“You’re going to do it, right?” Tim asked when Kareem finished.
“I don’t really know. I doubt her family will be thrilled she’s back to support the dream of her bad boy fiancé.”
Tim cackled on the other end. “That’s probably what she wants. Think about it. Pampered daughter of a judge runs away for five years. Bringing home a guy like you is bound to drive her folks crazy.”
Kareem scowled. “I don’t want to be her ticket to revenge or something.”
“So what, as long as you get the contacts you need. Besides, it sounds like fate to me. You said yourself opening the business in Charlotte made the most sense. She’s giving you a way.”
“I get that, but still. I can barely handle my own family’s demands, much less one like hers.”
“Means to an end, K-rock. Besides, hobnobbing with these folks will make it easier to draw them in as clients. You know this, so why are you really hesitating?”
That was easy to answer. It would take longer than a weekend to make any real connections that would help his plan. Weeks pretending to be Neecie’s fiancé meant he would eventually do everything in his power to thoroughly seduce her. Sleep with her every damn way he could imagine. No need pretending enough decency resided in him not to try.
“I don’t want to take advantage of her. She’s a good woman. Romantic and sweet.”
“If she’s grown enough to run away and lie to her brother, she’s big enough to handle whatever happens. This is about your business, not her sentimental nature.”
The same thought that kept creeping into Kareem’s mind. “I’ve got to let her know soon. I’ll fill you in after I do.”
“Yeah, do that.” Tim took a heavy breath. “Look, you’re not a criminal. I am. You were a young man that made a bad choice and later was put in an impossible situation. You’re out; don’t waste your freedom.”
Kareem’s neck and shoulders tightened. Guilt shrouded him like the darkening sky. “That’s the thing; I shouldn’t be out. I shouldn’t have let you kill Cide.”
“You didn’t let me kill anyone,” Tim said in a scornful voice. “I did what needed to be done. That crazy would have eventually offed you. I’m already in here for life. No need for you to have that same sentence. What’s done is done, K-rock. Live, you deserve to be happy.”
Kareem’s guilt didn’t lift. He stood, grabbed his notebook and cigar, and went through the sliding glass door back into his apartment. “I hear you,” Kareem said, more to brush Tim off than to agree. “I need to get out of here. You need me to send you anything?”
“Not now. But I’ll let you know after the next shipment the guard sneaks in.”
“Fine. Watch your back in there.”
“Always. You watch your back out there.”
Kareem ended the call and slid the phone in the back pocket of his jeans. His hands shook. Instead of the smell of the grilled cheese sandwich he’d made before going on the balcony his brain recalled the rank scent of the jail cell.
Crack! He slapped the side of his face, unwilling to succumb to the memories, the regrets that came whenever he spoke with Tim. He grabbed the keys to his bike off the bar overlooking the kitchen and marched out of his apartment and away from unpleasant memories.
CHAPTER 5
The soulful sounds of Kem played through the speakers in Patrice’s rented bungalow. She bit her lower lip and stared at the tower of wooden Jenga blocks on the coffee table in front of her. Playing Jenga calmed her nerves and gave her something to focus on other than going home and facing her family again. Holding her breath, she slowly pulled a rectangular wooden block from the middle of the tower. The blocks shook but remained upright. She exhaled and smiled.
The doorbell chimed. She glanced at the clock in the shape of the sun above her television. Not quite nine, but too late for anyone to come visiting. In the year she’d lived in Columbia she made few friends outside of the shop, and the guys didn’t visit.
Letting out a frustrated breath, she placed the Jenga piece on the coffee table then used the table to push up from her sitting position on the floor. She ran a hand over the multitude of two-strand twists on her head and considered not answering the door.
Screw that. Whoever decided to pop in can see my twisted hair. Maybe her hair would remind the person how impolite showing up unannounced was.
One glance through the peephole and buzzing started in her midsection. Kareem stood on the other side, encased in shadows and resembling a dangerous temptation the throbbing sensation between her legs didn’t want to resist.
“Um … just a second, okay?”
She couldn’t make out his muffled response before she hurried down the hall to the bedroom. Flinging open the drawer that contained her scarves she found nothing but a few socks and empty space.
“Damn!” They were all in the wash. Her heart tripled the crazy dance in her chest. She lifted a hand to one of the rollers at the end of her twists. Of course he would come when she looked like her Grandmother Mabel.
She took a deep breath and trudged back to the front door. Her sweaty palm slipped on the doorknob. It’s not like he’s interested, and you do need to talk to him. Her heart still hammered.
Patrice swung open the door before she could freak herself out more. “Hey, what’s up?” She aimed for nonchalant, but didn’t quite stick the landing.
Kareem’s flat black eyes roamed over her, pausing for a second on her hips in the red pajama bottoms. Shit, the hole at the hip.
“Umm … hey?” Kareem crossed the threshold, completely filling the door with wide black leather encased shoulders.
Patrice sucked in a breath, but her lungs refused to accept the oxygen. The enticing mixture of cold air, leather, and Kareem made her body hum.
She met his direct gaze. The scar above his lip danced, and the corners of his mouth twitched. Dark, thick brows drew in then out.
Patrice narrowed her eyes and placed a hand on her hip. “Don’t you dare laugh.”
“I’m not,” he said, his mouth trembling. “I swear. I just … I mean … interesting hair.”
“I swear I’ll kick you out if you laugh.”
“Nah, you look very cute. Kind of like my grandmother.” Then he grinned—full-fledged, teeth showing grin—something Patrice had never seen and hadn’t been sure he could actually do. Her heart constricted then vibrated. His hard features were transformed, taking ten years off and giving a glimpse of the carefree young man he might have been, before mistakes sandpapered his smooth edges.
“What every girl wants to hear.” She shook her head and chuckled. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”
“I don’t know. I think I’d rather figure out what’s going on with these orange rollers.” He took one of her rolled twists between his fingers. The movement brought him closer, and the inviting scent of his soap turned her insides into putty.
She playfully slapped his hand away. “One more word and you’re out.”
His grin turned into a half smile, which made her want to find her way around his body. “You’re the one who answered like that.”
“And you’re the one who popped up unannounced. What you see is what you get.” Though to see the smile in his face again, Patrice would gladly always answer the door in rollers.
She turned and made her way to the living area. “Come on in.”
Kareem’s heavy footsteps pounded on her hardwood floors. “What’s up with the music?”
Patrice waved a hand over her shoulder. “No, sir, my place, my music. Again, if you don’t want to hear love songs you shouldn’t have popped up.”
“Believe me, I’ll call first next time. Give you a chance to put on some real music.”
In her living room, she spun to face him. Kareem stood only a few steps behind her. His dark eyes seemed to pierce through her defenses and see everything going on in her head. Heat crept up her face. She cleared her throat and looked away.
“Will you be popping in more?”
“For the entire time we’re doing this.”
Patrice twisted her foot on the floor. “Soooo … you’re coming with me.”
“Still considering the offer.” He took another step closer. Not in her personal space, but that didn’t matter. Kareem’s presence filled the entire room. “Why did you ask me to do this for you? You could have gotten any of the other guys in the shop to help.”
Patrice sighed and sat back on the floor next to the cheap oak coffee table that came with the furnished house. “Because you helped me when you didn’t have to.” She pulled another Jenga piece.
“How?” Kareem stood on the other side of the table and stared down at her.
“You gave me the job when I had no references or proof I even knew how to cut hair.” She shrugged and studied the Jenga tower. “I appreciate that.”
After a few seconds Kareem sat on the floor on the opposite of the coffee table. The scar on his face crinkled as he frowned. Then he took another piece out of the side of Jenga tower. “It was your look. I could tell you needed a place to land.”
“That’s what you do. You’re a keeper of misfits. You give us a place to land. That’s how I know you’re a decent guy.”
Using her pointer finger, Patrice pushed a middle piece out of the tower then pulled it away. She grinned when it remained standing.
“I’m not a decent guy.” Regret filled his voice.
Patrice glanced up from the game. He scowled at the pieces, then chose a block too close to the one she’d previously removed. The wooden tower crashed into a pile on the coffee table.
“Guess I lose,” he said.
Patrice pulled the pile together then began to rebuild the tower. “We can play again.” She raised a brow, and he gave a why not shrug.
They didn’t talk while she set up the game. Then she removed the first piece. “Is your past the reason you say you’re not decent?” Kareem’s hand paused halfway to the tower, and she rushed on. “I disagree. You made a mistake that nearly screwed up your life. But you didn’t let it. You started a business. You give people a second chance. Then even though you pretend like you’re not, you’re always looking out for me and everyone else. Despite what you say, I see the good in you.”
A line came between his brows—almost a frown, but more a look of disbelief. The idea struck that he didn’t see what she saw. Didn’t realize that he was a decent guy. She wanted to know why. Not surprising; she’d been fascinated by Kareem from the second she’d met him.
As if sensing her examination of him, he leaned forward. “Why do you need me there with you?”
She focused back on the game. “Your turn.” His attention went back to the blocks and she relaxed.
“I do miss my family,” she said after they both removed pieces. “Seeing Chad made me realize I miss them a lot. I’m afraid that if I go … I’ll forget the person I tried too hard to find.”
“Who?”
“Myself.”
She didn’t meet his stare but felt his gaze boring into her, speculating on the reasons why she was afraid to return. She didn’t dare tell him why she left in the first place. Kareem didn’t tolerate weakness, and throwing up because she thought she wasn’t thin enough was a weakness.
“There’s something else.” He narrowed his eyes. “What else is there, Neecie?”
She bit her lower lip. “I was engaged and broke it off before leaving,” she said in a rush. “Chad has . . . implied that my ex is still around.”
Kareem leaned back onto the couch. He bent one leg and rested a sinewy arm on the knee. “You want me to keep him off.”
“Kind of. It would be easier to convince him there’s no chance of a reconnection if I’m with another guy.”
Kareem’s dark, unreadable gaze focused on her. “That I believe. You’re too damn stubborn to let your family change you.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.” She tried to run a hand through her hair but instead got a fistful of twists and rollers.
Kareem’s rare but heart-stopping smile popped up. “Do you realize that if I agree, we’ll have to pretend to be together for longer than a weekend?”
Patrice swallowed hard. “Why is that?”
“To make this work. For you to really help your fiancé get the connections needed, we’ll have to be seen together. Attend events and network together. I can’t do this in a weekend. We’ll have to pretend for several weeks.”
An enticing situation she’d also realized earlier in the day. “Oh, really?” The idea of pretending to be Kareem’s fiancée for several weeks sent anticipation across her body. “How long were you thinking?”
“However long it takes.” His voice became a decadent invitation.
Patrice’s eyes shot to his. She couldn’t read a thing from his facial expression, but the heat in his eyes made her lightheaded.
“Plus, I believe you miss your family.” He broke the moment. “Staying longer will give you more time to be around them.”
“Is there anyone else who’ll be upset if we pretend to be together for a while?”
“No,” he said, sounding as if her question was ridiculous.
She raised a brow. “Are you sure? A few months ago you told the guys you were done with Misty and then I …” The vision of Kareem and his ex-played in her mind. She averted her gaze and hastily removed a piece. The blocks leaned; she sucked in a breath. Thankfully, they didn’t fall.
He gave a sound that was sort of like a chuckle. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
She held up her hands and leaned back. “No need.”
He rested a hand, palm up, on the table. “I didn’t mean for you to catch us.”
She scoffed, tried to sound as if the entire episode was no big deal. “Well I didn’t want to catch you. I didn’t want to see that.”
“But you did,” he said in a low voice.
And now, like a fool yearning for a walk on the wild side, she wanted to experience what she saw. Her breasts became heavy, and heat spread between her thighs. Patrice cleared her throat and scratched the back of her neck. “You know, I really don’t understand men. One day you’re through with a woman, but the next day you’re sleeping with her.”
“I promise I’m not sleeping with Misty.”
That sent satisfaction through her. “Well you can’t be sleeping with other women if we pretend to be together. It makes everything look bad.”
Kareem’s hand jerked while removing a block, sending the tower crashing again. Wide dark eyes met hers across the table.
She swallowed hard. “You know I’m right. How can we be engaged if you’re bending someone over a desk?”
The surprise left his features, and a tempting smirk came across his face. He leaned forward. “Then who am I supposed to bend over a desk? Or a table. Or a chair.”
The room became ten times hotter and her blood burned like lava in her veins. “I … I’m not offering myself.” Her voice was tight and breathless.
“Are you sure?”
Hell no she wasn’t sure. She wanted him. Even after leaving her family she’d only dated nice guys. Kareem tempted her to do something wild, raw, and just for pleasure. But a guy like Kareem would leave skid marks over her heart when he moved on without a second glance.
Patrice nodded. “For now.”
Raw hunger made his flat eyes come alive—alive with hunger, but no tenderness. She’d never believed Kareem capable of tenderness until she witnessed the way he looked at his brother’s fiancée.
“Are you in love with Sandra?”
A shadow came across his face, and his eyes went flat. “What?”
“You didn’t want to dance with me, but were going to dance with her. When you looked at her, it was different. Do you love her?”
He abruptly stood. “No.”
Tension pulsed through his body. She should drop the subject. She got off the floor.
“Do you want her?”
“What would that make me to wan
t my brother’s woman?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
Kareem’s nostrils flared, and he sucked in a deep breath. He stared at the floor then back at her. “I don’t. I care about Sandra because she helped me with my business plan. But that’s all.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “I believe you.”
Kareem’s shoulder’s relaxed. He glanced at the sun clock. The corners of his mouth softened. “That’s so you.”
She glanced at the clock and shrugged. “It came with the house.”
“Still, it’s you.” He glanced back at her. “I’ll give you my answer by the end of the week.”
Kareem walked over, this time invading her personal space. “Keeper of misfits, huh?”
She shrugged. “What would you call it?”
He lifted a hand to her cheek but didn’t touch. Still, her body hummed as if he did. Something flickered in his eyes, and his brows drew together. He dropped his hand. “I’m just a business owner. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” He checked out her hair, and the corner of his lip lifted. “Wear the rollers. They’re cute.”
Patrice rolled her eyes and swatted at him, but he swiftly avoided the hit. “Get out.”
His chuckle warmed her long after he left.
CHAPTER 6
Patrice didn’t know how she managed to cut hair the rest of the week without leaving patches of bald spots. Every day Kareem watched her with flat, unreadable eyes, like he did now from where he sat at his barber station next to hers, peeling an orange and studying her harder than a pre-med student during finals.
“All done,” she said to the guy in her chair. He was one of her regulars, a good tipper, and used to accidentally brush into her booty every time she swung his chair around until Kareem called him on it.
Her client sat forward and checked out his crisp fade in the mirror, then gave her a smile. “Looks good, Neecie. Thanks, girl.”
He pulled out a wad of cash and slapped it in her hand like a street dealer. When she tried to pull back, he held on. “When you gonna let me take you out?”
She smiled and pulled her hand until it slid out of his. “Have a good afternoon, all right?”
Romance in Color Page 5