by Shelly Ellis
Dawn thought for a minute. “I know just the place.”
Chapter 3
Xavier Hughes was used to his fiancée, Constance, looking bored. Whenever they were at dinner parties or when he talked about his busy day at work as general counsel at Allen Enterprises, her eyes would glaze over. She’d glance at her nails and mutter something about needing a manicure, then she’d get up and walk away minutes later. That’s just the type of girl she was. Despite her name, concentration and consistency weren’t Constance’s strong points.
But Xavier wasn’t too happy seeing her looking bored now while they were in bed together, particularly while they were in the middle of foreplay and he was trying his very damn best to make her moan and her toes curl. Instead, Constance gazed at the ceiling above her, absently twirling a brown lock of hair around her finger and staring at the blades of his ceiling fan like they were the most fascinating objects in the world.
Xavier raised his mouth from her breast, leaned back on his elbows, and grimaced. “So I guess this isn’t working for you?”
She tore her eyes from the ceiling fan and looked down at him. “Huh? Oh, no, pumpkin, I like it. It feels . . . nice.”
“Nice?”
A word you used to describe the weather, but not a word that a man wanted to hear while he was sucking on your nipples.
She must have realized that this wasn’t the response he was hoping for.
“I mean very nice, pumpkin.” She pushed herself up and lay back against the pillows stacked behind her. “II mean . . .”
Xavier grumbled as he climbed back to the head of the bed. He rolled onto his side and looked down at her, his hard-on now fading faster than the dying embers in his bedroom fireplace. “What’s wrong?”
She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Why do you think something’s wrong?”
“Because you’re lying there . . .”
Like a corpse, he wanted to say, but he caught himself.
He didn’t want to start an argument. They had argued before about her being unresponsive in bed. The last time they did, she had stalked out of his bedroom in a huff—buck-naked. He had to chase her down as she threw open his front door and walked into the hallway. She had been mere milliseconds away from giving all his reserved, elderly neighbors a free peep show. Constance had even threatened to call off the wedding. Xavier had to apologize and beg her to calm down and come back.
He certainly didn’t want to repeat that little episode.
“You’re obviously not into it tonight,” he said diplomatically. “Something’s on your mind. What’s wrong?”
She pursed her lips and he gazed at her profile. His eyes scanned the outline of her perfect button nose, perfect pouty lips, and perfect dark eyes in the shadows of his darkened bedroom. Constance Allen had always been a head turner. At least, Xavier had always thought so, ever since that first day he met her when she was thirteen years old and he was fourteen, and her father, Herb Allen, had introduced them at one of his soirées.
“I wonder what she’s like,” Constance finally said, her eyes returning to the ceiling fan.
“What who’s like?”
“Dawn . . . my half sister. I wish I was there when he met her.”
So that’s what’s eating at her, Xavier thought.
Constance and her mother, Raquel, were surprised to hear about the existence of Herb’s other daughter, Dawn. The two women had found out about Dawn only a few days ago, after Herb announced that he and Xavier had gone to her gallery in Washington, D.C. Since then, Constance had been bugging Xavier for details about her half sister, though Xavier admitted there wasn’t much to tell. He had only met her for a few minutes.
Constance tugged the bed sheets over her bare breasts and pouted. “He invited you! He invited you to go and not Mom or me!”
“But I’m his lawyer.”
“So what? Daddy’s company has a team of lawyers, Xavier. You’re the only one he took with him to meet her. You know your relationship is different. He trusts you! You don’t have to pretend with me.”
Xavier couldn’t argue with her.
His relationship with Herb was different. Xavier’s father, Malcolm, had once been part of Herb’s legal team—the top legal counsel at Herb’s software company. His father and Herb had become friends, going on golfing trips together and taking their families on group vacations. But Malcolm died suddenly from a heart attack when Xavier was seventeen years old. Herb took the young man under his wing, seeing Xavier as the son he never had. By the time Xavier graduated from law school and passed the bar, he had a corporate legal job waiting for him at Herb’s company, and his friendship with Herb only grew stronger. Now he was Herbert’s lawyer and confidant, offering him a listening ear when Herbert needed it.
“I came to the gallery with him because he asked me to . . . but they talked alone,” Xavier explained, though Constance still pouted. “I was there to keep him from changing his mind and leaving.”
And it hadn’t been easy. On the drive to the gallery, Herb had waffled back and forth over whether he should see Dawn. Xavier had never seen his mentor riddled with so much anxiety or self-doubt. He hadn’t been sure if Herb was going to tell him to throw his Audi into reverse and drive him back home.
“But one of us should have been there, pumpkin! We’re his family!” Constance continued to rant. “He’s an old man dying of cancer! I mean what if . . . what if she’s some horrible bitch, you know? What if she’s some user who wants Daddy for his money? Maybe she expects him to foot the bill for her from now on!”
Xavier squinted at his fiancée in disbelief. This from a woman whom Herb had indulged almost her entire life?
Even the indoor heated tennis court at Herb’s estate had been for Constance. Herb had built it six years ago when Constance decided to take up tennis as a new hobby. Of course, this was after Herb had built the private dance studio for her when she decided to become a ballerina, and then changed her mind again and decided to become a champion swimmer. For that, he had an Olympic-sized swimming pool built on the property in the effort to help her train. Then there were the purebreds he purchased and horse stalls he had built two acres from the estate because Constance decided to become an equestrian. But she deserted that aspiration two years later. Needless to say, Herb was happy to spoil Constance, regardless of the cost. He had done it for years, doting on her and adoring her tirelessly. But now Constance wasn’t the only child anymore.
Xavier was starting to suspect that Constance found the prospect of no longer being the only crowned princess in Herb Allen’s heart a little intimidating.
“Baby, I’m sure she’s nice. She seemed like a good person who wouldn’t take advantage of him,” Xavier reassured Constance softly, running a finger along her nutmeg-colored cheek. “Don’t assume the worst.”
Constance turned onto her side and faced him. “Why do you think that?”
“Why do I think what? That you shouldn’t assume the worst? Well, because it’s—”
“No, you said she seemed nice, that she’s a ‘good person. ’ I thought you told me you barely spoke to her.”
Constance was narrowing her eyes at him, waiting for his reply.
“I did barely speak to her. Dawn and I only spoke for a few minutes.”
“And you got all of that from talking with her for a few minutes? It sounds like she made quite the impression on you, pumpkin.”
Constance was smiling, though he could tell she was far from happy. He had seen that smile before. The last time she had smiled this much, it was seconds before she stomped toward his bedroom door in her birthday suit.
Her syrupy-sweet smile tightened. “Did she make an impression on you?”
He thought back to Dawn Gibbons and when he first spotted her in the gallery. She had been chatting with another woman on the other side of the room before she had turned, noticed him and Herb, and walked toward them.
No, she didn’t walk, Xavier thought, correcting himself. She g
lided.
Where Constance had the traditional, perky beauty of any Miss USA, her half sister Dawn’s beauty was more mature, exotic, and almost regal. She had looked around the room like an African queen surveying her kingdom. He thought her dark skin shone under the gallery’s overhead lights like she was lit from the inside, and her large, dark brown eyes were expressive and alluring. She didn’t have a bad figure either: round hips, long legs, and pert breasts that pushed against the front of her maroon sweater. When he and Herb followed her to her office, he saw that the back of Dawn looked just as good as the front. He had to remind himself that it was an emotional moment for her and Herb. He shouldn’t be ogling her but respecting the gravity of the situation. Besides, it wouldn’t look good if he was caught staring at his future sister-in-law’s ass.
So did Dawn make an impression on him? If Constance wanted the honest answer: Yes, of course she did . . . to the point that the image of Dawn was still firmly implanted in his brain. But Constance didn’t want the honest answer tonight. He knew that.
“She was okay,” Xavier lied with a forced casual shrug.
Constance must have accepted his answer. Her painted-on smile disappeared and she flopped back onto her pillow again.
“I wonder when Daddy has plans to see her again,” she mused.
“I heard next week.”
Constance’s mouth fell open.
“They’re supposed to meet at some—”
“You knew that and you didn’t tell me!” Constance cried. She crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at the ceiling, now fuming.
Damn! This was going downhill fast. There had to be a way to salvage their romantic evening.
“Baby, look . . .” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know why you’re obsessing about this.” He leaned down and lightly kissed her shoulder. “Just let it go.”
“I can’t let it go! She’s my half sister, pumpkin! How can I not obsess about it? Of course I want to know everything I can about her! Mom wants to know everything she can too, but Daddy’s keeping us in the dark for some reason!”
“Maybe he’s being vague on details because he’s getting to know her. He only met her about a week ago. He probably knows only a little more about her than you do. Let him do it in his own time.”
She didn’t say anything for a very long time after that, making Xavier grumble to himself in frustration. He punched the pillows behind his head and adjusted them before reaching for the remote control on his night table. If they weren’t going to have sex, then he was going to watch the game replays and catch the scores on SportsCenter. He certainly wasn’t about to endure another minute of her angry silence.
Xavier pressed one of the remote buttons and the flat-screen television over the fireplace turned on. He lost himself in the anchors’ banter.
“Can you do it?” Constance suddenly asked minutes later.
“Can I do what, baby?” he answered distractedly, frowning at the basketball play onscreen. “Damn, he should have made that shot,” he mumbled.
“Can you find out more about Dawn for us?”
At that, his interest in the game recap abruptly dissolved. He turned around to face Constance again. She was gazing at him innocently, making him wonder if she realized exactly what she had just asked him.
“You want me to do a background check on your sister?”
“Half sister!” she corrected him, like the designation made much of a difference. She trailed her index finger over the dark curly hairs on his chest. “You said yourself that you’re Daddy’s lawyer. It’s only right that you protect his interests. And he’s going to be your father-in-law pretty soon. You’re practically family now, pumpkin!”
“Baby, I can’t spy on her!”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not ‘spying’! I wouldn’t put it that way! It’s . . . it’s . . .” She paused and considered the right words. “. . . doing research.”
Research? Yeah, right!
Xavier was getting more and more wary of this conversation. How had a night of lovemaking turned into a discussion about how to find out information on Dawn Gibbons?
“Please, pumpkin,” Constance begged, lightly kissing his lips. “Do it for me?”
He shook his head. “Just think about it. Think about what you’re asking me to do. Don’t you think it’s a little . . .”
His words trailed off when she threw back the bed sheets and climbed on top of him. Xavier sucked in a shaky breath, seeing his beautiful fiancée in all her tempting, naked glory.
Constance slid down the length of his thighs, lowered her head, and kissed his chest. “But Mommy and I would be ever so grateful, Xavier.” She kissed his navel before giving it an enticing lick. “Ever so grateful,” she whispered, sending a blast of warm air against his stomach, making the muscles clench.
Damn! She was playing dirty, and he could see he was quickly losing this battle.
“Look, I’m not going to spy on her, but maybe I . . .” His eyes lowered as he watched her kiss a trail down his stomach to his groin. “Maybe I can find out a little bit about her . . . if it’ll . . .” He stifled a moan as her mouth descended even lower. “If it’ll make you feel better.”
“Thank you, pumpkin.”
Once her deliciously warm, wet mouth closed around his manhood and started to suck, Xavier lost all coherent thought. He knew he had agreed to do something, but he couldn’t remember what. But why bother to remember? It was better to lie back and enjoy the ride.
Chapter 4
Dawn paused underneath the green awning and glanced at her reflection in the glass door. She adjusted her purple beret and smoothed her bangs before tugging the door open.
She had taken her sister Stephanie’s advice and chosen for her first “date” with her father a place where she felt most comfortable. It was one of her favorite D.C. haunts—Big Ben’s, a small tea shop on the outskirts of Georgetown. She had come here often during her undergrad days at Georgetown University and still visited every now and then when she had a hankering for one of her favorite scones and some Earl Grey tea, or when she wanted to escape the sometimes-claustrophobic atmosphere of Chesterton, Virginia, where she and the rest of her family lived.
Dawn looked around the shop in search of her father.
The owners of Big Ben’s took the name literally. More than two dozen replicas of the iconic Big Ben clock were sprinkled around the room in the form of figurines, statues, and posters. Several Union Jacks were hanging from the walls and ceiling. A red telephone box was in a corner. Even the floor mat at the front door was emblazoned with the words “Keep Calm and Carry On” with the British royal crown above it. Dawn had always gotten a kick out of the place because of how quirky it was.
She did another sweep of the room and finally spotted her father. While most of the customers in the shop were wearing casual clothes—jeans, cable-knit sweaters, boots, and wool coats—her father was the only man wearing a suit and tie.
Overdressed like the day I met him, she thought with a small smile.
He sat at a table in one of the far corners, sipping from a porcelain teacup. As she drew closer she noticed a biscuit sat on the paper napkin in front of him. Beside it was a leather-bound photo album.
He still looked sickly, but she could tell he was a man who would not allow illness to make him neglect his appearance. Everything on him from his tie to his calfskin shoes was impeccable.
Her father slowly looked up. When he saw her, he reached for his bamboo cane and started to rise from his chair.
“Please, no! Don’t get up,” Dawn said, waving him back to his seat. She removed her coat and pulled out the chair across from him. She tossed her coat over the back of the chair and sat down. “Thank you for coming.”
“No, thank you for inviting me. I was hoping you would agree to see me again.”
Dawn clasped her hands in her lap. Father and daughter fell into an awkward silence. Her eyes scanned over him while he continued to stare at her eage
rly. Again, she was taken aback by the idea that this was her father. He had made her. She shared DNA with him, and yet he was barely more than a stranger to her.
“So,” Dawn said, after clearing her throat, “I see that you didn’t bring your bodyguard this time.”
“My bodyguard?” Her father squinted in confusion then his face brightened. “Oh, you . . . you mean Xavier! No, I didn’t think it was necessary for him to be here this time.”
“Oh, well, that’s . . . that’s good. I’m glad he doesn’t feel like he has to protect you from me anymore,” she said with a forced laugh.
Dawn didn’t know why, but she was a little disappointed that Xavier hadn’t come this time. She had been thinking about the stuffy handsome lawyer off and on for the past week.
Well, maybe a little more than off and on, she thought, correcting herself. Actually, Dawn had thought about him more than she cared to admit. Again, she didn’t know why. He wasn’t her type and she had already resolved that men were too complicated to try to pursue anything with them right now. But still, he lingered in her memory like a fish bone stuck between her molars; she couldn’t get him out of her mind.
“The usual, Dawn?” a waitress asked as she walked past their table.
Dawn snapped out of her thoughts. She looked up and nodded. “Yes, thanks, Tracey.”
“So they know you by name. Do you come here often?” her father asked.
“For the past twenty years or so. But I came here a lot more when I went to Georgetown.”
“You went to Georgetown?” He shook his head in bewilderment. “You are a very smart woman, aren’t you?”
She looked up from the teacup and blueberry scone that the waitress sat in front of her. Dawn cocked an eyebrow as she shook out a napkin and tossed it across her lap. “Did you expect me not to be?”
“Well, frankly, I didn’t know what to expect. I would hope that any child of mine would be as accomplished as you are and as intelligent. And might I add, as beautiful,” he said softly, making her cheeks warm at his compliment. “That’s what any father would dream of. But I . . .” He hesitated. “I wondered if your mother would encourage such things, or if she would—”