Читать книгу Sizzling Desire - Kayla Perrin, Kayla Perrin - Страница 9

Chapter 1

The pulsing beat of the music in the bar thrummed through Lorraine Baxter’s body. As she looked at her three best friends in the world, who were all seated around her at the table, she halted her head-bopping as a wave of emotion washed over her. “I love you guys so much,” she said, her eyes misting as she looked at each of them in turn. “You know that, right? Every time I need you, you guys are there for me. You never fail me. So thank you for always being there. And thanks so much for being here for me tonight.”

“Where else would we be?” Rosa asked, giving Lorraine’s hand a squeeze. She was five foot nothing, part Mexican and part African American. She had a mass of long, curly black hair that flowed down her back and around her shoulders, hair that she hadn’t cut in about a decade. Whenever she went out, she liked to show off her voluptuous figure. Tonight she was doing that by wearing a low-cut, formfitting black dress that highlighted her “girls”—as she liked to call them.

“Of course we’re here for you,” Amanda said. “This is the most important day of your life.”

Amanda was tall, five foot nine, with a slender frame and smooth, dark skin. She liked to wear her hair short and away from her face. She had beautiful eyes and perfect cheekbones, features that were highlighted when she wore her black hair back.

“It is, isn’t it?” Lorraine asked, the significance of today once again dawning on her. She was a newly single woman, her divorce final now for six and a half hours. She raised her glass, which was filled with an icy margarita brew. “To dear friends. The ones a girl can really count on through the good and the bad in life.”

Rosa, Amanda and Trina all raised their glasses with their own drinks and held them high. “Hear, hear,” and “Cheers!” they said in unison, before sipping their respective drinks.

Lorraine had met these three women in college. They’d all been in the same sociology class, and tended to sit in the same seats, which coincidentally were near each other. One day, Rosa had been crying softly throughout the lecture, and Trina had ended up talking to her. Lorraine, who’d overheard bits of the conversation that had to do with some guy who’d dumped her, had inserted herself into the conversation to offer Rosa comfort. Amanda had done the same. It had been Amanda’s idea that they all go out to have a drink and talk about the class assignment as a way to help Rosa’s mood. Ever since that day, they’d all been friends.

“I think we need a round of tequila shooters,” Trina announced, already pushing her chair back. Trina was also tall, just about an inch shorter than Amanda. Her skin was very pale, and on occasion people confused her for Hispanic. But she would proudly point out that her thick hips, big booty and kinky brown hair were sure signs that she was African American.

“You always think we need tequila,” Amanda said to Trina, then laughed.

“Because life is better with tequila.”

“Not my life,” Rosa quipped.

Trina looked down at her, giving her a pointed stare. “If not for the round of tequila shooters that day after sociology class when we first met, would we even be friends right now?”

Lorraine remembered that day well. Trina had assured Rosa that tequila would help her forget whatever guy was causing her so much emotional grief. Rosa had downed the tequila shot and promptly gagged. They’d all laughed about it, but through the laughter, Rosa realized she was no longer thinking about the guy who’d broken her heart. So tequila shooters were always on the menu whenever there was some sort of man drama among the group.

“All right,” Rosa agreed. “But one tequila shooter is my limit.”

“Oh, we already know that!” Amanda said as Trina started off toward the bar. “Ah, this is just like old times. A round of shooters will kick this celebration into high gear.” She faced Lorraine. “And you—no more tears!”

Lorraine nodded. Tonight was a celebration. That had been the plan, to go out with her friends. She certainly hadn’t wanted to mark the occasion at home alone.

“Okay,” Lorraine agreed. “No more tears. Not that I’m crying over Paul,” she added with a frown.

“Good!” Rosa exclaimed. “You’re rid of that jerk who made your life a living hell. You should be dancing on the table!”

Lorraine couldn’t help smiling. “That would go over well with this crowd, me jumping on the table and getting down.”

“I’ll give you one hundred dollars to get on the table and do it,” Amanda said. “If I were finally free of such a nasty jerk, I’d be dancing on the roof.”

“Ah, no.” Lorraine wasn’t about to make a spectacle of herself. Though she certainly did want to dance for joy. She was finally free of Paul. A marriage that never should have happened.

Rather, a marriage that she had entered into wholeheartedly, only to learn that her husband hadn’t given their union the same effort. Paul had never truly loved her, never supported her dreams and goals. Ending the marriage was the only thing to do.

Lorraine had expected him to be unhappy, but not for him to turn downright nasty during the divorce proceedings. He’d had an investigator look into her financial history, find out if she had secret bank accounts, or gifts from family she’d never told Paul about. The slimy investigator had learned that her mother had left her a bond. Nothing substantial, but Paul had nonetheless demanded half of it.

Thinking about Paul left a bitter taste in her mouth, and Lorraine sipped some water. Her divorce was final. Paul was officially out of her life. And tonight, she was wiping the slate clean fittingly. Taking back her single status with grand style. Rosa had even bought her a black veil—the opposite of the white one she’d worn on her wedding day. Not to mark this is as a somber occasion, but to mark it as a funeral for her past life. A life she could officially move on from.

“I’m sure this is an emotional day for you,” Rosa said. “Saying goodbye to the past can be hard, even if you know it’s the right thing.” She smiled softly. “I look forward to the day when you’re back to being your old self—the woman who was stress-free and happy until Paul dragged you down.”

Rosa was absolutely right. Lorraine hadn’t been the same person after just two years of marriage. She’d sunk into depression. Nothing had been good enough to please Paul. All her efforts to make her marriage work had been in vain. She had increasingly thrown herself into work, but even that was an emotional rollercoaster. As a palliative care nurse, she loved her patients, but losing them was always painful.

“Trina needs to hurry up with those shooters,” Amanda said.

Lorraine looked toward the section of the bar where Trina had ventured off to. Trina was lost somewhere in the crowd.

As Lorraine’s gaze wandered the other way, it stopped abruptly, landing on another pair of eyes. They were dark and intense and drew her in for a few glorious seconds. She stared, unable to turn away, while the man who owned those striking eyes stared back.

The air rushing out of her lungs, Lorraine felt an undeniable sizzle of heat.

She checked out the man staring back at her. Golden brown skin. Broad shoulders and seriously muscular biceps. Wow.

She glanced away, blushing.

“Who are you looking at?” Amanda asked, and shot a peek over her shoulder.

“Don’t!” Lorraine admonished, but she was too late.

“What am I missing?” Rosa asked.

“Oh, I see him,” Amanda said, her tone piquing with interest. “The guy behind me in the second booth. Wearing a pale blue shirt.”

“Oh!” Rosa’s eyes widening, she playfully swatted Lorraine’s arm. “Girl, you’re flirting?”

“Can’t I look at a man without you guys making a big deal about it?” Lorraine asked.

Trina appeared then, weaving through the crowd back toward the table. She was carrying a plate with the four shot glasses grouped closely together. Surrounding the glasses were four lime wedges. “One round of tequila shooters!” Trina announced. She placed the plate onto the table, then took her seat beside Amanda again. “Grab one, ladies.”

They each took a shot glass, but left the limes on the plate. Trina was the first to lick her hand and pour salt onto it. The rest of the ladies followed suit.

Rosa quickly raised her shot glass. “To Lorraine getting to know the hot guy in the blue shirt.”

Trina frowned. “Huh? What did I miss?”

“He’s at the table behind us,” Amanda explained.

“Don’t look—” Lorraine said, but Trina was already whipping her head around.

Lorraine glanced at the hottie again, saw him smile at her. Oh, God. He was paying attention to them. And now he knew that she and her friends were talking about him.

“I’m totally embarrassed,” Lorraine said. “He knows that I’m staring at him. Thanks to you guys.”

“To Lorraine’s fresh start,” Amanda said, raising the shooter and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“I’ll drink to that!” Rosa enthused.

There was no point in arguing with these women, who loved her unconditionally. So Lorraine downed her shooter along with her friends. The tequila burned its way down her throat. She quickly stuffed the lime in her mouth to kill the bite of the booze. As she and her friends did the same, Rosa feigned a gagging sound. They all started laughing. Yeah, this was just like old times.

“Okay, that’s my one and only tequila shot for the night,” Rosa said. “No more.”

“As if we don’t know that,” Trina said. “Though I’m really curious to know what a two-tequila night would be like for you.”

“You’re not going to find out,” Rosa told her.

As her friends engaged in playful chatter, Lorraine glanced in the sexy stranger’s direction. Again, he was looking at her.

“If you’re going to keep flirting,” Rosa began, “you need to fix your makeup. It’s a mess from when you got teary a few minutes ago.”

“What?” Lorraine gasped, horrified.

Rosa got to her feet and reached for Lorraine’s hand. “Let’s go to the restroom.”

Lorraine didn’t protest. Not that she was interested in the man she’d noticed, but flirting was not sexy with raccoon eyes.

She grabbed her purse from the table and started for the restroom with Rosa, who was a little unsteady on her feet. Lorraine’s head was definitely lighter. The margarita was already having an effect on her. She wasn’t about to get over-the-top drunk, but being tipsy and feeling good was exactly what she wanted. Especially since she hadn’t hung out with her friends like this in such a long time. Paul hadn’t expressly forbidden it, but he’d made it clear that he didn’t like her friends. So they all needed tonight, and there was no shame in letting loose. They were all taking taxis home, so no need to worry about any of them driving while drunk.

Lorraine and Rosa entered the bathroom. The dark red walls seemed to suck up the already dim light. It was a horrible color scheme for the visibility required to reapply makeup.

Lorraine headed toward a mirror while Rosa went into a stall. Dim lighting or not, her ruined makeup was clear to see. Her mascara and eyeliner had bled around her eyes, and there was one long black streak on the left side of her face. She wondered if the hottie had been able to see her face clearly. How embarrassing!

Two other women burst into the restroom, giggling. As Lorraine tore off a piece of paper towel, the young women went right for the mirror, fixing their hair and applying fresh coats of lipstick.

“You really think he’s into me?” one of the women asked. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-two.

“He wouldn’t have bought you a drink if he wasn’t,” her friend responded.

Lorraine wet the paper towel, then started to carefully wipe around her eyes to remove the mess. She smiled as she listened to the friends chatter about the guy one of them liked. How long had it been since she’d been out like this with her own friends, happily scoping out the available men? Not in forever.

She frowned. What if the sexy stranger had been checking her out because of her black veil? She’d noticed curious looks from others tonight, but something about this man intrigued her. She hoped there was a connection between them.

The black streaks cleaned, Lorraine reached into her purse for her compact and started applying a fresh coat of powder.

Rosa exited the stall and approached a sink. When she looked at Lorraine she said, “Much better.”

“You mean the raccoon look isn’t my thing?” Lorraine joked.

“On Halloween, yes. But tonight, not so much.”

Lorraine laughed. Then, once again looking at her reflection, she asked, “Should I change my lipstick?”

“You actually have something other than the boring brown you’re wearing? That is the name of the lipstick, isn’t it? Boring Brown.”

Lorraine cut her eyes at her friend. She liked the brown color. It went with everything. And it was a good choice for her caramel-colored complexion. But as she stared at herself in the mirror, she had to admit that the color didn’t add any pizzazz. Compared to the two women at the other end of the mirror, wearing bright colors on their lips and their eyes, Lorraine’s look was...well, boring indeed.

Lorraine dug her other lipstick choice out of her purse. While Rosa went to dry her hands, Lorraine applied a coat of the red and pressed her lips together.

Her eyes widened. After her initial shock, her lips spread in a slow smile. What a dramatic difference. Her lips looked extra kissable.

Extra kissable... Good grief. Maybe it was the alcohol getting to her.

“Great veil.”

Lorraine turned to look at the two young women, who were staring at her in awe. “Oh, thanks.”

“Single and ready to mingle!” one of them said. “You go, girl.” Then, linking arms, they both headed out of the bathroom.

Lorraine smiled, then looked at her reflection again. The veil was great. Perhaps a little over the top, but she’d worn a veil when getting married. Why not now when she was out celebrating her divorce?

“What’s the name of that color?” Rosa asked.

Lorraine turned the lipstick container over and looked at the bottom. “One Night Stand,” she read. “Good Lord.”

Rosa beamed at her. “Perfect.”

“Perfect?” Lorraine’s eyes widened. “Girl, you’re crazy.”

“Hey, you never know. You already have a prospect...”

But Lorraine did know. Unlike the women who’d just left the restroom, she wasn’t looking for a hookup. She didn’t want anything tonight except a little harmless flirting, and a lot of fun with her friends. Tomorrow she would sleep in and recover from her late night out, because at thirty-two there was no way she could recover as quickly as she had when she’d partied at twenty.

Lorraine fixed the veil around her face and nodded at her reflection, satisfied.

“Gorgeous,” Rosa told her.

“Thanks.” Lorraine put her makeup back in her purse. “I still have to use the toilet. You don’t have to wait for me.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. I’ll be out soon.”

Lorraine took a few more minutes in the bathroom. Right before she headed out, she decided to spritz herself with a little perfume. Just in case she and the sexy stranger spoke or danced.

Lorraine was securing the latch on her purse so her head was down as she exited the restroom. As she lifted her gaze, she saw a man ease his body off the wall and start in her direction, almost as if he’d been waiting for her. As he neared her, he grinned. Good God, was this stranger she’d never seen before actually approaching her?

“Excuse me,” Lorraine said, and sidestepped him when he put himself directly in her path.

“Not so fast,” the man said. He took her by the arm, forcing her to stop, then stepped in front of her. “Now that you have me alone, you don’t have anything to say to me? You playing shy?”

Lorraine looked at up at him, flummoxed. “Excuse me?”

“I saw you making eyes at me out there.”

Lorraine was confused. And then it hit her. This guy must have been somewhere close to the sexy stranger. He thought she’d been hitting on him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re mistaken.”

She made another move to step past him, but he surprised her by slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her against his thick body. “Come on, you don’t have to be bashful.”

“No, seriously.” She tried to extricate herself from his grasp. “I wasn’t flirting with you. Sorry if you got that impression.” She didn’t want to offend him, just in case he was irrational. She could tell by the slight slurring of his voice that he’d been drinking too much. Men who drank too much could be a problem.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered into her ear.

He held her tighter as she continued to try to free herself, and that’s when she truly became alarmed. “Let me go.” She spoke in a firm voice. “I don’t want this.”

“I just want to get to know you,” the man said.

“This isn’t okay,” Lorraine said.

“Let the lady go.”

At the sound of the commanding voice, the man loosened his grip on Lorraine but didn’t fully release her. He looked beyond Lorraine to the man who’d spoken.

“What, is this your girl?”

Finally, Lorraine was able to pull herself free. She did and turned. And felt as though she’d been kicked in the stomach.

The man coming to her defense was none other than the man she’d been flirting with!

“When a woman tells you to let her go,” her sexy savior said, “you let her go.”

There was such an air of authority about him that he was even hotter to her now than he had been before. Was he a cop?

The man who’d been harassing Lorraine stepped away, raising his hands in a sign of surrender. He probably feared he was going to get his lights knocked out by this man, who was taller and clearly stronger than he—if all those perfectly honed muscles were any indication. “Sorry, dude.”

The man walked toward them briskly. “Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to her.”

The harasser looked at Lorraine with a sheepish expression. “Sorry about that. I just thought... You know.”

“It’s fine,” Lorraine said tersely. It wasn’t actually fine. She hated men who got drunk and felt it was their right to become aggressive with women.

Fortunately, the jerk promptly took off, leaving Lorraine alone with the stranger.

“Are you okay?” he asked her. His deep voice sent delicious shivers down her spine.

Lorraine looked up at Mr. Too Fine. He had to be around six foot three. Golden brown skin, dark eyes framed by thick, curly lashes. “Yes,” she said, nodding. “I’m fine.”

“He didn’t hurt you?”

“I think you came just in time. I was starting to get worried.”

“I’m glad I got here when I did, then.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Lorraine’s pulse was pounding. She glanced away, nervous.

“What’s with the veil?” the guy asked. Then, “Oh, wait. It’s black, not white. So the opposite of a wedding... Right?”

“Wedding?” Lorraine scoffed with a smile. “What wedding? I’m no longer married.” Single and ready to mingle!

“I get it.” The man smiled down at her, and he had the cutest dimples.

“I’m Hunter,” he said, extending his hand.

Lorraine accepted it. His warm grip enveloped hers and sent a zap of heat coursing through her veins. “I’m... I’m Mary.”

Why was she lying?

“Nice to meet you, Mary,” he said. “What are you drinking?”

“Margaritas,” she answered without hesitation. Then she felt a little silly. Did she really want him to buy her a drink or two? Any more to drink and she might not be able to think too clearly.

Single and ready to mingle! The parting words of the young woman leaving the restroom jumped into her mind again. Lorraine couldn’t help it—she started giggling.

Hunter narrowed his eyes as he looked at her, though the edges of his lips were curved in a grin. “What’s so funny?”

What indeed? What was it about this man that had her acting like a school girl?

“I don’t even know,” Lorraine said. “I really have no clue why I’m laughing.”

Hunter’s grin widened. He seemed to like what she’d said. “High on life, I guess?” he suggested.

“Something like that.”

“You ready to go back out there?” he asked, offering her his elbow.

Lorraine looped her hand through his arm, feeling a flash of heat as her skin once again connected with his. His arm was strong. He had rock-hard muscles. This guy was seriously hot.

“Sure,” she said.

“Then let’s go get that drink.”