by Pamela Yaye
“You’ve hit three big shots today. You know what that means, right?”
Tatiyana didn’t have a clue and shook her head. “I have no idea.”
“You’re buying my drinks tonight. Golf rules.”
“Sure, why not? It’s the least I can do. I’m going to beat you bad Markos.”
He consulted the scorecard. “I hate to burst your bubble, but there’s still lots of golf to be played, and there’s no way in hell I’m losing this match. I’ll come out on top. I always do.”
“I was on top earlier,” she whispered with a knowing smile. “And you loved it.”
Lust sparked in his eyes. “You’re right. I did.”
A golf cart, driven by a resort employee, stopped behind them. “All aboard.”
“Let’s walk. I want to stretch my legs, and I could use the exercise.”
He smirked and jokingly said, “I might get a little jealous with all the looks coming your way.”
What looks? she thought, perplexed by his words. Did he think he had any competition? I want you, Markos. Only you. Isn’t it obvious?
“There’s my favorite family in America. Welcome back to Tampa!”
Tatiyana turned, just in time to see Rashawn “The Glove” Bishop and his wife, Yasmin Ohaji-Bishop give the Morretti family hugs and kisses. With their striking good looks, and matching golf attire, the couple made an arresting pair, drawing the attention of everyone standing nearby, including A-listers.
“Thanks for coming,” Yasmin said. “This means the world to us.”
Markos rested a hand on Tatiyana’s back and leaned in close. “Tatiyana, this is my friend, boxing legend Rashawn ‘The Glove’ Bishop and his wife, Yasmin—”
“No introductions necessary, Markos. I know who they are. Rashawn and Yasmin are Tampa royalty, and I’ve been a fan of ‘The Glove’ for years.”
The boxer cocked an eyebrow. “What do you know about boxing?”
“I know you have one of the best right hooks in the game,” she said, fervently nodding. “Not to mention two Olympic gold medals and one of the greatest records of all time.”
“You told me!”
Everyone chuckled, and Tatiyana felt Markos tighten his hold on her waist, saw the proud expression on his face when he looked at her. “Rashawn, when’s your next match?” Tatiyana asked. “It’s been years since you creamed Sawyer ‘Bulldog’ Kane at MSG, and your fans are anxiously awaiting your next bout.”
“I haven’t officially retired, but I doubt I’ll ever return to the ring.” He stared at his wife with love and admiration in his eyes. “Yasmin, our three kids and The Rashawn Bishop Foundation keep me busy, and I’ve never been more content.”
A reporter appeared, requesting an on-camera interview, and the couple obliged.
“How do you do it?” Markos asked.
“Do what?”
“Charm everyone you meet regardless of age and gender?”
A smirk curled her lips. “I’ll never tell.”
Strolling through the course, enjoying the peach Bellini she’d swiped from a waiter’s tray, Tatiyana couldn’t have asked for a better day. She was getting fresh air, exercise and spending time with Markos. He flirted with her, told dirty jokes in Italian and made her laugh until tears filled her eyes.
“I haven’t had this much fun in years.” Markos took her hand in his, and kissed her palm. “What do you like to do besides schooling people on the inner city, and playing golf?”
“Nothing too exciting. I hang out with my friends and family, go for long walks in my community, and play peekaboo with my niece. It’s the highlight of my day! Her laugh makes everything better, and I can cuddle with her for hours.”
“I feel the same way about Mateo. He’s a terrific kid, and better company than most of my friends.”
They walked and talked, but when Markos and his brothers set off to search for a missing ball in the pine trees, the women kept her company, filling her in on all of the Morretti family drama. “How did you meet your husbands?” Tatiyana asked, sipping her fruity, ice-cold drink.
“I did a series called, Athletes Behaving Badly, which featured Demetri, and he showed up at the TV station to confront me,” Angela said with a sheepish smile.
Jariah took a putter out of her pink golf bag and inspected it. “Nicco hired me to be his assistant, and totally seduced me.”
“Rafael and I have known each other for almost a decade. We were college sweethearts, but we lost touch after graduation. We reunited in Venice at my best friend’s wedding, and now we have a great marriage, three adorable children and a fantastic life. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and—”
“Paris, she didn’t ask for your life story,” Angela quipped, giving her sister-in-law a shot in the ribs with her elbow. “Jeez, once you start talking about Rafael there’s no stopping you.”
Sharleen smirked. “She’s not the only one, Angela. This morning at breakfast I asked you to pass the juice, and you went on and on about your romantic weekend in Belize last month.”
“I can’t help it,” the reporter argued. “My husband’s a sweet, sensitive soul with a chiseled body, and he’s mine, all mine!”
Tatiyana cracked up. “You guys are hilarious. Hands down the funniest women I know.”
“Good, you’re having fun, so that means you’ll keep in touch with us, right?”
“Of course, she will, Jariah. We’re going to be in her wedding one day,” Sharleen said.
“W-w-wedding?” Tatiyana choked on the word. “What wedding?”
Smirking, her eyes bright with interest, Paris leveled a finger at her. “Oh, don’t play coy. You guys are a perfect match, and it won’t be long before you guys are walking down the aisle. Girl, Morretti men are irresistible...”
Who are you tellin’? Every time Markos smiles at me I want to dive into his arms!
“And the more you resist his advances the more he’ll pursue you,” Dionne said with a wistful smile. “Take it from someone who knows. I had zero desire to get married again, but when Immanuel proposed on my birthday I screamed ‘yes,’ and I was so anxious to be his wife, we eloped to Hawaii.”
“Ladies, you’re getting way ahead of yourselves. Markos and I just met, and furthermore, I’m not the only woman in his life. In case you haven’t noticed, your brother-in-law loves the ladies, and they love him, too.”
Glancing around, as if she was about to spill family secrets and feared getting caught, Angela spoke in a whisper. “Tatiyana, you’re right,” she conceded. “Markos brings a different woman to every family function, but I’ve never seen him like this. Trust me, girl, he’s totally into you.”
Tatiyana closed her gaping mouth. “You think?”
Dumbfounded, they spoke at once, their voices loud and adamant.
“Woman, open your eyes!”
“Of course he’s into you! You’re exactly his type. Smart, witty and gorgeous!”
“Markos can’t take his eyes off you. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”
“Love?” Shaking her head, Tatiyana dismissed their words, refusing to believe that Markos had true feelings for her after spending only one day together. “That’s impossible. Like I said, we hardly know each other, and he’s dating more women than an NBA star!”
“That highfalutin surgeon doesn’t stand a chance,” Angela said.
Sharleen spoke up. “None of his former flames do. My brother-in-law has his sights set on you, Tatiyana, and what Markos wants Markos gets.”
* * *
Three hours after tee off, Nicco was crowned the winner of the fifth annual Rashawn Bishop Charity Golf Tournament. Spectators and participants exploded into cheers and applause as the famed restaurateur stood on the podium, posing with his shiny, gold trop
hy.
“Thanks to each and every one of you, and our generous corporate and private sponsors, we raised a million dollars for impoverished children,” Rashawn shouted, his voice echoing around the course. “I couldn’t have done this without you, so thank you from the bottom of my heart. And now that the tournament’s officially over, let’s party...”
Sinking onto the nearest chair outside Seminole Café, the upscale restaurant overlooking the eighteenth hole, Tatiyana sipped a mango margarita. The oversize, white umbrella above the table shielded her face from the searing sun, but the air was humid and all Tatiyana could think about was taking an ice-cold shower.
At the table to her right, a group of silver-haired ladies were enjoying a steak dinner, and hearing them gush about their children made Tatiyana miss her mom. She decided to call Lena to check in with her, but when she spotted the Morretti family headed her way, she dropped her cell inside her purse and waved in greeting. Her eyes scanned the grounds for Markos, but she couldn’t find him anywhere. Disappointed, she forced a smile on her lips as his relatives gathered around her table, discussing Nicco’s impossible, come-from-behind win.
“Congratulations,” she said, setting down her empty glass. “Great win.”
“Thanks, Tatiyana.” Grinning, he sat and pulled Jariah onto his lap. “It feels good to finally beat my brothers and cousins. They’ve had it coming to them for years!”
The women laughed, and the men groaned in despair.
“You were amazing,” Jariah shrieked, lobbing her arms around her husband’s neck.
Kenyon appeared, camera in hand, poised to shoot. “How about a group shot?”
He snapped away, taking a half-dozen photos, then moved to the next table.
“Where’s Markos?” Tatiyana asked. “He went inside to take a call but never returned.”
“There he is!” Dionne pointed at the golf course, her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed in disapproval. “Some women have no shame. Look at them. Throwing themselves at your man.”
Peering around the waiter who obscured her view, she found Markos at the bar, and he wasn’t alone. Her stomach lurched. He was laughing, obviously having the time of his life with the voluptuous brunettes in neon bikinis. Jealousy consumed her, but Tatiyana played it cool. “It’s no biggie,” she said with a shrug. “He knows where to find me.”
“Tatiyana, I’m sure it’s nothing.” Emilio spoke in a soft, soothing tone. “Markos is always on the clock, always trying to drum up business for his law firm, but I know my brother. He wouldn’t disrespect you by hooking up with someone else. He’s not that guy.”
“It’s cool. We’re not married. He does his thing, and I do mine.”
The men exchanged a worried look, then surged to their feet.
“Ladies, we’ll be right back.” Rafael kissed his wife on the cheek and squeezed her shoulders. “I know you’re hungry, so go ahead and order. You don’t have to wait for us.”
Paris picked up a menu and flipped it open. “Don’t worry. I won’t! I’m starving!”
Everyone laughed, except Tatiyana.
The men left, strolling purposely across the course, ignoring the females who smiled, whistled and waved at them. They sidled up to Markos, surrounding him like a SWAT team, and pulled him away from the bar. Tatiyana grabbed her purse. It was time to go. Markos had completely forgotten about her, and she refused to sit around waiting for him. Sure, she hadn’t achieved her goal, but there was always tomorrow.
Tatiyana dropped the menu on the table and pushed back her chair. “Ladies, it’s been fun, but I’ve had enough sun for one day.”
“Girl, you better go over there and get your man,” Dionne drawled, raising an eyebrow.
Everyone nodded, insisting the successful businesswoman was right.
“That’s not my style.”
“Tatiyana, that’s not my style, either, but when other women pursue my man, I let them know in no uncertain terms that I’ll fight for what’s mine.”
“Preach!” Angela shouted. “So do I!”
The women agreed with the reporter, sharing their own personal stories, but Tatiyana saw the situation differently. In her experience, men loved female attention, got off on hooking up with different women every night of the week, and that would never change, so why fight it?
Smiling to prove there were no hard feelings, she rose to her feet and waved at the group. “It’s been fun. Hopefully, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
Leaving the patio, Tatiyana heard her cell phone chime and took it out of her purse. She had three new text messages from Everly, and laughed as she read them. Her cousin was threatening to disown her if she didn’t call her, but the nail technician was having man trouble again, and Tatiyana didn’t feel like listening to her talk about her bad-boy boyfriend.
Head bent, typing furiously, she walked past the bar.
“There you are.”
Tatiyana glanced up from her cell just in time to see Markos standing in front of her, and slammed into his chest. He caught her before she fell and cradled her in his arms, as if it were her permanent resting place. Straightening, Tatiyana stepped back and adjusted her clothes.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Back to my room.”
“But you agreed to have dinner with us.”
“I changed my mind...”
Hearing a commotion in the lobby, Tatiyana trailed off speaking and glanced over her shoulder. Children raced around, bumping into guests and each other, and wide-eyed tourists used their cell phones to capture the picturesque surroundings. The scent of garlic was so heavy in the air Tatiyana’s mouth watered at the enticing aromas drifting out of the restaurant, and she gazed longing at the couples reclining in wicker chairs feeding each other ice cream.
“Talk to me,” Markos urged. “Did something happen? Did someone upset you?”
“No, of course, not. Your family’s incredible.”
“Are you mad because I’ve been busy networking?”
Networking? she scoffed, swallowing a laugh. Is that what you call flirting? Tatiyana wrangled her thoughts back in and spoke in a cheery voice to hide her true feelings. “Markos, don’t be silly. I’m fine. Don’t sweat it.”
“Are you going to the pool party tonight?”
“No. It’s not my scene.”
Her cell phone lit up with her mother’s number, but Tatiyana let the call go to voice mail. First, she’d speak to Markos, then she’d check in with her family.
“A lot of celebrities will be there—”
“Is that supposed to impress me? Well, it doesn’t.”
A smile covered his face. “This is my last night here, and I want to spend it with you.”
“Your last night? I thought you were leaving on Monday.”
“No, tomorrow,” he said, moving closer to her, swallowing the space between them. “I fly out at 5:00 a.m. I have an emergency meeting in Santa Barbara that I can’t miss.”
“But it’s Sunday.”
“Tell that to the sixth richest man in LA. He wants to meet, and I can’t refuse him.”
“This is goodbye, then.”
Markos touched her cheek, caressing it with his fingertips, his gaze full of tenderness and warmth. “No way. You’re mine for the rest of the night.”
“I love the sound of that—” Tatiyana pressed her lips together, to trap the truth inside her mouth, but it was too late. Markos knew what she was thinking, how she was feeling, and the broad I’m-the-man grin on his face proved it. What’s the matter with me? Tatiyana thought, strangling a sigh. Why didn’t I keep my big mouth shut?
“We’ll eat in the private dining room, then return to my suite.”
“No, my suite,” she insisted, reclaiming her voice. “We need a change of scenery.
”
“Sure, Tatiyana. Whatever you want.”
Markos clasped her hand, holding it tight. Their eyes met, zeroing in on each other, and desire warmed her skin.
“This is our last night together. We should make the most of it.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Smiling, she fell into step with Markos as he strode toward the restaurant entrance. Tatiyana was excited, anxious to get him inside her plush, third-floor suite, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was making the biggest mistake of her life.
Chapter 8
Markos stood beside the queen-size bed, watching Tatiyana sleep, contemplating what to do. Should I stay, or should I go? Hearing the question echo in his mind, he realized there was nothing to deliberate. He was going home. Back to work. They’d had their fun, played and partied for days, and now it was time to return to LA. He had an important meeting that afternoon, and if he stayed in Tampa, the other senior partners would be pissed.
His thoughts returned to yesterday, and his body tensed. While replenishing his scotch at the bar, he’d checked his email and noticed several messages from the HR Department. His secretary, Blanche Sutherland, was out sick with pneumonia and would be off work for three weeks. Truth be told, Markos wasn’t going to miss her. She spent most of her day gossiping with Izzy and flirted shamelessly with his male clients. For the time being, Markos was on his own, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.
Driven by need, he reached out and caressed Tatiyana’s smooth, brown skin. She was clad in a short, silk nightie, her curvaceous body on full display. Markos felt his mouth dry and his temperature soar.
His hands lingered on her hips, stroking her fine, womanly shape. Markos wanted to wake Tatiyana up and thank her for a great weekend, but stopped himself. Last night, after making love, he’d asked her for her cell number again, but she’d skillfully changed the subject. Why did she have to reside on the east coast? Why couldn’t she live closer, instead of thousands of miles away? And why was she against seeing him again? What was that about?