Читать книгу Soaring On Love - Joy Avery - Страница 11

Chapter 1

Roth Lexington leaned against the banister of the upper-level balcony inside The Underground Jazz House—The Underground, for short—nursing a glass of bourbon. The amber liquid had always been his drink of choice, ever since he’d taken his first sip at thirteen. “It’ll make you a man,” he’d been told. He was definitely a man, but he wasn’t sure the bourbon had anything to do with it.

Taking a swig, he savored the earthy notes. A fire flared in his chest, but it wasn’t from the whiskey. This inferno ignited from envy. With a tight jaw, he observed the partygoers below. He soaked in their laughs, their smiles, their congratulatory hugs and handshakes for the future bride and groom.

Normally, nothing soothed him like a smooth beverage and the silky sounds of jazz, but neither did much for him now. And he knew why. The reason stood several feet below him in the form of the sexiest woman in the room. Also, the guest of honor at this engagement party he’d reluctantly attended.

Tressa Washington.

Since the first time he’d laid eyes on the ravishing ER nurse several months ago in his best friend’s living room, she’d danced in his thoughts. Danced sensual moves. Provocative moves. Seductive moves. Moves that had forced him awake in a hot sweat on several occasions. In his thirty-six years, he couldn’t recall a woman ever having this kind of effect on him.

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.

Stunning in a fitted off-white jumpsuit, Tressa stood out among the sixty or so people in attendance. Tiny curls framed her round face, lightly touched with makeup. Though she didn’t need any makeup at all, really. That was how stunning she was.

Engulfed in conversation with a group of women, her lips—the ones he craved to leave kiss swelled and aching—curled into a smile, and those dimples he’d grown to adore pierced her chocolate-brown cheeks. His gaze burned a heated path along her voluptuous body, stopping briefly to appreciate her ample breasts. They’d fit in his grasp perfectly.

It took a real man to handle dangerous curves like hers. And as he’d stated before, he was a man.

A knot tightened in his stomach. How he’d love to suckle nipples he’d teased with his thumbs to tautness. He curtailed his thoughts when he felt a tightening in his boxers. Wearing a hard-on for the bride-to-be in the middle of her engagement party would be a shit thing to do. But dammit, he couldn’t help that Tressa turned him all the way on. He wanted her so badly he ached. Forbidden fruit was always so damn tempting.

Loud laughter drew his attention to Tressa’s fiancé. Cyrus Williams. Even the thought of the man’s name put a sour taste in his mouth. A cornball name for a cornball. Damn he hated that man. Or more accurately, envied him. Cyrus had something he wanted—Tressa’s warm body pressed up against his.

Pushing his envy aside, Roth still got a bad vibe from this Cyrus character. He’d always been good at reading people and something about Tressa’s soon-to-be husband screamed shady. Roth blew out a heavy breath. But Cyrus was none of his business, and neither was Tressa. And if he told himself that a few more hundred times, maybe he’d actually be convinced. He slid his eyes back to her.

As if sensing his ogling, Tressa shifted in his direction. The instant their gazes locked, a lightning bolt of desire seared through him. She smiled at him in that warm, welcoming manner he’d become accustomed to. A smile like that wasn’t easily forgotten. But that was exactly what he needed to do. Forget. Forget that soul-stirring gesture and the woman donning it.

Tressa’s best friend, Vivian—his best friend Alonso’s wife—said something that drew Tressa’s attention. Tressa slid her gaze away, allowing him to breathe again. Maybe he was being absurd, but he’d got the feeling she’d regretted ending their connection just as much as he had. Yeah, absurd.

Alonso clapped him on the shoulder. “Careful. The way you’re staring at the bride could give someone the wrong idea. Namely, her soon-to-be husband.” He laughed.

She wasn’t a bride yet.

Roth and Alonso had been friends since way back. Over the years, Alonso had kept him out of so much trouble and got him into his fair share, as well. He didn’t trust many people, but he trusted Alonso with his life.

Roth continued, still coveting something he’d never have, “You know if this was back in the day, she’d be mine, right?”

Yes, it was a cocky statement but also a true one. When he was young and dumb, he would not have hesitated to pursue Tressa at full throttle, regardless of her situation. Luckily for Cyrus, he’d become a far better man than he’d once been.

Alonso chuckled. “Trust me, I know. I’m surprised you came. You sounded a little iffy when we talked earlier.”

Roth pulled his attention away from Tressa before he overheated. Taking another swig from his glass, he paused for a moment to savor the rich flavors. “Figured I’d swing by on my way out of town.”

“Out of town?”

“Headed to my place in the mountains.”

Alonso quirked a brow. “Alone?”

“That’s a good question.” Powerless against it, he sought out Tressa again. When their gazes locked, electricity—raw and powerful—slammed through him, causing a puff of air to escape. What in the hell was that? Alarm triggered his defenses, sending flares up like Fourth of July fireworks. He needed rescuing.

“You all right, man?” Alonso asked.

No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t be all right until he’d got Tressa out of his system.

* * *

As one of the women went on and on about something, Tressa slid an inconspicuous glance to her watch—a flashy piece packed with diamonds—that Cyrus had given her as an engagement gift. He was good at giving expensive gifts. She just wished he were as generous with his time. In the past two weeks, they’d barely seen one another. As an investment banker, he should understand the importance of investing in the future, as well as in the right commodities.

She gave an occasional nod and displaced smile, just to present the illusion of listening. Will this party ever end? It’d only been an hour since her family and friends had all gathered to celebrate what should have been one of the most exciting nights of her life.

It wasn’t.

There were a number of reasons she could have rattled off as to why, but the most severe one hovered above like a sexy gargoyle watching over the city.

Roth Lexington.

Simply thinking his name made her insides flutter. Then she scolded her body for the defiant act. Plenty of times she warned her system against responding to Roth. And plenty of times it’d disobeyed her.

Don’t look at him. I repeat, do not look at him.

As if her body would choose today of all days to start listening to her. Defiant. Her brain sent her gaze to the balcony. The man was as tempting as the glowing hot-doughnut sign at Krispy Kreme. Who in the hell could resist? Definitely not her. But in this case, she had to. She was getting married.

Roth stood chatting with his best friend, Alonso. The mere sight of him pounded her insides like a sensual jackhammer against stubborn concrete. From any angle, he was gorgeous. Tall, a few inches over six feet, a body that would be the envy of any athletic trainer, skin the tone of the best imported cocoa beans and a gleaming smile that rivaled the sun. That damn smile. In a quiet setting, it could hypnotize a woman into doing reckless things. Trust her, she knew.

When Roth’s attention slid to her, she gasped from the shock of awareness that scorched her soul. He flashed a half smile. She returned the gesture, then yanked her focus away from him before she melted into a puddle of lust in the middle of her own engagement party.

Damn. Why did that man cloud her better judgment and distort her common sense? Stop it, Tressa! You’re getting married in one month. February 18, she reminded herself. But looking was okay, right? As long as she didn’t touch. She gnawed at the corner of her lip. But she had touched. Oh, God, how she wanted to touch again.

She’d never been the unfaithful type, but when Roth had pulled her into his arms and kissed her senseless, she hadn’t done a damn thing to break free. A reel of the kiss in her best friend’s kitchen played in her head. Recalling how good his mouth had felt pressed against hers caused her lips to tingle. She touched two fingers to them.

It’d been the best damn kiss she’d ever experienced in her life. They’d both agreed that what had happened had been a huge mistake and had vowed to never mention it again. But a kiss like that haunted you. It wasn’t something easily purged from your system. But, Lord, had she tried to purge it, along with this ornate desire to... To what? What did she really want from Roth?

Everything, she ruefully admitted. So why in the hell was she about to marry another man? Because Cyrus is the right choice. She eyed the gaudy diamond on her finger. So why didn’t she feel the same exhilaration when she looked at Cyrus as she did when she eyed Roth? It’ll come, she told herself. Give it time.

The air in the room grew thick, and she struggled to breathe. Was she having a panic attack? Fresh air. She needed fresh air. Weaving her way through the crowd, she escaped unseen through a side door. On the massive stone patio, she sucked in a few deep breaths. After several minutes her pounding heart returned to its normal steady beat. But she still felt as if she were plummeting.

The chill of the winter night air jarred her, making her regret not grabbing a jacket. She cradled herself in her arms to generate some heat. Closing her eyes, she appreciated the stillness of the night. But even the tranquil setting couldn’t silence her thoughts and they popped right back open, the world rushing in.

Fools rush in.

She wasn’t sure why the phrase blared at full volume in her thoughts. Fools rush in. Was she rushing into this? At thirty-four, shouldn’t she be married? Some of her friends were already married with several kids. Her mother’s voice played in her head and she smiled. If your friends jumped off a roof, would you jump, too?

No, Mommy, but... She sighed. Her biological clock was tick, tick, ticking away. She wanted kids. A houseful of germy, whiny, adorable, lovable kids. She thought about Jamison and her eyes burned with impending tears. Pushing thoughts of the boy away, she refocused.

Cyrus is a good man. An honorable man. A respectable man. So why did it feel like she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life?

Tilting her head heavenward, she whispered, “God, please give me a sign.”

“Escaping your own party?” The voice came from behind.

Tressa flinched. That was fast. Ignoring Roth as the sign—for now—she turned toward him. No man should have been allowed to look that damn good in a simple black suit. On any other man, it would have been forgettable apparel. Something told her this image would linger in her thoughts all night.

Finding her words, she said, “Um...no. Not escaping. I just needed some fresh air. So many people inside. It’s a bit stuffy. How’d you know I was out here?”

Roth leaned against the banister, crossing his legs at the ankle. “Instinct, I guess.”

Instinct, her ass. She’d felt the caress of his eyes on her all night. She may have escaped everyone else, but she hadn’t escaped his watchful eye. “And here I am, believing I’d made a clean getaway.”

“Getaway, huh? What—or who—are you running from?”

Curious eyes probed her. “No one.”

“Hmm.”

Why did that hmm sound so accusing? Roth straightened to his full height. They stood in silence for a moment, simply staring at one another. The intensity in his eyes made her knees wobble, but she refused to turn away. If he wanted to assert dominance, he’d have to find a less willful opponent.

Then he folded his arms across his chest and the move rattled her, because his biceps blossomed into cannonballs and strained against the tailored suit coat—it fit him far too well to be off-the-rack.

“So, fresh air is the only reason you’re out here?” he said.

Regrouping, Tressa said, “What other reason would there be?”

He shrugged one wide shoulder. “I don’t know. It looked like you were having some kind of anxiety attack. I came out to check on you.”

Tressa released a nervous laugh. “What? No. An anxiety attack?” She brushed his accurate words off. “No.” How was he diagnosing her with anything? He was an aerospace engineer, not a doctor. But the fact that he was concerned about her warmed her insides. “I’m fine. Like I said, it was stuffy in there. I came out—”

“For fresh air,” he said, completing her sentence.

“Yeah.” A corner of his mouth lifted into a sexy smile and she chastised herself for staring so hard at his lips. Lifting her eyes to his, she mumbled, “I’m just fine.”

“Good. You’re going to catch your death out here, Nurse Washington.” Roth removed his suit coat and draped it over her shoulders. “Better?”

Lost in his manly scent, she mumbled, “You smell fantastic.” Immediately realizing she’d actually said the words out loud, her cheeks burned with awkwardness. “Um, yes. Better. Thank you. W-what about you? Now you’re going to catch your death or at least pneumonia.” She’d been around Roth plenty. Why now was she turning into a bumbling fool?

“I don’t get sick,” he said.

Roth slid his hands into his pockets. The move caused his biceps to flex again, and she imagined wrapping her hands around them as he made slow, sweet love to her. “I see. You muscle—muscle—must,” she spit out. “You must have a strong immune system.” Bumbling fool.

“I guess so. You and your fiancé seem happy together.”

The odd timing of his words took her by surprise. “Thank you.” She shifted away from him before he saw the uncertainty in her eyes and stared out into the darkness. Were she and Cyrus a doting couple? Was that what people saw when they looked at them—happiness?

Roth leaned in slightly. “Are you happy?”

Alarmed by the question, Tressa snapped, “Yes. Why would you ask that?” Then she regretted the sharp bite in her tone.

Roth pulled one hand from his pocket and flashed a palm. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just...” He shrugged. “It’s just that most women seem over the moon when they’re about to walk down the aisle.”

Was he suggesting she wasn’t over the moon? She was plenty over the damn moon. “Yeah, well, I’m not most women.”

“Oh, I definitely know this.”

A glint of something flashed in his demanding brown eyes and it smoothed her ruffled feathers. Again, their gazes held for a long, quiet, intense moment. Were these probing glances power plays between them, or was it that when they looked at each other, they simply became lost in each other’s souls? There was something soothing about the way Roth looked at her, a look that could polish rough edges.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your fresh air. Congratulations again on your engagement. Good night.”

Tressa’s brow furrowed. “Wait.” The word came too urgently. “You’re not leaving, are you? The party, I mean.” Why did the possibility bother her so much?

“Shortly. I promised two of your aunts dances, and I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Then I need to get on the road before it gets too late.”

Yeah, her aunts—and several other of her female family members—had grown quite fond of Roth. Alonso, too. But Vivian had intervened on that one, crushing all of their dreams about her man. “On the road?”

“I have a cabin in Silver Point. The mountains,” he clarified. “About four hours away.”

“Huh.”

“Don’t look so surprised.”

“It’s not that. I just took you for more of a city dweller.”

“I love being in the mountains. No one near for miles. Absolute peace and quiet. I can go on my deck and play my sax as early or as late as I want without disturbing a soul.” His brow furrowed. “That reminds me. I don’t think I locked my vehicle.” Obviously, he noticed Tressa’s where-did-that-come-from expression. “Juliette’s in there—my saxophone.”

“You call your saxophone Juliette?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Tressa recalled the first and last time she’d watched him play his sax. It was the most alluring thing she’d ever witnessed. He’d made absolute love to the instrument. The way he’d held it, caressed it, wrapped his lips around it... Her cheeks heated just thinking about him playing her like a saxophone.

What is wrong with you? You are about to be a married woman. Her mother would be so disappointed in her for lusting over one man while engaged to another. She massaged the side of her neck. “So, the mountains?”

Roth continued, “Mountain air is great for clearing the mind and rejuvenating the soul.”

Sounded like her kind of place. “You sound like a travel brochure. I’ve never been to the mountains.” The declaration sounded as if she was trolling for an invite. She kicked herself.

“Really?”

She nodded.

“Well, anytime you and your husband want to get away, let me know. You’re more than welcome to use my place. It’s not much, but it’s cozy and intimate. The perfect escape for a couple in love.”

A couple in love. Boy, he was laying it on thick. Tressa returned her attention to the darkness.

“Tressa, are you sure—”

Whipping toward him, she said, “Yes, I’m sure I want to marry Cyrus. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“I...was actually going to ask you if you were sure standing in this cold was a good idea.”

She eyed Roth dumbly, her level of embarrassment soaring to unprecedented heights. “Oh.” Compassion danced in Roth’s eyes as he scrutinized her. No doubt he saw right through her. How was that possible?

Standing dangerously close to her, he said, “If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m a great listener.”

“Thank you, but I’m—”

“Fine,” he said, completing her sentence for the second time tonight.

“You’re getting pretty good at finishing my thoughts.”

The corner of his mouth lifted into a sexy smirk. “If I thought that had been a compliment, I would say thank you.”

He was getting pretty good at reading her, too, because it had been a cynical remark. When she attempted to remove his coat to return it, he stopped her.

“Just leave it with the hostess when you’re done. She’ll make sure I get it. Good night, Tressa. Enjoy the rest of your party.”

“Enjoy the mountains.”

When Roth disappeared through the doors, she tightened his coat around her, inhaling his delicious scent. Had Roth’s intrusion really been her sign? She laughed at herself. No. Tilting her head again, she said, “God, if you send me a sign, please make it a pronounced one. I don’t want to miss it.”

Twenty minutes later Tressa found herself on the dance floor with her soon-to-be husband. With her thoughts still stuck on her encounter with Roth, she barely processed Cyrus’s presence.

“Should it bother me that my fiancée smells like another man’s cologne?”

This snagged her attention. Reeling back, she stared into Cyrus’s probing green eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You smell like him.”

Playing coy, she said, “Him, who?”

Cyrus’s features hardened and deep lines etched into his caramel-toned forehead. “You know what him I’m referring to. Don’t try to play me for a fool.” His expression softened. “I love you, Tressa. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I need to know.”

She searched his sad eyes. “Need to know what, Cyrus?”

“I need to know... I need to know if you’re sleeping with him.”

Tressa froze, stunned by Cyrus’s question. Her lips parted, but nothing readily escaped. Why in the world had Cyrus asked her that?

“I see the way he looks at you. Hell, he’s been staring at you all night. Every damn move you make. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose you to him.”

Cyrus’s words broke her heart. At that moment she realized how unfair she’d been to him. Cradling his smooth face between her hands, she said, “I would never hurt you like that, Cyrus. You’re the man I’m marrying, remember?”

A smile curled his lips and he eased his forehead against hers. “I love you, baby. I love you so much.” His expression turned somber and he rested his hands on either side of her neck. “I’ve made mistakes, Tressa. But I swear I’m going to be a good husband to you.”

Mistakes. What mistakes had he been referring to? Before she got the opportunity to ask, clapping sounded behind Cyrus. Tressa glanced over his shoulder, her gaze landing on a brown-skinned woman in a very revealing black gown. She wore a black fishnet veil that made her look as if she was in mourning.

“That was so beautiful,” the woman said, nearing them. “Too bad it’s nothing but a bunch of bull—”

“Natalie!” Cyrus barked. His nostrils flared and a vein pulsed in his neck. “What in the hell are you doing here?” he said through clenched teeth.

Fine lines etched into Tressa’s forehead. “Natalie? You know this woman, Cyrus?”

“Yes, he does. Very well.” Natalie placed her hands on her hips. “We had an intimate work relationship until a few days ago,” she said with a smirk.

Cyrus looked as if he could snatch the woman’s heart out with his hand. Spittle flew from his mouth when he said, “Shut the hell up, Natalie,” through teeth gritted so tightly they should have all been ground to dust.

Whispers and words revealing shock among the small crowd now circling them, swirled around her. Tuning it all out, she zeroed in on Cyrus. “You should probably start talking right now. What’s going on?”

“Yes, Cyrus. We’d both like to know what the hell is going on,” Natalie added.

This time ignoring their party crasher, Cyrus turned to her. “Tressa. I made a mistake. We can—”

When he reached for her, she backed away. This was the mistake he referenced earlier. “How long?”

When he didn’t answer, Natalie did. “Four months.”

“Four—” The air seized in her lungs.

“Baby—”

Tears stung her eyes, but they were more angry than sentimental ones. “You lying, cheating, no-good, trifling bastard.” She wrenched the ring from her finger and tossed it at him. Eyeing Natalie, she said, “He’s all yours. The wedding is off.”

Cyrus grabbed her arm. “No, you don’t mean that.”

A second later Tony—her three-hundred-pound ex-lineman cousin—clapped a large hand on Cyrus’s shoulder. The look in his eyes suggested Cyrus release her now.

Obviously, Cyrus got the silent message, because his grip on her arm loosened, then fell away.

Several family members—including her visibly livid mother—swarmed around Cyrus like bees on the attack. They stung him with their not-so-gentle words of disapproval. As the room erupted in utter chaos, Tressa made her escape. She’d asked for a sign and, boy, had she got it.