by Peyton Banks
"I should get going," she told him. She lunged for the door handle and gripped it tightly.
"Uh, I had a nice time," she said, giving him a wan smile. "I appreciate the… cheese sticks. "
She was babbling. She knew she was babbling, but she could not stop doing it. He moved toward her on the bench seat until there was barely any room between herself and the door.
"So, have a good night!" she said brightly. She tugged the door handle but it didn't open. "Um..."
"You didn't answer my question," he said in a low voice. "Don't you feel the chemistry between us? I want to see you again, Keisha.”
Okay, so yeah, she felt the chemistry. And her skin prickled deliciously at the way he said her name. The man was hot, but he wasn't the man for her. As she gripped the door handle, it occurred to her that he had probably done the same thing with other women— made out with them in the back seat of his SUV. Exactly the kind of thing a guy who made sex tapes would do.
This man was good only for a fling, and she'd already had flings when she was younger. The truth was, she couldn’t climax with someone she didn’t like, and the sex was average at best. "You know, we come from vastly different worlds," she said. "I appreciate you taking me out for… mozzarella sticks. But I stay pretty busy and, you know, you already thanked me for helping you out. And look, I even have leftovers!"
She held up the bag, eyebrows up, smiling.
"So, I'm gonna get going," she said. His face remained impassive as she delivered her little speech about why she wasn't going to see him again.
She swung the car door open. She went to get out, but had forgotten how very tall the SUV was and missed the running board. Her foot sort of waved in the empty space, and her momentum had her stepping out of the car, even though she knew she needed to stop. She grabbed the open door along the edge of the window and saved herself from falling, but managed to pull a groin muscle in the process. She dangled, then righted herself.
She opened her mouth to declare she was okay, but she felt a strong hand grasping her by the wrist. She looked up to find RA III had a good grip on her, his eyes full of concern.
"Ha ha, well, that was smooth!" she said, again too loudly.
He yanked her back into the car.
"You okay?" he asked her.
She shrugged in a ‘what are you gonna do?’ gesture. "It's been a very long day," she admitted.
"I'm disappointed you don't want to get together again," he said, stroking the webbing between her thumb and forefinger. "But I understand."
He pulled her into his body, gave her a kiss on the side of her mouth, then thumbed the spot.
"I love these cute little dimples." His voice was rough, his eyes hooded with desire. She smiled and put out her free hand to shake. "It was good to meet you in person."
"You too," he said, shaking her offered hand. "I'm still going to think of some way to do something nice for you."
"No need," she assured him. "I have everything I need."
He looked around her to the front door of her little bungalow. "Nice house."
"Thanks," she told him. "The crape myrtles you sent me will look nice when we plant them."
He frowned. "Plant them?"
She looked at his attractive face in the shadows. He had no clue that he'd sent her perennials as a thank you. No doubt he'd asked his PA to send her something thoughtful, and that's what was sent.
She leaned over and planted a light kiss on his lips.
"Ask Emily about it," she suggested.
This time when she got out of the SUV, she was more careful, and managed to avoid tripping all over herself. She quickly walked up the front steps of the little bungalow, the to-go bag swinging from her fingers. There was a light on in the living room window. Tandy.
She unlocked the front door, closed it behind her, and collapsed against it, sighing. Tandy was sprawled across the love seat, holding her e-reader. "How was the date with the billionaire?" Tandy asked, eyebrows up
Keisha considered what to say.
"Weird," she shrugged. "A weird, once-in-a-lifetime experience. Fun… I guess."
"Will you see him again?" Tandy wanted to know. She had an expectant expression on her face.
"Nope," she told her, schooling her features.
“Your mouth says, ‘no’ but you have heart eyes, my cousin,” Tandy cocked an eyebrow.
Keisha gave her a mysterious smile, turned on her heel, and went to her room.
5
Rick marveled at the sight of a topless Keisha stretched out on his bed. She was far more beautiful than he had imagined; her dark skin providing a striking contrast to the crisp white of his bedsheets. So inviting that he joined her, covering her body with his own, nudging her thighs apart to wedge himself between them, and nuzzling her neck. She arched into his body like she couldn’t help herself, and taking her cue, Rick escalated to erotic biting of the soft skin of her neck.
“Mmmmm…” she gasped. “That’s soooo good.”
“You like that, baby girl?” Rick mumbled against the silk of her skin. He dropped his lips lower, lower, until his nose nestled between her breasts.
“Daddy, please,” she said. “Keep going…”
Rick chuckled. He loved to make his baby insane. He placed open-mouthed kisses down her cleavage and veered in the direction of her plump right breast. Her skin was the color of brown sugar, but her nipples were dark like 90 percent cocoa chocolate, dusky and impossible to resist. He didn’t even try. He simply sucked her nipple and areola into his mouth and delighted in her squeals of pleasure. He ran his tongue over the stiff flesh as she moaned and thrashed.
“Hold still, baby,” he said. Keisha had a habit of wriggling after being told not to. Clearly, the girl was begging to be brought in line. And he was just the man to do it. He scanned the room, looking for something to restrain Keisha, and his eyes landed on a pair of furry handcuffs that has magically appeared on his bedside table. Grinning wickedly, he leaned Keisha’s prone body to snag them.
THUMP THUMP THUMP
Rick shook his head to clear his thoughts. What the hell?
THUMP THUMP THUMP
Rick’s peaceful slumber/wet dream was unceremoniously interrupted by a pounding on the bedroom door of his penthouse.
. He blinked as harsh sunlight pierced his eyes. He was still in his bed, but Keisha’s long, brown body was not. He was alone, because his interlude with Keisha had only been a dream. He was sad and sexually frustrated as he remembered that Keisha didn’t seem to want to see him again.
THUMP THUMP THUMP
The pounding started again, and Rick pulled his pillow over his head. He silently willed the rude intruder away. It paused, and closing his eyes, he entertained thoughts of drifting off to sleep again, returning to Keisha and the fuzzy handcuffs.
* * *
THUMP THUMP THUMP
His hopes were dashed when the infernal pounding started again.
"Who is it?" he snarled, and because his head was covered, and he wasn't really a hundred percent awake, it came out as, "Whuuuzzit?"
He was supremely irritated. He'd been dreaming of the Whoever it was had interrupted a very promising dream about the lovely Keisha and her tantalizing lips. He closed his eyes, but going back to sleep wouldn't be in the cards. Once he was awake, Rick did not go back to sleep. It had been that way ever since his Uncle Johnathan woke him in the middle of the night when he was fourteen to tell him his parents had been killed in a car accident.
He rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling.
"What time is it?" he wondered aloud. His electronic home assistant reported a time just after noon. He sighed and threw his high-thread-count sheets off and got to his feet. At that moment, his bedroom door swung open, and there stood Emily, looking prim but also sexy in a starched white button-down shirt and a pencil skirt. If she had a pair of spectacles, she'd be the perfect sexy librarian.
She pulled up short when she saw he was in the nude. And tha
nks to his arousing dream about Keisha, his morning wood was at full mast.
"Oh, for crying out loud!" she yelled, closing her eyes in horror and holding up a rebuking hand.
"What?" he barked, affronted. “It’s my bedroom!”
He turned away from her, dick bobbing shamelessly, and headed for his en suite bathroom.
"Can you put something on?" she said.
He looked over his shoulder as he reached the bathroom door and saw her peeking from between her parted fingers. He shook his head, and stepped into the en suite, but partially closed the door out of courtesy.
He stood in front of his commode and began to relieve himself.
"Why?" This is my bedroom. "What are you doing here, anyway? You're only to invade my privacy in case of emergency."
He gave himself a little shake, flushed, then washed his hands, waiting for her answer. She stood at the threshold of his bedroom, eyes closed, her face cringing.
"Have you looked at the news yet today?" she asked, still looking away.
"The news? No, I have you to do that for me," he pointed out, still slightly testy from this wake-up call. And why would he look at the news? Rick avoided the news. It was too depressing. He went into his closet and dressed quickly in underwear, a t-shirt, and basketball shorts.
"I'm dressed now," he said in a sing-song voice. Emily cautiously opened her eyes, peered at him, then relaxed.
"CMZ," Emily stated.
He gave her a quizzical look, and she rolled her eyes.
She grabbed his television remote and brought up a replay of a news report for Rick to watch. He sank down and sat at the foot of his bed as a glossy-looking newscaster with startling white teeth reported the news.
"...And in celebrity news, ladies in the audience, one of Dallas's most eligible bachelors may be off the market!" the anchor said with glee.
Footage of Rick with Keisha in front of her office appeared on the screen. He saw himself following her... then the two of them kissing, which, to be honest, made his dick perk up a little.
"What the fuck?" he said slowly. When had he been followed?
Emily paused the replay and turned to Rick with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah," she agreed. "And it gets better… or worse, actually."
She started the footage again. There he and Keisha were going into the IHOP, holding hands. Next was them leaving the restaurant together, getting back in the SUV. Because it was night, there was no way to tell the passage of time, and it looked like they dashed in and just got food to go.
The next clip was of the vehicle parked in front of her bungalow, and a timer at the bottom of the screen counted up the minutes they sat there in fast-forward mode. Rick blushed, remembering what he and Keisha had been doing for those… fourteen minutes and change. The timer helpfully paused when the car door opened.
His shoulders relaxed a bit when he thought it was over. But no. The next footage was worse than any that had come before. It had clearly come from that morning. Keisha opened her front door with her hair in a high, loose bun, wearing bike shorts and a sports bra, looking like she was going to work out. Rick craned his neck and peered at the screen, because, damn, she looked good in her workout gear.
Keisha's calm expression rapidly morphed into startled, confused, then finally pissed off as the paparazzi immediately swarmed her. They invaded her front yard and shouted questions at her. She waved at the news crews angrily, shouting at them to get off her lawn like a cranky old lady.
The camera returned to the newswoman who smiled professionally as the image of Keisha confronting the paparazzi was shrunk to a small corner of the screen. She cheerfully reported Keisha's occupation, age, and place of birth.
Rick clenched his jaw as he thought about the implications of this one news report.
"It's only the beginning," he growled.
Keisha's quiet, unassuming life had just been flashed for everyone to see. His own need to make amends had completely disrupted it. And, if he was honest with himself, it hadn't even been his own need to make amends, but because Uncle Jonathan had ordered him to make right what he had selfishly gotten wrong.
Rick had pursued her to get Keisha to name her price, so he could get himself off the hook and make himself feel better.
"I don't know who tipped them off, but the nursery I used to send Ms. Williams flowers is one we haven't used before," Emily was saying. "So, what do you want to do?"
Rick wiped a hand down the side of his face and squinted at Emily. That's what Keisha had said to him the night before. She was talking about planting… crape myrtles?
"What's a… crape myrtle? And did you send them to Keisha, um, Ms. Williams? I thought you were sending her flowers?"
Emily looked surprised at this conversational detour. But true to form, she recovered quickly. She really was a great personal assistant.
"I looked up Ms. Williams," Emily said. "Did you know she was an Eagle Scout? She and a bunch of scouts spruced up a walking trail for her Eagle project. Did you know she likes to garden?"
Emily looked at him with an expectant expression, eyebrows up as if to say, "Does this ring a bell?"
Frankly, no, it didn't. Because he had outsourced the overtures to Keisha on his assistant. If Emily had researched Keisha, she undoubtedly had given the results to Rick. Without a doubt, he had ignored the research. During his evening with Keisha, he really hadn't asked her anything about herself.
"On your behalf, I authorized a representative to offer Ms. Williams a safe house until this blows over," Emily said in her crisp, efficient way. She gave Rick a stern look.
"You did?" he asked. "What did she say?"
Emily tilted her head to one side. "You've met her? What do you think?"
He could imagine what she’d said. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a harsh breath.
"That would be a no, right?"
Emily nodded.
Rick sat at the foot of his bed and frowned. Then, agitated, he got to his feet and paced.
"What can we do?" he asked Emily.
"Do you want to do anything?" Emily countered.
"I should do something, right?" He gave Emily an uncertain look. He wanted to be off the hook for this. After all, he'd tried to do something nice for Keisha multiple times, and she had refused him. Even when he'd met with her in person, she'd refused him. Rick felt she didn't do it because she was playing hard to get, or being coy. It really seemed she was content with the life she had, and she didn't need anything else.
"You don't have to," Emily said. "You didn't cause the paparazzi to stalk her."
No, he hadn't.
"But they wouldn't have been interested in her were it not for me," he pointed out.
Emily nodded wordlessly. "Well, how do you want me to handle this?"
He thought about it. Keisha had a job that no doubt would be impacted by dozens of photographers showing to catch a glimpse of the new "girlfriend" of one of Dallas's most eligible billionaire bachelors.
He brooded over what to do next, then made up his mind.
"Emily, I have a call to make," he told her.
6
"Are they still out there?" Keisha asked.
"Yes, but there aren't as many," Tandy answered.
"Really?" Keisha asked, hope swelling in her breast. Maybe they'd found more interesting people to stalk.
"Definitely less," Tandy said with a frown. "Or is that fewer?"
"It's fewer," said Keisha, who had been an English major. Keisha looked up at her cousin, who peeked out the living room window from between the curtains. Keisha was on the floor, leaning against the wall with her knees drawn up to her chin. She got to her feet and cautiously peered out the window to see the front of the house. The obnoxious paparazzi were no longer on the lawn, but were behind the white picket fence around their front yard, gathering on the sidewalk.
When she'd told the news vultures to get lost earlier, a couple of them cited their First Amendment rights and chall
enged her to make them leave. She’d pointed out that since she wasn't part of the government, she could restrict their rights all she wanted, especially if they were going to trample her grass. The hot blond cop who lived a few doors down from them, and was also sweet on Tandy, stepped in and succeeded in getting the vultures behind her fence. Keisha was grateful to have friends in law enforcement at times like these.
Keisha had already called into work for the next few days, hoping this episode would blow over. She didn't feel right about going to work with her very own intrusive, obnoxious, unasked-for, entourage trailing her, camping out in front of her place of business, and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Her manager, a fiftyish woman with a mother hen-like demeanor, seemed a little thrilled that someone working for her had snagged a rich boyfriend.
Her mother had already called to accuse Keisha of holding out on her for not sharing she was dating Richard Alvin Brantley, III, Eligible Billionaire Bachelor. Sometimes being the youngest of five daughters had significant downsides. One of which was her mother felt it was her business to make sure Keisha was happily partnered up, like the rest of her daughters.
Keisha hadn't thought about RA III — Rick — as boyfriend material, not even when she'd found herself in a lip lock with him. Not even when he'd been flirting with her. People sometimes flirted with her when in stressful situations. As a rule, she avoided reading too much into it. Now, she felt herself wondering whether Rick went through this all the time, having the press following him and invading his privacy.
Keisha was at loose ends with no job to go to, at least in her immediate future, and no way to even go for a walk around the block to clear her head. No wonder Rick had disguised himself with the ball cap and mirrored sunglasses in the middle of the night. Although the disguise hadn't really helped after all, had it?
As if thinking about him conjured him from thin air, her iPhone warbled, and distracted by the paparazzi parked on her sidewalk, she answered it without looking first to see who it was. She pulled up her Facetime and there was the smiling face of RA III, err, Rick. She returned his smile with a small one of her own.