Her nipples tightened when his warm breath brushed the side of her neck. Lindsay inhaled deeply, telling herself not to get so turned on, but finding it absolutely impossible not to be.
“Sounds good,” she whispered. A blunt fingertip trailed lightly down the back of her neck, and she jumped. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“How many tattoos you got?” His eyes were lowered to half-mast, his voice low.
“Five.” Her skin was still alive where he’d touched her. The tattoo that ran down the back of her neck said live life to the fullest in cursive. “Once you get a tattoo, it can get a little addictive. My sister and I both have this one.” She pulled up her sleeve and showed him the inscription on the inside of her left bicep: My sister is my best friend. “Then there’s this.” She showed off the sunflower on the inside of her left wrist.
“That’s three. Where are the other two?”
“Hidden,” she replied. He arched a brow, watching her intently. “I have three butterflies running down my right side, and four linked hearts on my right hip.”
Malik’s gaze dropped to her right side, and she couldn’t have felt that more if he’d touched her.
“What about you? Do you have any tatts?” Lindsay asked.
“Nah. I hate needles.”
The line moved and she edged forward. “What is it with men and needles? Stephan hates them, and my stepdad didn’t like them, either.”
“I don’t know what it is. I avoid getting stuck as much as possible.”
He sounded so serious, Lindsay giggled to herself.
When their turn at the window finally arrived, it became clear Malik was a regular.
“Hola, Manuel, my man.” He slapped hands with the Mexican behind the counter, a good-looking man whose hair made him appear older than the lack of lines on his face suggested.
“¿Cómo estás?” Manuel asked.
“Estoy bien. How about yourself?”
“I can’t complain. I’m alive, you know? What can I get for you, my friend?”
Lindsay placed her order first—one barbacoa taco and the other two with carne asada. Malik placed his order, and they both chose large cups of horchata, a sweet rice drink.
They decided to eat there and sat in front of the little shack on plastic furniture that had spent so much time in the elements, the chairs and tables had turned from white to gray.
With guacamole salsa poured on a carne asada taco, Lindsay took the first bite. “Mmm.” Coupled with onions and fresh-chopped cilantro, the flavors of the seasoned meat burst onto her tongue.
“Good, right?”
She finished chewing and swallowed. “How did you know the food would be so good? I mean, how did you find this place?” She glanced back at the nondescript building and the line of patrons waiting to be served.
“Don’t you know the rules of ethnic cuisine?” Malik popped a jalapeño in his mouth.
“What rules?”
He smiled across the table at her, and she thought again how utterly good-looking he was. It should be a crime, really, to be that attractive. His dark-copper skin looked darker in the dim light where they sat a little bit away from the restaurant. His lips curved into an indecent invitation to pleasure.
“Go where the people go,” Malik answered. “You want authentic Caribbean food, go where the Caribbean people eat. You want the best Indian, it’s served where Indians eat. Likewise, if you see a Mexican restaurant with a line of Mexicans waiting, that’s where the best Mexican food is. Stick with me and I’ll show you the ropes.” His brown eyes sparkled as he bit into the torta.
Lindsay shook her head. The food turned out to be one of the best meals she’d ever had. Which was crazy, because she’d eaten in some of the best restaurants in the city, with much better ambiance. But there was something to be said for sitting outside under the stars on rickety plastic furniture, listening to the cars whiz by, eating cheap, delicious tacos and drinking sweet horchata with the sexiest man she’d ever met.
A decent man who set aside his own desire after she’d been drinking and was strong enough and thoughtful enough to carry her across a parking lot so she wouldn’t muddy her shoes.
He was almost perfect. And she wanted him.
Chapter 6
Lindsay brought her lips to the microphone. “Ladies, I have one more letter to read to you before I go, and it deals directly with a question many of us have considered before.
“Dear Lindsay, I have a great boyfriend. I honestly can’t complain. He’s thoughtful and kind, my friends and family love him, and compared to boyfriends of the past, he’s a godsend, except in the bedroom. I would like to experiment more and incorporate rougher sex. I’ve given him major hints, but he doesn’t get the message. The sex isn’t bad, it’s just vanilla. You said in the past that sexual compatibility is an important part of a relationship. Right now we’re incompatible. Should I throw in the towel? Signed, Jasmine in Delaware.
“As always, this is a tough one. How important is sex in a relationship? It’s an important component, but only you can answer the question for your own unique coupling. For some of you it might not be important at all, and you can live without it, but for this particular woman and yours truly, a more robust sexual relationship is a necessity.”
Lindsay paused for effect and then placed her mouth close to the microphone again.
“Jasmine, here’s my advice. Yes, sexual compatibility is important, but so is communication. Men often don’t get hints. Ask any of them, and they’ll tell you they prefer the direct approach. Before you throw in the towel, how about you tell your man your fantasy? He very well may have the same desires, and you could explore this new direction together. Pull together information about what you’d like to do, print it out, and read it—with him. Yes, you heard me correctly. Use the material as an introduction to explicitly express your desires. That, honey, could be part of the foreplay. Your vanilla boyfriend might not be so vanilla. I suggest you try this before giving up, especially since he sounds like a keeper in every other way. Don’t throw in the towel just yet, and keep me posted.
“Until next time, girlfriends. This is Lindsay the Sexy Diva, reminding you that a healthy relationship begins with you. Be the best you can be, in and out of the bedroom. Goodnight.”
Lindsay removed her headphones and with a few mouse clicks added the sound file to cloud storage where her editor would retrieve it. He’d add the theme music and clean up the audio to get it closer to radio quality.
She left the booth and headed back to her office. Sinking into the leather chair, her eyes scoured the desk and the photos spread out on its surface. They were amazing, and she’d been in a good mood ever since she saw them. She’d also been horny because she couldn’t get the explosive kiss with Malik out of her mind. Even now, her entire body flushed with heat at the memory.
Resting her chin on her hand, she simply looked at him. His wicked smile. His sexy, full lips. His soft beard that had brushed her skin. All within a brawny, brown package. She really, really wanted him. Bad. With him she experienced a pull, an attraction, unlike with anyone else. But did he want her? Of course he did. That kiss hadn’t been one-sided, and there was no mistaking his arousal, first wedged against her bottom and then wedged against her stomach when they kissed.
But the kiss had been over a week ago, and she hadn’t heard from him. Since then she’d tried to reach her sister without luck. Nina was overseas somewhere without Internet service, which wasn’t unusual. Sometimes they went weeks without communicating. She’d sent an email with the details about Malik’s sculpture for when Nina came back online.
The phone rang, and Lindsay saw Hal’s name flash on the screen.
She answered right away. “Hey, Hal!” She propped her feet on the windowsill. “Talk to me.”
“They loved the photos.”
Lindsay pumped her fist. She never doubted Bear Publishing would, but it was nice to get confirmation. “Tell me something I don’t know.
”
Hal chuckled. “I have to say, you guys have great chemistry. I didn’t think that kiss would end.”
Neither did she. She didn’t want it to end, anyway. She couldn’t forget the way his broad fingers had grabbed her bottom, as if he’d completely forgotten there were other people in the room. She shuddered at the memory.
“Malik can get a little carried away,” she said coyly.
“I can tell.” Hal laughed again. “Well, I think you’ll be interested to know they want more.”
Lindsay’s ears perked up. “Want more? What do you mean?”
“The publisher wants more of the two of you.”
Heaviness invaded the pit of her stomach. That did not sound good.
“They think it would be great to have him attend some of the promotional gigs you have planned. Nothing major. An event here and there, especially the radio interview we have coming up. I have to say, I agree. Having him with you not only lends credibility to your platform, but that man is a looker. Can you imagine other women seeing him and thinking that with your advice, they could have a man like that for themselves?” Hal growled.
Lindsay dropped her feet to the floor. Working with Malik was supposed to be a one-off. “I don’t know… He’s a private person, and he doesn’t like the limelight. I explained all of that to you, about him being an introvert. He didn’t want to do the photo shoot in the first place, so I really don’t think I can convince him to join me at other events.”
“Convince him. Think about all the other opportunities that could come from this book deal and the promotion around it. Syndication. An advice column. Maybe your own radio show. The opportunities are endless! Doing what they want could take you out of a niche market and introduce you to a wider audience. Your advice is good advice for all women, not just one demographic.”
Lindsay gnawed her bottom lip as she considered her publicist’s words. She definitely saw the potential for a wider reach, and a wider reach meant exactly what he said, plus more money in the form of licensing and possible partnerships.
She was not a sociologist, psychologist, or anthropologist, which meant she struggled for legitimacy in a field filled with not only great talkers, but people with credentials she didn’t have. Her knowledge about relationships came from experience. From being a woman who had a lot of sex, dated a lot of men, and whose observations made her notice and pick up on behaviors other people didn’t.
“I understand, but I don’t want to put Malik in an uncomfortable position.” She couldn’t imagine him agreeing to do any more events with her. She certainly hadn’t intended to do any more with him.
“Make it work, sweetheart. Use some of that Lindsay charm I know you have. I’ll be out of pocket for the rest of the week. The wife and I are going up to the mountains for couple time. Ha! Got that from you. Couple time. My wife loves it, and so I love it. Happy wife equals happy life. Reach out to me next Monday and let me know how the conversation with your fiancé went. Get him on board! Let him know how important this would be for the future of the two of you.”
“Okay,” Lindsay said with much less enthusiasm than when she’d originally answered the phone.
“Don’t let me down. I know you can do this. Think about the money, and get that man out of his shell, all right?”
She breathed a silent sigh. “All right.”
“Talk to you next week!”
After the call, Lindsay deflated like a balloon, slinking down in the chair. She couldn’t afford to pay Malik for any more appearances. Between the five hundred dollars she’d already given him and the money she’d spent on the ring from the pawn shop to pretend they were engaged, she was out a hefty sum.
What was she going to do?
She didn’t see any way out of this predicament. Unless…
An idea formulated in her mind, one that might actually work, if she could convince Malik.
Jumping to her feet, Lindsay stuffed the photos into an envelope and shoved it into her purse. The only thing she could do was try.
Time for a trip out to his property.
Chapter 7
“Hey, Malik.”
Lindsay stood a few yards away from the barn where Malik was closing up. Daisy stood beside him.
“What are you doing out here?”
She held up an envelope. “I brought you something. Photos from the shoot.”
“You didn’t have to come out here to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
“Let’s see what you have.” Malik took the envelope and walked toward the front of the house. Daisy trotted along beside him, and Lindsay followed behind. He hadn’t seen or heard from her since the shoot, but he had to admit to being curious about how the photos turned out.
He sat down on one of the steps, and Daisy settled on the porch, resting her large head on her paws. Lindsay chose to remain standing in front of him. He removed the photos and examined them one by one.
“What do you think?” Lindsay asked.
“They’re nice.”
“I think they’re amazing. Hal and the publishing company think you and I have real chemistry.”
He glanced up at her.
Lindsay’s attitude toward him had changed. She used to be cool-acting, treating him like something stuck on the bottom of her shoe. Like someone she didn’t want to touch and barely had time to talk to for more than three seconds—the three seconds it took to say hello and goodbye. Now he knew why. She thought he’d rejected her the night of Stephan’s party.
Now, she was definitely feeling him. Hell, Malik was feeling her, too. She was casually sexy the way confident women were when they knew they were the shit. She wore a black sleeveless top cut short enough to show a sliver of skin between the hemline and the waistband of her long tribal print skirt. If she twisted to the right, maybe he’d be lucky enough to see the line of butterflies she told him about.
“You stare a lot,” she said.
He didn’t even realize he’d been staring. “And you speak your mind a lot.”
“Only when I need to.” She shrugged.
He sensed there was another reason for her visit. “What’s going on, Lindsay? What really brought you out here? Because it wasn’t to give me these photos.” He stuffed the pictures back into the envelope and handed it to her.
She tucked it into her large purse. “Well, now that you mention it, I need to talk to you, and it’s kind of important. Life-changing.”
“Life-changing? Oh, then I’m all ears.”
“I’m really getting tired of your sarcasm.”
Malik chuckled. Man, he would love to give her a good spanking. See how saucy she was then. “Pardon me. Please continue.” He leaned back, resting his elbows on the step above him.
“Funny thing happened,” she started. “Like I said, Hal and Bear Publishing loved the photos we took. And, um…” She licked her lips. “They want to see more of us together, and I wanted to know if—”
“No.”
“Wait a minute! Listen. I need you to attend a few more events. One is a radio interview lined up for me already. Really, it’s not much.”
“So basically, I have to continue pretending to be your fiancé?”
“Yes.”
“Hell, no.” He stood, indicating he was done with the conversation.
“Malik, what’s the big deal?”
“I don’t want to lie anymore. Makes me feel weird.”
“I couldn’t tell. You did a helluva good job faking it at the photo shoot,” Lindsay said dryly.
“I figured you wanted our engagement to appear believable.”
“Hmm. Guess I’m not the only one good at lying.”
“But you might be the only one who doesn’t feel guilty about it.”
She frowned. “Is that an attack on my character?”
“Take it however you see fit. Listen, I have a life. I have a career I’m trying to build.” He waved in the direction of the barn. “Have you done anything toward gett
ing me in touch with Nina’s people to see if I could sell my tree sculpture?”
“I sent my sister an email already, but she’s probably in some remote part of the world without Internet service at the moment. As soon as I hear from her, I’ll get the information for you. Until then, can’t you help me out?”
“Why should I do this for you?”
“Because I have something you need.”
“Which is…?”
Lindsay took a deep breath. “I’m going to talk to Nina about the sculpture, but you have real talent, Malik, and for the next few months, I have publicity. Lots of it. I can get you in front of people who’d be interested in your work.”
Malik remained silent.
Lindsay rushed on. “Instead of only appearing as my fiancé, we could use my time in front of the media to talk up your work, as well. We need to get your website set up and running and put your pieces on display, but whenever you do an appearance with me, we should make sure to plug your sculptures. Coupled with talking to Nina’s people, I’m sure we can get you started on being a self-sustaining artist. I only need you for a few months. What do you think?”
“I think this is another hare-brained scheme that I want no part of.”
“Was the other one so bad? You made five hundred dollars for one hour’s work.”
“An hour’s work you failed to mention would end up in some of the country’s most popular magazines. There’s no telling what you’ll get me into if I have to continue this charade.”
Lindsay placed her hands together in a prayerlike position. “You could become a household name. Isn’t that what you want? For people to know you and fall in love with your artwork?
He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “I don’t want any handouts.”
“It’s not a handout. It’s a hand up. You’ll meet the right people, but you still have to do the work. Do you have any idea how many people have become successful from the breaks they get? From who they know?”
“This is nuts. It’s crazy.”
“Crazy enough to work?” Lindsay said hopefully.
Wild Thoughts Page 4