Huddle with Me Tonight (Kimani Romance)

by Farrah Rochon

  Paige looked up at him. The intensity in his stare stole her breath.

  Just say yes, her mind pleaded. Hadn’t she done enough to prove that she could make it on her own? She was tired of living her life for what others thought.

  With a leap of faith as long as the skies were vast, Paige grabbed hold of Torrian’s gaze and said simply, “Okay.”

  His eyes widened at her answer, as if he didn’t believe it.

  “If you’re willing to keep it a secret,” she continued. Even though she’d just told herself that what others thought didn’t matter, she was not going to give them something to talk about if she didn’t have to. “I’m willing to see where this…this attraction between us will lead. Just promise me we’ll be discreet.”

  A slow smile curled at the edge of his mouth. “I can do discreet,” he said. “Can I see you tonight? I can come to your place; cook you dinner. I’ll dress in baggy sweats and a baseball cap. No one will ever know it’s me.”

  Paige let out a tired laugh. “This is crazy.”

  He shrugged. “I agree. But if this is how you want it, it’s what I have to do. I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

  He was. Resolve shone through his eyes.

  “We’re almost ready for the judging segment,” one of the associate producers called.

  Torrian squeezed her arm, drawing her attention back to him. “What do you say, Paige?”

  She shoved away the lingering doubts and decided to take a chance on fate.

  “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Chapter 12

  Torrian parked his BMW two blocks from Paige’s brownstone. He was taking no chances. He understood her need for discretion, even if he didn’t share it. Over the past seven years, he’d become immune to the media’s scrutiny of his love life.

  According to the papers, his latest girlfriend was a woman who had been in front of him while he was in line to buy a bagel. A photographer from The Post happened to be in the vicinity, and that was apparently all that was needed to make it the gospel truth. It had been a stretch for The Post to convince the public his make-believe relationship with Bagel Woman was front-page news, but having him linked romantically with Paige…People would eat it up.

  Torrian wasn’t ready to share; he wanted her all to himself.

  He quickly made his way up the steps and pressed the button next to Paige’s name.

  “Torrian?” she asked.

  “Not a good way to answer your doorbell. What if it wasn’t me?”

  “Sorry, I’m not used to subterfuge,” she answered. “Come on up.” A buzzer sounded, followed by a click. Torrian transferred the bag of groceries to his left hand and pulled open the heavy door. He took the steps up to her third-floor apartment two at a time. When he arrived on her landing, Paige was waiting just inside her door.

  “Hi,” she greeted, opening the door so he could slip in, then quickly closing it behind him.

  “Good evening,” Torrian answered.

  Damn, he wanted to kiss her. For a second, Torrian saw himself dropping the groceries in the middle of the room and snatching her face between his hands. Instead, he walked over to her kitchen and deposited the grocery bag on the counter, then turned to face Paige.

  She was dressed in a slim skirt and a form-fitting shirt that clung to her perfectly sized breasts. She wasn’t big by any stretch of the imagination, but her breasts were the perfect size for her frame. Torrian had become disenchanted with disproportionate, gargantuan chests years ago. He much preferred the look and feel of a natural woman.

  “For a minute I wasn’t sure you would answer the door.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Paige asked.

  “I thought maybe you were still upset about me winning the first competition.”

  Her eyes narrowed with disapproval, but there was a hint of amusement around the edges. “Enjoy it while you can. It’ll be the last win you get.” She grinned. “What’s in the bag?” Paige nodded toward the sack he held.

  “Stuff,” he answered.

  “You truly have to stop being so forthcoming,” she snorted. He loved that sound from her. From any other woman it would be unladylike, but with Paige, it was charming.

  “I convinced Deirdre to give me one of her best recipes, but it’s top secret.”

  Paige frowned. “I was going to help you cook.”

  Torrian shook his head. “I have kitchen duty tonight, and if we’re going to eat at a decent hour, I need to get started.”

  She crossed her arms, a grin curving the corner of her mouth in the sexiest way. “You know, this is the first time I’ve had a man cook me dinner,” Paige admitted.

  “Good. That means there’s no one for you to compare me to,” Torrian laughed. “I’ll need a small saucepan and a skillet.”

  She retrieved his request from a bottom cabinet. “Are you sure I can’t help you with anything?” she asked.

  Torrian looked over at her; the urge to attack her mouth with his tongue was stronger than ever. He sucked in a long, deep breath, begging for control. Instead of the request that first popped in his mind, Torrian said, “If you don’t mind, I could use a glass of wine.”

  “Fine.” She shrugged. “If that’s the way you want it.”

  If he could really have what he wanted, he’d throw the groceries to the side, take her in his arms and spend the rest of the night exploring her luscious mouth, the curve of her waist, the hollow behind her knee and all parts in between.

  “White or red,” Paige asked, her head in the refrigerator.

  Her rounded butt poked out, and it was all he could do not to run up behind her and fill his hands with it. Torrian gripped the edge of the counter, searching for control. He would go crazy if he had to spend the rest of the night in this state of arousal.

  “Red for me to drink and white for the sauce,” he answered.

  Unpacking the groceries, he withdrew chicken, extra-virgin olive oil, chives, lemons, wild rice and a small vial of white truffle oil that Deirdre had told him to guard with his life.

  “Hmm…a piece of the secret is revealed,” Paige grinned, walking over to him with a bottle in each hand. Damn, she looked good with that playful smile on her lips.

  “I’ve got to watch myself around you,” Torrian teased, unwrapping the chicken cutlets from the white butcher paper. “You make it too easy for me to let my guard down.”

  “I could say the same about you.” She handed him a glass of ruby-colored wine. “It’s not every day that I allow a man into my kitchen,” she said. “And to be honest, up until the moment you rang the doorbell, I was debating whether to call it off.”

  “Why didn’t you?” he asked

  She hid behind her wineglass, taking two short sips. She slowly lowered the glass to the counter and pushed herself up and onto it, crossing her legs. “Because I wanted to see you. I wanted you in my kitchen, cooking me dinner.” She paused, the span of time so long that Torrian thought she wasn’t going to speak again. She looked away, then back at him, a mixture of apprehension and frank honesty in her eyes. “I wanted to spend time with you, Torrian.”

  Her softly spoken words made the decision for him.

  He strolled to where Paige was perched on the counter. He put his hands on either side of her, and seeing permission in her eyes, leaned in close and captured her lips in a slow, gentle kiss.

  Nothing had ever tasted this good.

  She was soft and sweet and more delicious than the most decadent dessert. Torrian tested his tongue against her lips, begging them to open, aching inside when they didn’t. He crept along the invisible line of propriety, cautious of going too far too soon. He wouldn’t take more than she was willing to give.

  He tried to pull away, but Paige’s moan reined him back into the kiss. She parted her lips, whether as an invitation or just for air, Torrian didn’t know, but he used the opportunity to fully explore all her kiss had to offer. He forged ahead with his tongue, running it along her smooth teeth and pushin
g farther into the sensual warmth of her mouth. She tasted like coffee and chocolate. Sweet and addictive, a drug to his brain.

  Another moan came from deep in her throat, and the sexy sound sent a stalk of electricity straight to his groin. Torrian fisted one hand in her short hair, holding her head to his. He ran the other hand up and down her back, along her side, down to the gentle curve of her waist and the flair of her hip.

  His arousal strained against his fly. He was dying to push Paige’s tight skirt up to her waist so her legs could open for him. He was desperate to touch her. He wanted to experience the moist, hot feel of her core against his fingers.

  The hiss of sizzling oil forced Torrian out of the sensual hold. He disengaged from the kiss that would have gone on for hours in a perfect world.

  “Damn,” he whispered as he stepped back, his body instantly mourning the loss of her nearness. If the hazy look in her eyes was any indication, she had been just as affected by their kiss. Her lips were opened slightly, calling him in for another round, but the stench of burning oil forced his attention to the stove.

  Torrian removed the pan, emptying the dark, caramel-colored oil down the drain.

  He looked over at Paige. Her eyes still held that slightly dazed look, but she’d recovered enough to take another sip from her wineglass.

  “Are you going to say anything?” he asked.

  She paused with the glass halfway to her mouth, looked away, then looked back at him and shook her head. She drained the glass.

  Torrian ran cold water over the skillet, a plume of white smoke escaping into the air. “You have to say something,” he told her. He returned the skillet to the stove and coated the bottom with more olive oil, his hand shaking slightly, the effects of that kiss still coursing through his bloodstream. “Otherwise, how am I supposed to know if I’m allowed to do it again?”

  “You’re allowed,” she answered immediately.

  Torrian looked up at her and couldn’t help the grin that curled the edge of his lips. “Good,” he answered, “Because I’m not sure I would have been able to help myself.”

  “It’s probably best you don’t until after dinner is finished, though,” Paige said. “You have a history of setting kitchens on fire, and I don’t want mine to become one of your victims.”

  “The lady has jokes.”

  “Occasionally,” Paige said. She scooted from her perch on the countertop. “And, since I don’t want to be any more of a distraction, I’ll go and set the table.”

  “Dinner won’t take very long,” Torrian promised.

  As she was exiting the kitchen, Torrian caught her arm and pulled her to him for what was supposed to be a swift kiss, but when he tried to pull away, Paige went with him. She wrapped an arm around his neck and leaned into him, her breasts cushioning his chest.

  The oil sizzled.

  He backed away, heaving a huge breath. “Okay, we’ve got to stop that. I can’t afford to ruin any more olive oil. Then again…” Torrian said, noting the husky look in her eyes. “What’s a little burnt oil?”

  He leaned in for another kiss, but Paige stopped him.

  “No.” She laughed. “I can wait until after dinner.”

  He wasn’t sure if he could. One thing he knew for sure, he didn’t want to stop at just a kiss. He wanted much, much more.

  But did she?

  “What’s going to happen after dinner, Paige?” The look that came over her face told Torrian he should have stopped while he was ahead. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Forget I asked that.”

  “It’s something we’ll have to discuss sooner or later,” Paige said.

  “We can discuss it later,” Torrian answered. “I don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you into anything.”

  “I won’t let you pressure me into anything I don’t want to do,” she returned. “When it happens, it will be a mutual decision.”

  Not if, but when.

  His gut clenched. The erection he’d tried desperately to curb swelled even more at the promise he witnessed in Paige’s gaze.

  God, he wanted her. Torrian had to clench his fist against the urge to capture her mouth again and satisfy the desire that had them both taking deep, labored breaths.

  “Go set the table,” he said.

  Paige nodded.

  His skin still on fire after their kiss, Torrian followed Deirdre’s written instructions without fully processing what he was doing. His mind continued to conjure the way Paige’s lips felt against his—soft, pliable. Like heaven.

  “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

  His head whipped around sharply, finding Paige at the edge of the kitchen. The look on her face was tentative; as if she was unsure she should even approach. It was probably best she didn’t, not if they wanted to eat.

  “I’m almost done,” he told her. “Why don’t you pour the wine? I’ll be in there in a few minutes.”

  Torrian fluffed the wild rice with a fork. He heaped several spoonfuls onto each plate, then covered the rice with a sautéed chicken breast, drizzling truffle oil along the perimeter of the dish. He carried a plate in each hand to the small dining area. Paige sat at the table in the corner of her apartment. She’d set the table with place mats, silverware and a single votive candle in the center. The wine chilled in a ceramic bowl filled with ice.

  “Sorry I don’t have a wine bucket. I’m not used to entertaining,” she said with a delicate shrug.

  “It’s perfect,” Torrian assured her. They could have been on the floor, with nothing but their hands to eat with and it would have still been perfect, as long as she was sitting across from him.

  “This looks amazing,” Paige commented as he set a plate before her. She inhaled and sighed. “Smells amazing, too,” she said, slight dejection in her voice.

  “You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Torrian said.

  “It is. I’m in competition with you, remember?” she said, her mouth tipping up in a smile.

  Torrian drank in that smile. It was lovely, just like the rest of her. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I promise to throw one of the contests so you can win.”

  “Thanks,” she snorted. “So.” She held up her wineglass. “Should we toast?”

  “To what?” he asked.

  She tipped her head to the side. “I’m not sure.”

  “I can think of a thing or two,” Torrian answered. He instinctively leaned closer. “Like that fact that we’ve discovered something better to do than fight.”

  “What’s that?” Paige asked, leaning closer.

  “This.” He captured her mouth in another kiss. It was swift and sweet and didn’t last nearly as long as he would have liked. He sat back in the chair. “We need to get to eating so we can finish this meal,” he said.

  Settling back in her chair, Paige inhaled. “It really does smell delicious. Your sister must be an awesome chef.”

  “She is,” Torrian answered. “She earns her certification in a few weeks.”

  “From what I read in your book, she’s the reason you’re where you are today.”

  “I owe everything to Deirdre,” Torrian admitted. “I probably would have been your everyday statistic, dead or in jail, if not for her.”

  “She must be so proud of what you’ve become.”

  He nodded. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t get us to the Super Bowl last year. I always told Deirdre I would give her my first Super Bowl ring.”

  “I’m not talking about you as a football player. I’m more impressed with Torrian Smallwood, the man.”

  “You are?” His brow rose. “What is it about Torrian, the man, that impresses you?”

  She stabbed a small piece of chicken with her fork, using the sliver of meat to pick up a bit of the truffle oil. “You’re a great role model for kids. Unlike a lot of pro ball players, you seem to consider the consequences of your actions off the field. And despite that one slip up on my blog, you really are a gentleman.”

  “Thank you,” Torrian said
. If he could take back what had happened on her blog, he would in a heartbeat. “I’m sorry about the blog,” he apologized yet again.

  “Stop beating yourself up about that, Torrian. Look at all the good that’s come out of it. We wouldn’t be sitting here right now if you hadn’t responded to my review.”

  He took her hand in his and brought her fingers to his lips. “You’re right,” he said. “It’ll still be a long time before I forgive myself, though.”

  “Why don’t you try, just for tonight,” Paige said. “I don’t want to talk about the fighting that brought us here.”

  “Neither do I,” Torrian answered. “What I really want to know is why someone with your fear of public speaking would agree to do the show?”

  There was a crafty glint in her eyes. “I knew you would bring that up again.”

  He shrugged. “I just figured you must have a good reason.”

  She dabbed the corners of her mouth. “This is still just speculation, but my weekly column is up for syndication in several national magazines.”

  “But your column is specific to stuff going on in New York, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but it would fit well in dozens of travel and leisure magazines, including airline magazines. It’s a huge market.”

  “Never thought about that,” Torrian nodded.

  “My first instinct was to refuse KWEZ, but when Jory told me about the potential syndication deal, we both decided it was best I get as much exposure as possible.”

  “So, what do you have to do in order to get syndicated?”

  “It varies with different publications. In my case, it’s a huge magazine conglomerate that is in charge of several travel and leisure magazines. Want to know the most ironic thing? Their corporate headquarters are in the same building as KWEZ.”

  “It’s fate,” Torrian said, wiping his mouth with the napkin.

  “Or the quickest way for me to completely mess this up for myself,” Paige said.