The Perfect Present

by Rochelle Alers

  Due on stage in ten minutes, the women gathered their things and exited the bathroom. Linking arms, they sashayed through the lobby, rehearsing their final song. Entering the grand ballroom, Maya saw guests in top hats and feathered boas, waving glow sticks and blowing noise makers. Out on the dance floor, couples moved and grooved to Prince. A silver-lettered banner was suspended above the stage, and glitzy lanterns hung from the ceiling. Round tables were decorated with fine china, and the gold candle-holders made the room sparkle and shine.

  Standing at the bar drinking cocktails with her friends, Maya noticed a slim, dark-haired man watching her, and dodged his gaze. Feeling like a goddess in her flowing chiffon gown, she adjusted the bold red sash draped around her waist. Sequins were sprinkled across the bodice, and the floral-print design along the hem was eye-catching and unique. All evening, she’d been receiving compliments from women, and dinner invitations from wealthy older men, but since none of them excited her the way Marc did, she’d turned them all down.

  “The Spanish guy in the white tuxedo is staring at you so hard, he’s probably going to pop an eye vessel,” Aquarius joked. “Want me to go over there and get his number for you?”

  Liberty waved a hand in the air as if she was a queen on a throne. “Don’t bother. Pretty Boy doesn’t stand a chance. Her heart is with Marc, always will be, and that will never change.”

  “If she’s in love with Marc, then why is she shutting him out?” As she cocked her head to the left, a confused expression marred Eliza’s delicate facial features. “Why won’t she talk to him?”

  “Hello? I can hear you,” Maya quipped. “I’m right here. Quit talking about me like I’m not.”

  Aquarius piped up, “Is this about Javonte not liking Marc? I hope not, because your brother hates anyone who even looks at you, let alone anyone who tries to date you, so Marc is fighting a losing battle. He can ’t win when it comes to Javonte, so cut the guy some slack.”

  “This isn’t about my brother.” Feeling cornered, Maya defended herself. “Marc lied to me about his divorce, among other things, and I don’t know if I can trust him.”

  “Call him and talk things over. That’s what couples do.”

  “Liberty, you make it sound so simple . . .” she complained, her voice fading into silence.

  “It’s New Year’s Eve, Maya, one of the most romantic days of the year,” Eliza pointed out. “Wouldn’t you rather spend the night with Marc than with us?”

  “Yes, but—”

  Aquarius cut her off. “But nothing, Maya. If you don’t call Marc, I will, because I’m sick of seeing you mope around. It’s depressing. You’ve been sad all week, and the longer you shut Marc out, the harder it’s going to be for you guys to resolve your issues.”

  “And, it would be a shame if you lost your true love because you were afraid of getting hurt again,” Eliza added, giving her a one-arm hug. “Take it from someone who knows. I’ve been there, and if I could turn back the hands of time, I’d still be happily married.”

  With a heavy heart, Maya stared down at her cocktail glass. Were her friends right? Should she reach out to Marc? Was their relationship worth fighting for? Was he?

  “Welcome back to the stage, Chicago’s favorite a capella group, Lyrical Soul!”

  To the sound of thunderous applause and whistles, Liberty, Eliza, and Aquarius strode confidently onstage, and stood in front of their microphone stands. The lights dimmed, and silence fell across the room. “This song is dedicated to our favorite couple,” Liberty said, with a smile. “We love you, Maya and Marc. All the best in the New Year.”

  Heat flooded Maya’s cheeks. What an odd thing for Liberty to say, she thought, taking a sip of her Mistletoe Martini. Marc wasn’t there; he was at the Titan Management anniversary bash, living it up with groupies and exotic dancers, no doubt. She’d learned about the party from Javonte that afternoon, and was shocked to learn Marc had planned the exclusive event. It sounded like an excuse for his clients to get drunk, and even though they were no longer a couple, Maya hoped for Marc’s sake that the party was a success.

  Her friends began singing “Christmas with You,” and Maya frowned. Raising her eyebrows, she stared at the trio in disbelief. What were they doing? Had they had too many cocktails to drink? Were they drunk? They sounded amazing, and their harmonies were bang on, but that wasn’t the song they’d practiced in the bathroom for the past hour.

  Looking out on the dance floor, at all the kissing couples, made her heart sad. Liberty was right; this was the worst New Year’s Eve ever. Without Marc, her nights were long and lonely, and Maya would do anything to see him one more time.

  Her gaze dropped to her wrist, and she admired her sapphire bangle—her most treasured gift. In that moment, Maya realized what she’d done, recognized what was at stake. It was time to reunite with Marc. Once her friends were finished singing, she was going to take a cab to Titan Management. Maya didn’t know where his office was, but it didn’t matter—she was going to go get her man. She’d find him and apologize for walking out on him

  Standing in the shadows, Maya swayed to the beat of the music. “ ‘Christmas with you, is a dream come true,’” she sang, touched by the lyrics of the song. “ ‘The only place I want to be is nestled in your arms, holding you close. Christmas with you, is a dream come true . . . ’”

  In her peripheral vision, Maya caught sight of someone marching through the ballroom doors, and glanced at the dance floor to see who the new arrival was. The crowd parted, and Maya’s mouth fell open. Time stopped, and all she could do was stare.

  Her eyes weren’t deceiving her. It was Marc. Her Marc. Her soul mate, her one true love, the man she loved with every fiber of her being. He looked devilishly handsome in his all-black attire, and when their eyes met her body warmed. His hair was neatly trimmed, his tailored suit jacket hugged his shoulders, and he moved with a wealth of confidence, as if he could have anything in the world—including her.

  Hope surged in her heart. Eager to speak to him, Maya put her glass on the bar and shouldered her way through the well-dressed crowd. She hadn’t seen him in days, and although she acted tough in front of her friends, every minute without him was torture. Several times, she’d considered calling him, but she’d lost her nerve. Not tonight, Maya thought, weaving her way around a portly waiter holding a tray of desserts.

  His cologne wafted over her, and butterflies swarmed her stomach. Maya didn’t know what to say, or how to greet him, and wondered what Marc would do if she threw her arms around him. She yearned for him, and longed to touch him more than anything.

  As if reading her thoughts, Marc answered her unspoken request. He wrapped her up in his arms and held her tight. His hands stroked her hair, caressed her shoulders and hips. Maya didn’t know how long they stood there, holding each other, but it felt like hours passed. It didn’t matter. Marc was back, and everything was right in the world again. He released her, and they stared at each other for a long, quiet moment.

  “How was the anniversary bash?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  “Uneventful.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, and a boyish smile claimed his lips. Five minutes after I got to the party, I told Mr. Frederick I was leaving, and drove straight here.”

  “You did? Why?”

  “Because I had to see you. I was dying a slow death without you, and I wasn’t going to let another day go by without seeing your beautiful face.”

  The music stopped, the crowd erupted into applause, and Lyrical Soul took a bow. Proud of her friends, Maya whistled and cheered. A local rock band rushed the stage, strumming their electric guitars, and their fans shouted and screamed in wild excitement.

  “Let’s find somewhere quiet to talk.” Clasping her hand, Marc led Maya out of the ballroom, and through the corridor. Finding a padded leather chair at the end of the hallway, he sat down and pulled her onto his lap. “Congratulations on your fashion truck, Maya. I’m proud of you, and I’m confident Luxe De
sign is going to be a hit.”

  “Thank you. If not for you, I wouldn’t be fulfilling my dreams.”

  They intertwined fingers, and Marc kissed her palm.

  “I can handle losing Javonte as a client, and Mr. Frederick cursing me out about it, but I can’t lose you. I feel fortunate to have you in my life, and I don’t want anyone else.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you so much—”

  “Then why didn’t you call? You had to know that I was going crazy without you.”

  “I was scared,” she confessed, dropping her gaze to her lap. “I thought you were playing me, and I didn’t want to get burned by love again.”

  “I’m sorry for not telling you everything about my past, but I was ashamed about the mistakes I’d made in my marriage, and I was afraid if I told you the truth you’d leave me.”

  Maya felt a twinge of disappointment. “How could you think that? Don’t you know how I feel about you? Isn’t it obvious? You’re important to me, and I want to be with you.”

  “I know, but life hasn’t always been kind. Once women find out I cheated in the past, they usually run for the hills, and I didn’t want history to repeat itself.”

  “What happened? Why did you cheat on your ex?”

  “I’m not trying to make excuses for what I did, but I was upset with my ex for bailing on me when my dad got sick, so to get even I hooked up with one of her friends.” He spoke in a solemn tone. “We were legally separated at the time, but it was wrong, and I still feel a lot of guilt and shame about it.”

  “Everyone has a past, Marc, even me, but the mistakes I’ve made don’t define me. I learned from them, moved on, and became a better person, and I know you’ve done the same.”

  Wearing a pensive expression on his face, he slowly and tenderly caressed her hands.

  “How was Christmas Day at your mom’s house?” she asked with a heavy heart. “I hope your family isn’t mad at me for being a no-show, but I was a wreck after I left your house.”

  “They were surprisingly understanding until I told them what happened. Then my mom and sister went off on me!” Shivering, as if freezing cold, he expelled a deep breath. “Kingsley said it’ll be a miracle if you forgive me, because she wouldn’t, and my mom reamed me for being secretive and deceitful. She said I’m better than that, and I am.”

  Go, Mom! Maya thought, but when she saw sadness flicker in his eyes, she squeezed his hand and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Don’t sweat it, baby. It’s in the past.”

  “From now on, I’ll be honest about everything, and you’ll never have to worry about me hiding things from you. Maya, I want us to work, and we will . . .”

  Lowering his head, he brushed his nose against hers, and she giggled. Being with Marc would never grow old, and Maya was looking forward to spending the rest of her life with him. “I love you, Marc, and I always will, as long as we both shall live.”

  It was the first time she’d bared her soul to him, the only time she’d ever said those three magic words. Walking out on Marc on Christmas Day had been a mistake, but Maya knew what to do to make things right. “Tomorrow, I’m going to cook New Year’s Day dinner for all of our friends and family, so call everyone up and tell them to be at my house at six.”

  Marc raised an eyebrow. “What about Javonte? The last time I saw him he was pissed, and I don’t want to set him off again. I’m not his agent, but I still want the best for him.”

  “Leave my brother to me. He’ll be a gracious host tomorrow night, or he’ll have me to answer to, and trust me, Javonte doesn’t want to get on my bad side.”

  “Then count me in. I’ll be there.” Marc cupped her chin. “Baby, you’re my number one girl, and I love you with all my heart. You are, and always will be, the only woman for me.”

  Marc brushed his lips against her forehead, and Maya melted in his arms. He made her feel like the most beautiful woman alive, and she reveled in their newfound love. And, when he tightened his hold around her waist and kissed her passionately on the lips, Maya realized Marc was the best Christmas gift she’d ever been given, and she was going to cherish him forever.

  DON’T MISS

  The Betting Vow

  by K.M. Jackson

  Leila Darling is past done with the supermodel thing, especially the mega-parties and high-profile flings that have done nothing but leave her alone and jaded. She’s got the talent to be a serious actress, but the industry sees her as a high-maintenance, impulsive party girl with a reputation for leaving men in the dust—especially TV producer Carter Bain.

  Carter’s had his eye on Leila for years, so when a bet gives him a chance to get close to her, he accepts. With the goal of getting Leila the image makeover she needs and Carter the star he desires, the game is on. Get married and stay married for six months. If Leila lasts, she gets her pick of his A-list roles. If Carter wins, she’ll take the hot sidekick part he’s offered.

  But as their “I do” turns up all kinds of heat, Leila and Carter find they have more in common than they ever imagined. Are these two prepared to put business aside and surrender the ultimate prize, their hearts?

  Enjoy the following excerpt from

  The Betting Vow . . .

  Chapter 1

  Balancing on the hood of a sports car while slickly oiled up was a lot harder than most people imagined. Add to that doing it one-handed, because you’ve got your hands wrapped around a fully loaded burger. Plus, you are in a bikini and are wearing six-inch stilettos. Well, then, you’ve got yourself a straight-up high-wire act.

  Leila Darling tried her best to suck in her stomach, push out her behind, while simultaneously “making love” to the camera by puffing out her lips into a sultry, come-hither pout. She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, as if extending a welcome invitation to wanton sex, while still appearing approachable with her version of the ever popular smize. Why it took this much sex to sell a hamburger still baffled her, but hers was not to reason why, since she was getting paid a small ransom to sit on the shiny car, be extra shiny herself, and make the Barn Burger the most lusted-after burger in fast-food history.

  “Give me more. Give me more!” yelled Matteo, the famed photographer, fighting to be heard over the blaring bass of the heart-thumping rock music in the studio. If you could call the rented garage space in a rather sketchy part of East LA a studio. The tips of Matteo’s dark hair, what little he had left, were bleached and spiked so that they stood up at odd angles, and he wore an excessive amount of kohl around his eyes, making his deep under-eye bags all the more pronounced.

  “That’s right, Leila. Just like that. Oh, darling, you are selling it. Those eyes, those breasts . . . I’m getting hungry just watching you. You’re a sexual beast, darling!”

  Leila pushed back a sneer at the way the word darling rolled off his tongue. Though it was her last name, in her case the word could be used as a proper noun, an adjective, or sadly, as of late, a verb. “Pulling a darling” was, now thanks to social media, used for all sorts of things, and none of them good. Such as wild clubbing until the wee hours of the morning. Though, for the life of her, Leila didn’t understand what was wrong with blowing off a bit of steam. Or it was used when one threw a fit. Though in Leila’s eyes, demanding respect, even if it was in a forceful tone, was essential in her business.

  But worst, in her eyes, was that now—thanks to her ex, well, her third ex-fiancé, Miles G, and that crappy song of his, “Darling Leila”—“pulling a darling” was synonymous with being a man-eater who used men, made them fall in love, but never committed to them. Of course, it didn’t matter that in all her terminal relationships, it was the guys who’d failed her, making promises they ultimately had no intentions of keeping. Giving her perfectly valid reasons to bail on the so-called relationships.

  So today, with Leila’s nerves already frayed, Matteo’s use of the word darling slid over Leila in a way that was too slimy and too personal and had her questioning his usage altogether
. In the end, the sneer won out, and Leila went with it, her top lip curling as she looked at the photographer. Besides, the “sexual beast” comment had got to her, too. Especially now, when Leila considered herself in a career transition. She couldn’t just let a comment like that go unchecked.

  Sure she knew she should be happy and feel accomplished as one of the few African American top models in the business, though her current position of burger eating slash car hood bikini balancing would bring one to question that fact. Still, most would think Leila had it all and was living on top, but in reality, she felt something was sorely lacking. Respect. Leila wanted so very much to be seen as more than a sexy body that could sell anything, be it fast food or French couture.

  Leila inwardly sighed as she recalled, while balancing herself precariously, one leg cocked up, the other pushing hard into the hood of the sports car, that a little over a month ago she’d been in Cannes, being celebrated as a breakout star in a less than breakout movie. Sure, she might have had only a few actual lines in the movie, and yes, she’d been brought on for her looks. However, she’d taken that part and ran with it. Showing she had chops, and for that she’d been rewarded for something besides the way she filled out a bikini top. Leila wanted more of that.

  But here she was, back home in the States and back to the same grind. Stand. Sit. Turn this way. Tilt that way. Was it any wonder she was on edge? Add to it the fact that taking an early flight back from Cannes had resulted in the demise of yet another high-profile relationship when she caught Miles, in his words, “just doing what he do,” horizontally with the skank du jour. Well Leila was officially done with her life as usual.

  “Now take a bite. We want to see you eat it,” Matteo said, his voice piercing Leila’s musings and pinging her nerve endings with its raw excitement, so much so that Leila didn’t quite know if he was talking about the burger or something else that she didn’t want to touch.