by Lee, Marilyn
Narena
Still annoyed that I’d allowed that chance encounter at the ballpark to upset me so deeply, I picked up my shoulder bag and slipped out of my SUV. Taking a deep breath, I went inside the building and up to my apartment. Some days it just didn’t pay to get out of bed, I thought as I kicked off my two-inch heels and sank down onto the chair by my bedroom window.
I sat with my head back and my eyes closed, trying to give myself time to relax. It didn’t work. Fifteen minutes later, I slipped my tense body into a tub of very warm water filled with my favorite bath oil.
As I laid waiting for the water and oil to soothe me I tried not to think about that afternoon. But with my eyes closed, I kept seeing those perfectly formed male lips mocking me and feeling those big hands cupping my rear.
Unequal to the task of vanquishing him from my thoughts, I gave up and allowed my fantasies free range. I hadn’t had sex in over two months so I was feeling more than a little horny, which probably accounted for my inability to stop thinking about the sexy hunk from the ballpark.
I ran the tip of my tongue along my lips and wished I’d had the opportunity to grind my hips down against his until he was fully aroused. When he was, it would have been nice to roll to the side enough to slip a hand between our bodies to cup his cock. It felt like forever since I’d had the pleasure of touching an erect shaft.
I sighed, thinking how unwelcome that would have been—for him.
Although the tall, big men in my family were all either married to or dating thick or plus size women, I knew many men preferred slender, petite trophy women. Mr. Tall, handsome, and easily aroused from the ballpark probably had a bevy of such small women to warm his bed. His state of arousal had probably been purely automatic and not indicative of any attraction for me on his part.
But that’s enough fantasizing about him, girl. You’re going to take off some weight for your own reasons—not in the hopes of attracting a man like him. He’s not worth any more of your time. So get over it and call Rick or Jim to see which one of them can spend the night and take the edge off your sexual tension.
Taking a deep breath, I got out of the cooling water. After I dried off, I walked into the bedroom and stood naked in front of my bedroom mirror. I was 5’9” and what Dad lovingly called “charmingly plump.” While I wasn’t exactly fat, I was much thicker than my friends.
I’d always been on the thick side but comfortable in my skin with no desire to be pole-thin, but taking off some of the weight wouldn’t hurt and might actually hasten my meeting and landing Mr. Right. I dismissed the part of my mind that rebelled and insisted I wanted the man I married to accept me just as I was.
Finally, I pulled my hair back from my face into a ponytail and put on a pair of loose cotton pants and one of the oversized sports jersey I loved to lounge around in when home alone. Slipping on a pair of open toed sandals, I turned my attention to dinner.
I decided on a large, tossed salad with broiled veggies and a piece of Alaskan Cod cooked in a little water, butter substitute and garlic. Then I’d think about actually getting my ass in gear and riding the exercise bike that been gathering dust in the corner of my bedroom for several months.
I was halfway to the kitchen when my apartment buzzer sounded. I continued into the kitchen and picked up the cordless phone from the base mounted on the wall by the door. “Yes?”
“Ms. Devon?”
I didn’t recognize the male voice. “Yes.”
“This is Anderson Prescott.”
I felt a smile tug at my lips because he said his name as if I should have known who he was. “Yes?” I said again. “What can I do for you, Mr. Prescott?”
“I have the bag you left at the ballpark today.”
Thank God! “I’m in 2C. Please come up,” I said, as I pressed the buzzer to release the lobby door lock. I left the kitchen and walked into the tiny foyer of my apartment. When the bell outside my door rang and I opened the door, I found myself staring at the handsome man I’d fallen on earlier at the ballpark.
We stared at each other without speaking for what seemed an eternity. I couldn’t decide what expression I saw in his gaze but I was as physically aware of him and attracted to him as I’d been earlier.
Realizing I was staring, maybe even gawking at him, I held my hand out for the tote he held in his right hand. “Thanks.”
He made no effort to hand over my tote. “I’d like to apologize for this afternoon, though I think you misunderstood something I said or did.”
Recalling his cock hardening between our bodies, it took all my willpower to continue to meet his gaze. I hadn’t misunderstood a single damned thing. “May I have my tote?”
“Of course.” He handed me the tote, his dark gaze locked on my face.
I inhaled slowly, painfully aware that he wasn’t seeing me at my best without makeup and my hair in a careless ponytail. “Thank you for returning this,” I said in a cool voice. “But your remark was very clear.” I would have shut the door in his handsome face, but he put out a hand to stop me.
“And that’s it? Snatch your bag and slam the door in my face?”
“What more do you want? I said thank you.”
“I went out of my way to bring your bag. I think that entitles me to a little consideration and a few damned moments of your time.”
I hated how rude and ill mannered he made me feel. “I’m listening.”
“Our encounter this afternoon was very brief. I hardly said more than a few words to you. Which one of them offended you?”
“Does the term freight train refresh your memory?”
He frowned. “Freight…” he shook his head. “Can we discuss this inside?”
I arched a brow. He insulted me and then expected to be entertained? “I’m grateful to you for returning my tote but there’s really nothing to discuss.”
“I disagree.”
I bit back the urge to tell him I didn’t care if he disagreed or not. Why? I told myself it was because he had saved me a trip to the ballpark and he was sexy as hell. “Fine, come in for a moment—if you insist.”
“I’d rather you made it unnecessary for me to insist.”
I gave him a cool look and didn’t budge.
“Fine, I insist,” he said.
I stepped back from the door.
He followed me into the foyer, looked around, and arched a brow. “This is a charming foyer but don’t you find it a little on the small side for entertaining guests?”
Guests? Clearly delusion had set in big time but his point was well taken. I turned and walked in the living room.
And still the damned man wasn’t satisfied. He looked pointedly first at the sofa and then the small drinks cabinet against the far wall before meeting my gaze.
I felt my cheeks burn and then I laughed nervously. “I guess you want to sit down.”
“I’ve had a long day and I did drive forty minutes out of my way.”
He sure knew how to make a woman feel ungracious. I nodded towards the sofa and walked over to the cabinet. “Would you like a drink?” I asked, my hand hovering over the glasses on the cabinet top.
“I would but I never drink when I’m driving.”
Cute. I turned to face him. He sat on the sofa with his long legs stretched out in front of him, looking very comfortable while he stared at me. “Then what can I do for you, Mr. Prescott?”
“You can listen to and accept my apology. Once you have, perhaps you can enlighten me as to why I apologized.”
I leaned back against the cabinet. “You likened me to a freight train. I don’t know where you’re from but women in Philly don’t generally consider that a compliment.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “I did no such thing.”
“Excuse me?”
“You clearly mistook my remark about a freight train as a derogatory reference to your weight.”
“How else would you expect a full-sized woman to take such a remark?”
“Not th
e way you did.” He rose and walked across the room to look down into my eyes. “I only meant that you came out so quickly and so unexpectedly…and knocked me on my ass with all the power of a freight train.”
I shook my head. “Surely you don’t expect me to buy that? I know you meant that I was as large as a freight train,” I countered.
He inhaled slowly and walked back to the sofa where he’d left his briefcase.
I watched through narrowed gaze as he opened it.
On top of a manila folder lay a single red rose and what looked like a box of chocolates. Removing the rose and the box, he walked back across the carpet and offered them to me.
I’d had flowers from several male friends, but that beautiful, single red rose touched me far more than it should have. Meeting his dark gaze, I felt my emotional defenses crumbling. I accepted the rose, but not the box of chocolates. “The rose is beautiful.”
“So are you.”
I knew most men found me attractive but none had ever called me beautiful. Standing there without makeup, I believed him. I smiled. “Apology accepted. Thanks.”
“You don’t like chocolates?” he asked.
“Of course I do, but clearly I don’t need those. They’re decadent and probably have about a thousand calories in each piece.”
“A beautiful, confident woman of substance has no need to worry about a few calories.”
In the act of turning away, I paused and met his gaze.
He sighed. “Damn, please don’t tell me I’ve said something wrong again.”
“No.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
I shook my head. “My father calls my mom and me women of substance. He uses the term as a compliment.”
“That’s how I’m using it as well,” he said, pushing the expensive box of chocolates at me.
Meeting his gaze, I was lost and the rest of my emotional defenses crumbled. I accepted the chocolates and walked over to the sofa where I sat, trying not to stare at him.
He made that harder when he crossed the room to sit next to me on the sofa.
I stared straight ahead, surprised at how tongue tied and unsure of myself I felt with him.
“Are you shy?” he asked.
I didn’t go around having one-night stands but I was no shrinking violet either. Still, there was something about him that attracted me so strongly all I could think about was sex. “Not particularly.”
He slid his arm along the backseat of the sofa so his fingertips brushed against the back of my neck.
I sat forward and turned to look at him. “Thanks for bringing my tote. I won’t keep you any longer.”
The corners of his mouth turned up. “Is that your charming way of telling me it’s time to take my ass elsewhere?”
“In a word? Yes.” Before I did something crazy—like straddle him and kiss the taste out of his mouth.
He laughed and remained seated. “What do your close friends call you?”
“Rena.”
“Mine call me Andy.”
“That’s not nearly as impressive as Anderson,” I said.
“Then by all means call me Anderson.”
“I don’t think there’s going to be any point.”
“I disagree. Tell me Rena, are you in an exclusive relationship?”
The question thrilled me because I knew he shared my interest. “Why do you ask?”
“Why do you think I’m asking?”
I’d never dated a white man before but the thought of going out with him excited me. “No. I’m not in an exclusive relationship,” I finally admitted.
“Good. Now wouldn’t you like to ask me to stay for dinner?”
Seated next to him food was the last thing on my mind. “No. I wouldn’t.”
“Ok. Would you like to come out to dinner with me?”
I parted my lips.
He pressed a finger against my mouth. “Let me guess. No. You wouldn’t? Right?”
I leaned away from his finger without kissing it. “Right.”
He laughed and stood up. “Point taken. I’ll see myself out.” He smiled and walked towards the door.
Are you insane? Why are you letting him walk away? “Wait a minute.”
He turned to smile at me. “Changed your mind already?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“Are you married?”
He shook his head and held up his bare left hand.
But he surely had a woman or women in his life.
“Anything else?” he asked, his gaze lingering on my breasts.
Yes. Would you like to fuck me? With my cheeks burning at my thoughts, I shook my head.
After a last glance at my breasts, he walked out of the living room.
My breasts are large and natural and I’ve always been a push over for a man who enjoyed looking at them. I got up and followed him into the foyer. “Is there a special woman in your life?”
There was a noticeable pause before he leaned against the door, staring at me. “I’m not married or engaged.”
“But there is someone special?”
He sighed. “Depends what you mean by special.”
“Do you two live together?”
“No.”
“But you have an exclusive relationship?”
“I don’t think she’s seeing anyone else but that’s her choice. She’s as free to date anyone she wants to without any explanation to me as I am to see you. I don’t owe her any particular exclusivity and she doesn’t owe me any.”
I shook my head. Men.
“She knows I reserve the right to date anyone I want.”
Charming. “And you do—knowing how she feels about you?”
“I’m not now nor have I ever pretended to be in love with her and—”
“Does she love you?”
“I doubt it. Look, I’m single and free to see who I like. And I’d like to see you.”
And I sure as well wanted to see him. There was no reason why I shouldn’t as long as I didn’t lose sight of the fact that I wouldn’t be the only woman he was seeing. The thought didn’t sit well with me until I decided to look on a possible relationship with him as a meaningless fling.
He pushed himself away from the door to come stand in front of me. He brushed a hand against the back of my cheek.
I clenched my teeth in an effort to conceal the jolt I felt at his light touch.
“This is much ado about nothing. My relationship with her has always been causal.”
“So you’re in the market for another meaningless relationship with me?”
He allowed his hand to drop to his side. “What I’m not in the market for is having my ass dragged over the fire for something that’s none of your concern. I don’t have any emotional or moral obligations that make my seeing you an issue. I’ve made it clear I’d like to see you. If you’re not interested, that’s your privilege. Good night.” He opened the door and left.
I sighed. You handled that well–not! A man like him doesn’t have to beg for dates. He won’t ask you out again. I hope you’re happy.
Chapter Two
Anderson
I left Narena Devon’s apartment feeling as if she’d put a noticeable dent in my pride. I was not used to a woman expecting me to jump through hoops for the privilege of taking her out. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time a woman had refused to go out with me.
As I sat in my car in her complex parking lot trying to decide if I were more annoyed than intrigued, my cell phone rang. I recognized Caren’s ring. She was the reason I’d struck out so spectacularly with Narena Devon.
After a moment of indecision, I decided to answer it. “Hello?”
“Hi Andy. I’m feeling in need of some…benefits. I hope you were able to take care of your errands and we’re still on for tonight.”
I could spend the night brooding because a woman I hadn’t even known existed that morning had kicked my ass to the curb or I could get
laid after a night out. “Pick you up in an hour?”
“Great. I’ll be waiting,” she said.
I ended the call and started the engine. To hell with Narena Devon. It would be a cold day in hell before I allowed her or any other woman to make me jump through hoops. There were too many willing women for me to waste time trying to cajole her into going out with me.
Caren was waiting when I arrived at her apartment. She looked stunning in a sleeveless black dress with her long blond hair framing her pretty face. As I bent to brush my mouth against hers, I dismissed a sudden and annoying thought of Narena Devon’s full-lipped mouth.
After dinner and dancing, I drove Caren home. We had a drink before we went into her bedroom. I was annoyed that the sex wasn’t as satisfying as it usually was. And when I woke in the early morning hours, it was Narena I thought of—even with Caren lying naked beside me.
Fuck! I slipped out of bed, picked up my cell phone and pants from the floor and walked into the living room. I made a call and then took a quick shower and dressed.
Caren yawned and sat up in bed as I slipped on my shoes. “Come back to bed, sweetie.”
I hated being called sweetie. Why? I wasn’t sure. I leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I need to get home for work tomorrow.”
“Call me?”
Even though I doubted I’d want to spend too many more nights in her bed, I nodded.
“I’m already missing you, sweetie.” She turned her head and kissed me on my mouth before curling on her side under the covers.
I drove home, kicked off my shoes, set my alarm clock, and drifted to sleep thinking about Narena Devon.
Narena
After a sleepless night, filled with regrets that I hadn’t gone out with Anderson Prescott, I was struggling to write my article when a dozen red roses and an elaborate fruit basket arrived.
I immediately suspected they were from Anderson since neither Jim nor Rick had ever sent me flowers. Delighted that Anderson was still interested, I reached for the accompanying card.
I’m looking forward to seeing you again very soon. Anderson.
Yes! Most of my tension dissolved. Smiling, I finished my coffee and settled down to write the article with more focus.