All Up In My Business (25 page)

“Hello!” he gushed, his blue eyes sparkling. “Welcome to the Ritz-Carlton. How may I help you?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out,” Shyla seductively replied, leaning over to reveal creamy, tanned orbs highlighted by a push-up bra. “See, I’m here to surprise my husband. It’s our one-year anniversary, but he was called away on this dastardly timed business trip.” She fixed her mouth into a perfect pout, knowing the fiery-red Lady Danger MAC lipstick showed off her lips to perfection.

“That’s too bad,” the young man said to her lips before his eyes dropped to her breasts.

“That’s how I feel,” Shyla cooed. “Especially since I got all waxed and plucked, ready to give him his … anniversary present.” Shyla reached into her bag and pulled out Toussaint’s itinerary, while discreetly showing the concierge the stack of
crisp, one-hundred-dollar bills folded inside. “According to the itinerary he gave me, he’s at dinner right now. But if I can get a strapping young man such as yourself to help me, I can sneak into his room and … be his dessert later.”

Laughter abounded as Toussaint, Ace, and Diane enjoyed the casual and comfortable ambiance of Aunt Kizzy’s Back Porch. They had just ordered a variety of themed dishes, such as Cousin Willie Mae’s Pork Chops and Miss Flossie’s Chicken and Dumplings, with sides of okra, collards, and macaroni and cheese.

“Now, aren’t you glad you came with us, baby?” Ace asked Diane as he leaned over to give her a kiss.

“Just don’t forget you promised me a trip to Tiffany tomorrow.
That
was the trade-off for me not going shopping with the girls.”

“I might join you on that trip to Tiffany,” Toussaint said casually, taking a swig of his ice-cold Red Stripe.

Diane jumped on the comment like white on rice, the opening she hadn’t even known she was looking for. “So tell us about this surprise guest, nephew, Miss Alexis St. Clair. Squiring you on a business trip? Sharing your suite? Now, I know it’s none of my business—”

“So why are you asking?” Ace interrupted.

“But what happened to you and Shyla? I thought wedding bells were following you two around.”

“You thought, or she led you to believe?” When Diane shrugged, Toussaint continued. “You don’t even have to answer. I know you like Shyla. Mama does too. And don’t get me wrong—she’s a smart, beautiful woman who’s good at her job. But there are no wedding bells in our future.”

“And Alexis …”

Toussaint couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Alexis is … different.”

“She redesigned your place, right?”

“Yes, Aunt Diane, the place you’ve yet to come see, though I’ve invited you numerous times.”

“Well, I guess I’ll get over there now. Seeing as how the living room isn’t the only thing she … rearranged.” Diane leaned back, not for a moment missing the light in Toussaint’s eyes or the look on his face. She’d seen her husband wear that look, knew what she’d done to put it on his face.
His nose is so wide open, I could drive a truck through right now
. “She seems like a nice girl. But what do you know about her?”

“Enough to know that I want to know more.”

“My feet hurt, and I’m wearing flats!” Zoe fell into the back of the cab, happy but exhausted. She’d fallen in love with the fashion district, an area near downtown LA that was roughly ninety blocks of wall-to-wall shops. Three hours had gone by like minutes. She was already planning a return trip to LA for shopping alone.

“Just remind me to never again invite myself shopping with two clothes fanatics,” Drake said, piling into the cab beside Zoe while Alexis got in on the other side. “No wonder you see husbands in shopping malls with dazed looks on their faces!”

“Oh, quit your complaining. You know hanging out with us has been the height of your trip so far.”

Drake snorted. “Hardly.” But inside, he agreed. He’d had a secret crush on Zoe for months and had wanted to ask her out ever since his last relationship ended. But he’d been too afraid to ask, too hesitant to find out if this seemingly strong black woman liked any milk in her coffee. But now this business trip had given Drake Benson, the son of an English father and Irish mom, the chance to find out.

“I’ll tell you what, all this shopping has worked up an appetite. Which one of you ladies is going to treat me to dinner?”

“I’m going straight to my room,” Alexis said readily, planning
to order room service, eat a good meal, and then invite her ravenous lover to join her in a long bubble bath followed by an even longer night of lovemaking. “But I did notice a restaurant by the pool. Looks nice.”

“So, what do you say, Zoe?” Drake asked in a voice he hoped was casual. “Going to compensate me for carrying your bags across half of downtown?”

More than anything, Zoe wanted to trade places with Alexis. She knew exactly why Alexis was going straight to her room and knew which appetite she’d have satisfied.
Who did I think I was to even think I could come here and get with Toussaint? Fool! You’re so stupid!

Zoe stopped her thoughts, not wanting to ruin what had been a perfect day. “What the hell,” she said, shrugging, with a glance in Drake’s direction. “I guess your services are worth a salad or side dish.”

“Who are you kidding? This is an expensed dinner. You’ll probably order the most expensive thing on the menu. We’re getting ready to dine like royalty.”

“Au contraire, Mr. Business Development. I’m always mindful of the company’s bottom line.”

“She’s bucking for a promotion,” Drake whispered conspiratorially to Alexis. “Guess we need to drop her off at McDonald’s.”

“Humph. Only if you want a happy meal. I’m doing lobster tonight!”

The three laughed, then became quiet, content to gaze out the window and watch Los Angeles pass by. Zoe marveled at the palm trees and all the other vegetation, and Alexis had forgotten how crowded the city was. Drake’s hand itched to reach over and clasp Zoe’s, but he contented himself with the knowledge that he’d have her all to himself, at least for the time it took them to eat dinner.

They reached the hotel and walked directly to the elevators. One opened up right away. “I’m going to put down these
bags and take a quick shower,” Zoe said as they watched the numbers light up.

Drake nodded. “Do you want me to meet you in the lobby, or will you stop by my room?”

“I’ll stop and knock. Be ready.” The elevator reached Zoe and Drake’s floor. They waved good-bye to Alexis and then went to their separate rooms.

Alexis sighed and leaned back on the elevator wall. She was deliciously exhausted, having gotten less than four hours of sleep.
But so did Toussaint, and he worked all day
, she reminded herself. A nice meal, a bubble bath, and she’d be good as new. Her va-jay-jay fairly tingled in anticipation at the thought of what was ahead.

Shyla looked at her watch.
He’ll be here soon
. She giggled softly, her earlier trepidation having been replaced with excitement. For a moment, when she’d first entered the suite, she’d become frightened, taken aback with the obvious evidence of a woman’s presence. She’d guessed that Toussaint would fuck Zoe but hadn’t really wanted to believe it. But after calming down with a quick shower and a couple glasses of wine, she’d regained her confidence, remembering that she was Shyla Martin, soon-to-be director of marketing for the Livingston Group.

After rearranging the tray of hors d’oeuvres and making sure the champagne was properly chilled, Shyla walked to the floor-length mirror. She’d carefully chosen the dress she now wore, a satiny gold-print mini with nothing underneath. She’d gone back and forth on how to meet him. Naked in bed? Covered by bubbles in the Jacuzzi tub? By the door, with a bottle of wine and a glass? Finally, she’d decided on a sexy approach, which is why rose petals were strewn across the bed and candles lit the room. Her hair was down and around her shoulders, and her makeup was immaculate. She gave herself a final look in the mirror, satisfied that the nymph picture she’d paint from the middle of the king-sized bed was just the one
to harden Toussaint’s shaft and bring him panting to her waiting wetness.

The sound of a card being pushed into the slot jolted Shyla from her reverie.
Oh. He’s here!
She looked around quickly and then slid onto the bed, positioning herself in the middle. Grabbing a handful of petals, she sprinkled them on her exposed thighs, even as she flipped back her hair to expose creamy shoulders. She licked her lips, raised her chin, and felt like a vixen. Finally, tonight, she’d have Toussaint all to herself.

Alexis dropped the bags just inside the door, kicking off her shoes in one fluid motion. She walked directly to the table, where earlier she’d seen the room service information. She’d decided to place her order, schedule it for thirty minutes later, and take a shower before Toussaint arrived. She wanted to be ready in case he wanted her now, like she did him, and didn’t want to prolong the inevitable with a drawn-out bath.

She sat down and began looking at the menu. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she murmured, realizing that nature’s call prevented her from focusing. “I need to get out of these clothes anyway.” She hurried to the master bath, a frown beginning to form as she smelled the scent of …
vanilla?
Alexis smiled.
That rascal. He beat me here
. “Baby, are you filling the room with my favorite—” Alexis turned the corner and stopped in her tracks.

“What the hell?”

Shyla hid her surprise at seeing Alexis instead of Zoe.
Hmmm. The plot thickens. Obviously this surprise visit was timelier than I realized
. “You don’t look like room service,” she said calmly, leaning back deeper into the feather pillows. “Were you Toussaint’s bed warmer last night while he awaited my arrival?” Shyla took delight in the look of horror on Alexis’s face and continued. “Oh, he must not have told you that you were just one of several women he invited on this trip. The man’s insatiable, but, from the look on your face, I guess you know a little bit about that by now. But don’t worry, I learned a long
time ago that since I am going to be Mrs. Livingston, I’d better get used to sharing him with the rest of the world.”

This last sentence jolted Alexis out of immobility. Without a word, she walked to the closet, pulled out her suitcase, and quickly threw clothes and shoes inside. She marched to the bathroom and retrieved her toiletries, not even looking at Shyla as she passed back by the bed. Alexis was numb with the myriad of emotions roiling within her; she could barely breathe.
Last night. Magical. Perfect. I’ve got to get out of here!

“Wait. Are you leaving? I’m sorry, Alexis. I can’t believe Toussaint didn’t tell you I’d be here today.” Shyla hurried off the bed.

“Don’t!” Alexis growled as she turned and gave Shyla a look that stopped her dead in her tracks. “Come any closer, and I might not be responsible for my actions. I don’t know who invited who, or what is going on. But I know that any man who will sleep with someone like you is no man of mine.” With that, Alexis turned and walked out of the room, her head held high. She put on the shoes by the door, grabbed the bags containing her newly purchased items, and headed to the elevator.
Just let me get to a cab and get to the airport
. From there, with a ticket back to Atlanta in her hand, she could formulate her future, and breathe again.

The elevator dinged. Alexis’s hurried entry into it was blocked by a solid, hard chest. “Baby!” Toussaint said, opening his arms and wrapping them around his honey.

“Get your hands off of me, Toussaint!” Alexis said, wriggling out of his grasp.

Toussaint stepped back and only then noticed the bags and Alexis’s luggage. His brow creased with a deep frown. “Alexis. What is it, baby? What in the world has happened?”

Alexis maneuvered her things around him and into the elevator. “I don’t know, Toussaint,” she said softly as the doors were closing. “Ask your
wife.”

49

“M
y what? Alexis!” But it was too late, the elevator doors had closed. Toussaint frantically pushed the down button and jumped into the next elevator as soon as the doors opened. He reached the lobby and ran toward the entrance.

“Did you see a woman just now?” Toussaint asked the concierge. “Black, thick locs, carrying a suitcase and bags?”

The same man who had helped Shyla with this surprise nodded. “Just helped her get a cab, sir.”

“Where was she going?”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential information, sir. Would you be needing a cab as well?”

Toussaint’s long strides were already eating up the space between the front door and the elevator. He ran a hand across his face, perplexed beyond belief at what could have happened to cause Alexis to leave. And then it hit him.
Shyla. Somehow, she got Alexis’s number and called her
. It still didn’t make sense. What could Shyla have said that would make Alexis pack her bags and leave?
Alexis is here, with me. Shyla is in Atlanta
. Or was she?

When the elevator doors opened, a fast-moving Toussaint almost collided with Zoe, who stepped out of the elevator at the same time.

Drake was directly behind her. “Hey, man, where’s the fire?”

Toussaint grabbed Drake’s arm. “Where is she?”

“Whoa, who?”

“Don’t ‘who’ me. Your jogging partner, Shyla. Where is she?”

“In Atlanta? Heck, I don’t know. Calm down, man. Let me go!”

Toussaint released Drake’s arm. “Sorry, Drake. Didn’t mean to grab you like that.” He turned to a wide-eyed Zoe, who shrugged and shook her head before a question was asked. Toussaint pushed the button to his floor, a sinking feeling enveloping with each floor passed. “She wouldn’t” he whispered. But he knew that she would. When it came to Shyla Martin, Toussaint wouldn’t put a thing past her.

“Shyla!” Toussaint yelled as soon as he’d opened the door to his suite. “Shyla, I swear to God if you’re here …” He walked into the master suite and stopped short. “You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

Shyla cringed at his palpable anger. She’d thought Toussaint might sleep with Zoe, but never once had she considered that he’d bring an actual love interest on a business trip. And judging from his reaction, Alexis was much more than a passing fling. Thinking of the nasty encounter they’d just had made Shyla sit up straight. Had he run into Alexis?
Uh-oh
. With each passing moment, Shyla realized just how bad her idea was to surprise Toussaint. “Sorry, Toussaint,” she said, easing off the bed and standing to face him. She knew it was time to do damage control. “I took some vacation days, wanted to surprise you. We’ve both been so busy back in Atlanta. I wasn’t thinking—”