “What do you think of launching your own label next? Do things your way on your terms.”
Tara pondered his idea. “That would be wonderful. Better if I had control of my old songs when I do.”
“Cross that bridge when you get to it. For now, work forward.”
He kissed her again, this time letting their tongues mingle even longer. The end of the session break interrupted their kiss, and Quinton immediately reverted to his stony producer’s face. “Back to work, if you want to hold an early session in the morning so you can make it home to Aaron.”
“Nope,” she said defiantly, wearing a stern expression similar to his. “I refuse to work with an exhausted producer,” she added, still sitting in his lap.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, you have no choice,” he answered. “Now, come on and get back in there.”
“The session is over.”
“You can’t call this session,” he objected, the corners of her mouth turned upward. “What are you up to?”
I Can Love You Page 21