Читать книгу Tender to His Touch - Adrianne Byrd, Pamela Yaye - Страница 10

“Girrrrl, you are going to get laid for sure in that dress.” Clarence, Beverly’s best friend and self-appointed relationship advisor, snapped his fingers and twirled her around so she could face the full-length mirror.

A cocky grin sloped across Beverly’s face. She did look good. The red cocktail dress hugged her curvy body like an extra layer of skin and she debated whether she even needed the thin silver belt. What was even more surprising was how much she loved her new hairstyle.

Clarence switched his hips and smacked his clear, shimmering lips. “Do I know how to hook my girl up or what?”

Beverly happily agreed. The shorter, darker do made her golden eyes pop and easily erased the past ten years from her face. She might actually pull this off.

“Now remember, whatever booty you get, fifteen percent of it is mine.”

Beverly howled and then bumped her hip against his. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”

“Love me, sweetheart. That’s what they all do with me.” He leaned forward and blew air kisses. Dressed in an immaculate pair of shiny denim jeans and a cloud-white shirt beneath a black merino sweater, Clarence was as sharp as any male model strutting down a Prada runway. On his youthful, effeminate face he wore the lightest touch of face powder and lip gloss.

“Well, I better go,” Clarence said as he turned away from the mirror and marched out of the bathroom. “It’s Friday night and you’re not the only bitch trying to get laid.”

Beverly laughed as she followed. “Thanks again, Clarence. I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t come over.”

“Uh-huh.” Clarence glanced around the large hotel suite, specifically the huge king-size bed.

“Look, I’m just staying here at the hotel during homecoming weekend because it’s a lot closer to Hollington College than my house. If I happened to have a few drinks, it’s easier to catch a cab here than risk driving all the way back out to the suburbs.”

Clarence wasn’t buying it. “Whatever, chickie.” He switched his hips as he retrieved his jacket. “You just make sure this big ol’ bed doesn’t go to waste this weekend. I’ve been telling you you needed to get your groove back for a while. I’m glad Kyra finally brought you around.”

Beverly actually blushed. “I never said I was going to this homecoming to get laid.”

“Uh-huh.” Clarence popped his lips.

“I came to just have a good time and catch up with old friends.” The lie even sounded weak to her.

Clarence rolled his eyes. “Girl, I know a freakum dress when I see it.” He headed to the door. “Have a good time and I expect details when I come by Hoops next week.”

Beverly chuckled and then added, “Thanks again for coming to my hair emergency. I was ready to pack up and go back home.”

“Relax.” Clarence reached over and squeezed her hand. “You’re the homecoming queen. They’re going to love you. And if that jerk of an ex-husband of yours does show up, give him a good swift kick in the balls for me.”

Lucius was getting excited at the thought of returning to his old stomping grounds. Rumors had been circulating that both Terrence Franklin and Micah Ross would be swinging through the joint. He hoped to get a little face time with his old buddies and shoot the breeze. He had only one last business errand to run over at the downtown Hilton before he headed off to the college. Once he dropped off a few documents with one of his clients, he promised himself to turn off his BlackBerry and just enjoy his weekend.

Hell, he deserved it.

However, Atlanta’s Friday bumper-to-bumper traffic delayed his plans for a carefree weekend. While surrounding cars engaged in an endless game of cutting each other off, honking and tossing a few middle fingers in the air, Lucius slipped in his old The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill CD. Ten years ago, his senior year in college, this disc stayed on repeat. His boys loved it and, more importantly, so did the ladies.

When his favorite jam, “Ex-Factor,” came on, a broad smile carved across his lips as he bobbed his head. This was just what he needed to get in the ’99 mood. An hour later, he finally arrived at the Hilton and met businessman Mitch Paulson in the hotel bar.

“Ah, right on time,” Paulson said as he stood to shake Lucius’s hand. “Can I get you a drink?” He waved and caught a waitress’s attention.

Lucius glanced at his watch. “Actually, I—”

“Ah, c’mon.” Paulson gestured for him to take a seat. “It’s the least I can do after having you deliver those papers on such short notice.”

Lucius hesitated, glanced at his watch. No way would he make it over to Cork for the school’s private cocktail party on time. Then again, maybe it was better to show up fashionably late.

“Don’t be rude, Lucius. Have a seat,” Paulson insisted and then added a boisterous laugh. “You know businessmen don’t like drinking alone.”

Lucius relented with a chuckle. “Maybe just one drink.”

Their waitress popped up the moment Lucius took his seat. “Whiskey on the rocks,” he ordered.

“Make that two,” Paulson corrected, giving the pixie blonde a flirtatious wink.

However, the waitress’s blue gaze was busy assessing Lucius. She was cute, but Lucius would most likely always crave the touch and love of a curvy sistah. That was just how he rolled.

When the waitress saw that she wasn’t getting any play, she drifted away from the table.

“Ah, well,” Paulson huffed and reached inside his jacket and retrieved a cigar case. “I guess I’m losing my touch.”

Or you shouldn’t try to pick up someone young enough to be your granddaughter.

“Just as well, I suppose. It’s not easy keeping up with these young girls,” he said, laughing at his own joke. “I damn near threw my back out last year with an eighteen-year-old hell-bent on turning me into a pretzel.”

Lucius laughed along, though he picked up on a few notes of sadness.

“Who knows? I probably should’ve stayed married,” Paulson continued. “But…well, back when I was your age I was married to my job more than I was to Sheila.”

This always happened when Lucius shared drinks with his male clients. Alcohol loosened tongues and Lucius found himself cast in the role of a pseudopsychiatrist.

“You married, Lucius?” Paulson asked just as their waitress returned with their drinks.

“Divorced.”

“Hmmph.” Paulson shook his head. “Big mistake.”

“I don’t know. It seemed to have worked out for the best.”

“Sure you say that now. Let a few more years roll by.” He took a sip of his drink. “Seeing anybody?”

Lucius shifted in his chair as he took a few sips of his whiskey. “Let’s just say that I’m keeping my options open.”

“How many hours are you putting in at the firm?”

“What is this, an interrogation?”

“Let me guess,” Paulson went on, sizing him up. “You look like a workaholic. I’d say about 85 to 90?”

Their gazes locked.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Paulson flashed him a lopsided grin. “Tell me. Have you noticed how cold a house gets at night yet?”

Lucius didn’t answer.

“Hmmph.” Paulson shook his head. “Believe me. It gets a lot colder. Thing is, I don’t ever remember it being that way when I was married. A house is meant to be a home.” He leveled his gaze back on Lucius. “And man was never meant to be alone—that’s the one passage I remember from the Bible.”

Lucius quickly took another sip of his drink.

“A career is great, but a good woman is even better.” Paulson scanned the room. “Are you a breast or leg man?”

“I, uh—”

“Aww. Maybe you like a woman with a little junk in the trunk?” He winked.

Lucius would never get used to old white men trying to talk hip. “Yeah. I guess you can say that I like it all.”

Paulson’s drink stopped midway to his lips. “Then it looks like you’re in luck. Check out who just walked through the door.”

Curious, Lucius turned around and nearly dropped his glass when his gaze zeroed in on a tall, gorgeous woman in red with deep brick-house curves and a smile that lit up the whole room. Spellbound, he watched her as she strolled over to the bar. Her big breasts sat high and were like—pow! Her firm, but still bouncing backside was like—ka-pow!

To maintain some semblance of cool, Lucius sipped a little more of his whiskey, but his eyes never left the seductive sway Paulson so elegantly called junk in the trunk.

“Better close your mouth and go make a move,” Paulson chuckled. “I’d say you have about five seconds before someone else beats you to the punch.”

Lucius tossed down the rest of his drink in one gulp and sprang out of his chair without a backward glance. Halfway over to the bar, he realized that he didn’t have the slightest idea what to say. His pickup lines were a little rusty.

Across the room, he saw another brother stand up; his eyes locked on the same mysterious woman. Lucius picked up his pace and settled onto the empty stool beside the lady in red, whose soft floral perfume worked like an invisible hook. Before he could speak, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

“Hello,” she greeted in a velvety smooth voice that dripped with sin.

Lucius responded with the first thing that popped into his head. “Marry me?”