The Best Thing He Never Knew He Needed

by Tina Martin

  Desmond thought about it for a moment. It would be something completely new for him to let his guard down, and for a man who’d been anti-commitment all of his life, something like settling down wouldn’t happen sporadically. It would take some time. Even though he had a strong attraction to Sherita, he didn’t know her. He knew he liked it when he kissed her. That there was something explosive between them. He knew she was beautiful, and he knew she was his soul mate. What he didn’t know was if he could be the family type. One thing was for certain – at thirty years of age, he wasn’t ready to settle down with anyone.

  Dante had just finished his beer when he said, “Anyway, Des, I knew something was eating at you, so I told Sherita not to move in.”

  Desmond frowned, but why? That’s what he wanted – his house all to himself and this sham of a marriage to be called off, annulled, divorced or whatever married people did to end their union. So why did he feel a sudden loss when Dante told him that Sherita wouldn’t be moving in? “You told her not to move in?”

  “I did…caught her just in time, too. She had just pulled up at your place. Glad I reached her before she began taking things back and forth inside of the house.”

  “Wait…why would you tell her not to move in, Dante?” Desmond asked. “What about Victor and this deal you’ve been after?”

  “Well, after I saw how belligerent you were this morning, you didn’t seem like you were in the right frame of mind to deal with all of this right now, Des, and the last thing I want is for Sherita to be alone with you, and you lose your temper.”

  “Wait…do you think I would hurt her, or any woman for that matter?” Desmond asked, openly staring at his brother in disbelief.

  “Don’t know,” Dante told him. “I would like to think you wouldn’t, but, like I said, you were angry.”

  “I can control my temper, Dante. I wouldn’t hurt Sherita. And the only reason I snapped, earlier, is because I don’t like being forced into anything, especially a marriage. All I want to do is get my job done and go home. That’s it. All this extra nonsense isn’t for me.”

  “After this is all over, everything goes back to normal,” Dimitrius assured him.

  “Now, do you want Sherita to move in or not?” Dante asked.

  “She may as well,” Desmond said. “We’ve already gotten married, so…”

  “Good,” Dante said. “That means you’ll have all day Saturday and part of the day on Sunday to learn her. We’re meeting Victor at six.”

  “And where are we having dinner?” Desmond inquired.

  “Connelley’s.”

  “Okay. Got it.”

  “Cool. I’ll be right back,” Dante said. “I’m going to go tell Sherita she can proceed with her move.”

  With raised eyebrows, Desmond asked, “She’s here?”

  “She is…in my office working on her website while Emily is keeping her company. Apparently, her laptop died and she won’t allow me or Sherita to buy her another one. Be right back.”

  While Dante was away, Dimitrius looked at Desmond. “You’ll probably like her once you get to know her. Keep an open mind.”

  Desmond grinned. If his brothers only knew how much he liked her…

  After a few passing moments, Dante stepped back in the room. “Okay, Des. She’s with it. Said she’ll be at your place tomorrow morning at seven.”

  “Okay. I’ll be ready.”

  CHAPTER 17

  In the morning, Desmond got up early to work out as usual and, after taking a shower, he slid into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. While waiting for Sherita to arrive, he headed for the kitchen where he brewed some coffee and reviewed Victor’s business plan. When he heard three beeps, indicating a door had been opened, he stood up, sauntered to the foyer and saw her standing there, looking around. She was in awe of his house – the crystal and gold chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, the glossy, wooden spiral staircase that led up to the second floor and the teardrop, bronze wall lights mounted on the wall alongside the staircase. He enjoyed watching her without her knowledge – seeing her eyes light up, her body move in different directions.

  “Ahem,” Desmond said clearing his throat, stealing her attention.

  “Oh,” she said, scanning the space to find him. When she did, her eyes traveled the length of his stature, from his eyes to his bare feet. The man looked stunning in a suit, but looking at him now, she thought he looked ruggedly handsome in the jeans and red T-shirt he was wearing. “Hi…didn’t see you there at first.”

  He walked closer to her, so close that it seemed as if he was going to give her a hug. Instead, he picked up her suitcase. “Follow me.”

  She did as he asked, following him down a long hallway with floors just as clean and shiny as the staircase. At the end of the hall, he opened a door to reveal a set of stairs leading down to the basement. He waved her by and, when she passed him, he followed her down the steps.

  “Wow,” Sherita said when she entered the basement. It had been fully converted to an apartment as Desmond had mentioned. It was as neat and fancy as the rest of the house, well, from the little she’d seen of his home so far. The living room was painted a bright white, decorated with modern, brown couches, a recliner and matching coffee and accent tables. The bedroom was a completely different color scheme – the walls were a pale lime green color, and the king-sized platform bed was covered with a dark chocolate and white comforter. A cluster of pillows, all with varying colors – from orange to neon blue – decorated the bed. The nightstands were white with sleek, steel handles, housing matching lamps. But what really caught her eye and made this place tranquil and contemporary was the floor-to-ceiling, water display in which the water appeared to be falling from the ceiling to the floor over and over again.

  “I’ll let you get settled,” he said. “Don’t worry about trying to organize everything right now. We have a lot of work to do today.”

  “We do?” she asked.

  After a long, tense pause, Desmond said, “Yes. We do. We have dinner with Victor tomorrow evening. We have to get to know each other a little better and get our stories straight.”

  “Oh. Right.” That would be difficult, she knew, especially since it required a lot of memorization in such a short period of time. And what if she messed up? She was too nervous to think about it at the moment.

  “Do you have more things in your car?”

  “I do, but I’ll get them. I don’t want to disturb you.”

  “I would let you know if you were disturbing me,” he told her.

  I’m sure you would. “Well, in that case, there are some things in the back seat.”

  He turned away, and Sherita could hear his well-grounded steps on each stair until he was on the main floor again. She used the time to marvel at how beautifully decorated this apartment was, and she’d been dying to see the bathroom.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” she said softly. She stepped down a small hallway and found it, her mouth dropping open yet again. The bathroom was a light-brown color with a garden tub, a stand-up shower encased in glass and his-and-her glass bowl sinks, exquisitely laid out like something out of a magazine. Desmond went all-out to make sure his guests were comfortable.

  “This is nice,” she said in a monotone. This basement apartment was ten times better than her apartment.

  When she heard Desmond descending the stairs again, she quickly walked towards the couch, the same area where she’d been standing when he left a moment ago.

  “Here’s the rest of your stuff,” he said with an arm full of her things.

  It would’ve taken her at least three more trips to the car to get everything he’d grabbed.

  “Where do you want it?” he asked.

  “Just put it on the sofa, or anywhere you can. I’ll put everything away.”

  “All right,” he said, lowering her items to the couch, “But I need you in the kitchen, Sherita.”

  She looked up at him. “Okay. Can you give me five minutes?”


  No. That’s what he wanted to say. Instead, he turned around and quietly headed for the stairs.

  “O-kay...I’ll take that as a yes,” she mumbled.

  “What was that?” he asked, turning around to see her face.

  “Oh…nothing. I’ll be down…I mean up in a minute.”

  She watched Desmond turn around and head up the stairs. This time, she made certain he was gone before she made another comment, or move. Walking back to the bathroom, she took a few moments to dash cold water on her face. She’d been busy all morning taking trips back and forth to the storage facility she’d rented. Hopefully, the water would keep her alert enough to deal with Desmond.

  Dabbing her face with a towel, she said, “Okay. Here goes. You can do this, Sherita.” After taking a small notebook and pen from her purse, she headed upstairs, finding Desmond sitting at a six-chair breakfast nook in the kitchen. She watched him glance up at her, then back to his tablet.

  “Come have a seat,” he told her.

  Walking closer to the table, she sat in the chair to his left then opened her notebook. Ready to get started, she looked up at him only to find his eyes drowning inside of hers again. She quickly returned her attention to the empty page of her notebook while twirling the yellow diamond he’d put on her ring finger.

  Desmond smiled. He’d always thought she was a beautiful woman no matter how tough she tried to be. And there was something about her having his last name that made him want her even more. Made him want to know her more. But how would he get to know her if she was always jittery around him? So nervous and uneasy? It would be a hindrance to progress, true enough, but he liked her shyness. He fed off of it. He loved the thought of being able to rattle her. And, now, he was glad she was staying in the studio apartment because, had she been on the same floor as him, he’d be tempted to finish the kiss they shared when they exchanged vows. Or better yet, the deep, toe-curling kiss they partook in at Dante’s house. A sneaky smile grew on his face. If he had his way, before everything was said and done, he would do a lot more than kiss her.

  It was happening already. Sherita knew it when she felt her temperature rise. Why was she so nervous around him? And why was he smiling? Figuring she’d get down to business, she asked, “So, what kind of questions do you think Mr. Westwood will ask us?”

  He placed the stylus next to his tablet. “Normal relationship dialogue I’d imagine.”

  “Such as?”

  Eyebrows raised, he said, “You tell me. I wouldn’t have the slightest clue. I’m not the relationship type, remember?”

  “Right.” She took a breath. “Well, Dante said to tell Mr. Westwood that we’ve been together for two years. So I think we should…umm…” It was hard for her to focus with his eyes bouncing back and forth from her lips to her mouth.

  “You think we should do what, Sherita?” Desmond asked, not particularly interested in her answer more than he was in seeing her lips move again.

  “We should get to know simple and true things about each other. Like your favorite color for instance.”

  Desmond grinned. “Are you kidding me? The only color Victor’s interested in is green.”

  Sherita sighed. “Well, I’m just trying to start from scratch here. If you have any suggestions, feel free to chime in.”

  “Okay. I’ll chime in,” he said. He took a sip of coffee while he thought of a question. “Where did we marry?”

  “At the courthouse,” she answered quickly.

  Desmond laughed. “Yes, we married at the courthouse, but we’re not going to tell Victor that. We’re making up our lives as we go along.”

  “Right,” Sherita said, looking down. “How about we say we married in the Bahamas?”

  Desmond shrugged. “Okay. Fine with me.”

  “And we honeymooned there too,” Sherita said, scribbling a note.

  “For how long?” Desmond inquired.

  “Let’s say two weeks,” Sherita answered. She wrote that down, too.

  “How many times did we make love?” Desmond asked softly, folding his bottom lip underneath a perfect row of white teeth.

  Sherita felt dizzy for a second and the butterflies playing in her stomach needed to go away and fast. “I’m sure that topic won’t come up in a sophisticated, fifty-million dollar conversation.”

  “Well, let’s say it did. How many?”

  Sherita had no clue what to say to him. The man was a mystery to her thus far. He admitted to avoiding her. Then he said he wanted her. He kissed her, then despised her. Now, he was looking at her like she was something he wanted to possess – something he wanted as a permanent part of his memory.

  After a full minute of uncomfortable silence, in addition to his blazing eyes on her, she finally said, “I don’t know, Desmond, but for the sake of moving on let’s just say three.”

  He chuckled. “Three? That’s funny.”

  “Why’s that funny?”

  “Because it wouldn’t be three. We’d probably lose count. No, we would lose count.”

  Her expression hardened. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing,” he said, then laughed more.

  “Don’t you need to be taking notes?” she asked.

  “No. It’s all up here, Sherita,” he said, pointing to his temple at which time Sherita noticed the ring on his finger.

  “You’re still wearing the wedding band?”

  He stretched out his left arm and said, “Yes. Apparently, I’m married now.”

  Sherita rolled her eyes.

  “I’m being facetious, Sherita.”

  “I know that. I just…I…I’m amazed you’re still wearing a band. I really didn’t think you would wear it while—”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I told you we had to make this look real.”

  “You didn’t let me finish, Desmond.” She watched him open his hand, gesturing for her to continue so she said, “I was saying I didn’t think you would wear it while you’re home.”

  Desmond slid the ring from his finger and placed it on the table. “Is that better?” he asked, mildly amused.

  Sherita narrowed her eyes, feeling her nervousness being replaced by frustration. “I’m trying to be serious here, Desmond. Your brothers are counting on us to pull this off.”

  “How about you pull that barrette off and let your hair hang loose? I don’t like to see all that beautiful hair of yours jammed up in a ponytail. It’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to your hair.”

  She watched him suppress laughter while taking his ring from the table and sliding it back onto his finger. Deciding that ignoring his foolishness was the best option at this point, she said, “We need to come up with a story on how we met.”

  “I’m still waiting for the barrette to come off, princess.”

  “Des!” Sherita snapped. She could be sleeping right now instead of playing his silly games. “You’re being difficult.”

  His arrogant grin widened. “Yes, I am being difficult, but I’m going to let you slide this time. You just called me by my nickname. No, actually you screamed it. That’ll suffice for now.”

  Sherita dropped her pen. With her elbows resting on the table, she massaged her temples with the palm of her hands.

  “As for where we met, we can tell him we met at a coffee shop,” Desmond said. “You were sitting alone, and I asked you out. You said yes, of course, and we hit it off from there. We can sell it like some love at first sight, serendipitous-type fatuity.”

  Sherita picked up the pen and wrote it down. Then she said, “Dante said Mr. Westwood thinks Ezra and Grace are our kids. So should we pretend they’re our twins?”

  “If that’s what you want to do,” he responded.

  “Yes, that’s what I want to do,” she said. “We’ll tell him they’re six-months old.”

  “Agreed.”

  Sherita was steadily writing.

  Desmond was willfully staring. At her. “Don’t rely on those notes, Sherita. You’re going to need to act n
atural.”

  “I will act natural when the time comes.”

  Desmond lifted his left hand from the table, then ran his index finger down her face, watching her frown and duck away from his touch. “See…that’s what I’m talking about. That reaction is not natural from a woman who’s supposed to be in love with her husband.”

  “Of course not. You’re trying to touch my face like you know me like that.”

  “I don’t recall my touching your face being a problem when I kissed you for the first time, but all of a sudden it is now. You have to get over your nervousness if we’re going to pull this thing off, Sherita.”

  “I’m not nervous—”

  “You are. When you kissed me at the courthouse yesterday, that wasn’t natural. It was weird and phlegmatic. When we’re at dinner tomorrow night, and I reach over to touch you or lean in for a kiss, I need you to just go with it.”

  “Fine. I’ll go with it,” she said short of rolling her eyes.

  “You will?” he asked skeptically.

  Sherita nodded. “Yes. I will.”

  “Then let’s practice.”

  Sherita instantly felt her muscles tense. “Desmond, can we just get through the more difficult things first…things I need to take notes about and—”

  Before she could finish, Desmond reached out and touched her face again.

  The sensation of his warm finger made her close her eyes and exhale deeply as she fought the urge to duck away. This was a test, and she’d planned on passing it.