Ronnie could see the love her sister had for Gabe. Her eyes lit up every time she talked about him. She was happy for Candace. She deserved a good man in her life. God knows they all did after the misery they’d seen their mother go through.
Toye spoke up. “The best present you can give Gabe is to have the damn wedding already.”
Candace rolled her eyes. Ronnie hoped Toye didn’t piss her off this morning. Candace had decided to have a long engagement, citing she was too busy to plan a wedding right now. Gabe was patiently waiting on her. He really was a sweet guy.
“I’ll get married when I’m good and ready,” Candace warned. “If Gabe doesn’t have a problem with it, neither should anyone else.”
Ronnie couldn’t help wondering if Toye still wanted Gabe for herself. But she would never bring that up. All hell would break loose if Candace was reminded of that incident.
“Can I bring a date?” Marlowe asked, effectively breaking the tension.
Candace nodded. “Sure. Who’s your latest victim?”
“Jamari.”
“Your ex?”
“Yeah, we’re on and off again. You know how it is.”
Toye interjected, “I thought you said he had bad breath.”
Marlowe shrugged. “Vodka should cover up any smells.”
Ronnie laughed. Her heart went out to her sister. But she felt bad for Jamari too. It wasn’t easy being Marlowe’s boyfriend. Simply put, the girl was high maintenance. Maybe she and Candace were partly to blame. They’d spoiled their little sister to make up for not having the affection of a mother. Now, Marlowe expected everyone to cater to her. She had no shortage of dates, but her relationships lasted about as long as a gnat’s life cycle.
“What about you, Ronnie?” Candace asked. “You can bring Jovan if you want. It’s a Rated PG party.”
Ronnie smiled to cover up her sadness. So, each one of her sisters had a date. Ronnie already felt like a third wheel. Maybe she should just bow out at the last minute. Make some excuse. Like she had to clean out her closet. Who would believe that?
Well, it was a pretty big walk-in closet.
“You could bring Vic,” Toye suggested, reading her mind.
“Who’s Vic?” Candace asked.
“A hunk she showed up with last night.”
Marlowe’s mouth dropped open. “What? Why am I just now finding out about this?”
“He’s just a guy who dropped me at the hotel,” Ronnie explained.
“Just a guy?” Toye sucked her teeth. “I would say he’s a helluva man. Bronzed skin. Green eyes. And a body so fine, he should carry a drool tray with him for all of the women who can’t wipe the slobber from their lips in time!”
All three women cracked up laughing. Ronnie couldn’t help but smile. She pointed her finger at Toye. “Girl, you are trippin’.”
“Why didn’t I meet him?” Candace asked.
“You were too busy with your speech,” Ronnie told her. “Like I said, he dropped me off.”
“Okay, who is this guy, and how did you meet him?”
Ronnie gave her sisters an abbreviated version, starting with the day Vic walked into her office and ending with his subsequent rescue of her on the dark road.
“I’m so glad you’re hiring him,” Candace said.
“I didn’t say that. In fact, I had Olivia send his rejection letter a few days ago.”
“Why the hell did you do that?” Marlowe demanded.
For some reason, Ronnie held back on revealing Vic’s status as an ex-con. Maybe it was because he didn’t seem dangerous. She didn’t even know what his crime was. She became preoccupied with picking the onions from her omelet. “Um, I don’t know,” she said. “Nothing concrete. He just came across as a male chauvinist.”
“Ronnie, that’s not a good reason.”
“Yeah,” Toye agreed. “We’re in the construction business. Ninety-percent of the men in this industry are chauvinists.”
Candace nodded. “Do you think we’d get any respect if we didn’t have the financial power of Sampson’s behind our name? If I was still a real estate agent and Marlowe was still working as a temp, we couldn’t compete with the big boys.”
Her sister had a point. Thankfully, Gabe owned all the Sampson’s chains, a do-it-yourself home improvement warehouse. He was the one who gave them the money and the encouragement to start Three Sisters Construction. People respected Sampson’s.
Marlow added, “Vic came to your aid when he didn’t have to. He seems like a reliable guy. We need someone like that.”
“Exactly,” Candace agreed. “This new contract is our chance to really build our clientele. If a male chauvinist is capable of leading the work crew, then so be it.”
Ronnie held her hands up for silence. “All right, all right. Are you guys on the Vic Romano committee or something?”
“Ooh,” Toye’s eyes lit up. “His name sounds so macho. Vic Romano, the Italian Stallion!”
They all burst out laughing.
“Girl, you might end up riding that stallion!”
Images of her riding Vic was just too much for her. Flushed with heat, Ronnie gulped her orange juice. She was eager to change the subject. “How in the world are you going to keep this party a secret from Gabe for the next two weeks?” Ronnie asked Candace.
Ronnie breathed a sigh of relief as her sister launched into her latest plan. Crises avoided. She hated having the spotlight on her. Yet, even as Candace babbled on, Ronnie’s thoughts drifted once more to the man who’d rescued her. Her family was right. She owed him a second chance.
# # #
Ronnie pulled up to the curb of an apartment complex. This was the address on Vic’s application. She walked around the seemingly vacant property.
“Hello?” she called out.
No answer.
She wandered to the end of the building where she noticed a sawhorse and planks set up. Several two-by-fours were laid nearby. Someone was here working, but where? Wearing high-heeled wedges, she carefully stepped around a red toolbox with some tools neatly placed beside it. Someone was fixing up the place.
Finally, she spotted an open window in the back on the first floor. She peeked her head through. An empty kitchen with black appliances and plenty of counter space greeted her. Unfortunately, no one was in the room.
Shoot! I should have called the number on the application before I drove way out here.
She did an about-face and turned from the window. She ran smack into a human wall. Vic’s bare, chiseled chest blocked her view. She stumbled backwards. Vic caught her and pulled her against his sculpted pectorals. He was hot and sweaty. But instead of being disgusted, she was turned on!
Her eyes followed the dark trail of hair that extended from the bottom of his six-pack into the leather tool belt slung low on his narrow waist. His abs looked like they were carved from wood.
Damn, he was sexy. Transfixed to the sight of her hand against his bronzed chest, she stood motionless. Only the deep timbre of his voice with its erotic undertones pulled her from her trance.
“Well, Ms. Jones. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Her eyes snapped up to meet his. Up close, she could see tiny gold flecks in his green orbs. They were framed by thick dark brows and eyelashes women would kill for.
The cocky smile he flashed made goose bumps pucker on her arms. Not for the first time, she wondered if he had the goods to back up that smile. Was he as confident with his lovemaking as he was with everything else?
“I, uh,” she stuttered.
Damn, woman! Get it together. You act like you’ve never seen a naked torso before.
Ronnie suddenly felt self-conscious in what Devon referred to as her Mommy jeans and tank top. She wished she’d dressed a little sexier.
Ridiculous! Why do you need to dress up for him?
At five foot eight, she was already tall, but she was happy that Vic loomed over her. In middle school, when the boys were at least a foot shorter than her,
she’d felt her height was a curse. Now that she was grown, it gave her the advantage of looking thin and graceful. Did Vic notice?
Vic drank in the sight of Ronnie. Her face was scrubbed clean and free of makeup. Her long hair was pulled back into a bun. Not as sexy as last night’s bun, but still enticing, nonetheless. Her yam brown skin glowed beneath the midday sun. His fingers itched to reach out and stroke her silken cheek.
Did she know how hot she looked in those jeans? He liked seeing her dressed casual instead of so buttoned up and formal. He wondered if she was wearing another pair of lacy black panties today. If she were his woman, he’d toss her over his shoulder, carry her upstairs to his bedroom, and strip those jeans off to see for himself. But she wasn’t his woman. Still, he could fantasize—just like he’d done last night when horniness had taken the place of sleep. The image of her soft, round ass fueled his lust as he’d stroked himself. But masturbating wasn’t enough. He wanted the real thing.
Ronnie’s full lips parted as if she were catching her breath. Her eyes flitted in all directions, refusing to land on his bare chest. He chuckled to himself. Was the Ice Queen shy? Surely, she’d seen plenty of bare-chested men. The fact that he was naked from the waist up shouldn’t have bothered her.
But he sensed her discomfort. Perversely, he enjoyed it. Was he turning her on? It was hard to tell with her. She kept her emotions on a tight leash.
Her lush lips were inches from his. He should have gone with his first thought and pulled her full bottom lip into his mouth. Suckled it until he made her whimper. But all too soon, she spoke, breaking his window of opportunity.
“I came to tell you you’re hired,” she blurted out.
Vic stared into her maple colored eyes, captivated by the fluttering long lashes. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to give her a hard time. Instead of backing away, he leaned in closer.
“Do you always deliver that type of news in person?” he asked.
Her eyes widened, and then she looked away, smoothly stepping out of his embrace.
“I was in the area.”
A lie. He knew it and she knew he knew it. Vic called her on it. “No you weren’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“You expect me to believe you were just in my neck of the woods? Nah, my mama didn’t raise no fool. Admit it. You wanted to see me.”
Her mouth dropped open, and then snapped shut. She moved further away, putting distance between them. She crossed her arms defiantly, eyeing him with a challenging gaze. “You are the most arrogant man I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”
“And you are the most inconsistent woman I’ve ever met. You’re cold when you meet me. Then, you kissed me the other night. Now, you’re here to hire me. What’s up with that? Guilty conscience?”
He grabbed a nearby plaid shirt and pulled it on. Ronnie frowned, and he didn’t know whether she was disappointed or relieved.
“First of all, I have no reason to feel guilty about anything,” she retorted. “I finished all my interviews and you were the most qualified for the job. I told you I’d let you know, and I’m here—letting you know. Second,” she rushed on, before he could interrupt, “that kiss was a ‘thank you’ peck. You make it sound like I tongued you down.”
He couldn’t help the sly grin that spread across his face. “That’s an image that’s going to be hard to shake.”
She narrowed her eyes. She had to know he was just playing with her.
“I’m only hiring you at my sisters’ insistence. You don’t have to act so smug about it.”
She turned to walk off, but her insult hung in the air. Maybe he really was acting a little smug. He grasped her arm. The feel of his calloused palm on her bare skin made his dick stir. Touching was dangerous. Every time he touched, he wanted more. Ronnie stopped in her tracks. Vic released her and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I appreciate you taking the time to come over here.”
She nodded. “Apology accepted.” She glanced around. “Are you working on a remodel?”
“Kind of. The super is real busy. I told him I’d help out and do some repairs in exchange for reduced rent.”
“Smart.”
He grinned. “I am capable of moments of greatness sometimes. You’ll find out, I’m not so bad, for a sexist pig.”
She cocked her head to the side. “You’re very full of yourself, you know?”
“I prefer the word, confident.”
“Does that apply to all aspects of your life? Or just work?”
He gave her a look that he hoped conveyed the hunger he felt. “Curiosity can be a dangerous thing, Ms. Jones. I accept serious inquiries only. So, don’t ask a question like that unless you really want to find out.”
She didn’t spar with him, even though he could see the playful glint in her eyes. She was a class act, he’d give her that. Her refusal to go there with him let him know he was trying to play in a game that was out of his league.
“I’d better get going,” she said.
He nodded, reluctant to see her leave. He’d enjoyed her brief visit. “By the way,” he asked, “how did the event go?”
“I made it in time to do my sister’s introduction—after my wardrobe malfunction.”
He chuckled. “Glad to hear it.” He wanted to add that she could have a malfunction anytime in front of him, but he left it alone. After all, she was his employer now. He’d have to see her frequently, and he didn’t want her to feel awkward.
“You can start on Monday,” she said, reading his mind. “Please be at the office at 5 a.m. You can follow the project manager to the site.”
“See ya then.”
As Ronnie walked back to her Beemer, Vic watched the provocative sway of her full hips. He shook his head. He had to get a hold on this spark of attraction he felt.
As soon as she pulled the doorknob to the driver’s door, he called out, “I see you got your flat fixed.”
“Yes. Gabe took care of it. He chewed the guys at the dealership a new asshole for forgetting to give me a spare.”
Gabe? Vic should have known she had a boyfriend. “I’m glad you got a man who takes care of you.”
She tossed him a bored smile. “What was that you said about curiosity being a dangerous thing? It works both ways, Vic.” She smirked before sliding behind the steering wheel and driving away.
He grinned. Was that Ronnie Jones’ attempt at giving him a dose of his own medicine? She totally called him out. If this was the kind of sexual-filled banter they would wrestle in all the time, both of them had better steer clear of each other.
SIX
Vic squeezed the trigger of the heavy-duty nail gun and fired a series of nails into a two-by-four. He worked methodically, powering each nail into the wooden framework every two inches. He and his crew worked on the second story of an outlet mall. Eventually, it would be three stories high. Not too big, but enough of a job. They had a six-month completion time. He’d been working on the job for two weeks. Got his first paycheck yesterday. The first thing he planned to do was buy Andrea a camera. She’d expressed interest in photography. It wouldn’t be one of those expensive ones, but it would get her started.
However, first, he had to pay his rent. Rocco, his overweight and under-compassionate landlord, wanted his money on the first of every month. No grace period. He didn’t care that Vic was helping the Super with repairs. If you didn’t pay on time, Rocco would show up at your door with his enforcers—two muscle-bound idiots who used grunts for communication. They spoke one language. Money.
Vic removed his hard hat and mopped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. He stepped back and surveyed his handiwork. Not bad for a guy fresh out of the pen. He hadn’t worked on a construction crew in five years.
“This shit don’t bother you?” an older guy, named Lenny, with skin as black as midnight, asked.
Vic laughed. It had to be one hundred degrees today, but he didn’t mind the weather. H
e enjoyed being out in the elements with the sun on his face and the wind at his back. While others complained about the backbreaking heat, he thanked the man up above he was free of his cinderblock cell.
“Nah, man,” Vic answered. “Just another day in paradise for me.”
Lenny grunted. “The sun done fried yo brain, son. This ain’t no fuckin’ paradise.”
Sergei, another guy on the crew, stopped hammering nails long enough to join the conversation. “The time I spent with special forces in Hawaii, that was paradise—if you don’t mind cockroaches the size of your goddamn hand flying around. But the women.” He trailed off, looking into the sun baked sky. “The women were off the goddamn chain. I had my pick. Russian. Croatian. Spanish. Even black chicks.” He made kissing noises. “Those were the best. Ever had a piece of chocolate? And I’m not talking about fucking Nestle.”
Vic didn’t take offense. He shrugged it off. Sergei was one of those dudes who liked to call attention to himself. Big mouth. Little brain.
“Man, shut de fuck up,” Lenny said, waving him away like a bothersome horsefly. “All yo hot air makin’ it even hotter ‘round here.”
“Yeah,” a pimply-faced kid named Craig shot back. “If you were all that in Special Forces, what the hell are you doing here with us?”
“He ain’t got no women,” Lenny accused, shaking his head. “Muthafucka just be lyin’.”
Some of the guys chuckled. Sergei scowled and then turned red.
“I was a sharp shooter,” he argued back. “My commander wanted me to take out innocent women and children. I refused.”
“I call bullshit,” Craig needled him. “What do you think, Vic?”
Vic shrugged as he watched Craig adjust the heavy, leather tool belt on his scrawny frame. “I think I’m minding my own business and all you knuckleheads need to get back to work.”
“What happened?” Craig kept picking at Sergei. “You got one of those dishonors?”
Craig shouldn’t screw with Sergei. Vic didn’t know whether the big Russian had been in the Special Forces or not, but he was about two hundred pounds of solid muscle compared to Craig’s buck and a quarter soaking wet. Sergei could crush that kid with his pinky toe.
Blueprint for Love Page 5