by Naomi Chase
It would be Cynthia’s duty, as his wife, to purge temptation from his system.
And she intended to do just that.
Joseph and Coretta Yarbrough were seated across the small table from Cynthia. Their wedding guests—which included some close relatives, friends, and members of Brandon’s family—awaited them inside the room where marriage ceremonies were officiated. Afterward, more guests would join them for an elegant reception at an upscale waterfront restaurant.
Coretta sighed, breaking the heavy silence that had permeated the room. “I’m looking forward to doing this the right way at our church in a few months. You know the sanctuary will be packed, and the banquet hall will be decorated to perfection.”
Her husband grunted. “I still don’t understand why we couldn’t just wait to have a proper wedding ceremony. No daughter of mine should be getting married at no damn justice of the peace.” His eyes narrowed on Cynthia’s face. “What’s the rush if you’re not pregnant?”
Cynthia and her mother shared a glance.
They’d both agreed not to tell Joseph or his four sons about Cynthia’s pregnancy. Although the Yarbrough men already considered Brandon part of the family, they’d always been overprotective of Cynthia. So there was no telling how they’d react to the news that Brandon had gotten her knocked up ... especially if he jilted her at the altar today.
Cynthia forced a smile for her father. “If you think about it, Daddy, Brandon and I spend so much time in court, it seems only fitting that we’d get married inside a courthouse.”
Her father wasn’t amused. “You shouldn’t have to settle for a shotgun wedding, formality or not. If this was Brandon’s idea—”
“It wasn’t, Daddy. It was mine.”
“That’s even worse.” Joseph checked his watch and scowled. “Where is Brandon anyway?”
Good question, Cynthia thought darkly. “I’m sure he’s on his way.”
Joseph and Coretta exchanged wary glances.
“Please stop doing that,” Cynthia snapped. “He’ll be here. He’s just running late.”
Her parents didn’t look convinced.
And with good reason.
Brandon was twenty minutes late. If he didn’t show up soon, they’d have to reschedule the ceremony.
Assuming he hadn’t gotten cold feet.
Cynthia eyed her silk clutch purse on the table. She wanted nothing more than to grab her cell phone, call Brandon, and ask him where the hell he was. But she couldn’t let her parents see that she was just as worried as they were.
She sent another discreet glance at her diamond-encrusted wristwatch—an engagement present from Brandon’s mother. You patiently waited on my son for over two years, Gwen had told her, explaining the symbolism of the gift. You proved that timing is everything, darling.
And speaking of timing ...
Cynthia glanced toward the closed door, silently willing Brandon to walk through it, flashing those sexy dimples as he smiled at her.
Any moment now.
But he didn’t.
Fighting to stave off hysteria, Cynthia smiled brightly at her parents. “Thank God this is just a dress rehearsal. I promise you he won’t be late to our real wedding ceremony.”
Her parents shared another dubious glance but remained silent.
Cynthia kept her eye on the door, hoping and waiting ...
Chapter 44
Tamia
Tamia sat alone at a cozy table tucked into a corner of Da Marco, the Italian restaurant Brandon had taken her to on their first date. She sat with her back facing the entrance because she didn’t want to appear too anxious, checking the door every two minutes, looking hopeful every time someone new arrived. And if four o’clock came and went without Brandon showing up, she didn’t want the other diners to witness her devastation.
Which she would be if Brandon went through with marrying Cynthia.
She’d spent the past week struggling to accept his decision to be with the mother of his unborn child. But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself that Brandon was doing the right thing, the honorable thing, she just couldn’t bring herself to let him go.
Not without a fight.
So she’d picked up the phone yesterday and called him.
When he answered, she’d laid her heart on the line. “I love you, Brandon Chambers. I love you so damn much. I know we’ve had our ups and downs, but after everything we’ve been through, our feelings for each other haven’t changed. If anything, my feelings for you have only gotten stronger. And even though I promised not to say anything, I know you rented the apartment for me. You wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t love me, if you didn’t care what happens to me. I don’t want to lose you again, Brandon. If you agree that we belong together, meet me at Da Marco tomorrow at four.”
Silence had greeted her fervent declaration.
Without awaiting Brandon’s response, Tamia had quietly ended the call.
And now she sat perusing the restaurant’s dinner menu, though she had no appetite. How could she possibly think about food when her future hung in the balance?
When her cell phone rang on the table, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Drawing a shaky breath, she picked up the phone and checked the caller ID, relaxing when she saw Honey’s number. She’d been wondering whether the chick had decided to remain in New Orleans.
“Hey, girl,” Tamia answered warmly.
“Hey, Tamia.” Honey sounded frantic. “You’re not gonna believe who just called me.”
Tamia frowned. “Don’t tell me—”
“It was Keyshawn! Oh, God, Tamia, he knows about me and Bishop Yarbrough!”
“What? How did he find out?”
“I don’t know! He must have followed me to one of my dates with the bishop! He told me that if I’m not back home by tomorrow, he’s going straight to the media. And he’s even got the diamond bracelet that Bishop Yarbrough gave me—the one with his initials on it!”
“Shit!” Tamia swore under her breath.
“I know.” Honey groaned loudly. “Everything’s so fucked up. That’s why I’m leaving for Houston tomorrow morning.”
“No! Don’t do that!” Remembering her whereabouts, Tamia lowered her voice to an urgent whisper. “You know what will happen if you go back to Keyshawn. He’s gonna beat the shit out of you—or worse!”
“What other choice do I have?” Honey wailed. “I can’t risk him talking to reporters about me and Bishop Yarbrough!”
“I know,” Tamia acknowledged, drumming her manicured fingernails on the table, “but I don’t want you putting yourself in harm’s way. So I’m gonna call Lou—”
“No, don’t. I’ll call him. He doesn’t wanna talk to you.”
Tamia’s fingers stilled. “What?”
“I’m sorry.” Honey sounded sheepish. “I didn’t mean to just blurt that out.”
“Lou told you he doesn’t want to talk to me?”
“Not in so many words,” Honey hedged. “But he told me what happened that night at the apartment before Brandon showed up. I think he was hurt and embarrassed because he put himself out there, and you couldn’t get away from him fast enough.”
“Oh, papi.” Tamia sighed, guilt gnawing her insides. “I figured that was why he hadn’t returned any of my calls.”
“That, and he’s been in Puerto Rico since Thanksgiving. He’s supposed to be coming back tonight, so I’ll call him and let him know what’s going on with Keyshawn. Something tells me I’m gonna need all the help I can get.”
“That’s probably a safe assumption,” Tamia said grimly.
“I’ll call you tomorrow when I’m on the road,” Honey promised.
“Yes, please do that. And be safe.”
Tamia ended the call and set her phone down on the table, her mind racing, veering into several directions at once.
She felt him before she saw him.
Suddenly her skin heated, tingling with awareness.
And then
he appeared beside her at the table, his hands thrust into the pockets of his Armani suit pants, the sliver of a platinum Rolex glinting beneath the recessed lights.
Her heart galloped past her ribs to leap into her throat.
Slowly, deliberately, she raised her eyes from the table to look into his face.
Her smile froze.
Because the face staring back at her wasn’t the one she’d been expecting to see.
“Dominic ...”
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. Were you surprised that Tamia served time in prison for Fiona? Did you expect Tamia to turn her sister in to the police as soon as she learned that Fiona killed Isabel Archer?
2. Did you understand why Tamia wanted to protect Fiona? Did Tamia’s sacrifice make her more, or less, likable to you?
3. What did you think of Brandon’s relationship with Cynthia? Do you think he treated her unfairly? Do you believe he genuinely loves her? Or was she just a rebound girlfriend?
4. Do you think Tamia and Brandon belong together? Why or why not?
5. When you consider Brandon’s successful career and political aspirations, who do you think would make a better wife for him? Cynthia or Tamia?
6. Do you think Tamia should allow Dominic back into her life? Do you think he can be trusted? Would you give him another chance?
7. How do you think Brandon will react if Tamia and Dominic become involved again? Do you think Tamia will try to make Brandon jealous in the next book?
8. Do you think Tamia should give Lou Saldaña a chance? Do you think she could ever love him the way he loves her?
9. Were you surprised to learn about Bishop Yarbrough’s affair with Honey?
10. Do you think Tamia should have warned Brandon about Bishop Yarbrough to spare his father’s campaign from scandal?
11. Would you like to see Honey and Beau Chambers together? What kind of challenges do you think they’d face in their relationship?
12. Do you think Leah should forgive Dre for sleeping with Fiona? Do you think Dre and Brooke Chambers will hook up in the next book?
13. Were you shocked to learn that Fiona killed her grandmother?
14. Were you surprised at Fiona’s real reason for killing Isabel Archer? Do you think her father, Sonny, bears some responsibility for Fiona’s actions? Why or why not?
15. Do you think Cynthia is faking her pregnancy? Do you think Mama Esther would have been smiling in the dream if she knew that Cynthia was pregnant?
16. Do you think Brandon is going to marry Cynthia, or leave her standing at the altar? Which outcome would you prefer?
17. Were you surprised when Dominic, not Brandon, showed up at the restaurant where Tamia was waiting? What do you think will happen in the next book?
Don’t miss Naomi Chase’s
Exposed
On sale now wherever books are sold!
Chapter 1
“Tamia! Baby, get up.”
Jolted awake by her boyfriend’s frantic voice, Tamia Luke opened her eyes and stared at his dark, handsome face. “What time is it?”
“After seven,” Brandon replied.
“Shit!” Tamia threw back the covers and sprang out of bed, naked breasts bouncing. “What happened? Why didn’t the alarm clock go off?”
“The power must have gone out when it rained last night.”
“Shit,” Tamia repeated, bending over to retrieve her discarded clothing from the floor. “I can’t be late for work. Especially not tod—Ow!” she yelped as Brandon slapped her soundly on the ass.
He grinned, dimples flashing in his cheeks. “That’s for keeping me up late.”
Tamia laughed. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night, Negro!” she called as Brandon ducked inside the large master bathroom, a blur of mahogany stretched over lean, taut muscles. “And hurry up so you can take me home!”
Brandon’s response was muffled by the sound of running water.
If they hadn’t been in such a rush, Tamia would have joined him in the shower for round two of what they’d started last night. After attending a cocktail party at a ritzy downtown hotel, Brandon had invited her back to his place to spend the night. They’d doused themselves with a bottle of champagne, then licked, sucked, and fucked each other until they collapsed from sheer exhaustion. They probably would have overslept even if last night’s storm hadn’t knocked out the electricity.
Grinning slyly to herself, Tamia hurriedly tugged on her bra and panties and the black Christian Lacroix dress she’d worn to the cocktail party. Leaving Brandon to his shower, she headed out of the bedroom and made her way to the kitchen. It was a large, ultramodern room with gleaming granite countertops, black-lacquered cabinets, and stainless steel appliances. It was as immaculate as the rest of Brandon’s plush condo, thanks to the cleaning lady who came like clockwork twice a week.
Tamia got busy brewing a pot of gourmet coffee, though she knew Brandon usually stopped at Starbucks on his way to the office. It was the thought that counted. If she’d had more time, she would have whipped up some eggs, bacon, and grits, though she knew Brandon often grabbed breakfast with a colleague at the prestigious law firm where he worked. Again, it was all about taking care of her man. Which was why she’d blown off her friends last night to accompany Brandon to some social mixer he’d forgotten all about until the last minute. And she hadn’t batted an eye when he’d sheepishly asked her to pick up his tux from the dry cleaner. Tamia would have gone anywhere and done anything he’d asked of her.
Because she was on a mission to become Mrs. Brandon Chambers.
Oh, she knew she had her work cut out for her. Truth be told, Brandon was more interested in making partner at his law firm than getting married. Although Tamia frequently spent the night at his place, she was barely allowed to keep a toothbrush there. And after seven months of dating, she had yet to meet his parents, one of the most powerful political couples in Texas. Whenever she hinted at being introduced to them, Brandon always told her that his folks could be very intimidating, so he didn’t want to scare her off.
What he didn’t realize was that Tamia didn’t scare very easily. So she’d be a good little wifey for as long as it took to convince him to put a ring on her finger.
Smiling at the thought, she poured steaming coffee into two fancy paper cups and snapped on the lids just as Brandon strode purposefully into the kitchen. He was impeccably dressed in a dark pinstriped suit that accentuated his tall, athletic build.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Been ready.” Tamia straightened his tie, admiring his smooth chocolate skin, midnight eyes, and boyishly sexy smile. Brandon was the total package: fine as hell, rich, smart, and successful. He was going places, and she had no intention of being left behind.
“Here. I made you some coffee.”
Accepting the cup from her, he took a long sip and let out an appreciative groan. “Damn, baby, you make the best brew. What would I do without you?”
Tamia smiled privately. If I play my cards right, you’ll never have to find out.
Twenty minutes later, they turned off the main road and into a lushly landscaped development located in the shadow of Houston’s Galleria. Brandon was on his BlackBerry, assuring his secretary that he wouldn’t be late for a scheduled deposition that morning. So he didn’t notice the way Tamia’s hands clenched in her lap as they passed another car on the narrow street, nor did he hear the small sigh of relief that seeped past her lips.
He pulled up to a one-story stucco house situated on a perfectly manicured lawn. Tamia’s red Honda Accord was parked in the driveway.
Grabbing her purse, she leaned over to kiss Brandon. “Have a good day.”
He smiled. “You, too. Don’t be late for work.”
“If I am, I’ll just blame it on the rain,” she said, crooning the old Milli Vanilli song.
Brandon laughed as she climbed out of his Maybach.
Although he was in a hurry, he waited until she’d reached the front door
before he pulled off with a wave.
Tamia inserted her key in the lock, stepped inside the cool interior of the house, and closed the door. But she didn’t move beyond the foyer. Staring anxiously at her watch, she waited until three minutes had ticked by. Then, opening the door, she poked her head outside and glanced up and down the tree-lined street, watching as cars backed out of driveways and joined the flow of other vehicles headed to various workplaces.
As Tamia locked the house and hurried to her own car, her cell phone rang. She fumbled it out of her purse and answered with a breathless, “Girl, that was close!”
“I know,” Shanell Jasper agreed. “I was running late this morning. And so are you! What happened?”
Tamia grimaced, sliding behind the wheel of her car. “The power went out last night, so we overslept.”
“Uh-oh. You’ve got that client meeting at nine. Are you going to be late?”
“I hope not.” Tamia glanced at her watch, mentally calculating how long it would take her to get home, shower and change, and make it to the office on time. If only she’d had the foresight to leave a change of clothes at Shanell’s place last night. But everything had been so rushed. After picking up Brandon’s tux from the dry cleaner, dropping it off at his condo, and hurrying home to get dressed for the cocktail party, she’d reached Shanell’s house just minutes before Brandon arrived to pick her up.
“How long do you think you can keep this up?” Shanell asked.
Tamia pulled onto the main road. “What?”
Shanell snorted. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. This crazy charade of yours, lying to Brandon about where you live and using my house as your cover. How long can you keep this shit up?”