An Unexpected Attraction (Love Unexpected Book 3) (3 page)

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Authors: Delaney Diamond

Tags: #Romance, #african-american romance, #interracial romance, #contemporary romance, #Fiction

BOOK: An Unexpected Attraction (Love Unexpected Book 3)
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“You’re making this into a bigger deal than it is. He’s just being nice.” She shouldn’t have told her what Nick whispered out on the sidewalk.

“Being nice?” She couldn’t see Sophie’s face clearly in the dark vehicle, but she didn’t have to. The skepticism came through loud and clear. “He invited you to go to Europe, all expenses paid, and he didn’t offer the same to me or Jay. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to get in your panties.”

Brenda didn’t respond to Sophie’s assertion because, in all honesty, she had her doubts about Nick’s motives. His invitation had taken her by surprise.

Sophie yawned. “I’m exhausted.”

“Me, too.”

Silence.

“Jay’s so hot,” Sophie said. “But he’s not the least bit interested in me.”

Brenda lifted her head. “How could you even think about getting involved with Jay when…?”

“When what? Because of Jenna?” Sophie waved her hand dismissively. “Please, those two have been divorced for ten years, and they’ve both been involved with other people since then.”

“Other people, but not one of us,” Brenda said pointedly.

“Um, again, they’re divorced, and she’s more your friend than mine, if we’re honest.”

“I cannot believe you,” Brenda said.

“What? So she gets to call dibs on his penis for the rest of his life? Pfft. Please. There are people who give up their families because of love.”

“Are you saying you’re in love with him?” The question came out as a high-pitched squeal and her heart quivered, a rapid movement that left her a little breathless.

“Heck no! But I’d give up her friendship in a second for Jay.”

Brenda gaped at Sophie. “Remind me never to let you near my future husband.”

“I would never sleep with your husband, and besides, you’re the best of my besties. That’s a no-no, but if after you’re done with him and it’s true love…” She shrugged as she let the words trail off.

“Wow.” Brenda let out a short laugh and shook her head.

“You can have your goody-two-shoes crap. I’d rather have true love.”

“It’s not crap. There are just things you don’t do, that’s all.”

“And this has nothing to do with your mommy issues,” Sophie said dryly.

Brenda ignored her.

She and her mother had an odd relationship, but she didn’t have mommy issues. Her mother refused to grow up, and Brenda had always been the adult in their mother-daughter relationship. She’d always been responsible, prone to make the right decisions with her head, while her mother tended to go with her heart and hormones.

“But seriously, why do you think Jay’s never shown any interest in me?” Sophie asked. “I dropped a few hints tonight, but he didn’t appear to be the least bit interested.”

“Probably because you spent so much time talking about Keith, like you always do,” Brenda said.

Sophie swung her head in Brenda’s direction. “Did I talk about him a lot?”

“He kept coming up.”

“Ugh. Oh well. That waitress is probably under Jay as we speak.”

“Probably.” Brenda folded her arms, eyes trained on the passing cars and the bright lights of the shopping center they’d stopped in front of, wishing away the prickle of pain in her chest.

After the driver pulled off, Sophie turned her head in Brenda’s direction. “Hey, are you okay? You seem off.”

“I’m tired,” Brenda replied. It wasn’t entirely untrue. Even though it was Saturday, she’d gone into work for a few hours before swinging back home to meet Sophie and go to the funeral. Add to that the long day, the dancing, and the drinking, she looked forward to sliding under the sheets and sleeping late tomorrow.

Sophie rested her head against the seat of the cab and closed her eyes. “I’ve always wondered what happened, you know, between Jay and Jenna. They were together for a couple of years, got married, but the marriage didn’t even last two years. Why? I mean, look at him. I would have tried to work that out, whatever the problem was.”

“Jenna said irreconcilable differences caused the divorce.” Brenda didn’t know the whole story, but Jenna had mentioned something vague about them realizing too late that they’d made a mistake. She’d never heard Jay’s side. She’d never asked.

Sophie tilted her head in Brenda’s direction. “Maybe it wasn’t a love match. She was pregnant when they got married.”

Brenda shrugged. “I don’t know. Who knows why people get married or divorced?”

“People get married because they’re in love.”

“Not always. People marry for all kinds of reasons.”

“True.” Sophie closed her eyes again. “I know I made those comments about Jay, but it’s sad their marriage didn’t last. I thought for sure they were so in love. I knew, of all our friends who’d married young, their marriage would last. But it was the shortest lived. The boys turned out great, but it’s too bad things didn’t work out between them.”

Brenda looked out the window again. They’d rolled to a stop at another red light. On the sidewalk, a couple speed-walked arm-in-arm.

“Yeah. Too bad things didn’t work out,” she said quietly.

Chapter
Three

Brenda slammed the car door and ran up the stone steps to the porch. She had about an hour to shower, change, drive to Sweet Treats Bakery, and get to her board meeting at the Fulton County Performing Arts & Community Center. She served on the fundraising committee of the center, which brought diverse programming to the area and boasted a state-of-the-art theater with the latest in digital and audio equipment. She probably couldn’t make the meeting on time, but was determined to try.

Her home was the first floor apartment of a 1920’s duplex in Candler Park. It was a long drive to and from her job in Alpharetta, but she’d immediately fallen in love with the place because of its charming façade and the way light came into the house. An added bonus was its proximity to the park, which served as a venue for festivals throughout the year, and the restaurants and shops within walking distance.

Inside, she hung her keys on the key rack and walked down the hallway to one of the two bedrooms. Although the house had been renovated five years ago, the owner had maintained the character of the original construction with simple touches like refurbishing the cabinets and repairing the solid wood floors.

She tossed her purse on the queen size bed, the only new furniture in the entire apartment. It was Victorian in design, with an antique bronze headboard and footboard. Every other piece of furniture she owned had been purchased secondhand, including the distressed oak dresser.

Making good time, Brenda had changed and was in the process of locking up when she saw her neighbor and landlord from upstairs, Mrs. Chen, carrying two bags filled with groceries. She was an elderly white woman with a twinkle in her blue eyes that suggested despite the bent shoulders and slow walk, her energy and spirit remained intact. She always had a friendly greeting whenever they ran into each other, so Brenda didn’t hesitate to approach her.

“Need help with those?” she asked, pointing to the two totes, one in each of Mrs. Chen’s hands.

“You don’t mind?” Brenda had assisted her before, but she always asked.

“Not at all.” She was short on time but couldn’t allow her neighbor to lug those bags up the stairs by herself.

“I appreciate it so much.” Her voice sounded weary. Brenda took the bags and followed up the stairs to the second floor. They progressed slowly, Mrs. Chen holding the handrail and taking her time with unhurried, measured steps.

Inside the apartment, Brenda set the totes on the kitchen counter. “There you go. Anything else I can help you with?”

“Aren’t you a kind-hearted soul.” Mrs. Chen held up a finger. “Wait one minute.” She shuffled over to an old-fashioned ceramic cookie jar and pulled off the lid. But when she looked inside the container, her expression changed from smiling to disappointment. “I was going to give you some of my snickerdoodle cookies. I baked a whole batch a few days ago, but my grandson came by. He must have eaten them all.”

“That’s okay. I’m on my way to the bakery before my meeting tonight. I bring them dessert to make the meeting a little more pleasant.”

“I’ll make some more very soon,” Mrs. Chen promised, “and bring them down to you.”

“It’s okay, really,” Brenda said, wanting to put the older woman’s mind at ease.

“No, I insist.” Mrs. Chen walked Brenda to the front door.

When she stepped outside, Brenda turned to the older woman. “I have a question to ask you.”

“Go right ahead.”

“Why do you live on the second floor? Why not take the first floor apartment?” She’d wondered this from the beginning, ever since the first time she’d seen Mrs. Chen trudge up the stairs.

The corners of her landlord’s mouth tilted up into a wistful, almost pained expression. “My husband and I lived in this apartment for thirty-five years.” She leaned against the door, as if the weight of the memories had tipped her off balance. “It wasn’t love at first sight. He was a small man and not my usual type. I wasn’t his, either.” She laughed softly, her features brightening so much her wrinkles seemed to vanish. “But our relationship evolved—against the wishes of our families. Back then, things were very much different for people who didn’t…look the same.” Her voice lowered, her eyes passing a message. “It was us against the world, and together we were unstoppable, could do anything. We bought this house, fixed it, and rented out the downstairs. We raised our daughter and our son here. We struggled, we laughed, we made a lot of memories. Yes, it would be easier for me to move downstairs, but then I’d have to say goodbye. I’m not ready to say goodbye to Huan yet.”

Tears sprang to Brenda’s eyes. How beautiful it must be to find a love like that. A love worth sacrificing for and worth whatever you’d have to give up.

“Thank you for sharing that story.” She reached for Mrs. Chen’s wrinkled hand, so fragile she felt the brittle bones beneath her delicate skin. “Whenever you need my help, promise me you’ll knock on my door. Don’t hesitate.”

Mrs. Chen squeezed Brenda’s fingers. “You’re such a sweetheart. You don’t need to be bothered by a crazy old woman.” She chuckled. “Now I have a question for you. Are you seeing anyone?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Oh no, don’t you dare.” Brenda waved her hands vigorously. “I get enough of everyone playing matchmaker.”

Since returning to Atlanta, her friends Jenna and Sophie, even an employee had tried to set her up. With her new job at the magazine, she simply hadn’t had time to get out and meet anyone. She aimed to remedy the situation soon now that she’d settled into the editor position.

“Hmm…How old are you? Thirty-one, thirty-two?”

“Good guess. I’m thirty-two, but—”

“I know a couple of good young men your age. Let me know if you’re interested and I’ll arrange for you to meet one or two of them.”

That was definitely Brenda’s cue to leave tout de suite before Mrs. Chen married her off to one of those ‘good young men.’

“I will keep that in mind, but I have to run so I’m not late for my meeting.”

She hurried down the stairs and away from her landlord’s good intentions.

****

If it weren’t for the fact that Sweet Treats Bakery made the best cannoli outside of his dearly departed
nonna
, Jay wouldn’t even bother coming to the popular bakery. Calling ahead and placing an order as he’d done in the past would have been wise, but the urge to come didn’t hit until he was nearby.

Running the largest advertising firm in the southeast sometimes meant long days, but seldom did he have to work as hard as he had over the past couple of months to convince a client to hire his firm. After a long, drawn out meeting this afternoon, the client—a flamboyant former rapper by the name of DJ Terror, intent on rebranding his image—finally signed with Omega Advertising. Jay felt like he had earned this treat.

He exited his Mercedes SUV, a sleek, bullet gray machine purchased a year ago. His devotion to the brand had started during childhood. His grandfather, the most influential male figure in his life after his parents divorced and his father moved to the States, only bought Mercedes.

“Good, dependable car,” he would say, and slap his hand on the roof to emphasize the point.

An ache filled Jay’s chest. To this day, he still missed his grandfather, who’d raised him to be a man of upstanding moral character. Nothing like the so-called father who’d given Jay five,
or more
, half-siblings scattered around the globe.

Jay trekked across the parking lot, and lo and behold spotted Brenda entering the bakery ahead of him. He hadn’t seen her since the funeral three weeks ago. The sight of her lifted his spirits and lightened his steps. Upon entering the store, crammed with customers getting their end-of-the-day fix, the scent of fresh baked breads, cakes, and pies hit his nose and made his mouth water.

Brenda stood in one of the three lines, staring up at the menu board.

He strolled up behind her, his olfactory sense immediately immersed in a combined cloud of perfume and her own unique fragrance. The combination was more enticing than the baked goods. He bent close to her ear. “I’m not surprised.”

Brenda jumped and swung around to face him, covering her heart with her hand. “You scared me.” She laughed nervously and then tilted her head at him, a soft smile on her face. “What’s that supposed to mean, anyway?”

Damn, she looked great, but that wasn’t unusual. Her skin glowed and those big, expressive brown eyes sparkled with a teasing light. Was it any wonder his spirits lifted as soon as he saw her?

“You,
signorina
, have an uncanny ability for finding the best bakeries.”

She laughed, a husky sound filled with warmth and sensuality that sent shivers down his spine.

Calm down, Jacopo.

“I’m here to pick up snacks for a meeting I have later, but you’re one to talk. Let me guess.” She screwed up her face into a thoughtful frown and looked up at him from behind a veil of thick lashes. “The cannolis must be exceptional here.”

“Cannoli—no “s” at the end,” he corrected. “It’s already plural.”

“You mean I’ve been saying it wrong all these years?” Her eyes widened in mock distress.

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