by Pamela Yaye
“He reminds me of Gavin,” Opal confessed, sorry the moment the words left her mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Ebony waved off the apology. “I was the one who broke things off, remember? I’m fine, Opal. Besides, life’s too short for regrets.”
Her no-strings-attached relationship with Gavin Taylor, a promising investment banker, had been running smoothly until he had ruined things by getting serious on her. While basking in the aftermath of a toe-curling lovemaking session, he had announced that it was time to take their relationship to the “next level.”
“We’re not getting any younger,” he’d said, nuzzling his chin against her shoulder. “Most people our age are already married.” He said he wanted kids. Two, maybe three. With a sedated expression on his face, he had hugged her to his chest and rubbed a hand over her stomach. “Why don’t I sell my place, move in here and we start working on that family?”
Ebony had retreated like a soldier caught in a cross fire. Settling down and having kids was not in her blueprints; operating the most profitable lingerie franchise in North America was. It was her first and only aspiration. Gavin Taylor was a terrific guy—articulate, intelligent, dependable—but Ebony would rather swim in shark-infested waters than get married and have babies.
Three lonely months had elapsed since the demise of their relationship and Ebony was yet to find someone to take his place. Living a sexless life was starting to have adverse effects on her. She was moody. Irritable. Short-tempered. And she found herself thinking about sex twenty-four-seven. During board meetings. On the phone with important clients. Waiting in line at the grocery store. At the bank. And every time a semiattractive man looked her way, she undressed him with her eyes. Sex toys had never appealed to her, but things were getting so bad, she was thinking about buying a battery-operated “friend.” It had been so long since she had been intimate with a man, she had started to wonder if it would ever happen again. But from where she was sitting, things were definitely starting to look up.
“Gavin has nothing on that man. Nothing at all.” Ebony winked. “But I’ll give you all the dirty details in the morning.”
Opal’s mouth dropped. Her earrings tinkled harshly as she swung her head back and forth. “Ebony Denise Garrett,” she began, in a hushed tone of voice. “I know you’re not about to proposition that man. He—” Opal broke off her sentence when she realized the elderly woman beside her had stopped talking and was watching her. Opal put on a warm smile, and when the nosy grandmother returned to her meal, she jammed her elbow hard into Ebony’s ribs.
“Ow! What did you do that for?”
“You can’t take home some brother you met at church! You should be ashamed of yourself for even entertaining the thought,” Opal hissed. “I have half a mind to leave you sitting here by yourself.”
Ebony fought back a laugh. Sometimes Opal was worse than a great-great-grandmother. The tiger print dress hugging her voluptuous figure suggested she was gregarious, reckless and impulsive, but Opal Sheppard was as straight as a ruler. She was responsible and organized and planned every second of every day. There was no room in her life for any funny business or spontaneity. If it wasn’t on her daily agenda, it wasn’t happening.
Lips curled with disgust, Opal tried fruitlessly to hold Ebony’s wandering gaze. Put off by the grin dancing on her friend’s face, she laid down her fork, which had been suspended in midair, and folded her hands in front of her like she was about to drop a bombshell. “I can’t believe the things that come out of your mouth sometimes! It’s like you think with your…your…your private parts instead of using your brain.” The mother in her said, “You need to get it together. It’s time for you to grow up and quit—”
“Dang, girl! I was just playing!” Ebony said, finally giving in to her laughter. She hugged Opal with one hand, and was relieved when the miserable frown on her face fell away. “I just wanted to see what your reaction would be. God, you’re such an easy target.” Ebony resumed eating, but not before she added, “I’m not going home with anyone tonight, so don’t get your panties in a bunch.”
“Don’t joke like that, Ebony. It’s not funny.” Opal finished what was left on her plate, and then signaled the waiter over. Dissatisfied with the tiny portion of food she had been given, she asked for another helping of baked chicken and shrimp fried rice. Opal didn’t need a second helping of food, but she believed in getting her money’s worth, and so far, she hadn’t even eaten forty dollars’ worth of anything. Since the New Year, her waistline had been growing at an alarming rate, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from filling her stomach.
Opal cast her eyes back at Ebony, and was surprised to find her still ogling the man at table number twelve. “Is he that fine?”
A roguish smile curled the corners of Ebony’s mouth. In a dreamy-sounding voice she purred, “Girl, I think he’s making love to me with his eyes.”
Chapter 2
That woman is trouble in three-inch heels, Xavier decided, as the statuesque woman with the smoky eyes and mocha-brown skin approached. Her auburn hair was short, trendy, and bounced restlessly as she walked. The stylish cut showed off her delicate neckline and gave her a bold, edgy look.
She is sin waiting to happen! Xavier watched the woman weave her way through the crowd, like she was on a mission. Everything about her was tempting—the seductive curl of her lips, her sensual walk, the way she moved through space. Her mischievous smile set him on edge, but there was no denying it; the woman had a Lord-have-mercy-body. Her crimson V-neck dress clung to each and every luscious curve and drew attention to her figure. She had a smile that shone brighter than headlights, and the glint in her eyes hauled him in like a fisherman with the catch of the day. Her flawless skin was the most beautiful shade of chocolate, clear and smooth. The woman had the ultimate bad-girl face and when she brushed past him and requested an iced tea from the portly man working the refreshment bar, Xavier concluded that her sexy, throaty voice could seduce even the most God-fearing man.
Tea in hand and an affable smile on her face, Ebony turned to greet the man to her right. “Having a good time?”
Xavier turned at the sound of her voice. His eyes lingered on her full, pouty lips and ultrawhite teeth. Her chandelier earrings shimmered under the soft lights, and jingled every time she so much as batted an eyelash. Gawking was indecorous and made the doer look asinine, but Xavier couldn’t help himself. And when her smile expanded, revealing a perfect mouth, he felt like someone was squeezing his heart with both hands. She had the whitest teeth he had ever seen. Teeth so white it looked like food had never passed her lips. But the sugar in her smile, the honey on her red-hued lips and the dangerous slope of her hips told him otherwise.
Xavier took a sip of his drink before responding to her question. “I’m having a good time, thanks.”
“The food was wonderful, wasn’t it?”
He could listen to her deep vixenish voice all night. Rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, he patted a hand over his stomach. “The women’s fellowship committee really outdid themselves this year. The main course was scrumptious, the desserts heavenly and the overwhelming turnout is a testament to all their hard work.”
He smiled kindly, those dimpled cheeks enhancing his nice-guy appeal. He exuded masculinity and strength and though they stood shoulder to shoulder, Ebony felt elfin standing next to him. It was a welcome change. Most men were intimidated by her size; it was refreshing being with a man who wasn’t dwarfed by her five-eight frame.
Ebony extended her right hand. “Ebony Garrett. And you are?”
“Xavier Reed. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ebony. I’ve never seen you at Jubilee Christian Center. Did one of our members invite you?”
“I came with my aunt. She visits Jubilee from time to time.”
“Have you ever attended one of our services?” Xavier asked, inhaling her sweet perfume. The scent made him hanker for fresh fruit.
“I don’t have much free
time during the week, so I like to hit the clubs on the weekends. I use Sundays to catch up on sleep.” Stop babbling, Ebony chided herself. Be engaging and witty and let him know you’re both interested and available.
With a pensive expression on his face, he said, “You don’t know what you’re missing out on, Ms. Garrett. Church is where we feed the soul.” He paused briefly, unsure of whether to share a page from his autobiography. “Back in the day, I thought there was nothing better than running the street with my boys and partying the night away. But after my best friend died, I knew I had to make some serious changes in my life. I gave up that reckless lifestyle years ago and started attending Jubilee. That was the best decision I ever made.”
“Nothing wrong with having a good time,” Ebony countered, troubled to learn about his wild past. “After putting in twelve hours or more a day from Monday to Friday, I need an outlet. I need to unwind. I’m not much of a drinker,” she pointed out. “I go to the club to dance. Dancing is a great way to relieve stress. You should try it sometime.”
“Maybe you should cut back on your hours so you won’t be so stressed.”
Ebony bit her tongue. She wanted to tell him to mind his own damn business, but didn’t. In the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the flamboyantly dressed emcee swaggering toward the stage. He had a program in his right hand and a microphone in the other. She turned back to Xavier, her lips fashioned into a smile. His eyes were the lightest shade of brown she had ever seen and the overall image he projected was one of extreme confidence. Yes, he was just the kind of man she was searching for.
They talked for a few minutes about the church and then a long, painful silence settled in between them.
There was an air of shyness about him Ebony hadn’t picked up on initially. If she waited for him to build up enough courage to ask her out, they could be standing there all night, and time was of the essence. “Have you heard of A Taste of Venice?” Ebony asked, tilting her head to the right. Her stance gave him an unrestricted view of her cleavage.
Xavier kept his eyes on her face. She couldn’t be more obvious, he thought, refusing himself a glance at her chest. “That’s the new upscale restaurant on Hennepin and Ninth, right?” She nodded, and he continued. “I’ve been meaning to check it out, but I haven’t had the time.”
So far so good, Ebony thought, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. She paused, when a trio of long-haired, blue-eyed blondes approached the bar. Each woman was making googly eyes at him. How desperate can you be? she wondered, when the thinnest one in the group tossed some hair over her shoulder and winked. Heifer.
Ebony waited until the women slithered away before she spoke again. “Are you free for dinner this Friday? Say, eight o’clock. We can meet at the restaurant if you’d like.” She opened her clutch purse, pulled out a business card and had started to hand it to him when he politely declined. The smile slid off her face. “No, you’re not free this Friday or no, you don’t want to have dinner with me period?”
“Both.” His eyes smiled, belying his harsh words.
The vacant expression on his face caused self-doubt to take up residence in her mind. Is he for real? she wondered. Ebony pushed for more details. “I don’t understand why you don’t want to go out with me. It’s just dinner.”
Xavier downed the rest of his soda. It was time to bring this conversation to a close. The entertainment portion of the program was set to begin any minute now and he didn’t want to miss anything. His friend Liberty Williams was singing “Amazing Grace” and he just knew she was going to blow the roof off the church. “You seem to be a lovely woman and all, Ms. Garrett, but I can’t go out with you.”
Ebony was stunned by his brusque reply, but her face remained inexpressive. “Why? Are you dating someone? Engaged? Married?” No sense in making the same mistake twice, she thought, checking his left hand. No ring. In fact, aside from his watch, he wore no jewelry at all.
Xavier’s eyes raked the room. This was one of those situations where his bogus wedding band would have come in handy. A few years ago, he had taken to wearing a gold ring on his wedding finger, but it hadn’t been the deterrent he had hoped it would be. Women had descended on him in droves. They slipped business cards into his pocket, scrawled their phone numbers on napkins and told him his wife would never have to know. “No, I’m as single as they come.” Xavier left it at that. He had a feeling that if he said anything else, she might use it against him later.
“Then why won’t you go out with me?” Ebony cringed at the sound of her voice. She sounded desperate, pathetic, needy. Clearing her throat, she took a mouthful of soda and tried again. “What I meant was, what’s the harm in two single, very attractive people going out for dinner?” His eyes twinkled in amusement, which was all the encouragement she needed. Now she knew two things about Xavier Reed: he found her attractive and he thought she was amusing. Both were very good things. “I’m paying, Xavier. It won’t cost you a thing if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“That’s not it.” Xavier chose his words carefully. It wasn’t his style to hurt people’s feelings, but there was no way he was going out with this pushy woman. “I’m an excellent judge of character, Ms. Garrett, and I seriously doubt we’d have anything in common.”
Ebony nailed him with a look. The articulate and well-spoken man had obviously been blessed with good looks, but he was about as warm as an ice-rink. She took a step forward to leave, but the sting of his insult pushed her to ask, “How do you know we have nothing in common when you don’t know anything about me?”
I know you’re aggressive and bad news. Xavier decided to keep his observations to himself. He shrugged one shoulder. “Call it intuition.”
Ebony studied him. Low-cropped hair. Chiseled facial features. Sculptured physique. There was a distinguished almost regal bearing about him. He couldn’t be more than thirty, if that, but he was incredibly serious. Much too serious for a man so young. And handsome. Used to dating sociable, engaging men, not judgmental, ice-cold ones, Ebony quickly concluded that Xavier Reed would bore her to death and she was better off not going anywhere with him.
“Well, it was nice meeting you.” He put his empty glass on the bar, smoothed a hand over his blazer and admonished her to enjoy the rest of her evening. Xavier turned, but was hampered when she coiled a hand around his arm.
Ebony hated rejection. It was an incurable virus that could break someone down. Play with their mind. Taunt them when they least expected it. Xavier Reed might be stern-faced and aloof, but after a few drinks, and some laughs, he’d be putty in her hands. But first, Ebony had to convince him to go out with her. Then, and only then, would she seduce the pants off him. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” she purred, batting her eyelashes. “We don’t have to go to A Taste of Venice—we can go anywhere you want. When it comes to things like that I’m not fussy. I’m easy.”
I bet you are, he said to himself. Xavier slapped a smile on his face, in the hopes of screening the irritation he felt. Six years ago, he would have jumped at her offer. Easily swayed by glamorous women oozing sex appeal, he would have taken her out for an expensive meal, worked it off at one of Minneapolis’ trendy nightclubs and then whisked her back to his place for a night she’d never forget. But Xavier wasn’t the man he used to be. Gone were the one-night stands, meaningless relationships and bad-boy ways. Xavier had known it was time to quit playing the field when his closest friends had started dropping like flies.
First, Dominick had moved in with his girlfriend; then commitment-shy Lemar had gone off and gotten himself engaged; and these days, Juan was so consumed with his new lady love, two weeks had passed since they last spoke. The all-boys club had dismantled quicker than a female R&B group. He had lost his boys to women, and although he was happy for them, it made him hanker for a relationship all his own. He was saving up to buy a BMW, but aside from owning a temperamental, banged-up jalopy, every aspect of his life was in order. He owned a three-bed
room home in one of the city’s developing areas; had a substantial amount of money tucked away in low-risk investments; traveled two, sometimes three times a year; cooked, cleaned and washed better than most women and he had no baby mama drama to complicate his life. Returning to graduate school to earn a master’s degree in psychology was a long-range goal, but for right now, he was content being a high school guidance counselor and part-time economics teacher. All he needed was the right woman to complete the picture. He had played the field long enough and at thirty-two he was ready to start a family of his own. Xavier was in a settling-down frame of mind, and the woman clinging to his arm was not “the one.”
I wonder if I’ll ever find Ms. Right, he thought, as his eyes skimmed the banquet hall. Chatting with Ms. Garrett reminded Xavier of why he was still single. The twenty-first-century woman was too assertive, had more game than a rap star and didn’t have the patience to wait for a man to make the first move. She wanted to be in control. Wanted to run the show. Wanted to be the one to wear the pants in the relationship. What happened to the good old days when a man used to ask a woman out? Where are all the traditional women hiding? he wondered. The room was crawling with women. A handful of them were even beautiful enough to strut the runway. But all the ladies who had approached him tonight were of the Ms. Garrett persuasion—pushy, abrasive and eager to engage in carnal pleasures. Sweet, nurturing and modest was more of what Xavier had in mind for a girlfriend. He didn’t want to be with a human doormat, but on the other hand, he didn’t want to be with a woman who crammed her opinions down his throat and called the shots, either.
His eyes returned to Ms. Garrett. She smelled good, she looked good and she sounded good, but he wasn’t going out with her. No matter how hard she pushed. The woman was far too aggressive for his tastes. She had a backside that could rival J-Lo’s, but experience told him women who looked like supermodels—primed to perfection and smelling like a cosmetics counter—usually had the diva attitude to match. And besides, he wasn’t interested in a one-night stand; he was seeking a meaningful, long-term relationship that would eventually end up at the altar.