Blindsided
Tammy Williams
Genesis Press, Inc.
INDIGO LOVE SPECTRUM
An imprint of Genesis Press, Inc.
Publishing Company
Genesis Press, Inc.
P.O. Box 101
Columbus, MS 39703
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, not known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission of the publisher, Genesis Press, Inc. For information write Genesis Press, Inc., P.O. Box 101, Columbus, MS 39703.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.
Copyright © 2009 Tammy Williams
ISBN-13: 978-1-58571-593-0
ISBN-10: 1-58571-593-X
Manufactured in the United States of America
Visit us at www.genesis-press.com
or call at 1-888-Indigo-1-4-0
DEDICATION
To my family, friends, and all you readers.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I thank God. I thank Him for making it possible for me to write a single word. I thank Him for giving me the gift of knowledge, and the desire to share with the world stories I hope offer entertainment and reflection. I thank all my family for supporting me and giving me the encouragement I need. Your unwavering love sustains me. I must take a moment to thank a dear cousin who helped me tremendously with the “One more question” I always had as I wrote this story. DCH, your help has been a tremendous asset. And last, but not least, I thank the readers. Readers who have supported me from my growth in fan fiction, to those who discovered me when they purchased Choices —you helped to make Blindsided a reality.
It is my wish you find Norris, Dahlia, and their story as compelling as I did.
Thank you one and all!
Chapter 1
“You don’t have to worry, Lara, I won’t take advantage of your friend.” Norris Converse smiled brightly at the friend in question. Had he not met the gorgeous Dahlia Sinclair on his own two months earlier, he’d be giving his best friend’s wife big thanks for sending Dahlia and her business his way. “I’ll see you and Ryan later. Bye.”
Norris hung up the phone and approached his lovely companion. “Lara’s afraid I’m going to disturb your fragile sensibilities.” He laughed. “Little does she know.”
“Thanks for not saying anything to her.” Dahlia smoothed out her skirt, which was slightly wrinkled from their torrid encounter on his desk. “I don’t think she’ll understand our arrangement,” she said, combing her fingers through her short, perfectly coiffed dark hair.
“Our arrangement?” He pulled her close to him. Her curvy body fit perfectly against his, and at a couple inches shy of his six feet of height, she was a woman he didn’t have to strain his neck to kiss. It was like she was made for him. “You mean hot, guilt-free, no strings sex? What’s not to understand? It’s my prescription for a full and happy life.”
A hint of rouge toasted Dahlia’s rich brown cheeks. Norris smiled. He enjoyed teasing her about their arrangement. He enjoyed everything about Dahlia the dazzling divorcée, a fact he found exciting and unsettling. He didn’t get this excited about women. They generally came and went. But not Dahlia. And as much as it scared him, he rather liked it.
Agnes, his trusted assistant and self-proclaimed mother in Denburg, South Carolina, had announced Dahlia and shown her in more than half an hour before. Less than two minutes later, Dahlia lay atop his desk with her glorious long legs wrapped about his waist, moaning her pleasure.
A very proud and notorious playboy, Norris had never allowed his extra-curricular activities to cross into his business life. To indulge a woman in his workplace was a staunch no-no. At least it used to be. Thinking of what he and Dahlia had just shared aroused him all over again. He pressed up against her. A deep groan rumbled in his throat.
“Uh, uh, uh.” Dahlia took a step back. “We need to move on to other things, Norris. This meeting is about my audit.”
“You saying we need to get down to business?” He grinned.
“Yes, real business.” She walked over to the leather couch and picked up the portfolio she had set down on her way in. “I think I have everything you need.”
Norris stared at her as she rifled through the papers. If only she knew. He remembered the night they met. Valentine’s evening, a holiday along with Thanksgiving and Christmas that comprised his no-women days. Those holidays gave women the wrong impressions, and he wasn’t trying to dole out false hope.
That night, he and Dahlia had both reached for the last copy of Shrek in the video rental store. After some silly bantering over who should get the rental, and realizing they knew some of the same people, they wound up watching together at her place. And before the movie ended they were in each other’s arms.
He hadn’t been with another woman since then, and had no desire to be. Dahlia’s beautiful heart-shaped face, brown eyes, and full lips kept him transfixed, and her impressive business mind was an aphrodisiac in itself. Thoughts of her filled his days and nights, drawing him dangerously close to a line he never wanted to cross.
Norris shook his head. The singing birds and blossoming flowers of springtime must have gone to his head. He didn’t do relationships and Dahlia didn’t do them anymore. That’s how they both wanted it, and that’s why they worked so well.
He buttoned his shirt and moved behind his desk. “I know audit is a scary word, but from what you told me, you kept pretty accurate records for the day spas you sold, and I’m sure the same is the case for the salon you still own, so this should be a breeze.”
“I hope so. The last couple of years have been a bit trying. Which might explain this audit.” She sighed, handing over the portfolio.
“Try not to worry. More often than not it’s minor calculation errors. And this is just an audit of the year before last. I’ll take a look at all this, see where we stand, and go from there.”
“Thanks for your help, Norris.” She flashed her beguiling smile. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call.”
Sensing a hidden meaning in her statement, Norris met her gaze and approached. “The same applies to you,” he said.
Dahlia trailed her finger down the buttons of his shirt. “I keep trying to tell myself if nobody knows about our arrangement, it doesn’t make me a skank.” Her head dropped. “I should know better. My grandma taught me better.” She looked deeply into his eyes. “Why don’t I feel ashamed?”
Norris’s heart pounded. Was Dahlia asking him or herself that question? Could she feel the change their relationship had taken? It wasn’t just feel-good sex. It was so much more. He saw something in her eyes. Something that made him want to open up about feelings he never wanted to feel. “Dahlia, . . . .”
A feathery soft finger touched his lips, silencing him. His breath lodged in his throat. Her touch was his undoing.
“I know what it is,” she said. “It’s the sexy waves in your jet-black hair, and the devilish twinkle in those sparkling gray eyes that render women helpless. Tall, dark . . . Well, at least as dark as your Greek-Anglo ancestry will allow.” She laughed. “And handsome.” Her fingers brushed his cheek. “You’re irresistible, Norris Converse.”
“You’re irresistible.” Norris softly kissed her lips, all too aware he was hea
ding down a slippery slope with no way of stopping himself. “I’ll call you.”
As Norris opened the door, he stepped into all-business mode for Agnes, who expertly pretended not to be paying attention. The full-figured older woman with flaming red hair and an accent that rivaled Scarlett O’Hara’s thought she’d mastered the technique, but Norris had known her too long to fall for it. He suspected she’d probably had her ear to the door a time or two, grinning like a nosy preteen.
“Thank you for coming in, Ms. Sinclair,” Norris said, escorting Dahlia to the elevator.
“Thanks for your time, Mr. Converse.”
He smiled. “My pleasure.”
“You have a good day, Ms. Sinclair,” Agnes called out to Dahlia as the elevator doors opened.
Dahlia smiled. “You, too. Good-bye.”
Norris approached the circular reception desk when the elevator doors closed. “Any calls for me, Agnes?”
The woman grinned at him. “That was a long meeting.”
“She’s a friend of Lara’s and being audited.”
“What’s that red stuff on your lips?”
Norris brushed his fingers against his mouth. “Gotcha!” said Agnes, her green eyes dancing with joy.
Norris grunted, annoyed at falling for her trick. Dahlia didn’t wear lipstick that smeared.
“Why do you have to be so secretive? That one’s really got your nose open.”
“She does not have my nose open,” he said a little too quickly. “Norris Converse’s nose is open to no one.”
Agnes laughed. “If you say so.” She handed him a pink message sheet. “You had a call from a Dr. Gail Elders.”
“Gail Elders?” He hadn’t heard that name in seventeen years, but it was one he’d never forget. She was the beautiful older woman who’d had a hand in creating his legendary persona. Norris smiled as he scanned the message. She wanted him to meet her at the hospital. He could do that. “My calendar is clear for the rest of the day, so I’m going to head out a little early.”
“I don’t think your Ms. Sinclair will like you meeting up with another woman.”
Norris considered those words. If only. A part of him wished she would care. He frowned at Agnes. “Don’t you have some papers to file or something?”
“In fact, I do.”
“Then you do that. I’ll see you on Monday.”
Norris spent the short drive back to his condo trying not to think about Dahlia and the way she made him feel. Ryan had given up preaching the merits of monogamy as a much-appreciated birthday present. Now, three months into his thirty-seventh year, monogamy had become a constant daydream he wouldn’t mind making a reality. Even the idea of a little Norris or two running around excited him. Norris grunted. Ryan’s domestic heaven was killing him.
Norris moved through his living room, shedding his clothes as he made his way to the shower. The steamy spray pelted his tense muscles. How could he feel so incredibly good physically after spending quality moments with Dahlia, yet feel like his life was the pits?
He shouldn’t be miserable. He had more money than he’d ever be able to spend, he was good looking, and women fell at his feet. For years, those things had been enough. Now he wanted more, and he wanted it with Dahlia.
Norris stuck his head under the forceful spray. C’mon, man. Get it together. He slapped his face. Great sex didn’t equal great relationship; it just meant great sex. And with Dahlia, he had someone who was willing and available whenever he was. It was a charmed life. Then, there was Gail Elders, beautiful Dr. Gail, asking to see him. He turned off the shower and wrapped a fluffy white towel around his waist. What the hell was he complaining about?
* * *
“I’m sorry I’m so late, Reese,” Dahlia said to her client when she finally made it to her salon. “Where’s Diana?” Reese and her best friend were never far apart.
“She’s babysitting for the Andrews tonight, and had to take care of a few things beforehand,” Reese said, sliding the book she’d been reading into the backpack settled between her ankles.
Dahlia smiled. Diana’s cousin Lara, and her husband, Ryan, had dinner plans with Norris. Norris. Dahlia willed her heart to stop pounding from memories of their salacious encounter. Five fast minutes in a hot shower had washed away his intoxicating masculine scent, but no amount of soap or water could wash away the indelible mark Norris had made on her.
She could still feel the warmth of his skin against hers, the feel of him as he moved inside her, and the tickle of his breath when he dusted her neck with kisses. Dahlia’s face grew warm. Her heart raced faster.
“Dahlia, are you sick?”
Dahlia blinked, shaken from her wanton thoughts. “What?”
“You’re flushed. If you’re under the weather, I can always re-reschedule,” Reese said in a strained voice.
Dahlia laughed at the well-meaning teen. “Fear not, Reese, you won’t have to reschedule. I’m not sick.” Lovesick maybe, but she didn’t want to think about that. “I’m a little preoccupied, but up to the challenge of making you more beautiful than you already are.”
Dahlia smiled at her young customer. A very sweet girl, though the slightest bit vain, Reese had flawless golden brown skin, light eyes, and flowing curls of coal black hair, which made her as striking as she was pleasant. Most of Dahlia’s clients would give their eyeteeth to have the ‘good hair’ Reese had, but Reese was chomping at the bit to get it cut.
The two had met a year earlier when Dahlia participated in Career Day at the high school. When Reese learned Dahlia had graduated from Columbia University, a school she had aspirations to attend, they developed a friendly mentor/mentee relationship. A friendship made stronger when Dahlia realized her former Sunday school teacher was Reese’s mother.
“C’mon, let’s go back to my chair.”
Dahlia ushered Reese to the first booth in a row of seven. She had loved styling hair from the time she was six, spending hours in the flowing manes of her baby dolls. Through the vocational program at her high school, she studied cosmetology and received her license, which she put to work when she started Columbia. A few hours after class and weekends at Sadie’s House of Beauty had generated a hefty savings toward the purchase of her first salon. Now she lived her dream, making women look and feel beautiful, while listening to them talk about everything or nothing. She loved it.
Her parents had had conniptions when she’d disclosed her plan to open a beauty salon. “Why waste a Columbia MBA in a beauty shop? Dahlia, this is madness!” her father shrieked. But he said scant little when DBS, Dahlia’s Beauty Salon, pulled in six figures after three years in operation. And at age thirty-two, with her original hair and nail salon in Denburg and four flourishing full-service day spas across South Carolina, Dahlia had made her first million. Her studies in entrepreneurship didn’t go to waste. Unlike her twelve years as a wife.
The devastating end of her marriage prompted the sale of her day spas and forced Dahlia to face single life at thirty-four. The abrupt change in her world led to a yearlong sabbatical in St. Thomas—her time in paradise a journey of self-rediscovery. She returned to Denburg a brand new Dahlia, and jumped back into the work she loved in the salon that had started it all. Fourteen months later, things were going well.
“Dahlia, I didn’t realize you were back.” Marci Jackson, the newest, youngest, and most religious of the shop ladies, exited the shampoo room with a client and directed her to the booth next to Dahlia’s. “You had a call earlier,” she said. “The message is on your desk.”
“Do you know who it was?” Dahlia asked.
“She said her name was Leslie.”
In what seemed to be a choreographed move, the necks of the five other stylists in the shop snapped to the right, fixing questioning eyes on Dahlia.
“You reckon that’s your sister, Dahlia?” asked Ms. Flo, the eldest of the group and the busiest busybody of the bunch. She was a direct contrast to Marci, who read her Bible and tried new coloring techn
iques on her mannequin in lieu of dishing the dirt on what got done to who and why. “You haven’t heard from her in what? Two years?”
“Yes, Ms. Flo, it’s been about that long.”
“She still in Atlanta?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Dahlia draped Reese and escorted her to the shampoo room, leaving Ms. Flo and the four remaining shop ladies, who fell comfortably between gossip hound and bible hugger, murmuring in her wake about the call and its ramifications.
“Are you okay?” asked Reese. “You seem a bit flustered.”
She had been flustered after being with Norris. Heck, just being around him made her feel flustered in a way she’d never thought she would again. A feeling she was in no rush to claim. Right now she wasn’t flustered.
Surprised and a bit steamed, but not flustered. “I’m good, Reese,” she said.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen you anything but together, but today you seem a bit distracted. Is it just this Leslie person or is it someone else? Someone with . . .hromosome?”
Dahlia’s cheeks grew warm. Was she that obvious? “Uh-huh. It is a man.” Reese giggled.
“All right, Miss Smarty Pants, enough of that,” Dahlia playfully chided. “Lie back.”
Reese settled her neck into the rest. “Is he nice?”
“I never said there was a he.” Dahlia wet Reese’s hair. “Too hot?”
“It’s perfect,” Reese answered. “You didn’t have to say it, your expression said it all. He must be nice. He couldn’t make you this giddy if he wasn’t.”
Dahlia blinked. Was she acting giddy? “Was that a romance novel you were reading when I came in?” she asked. “Your mind seems to be on one track right now.”
“The Great Gatsby. Required reading.”
“A classic.” Dahlia squeezed some shampoo into her palm. “You enjoying it?”
“Eh.” Reese’s hand motioned so-so. “Is Leslie your sister?”
Dahlia laughed as she scrubbed Reese’s scalp. “I thought business was your thing. You suddenly want to be a reporter?”
Blindsided (Indigo Love Spectrum) Page 1