Beneath the Surface (20 page)
“One sneeze, and I have the bubonic plague?”
“Hey, we both know who you’re talking to. You rarely get sick. Both of us do.”
That was true enough. He often wondered if his and Angela’s unusual good health was an offshoot of their gifts. “There’s a first time for everything.”
“That’s why you should start taking better care of yourself. You’re not getting any younger you know.”
“Didn’t I say I just got off the phone with my mother?”
Angela grumbled, “Oh, all right. I’ll leave you in peace.”
“You will?” he blurted out.
“For now. Just one more thing though—”
“Yes, I’ll think about what you’ve said, old wise maharani.”
Angela chuckled before saying good-bye and hanging up.
EJ immediately got back on his computer, but as soon as he was in front of the monitor he realized he just didn’t have it. The magic he’d experienced with his laptop on the plane hadn’t translated to the computer in his house. He got up, forked a hand through his hair to nape as he paced.
Shit, he’d had such grand plans, too, intended to spend at least several hours getting his foot in the door with Tabitha, then the rest of his time productively buried in his work-in-progress before the madness of Thanksgiving at his parents’ house and going back on tour took over.
He knew what the problem was. He had unfinished business to attend. Business that had been started in Texas.
He thought about calling her first, but as tempting as the memory of their last talk made that, he knew she might try to brush him off, and he didn’t want to give her that opportunity.
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Beneath the Surface
His best option was to go over there and corner the contrary woman on her own turf.
EJ grinned at the idea of seeing her in the voluptuous flesh, heart palpitating at the memory of that little chat they’d had on the phone. He hadn’t actually come down from that rush of adrenaline and testosterone since he’d hung up with her a few nights ago, doubted that he ever would, looking forward to what they could do to top it.
EJ grabbed his keys from the pegboard at the front door, threw on his black leather jacket and headed out the door while he still had the balls to do this.
* * * *
He took the outside stairs two at a time, found her bell, rang it, and seconds later heard the sexy lilt of her voice over the intercom, the familiar tone exciting his friend all over again.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, Tabitha. Let me up.”
“Who is me?”
“Don’t play games. At least not until I get upstairs.”
The buzzer instantly sounded, as he knew it would, sure she wouldn’t want to discuss their business, even in a limited capacity, on the street.
EJ chuckled as he entered the downstairs lobby and headed upstairs.
Tabitha was waiting for him, leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded across her lush breasts as he cleared the landing and made his way to her apartment.
“You’re looking good,” he said.
“Thanks.”
He grinned at her coolness, unruffled since he’d expected it.
She put a palm against his chest as he motioned to pass her and get into her apartment. “I didn’t invite you in.”
“Taking that vampire accusation a little too serious are we?”
She stared up at him, limpid whiskey colored eyes quickly weaving their spell as she dropped her hand and stepped aside.
EJ stopped just inside her hall, waited for her to close the door and precede him inside.
“You want something to drink?” She asked over a shoulder as she made a left into an immaculate stainless steel kitchen.
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Gracie C. McKeever
“Beer if you have it.” Hell, he’d took a chance, not thinking that she would after the face she’d made when he’d offered her one at his house.
EJ made his way into the living room, not surprised by the sleek cool appearance of the furnishings, grinned when he saw the glass coffee and end tables beside the gray leather sofa.
He drifted further into the apartment, saw the plant stands, one catty corner to an overflowing teak bookshelf and another adjacent to the teak entertainment center. All the plants were perfectly aligned on their perches, queued up in size place, and with military precision. Their leaves were rich and green, obviously well tended and adding an air of warmth and humanity to their otherwise sterile environment.
Then he saw them, and couldn’t help smiling, the elephant collection in the polished teak curio cabinet against the wall leading down the hall to her bedroom.
EJ went closer to admire the types and sizes, everything from a large gray porcelain elephant that took up the entire top shelf, to the smallest crystal ones proliferating on the bottom shelf. In between and crowding the remaining six shelves were gold elephants, silver elephants, brass elephants, glass elephants, ceramic elephants, even carved wooden elephants.
Had he known she had such a fetish, he would have showered her with elephants a long time ago, instead of wasting his money on roses.
EJ stood from his crouch and laughed when he spotted the signed collector’s copy of Dr. Seuss’
Horton Hears a Who
standing open at the top of the shelf.
“What’s so funny?”
He turned to see her with a Corona in one hand and a coaster in the other.
She handed him each then folded her arms across her breasts and stared at him like a school teacher who’d just caught one of her students scribbling obscenities on a bathroom wall.
“I was just admiring your collection.”
“More like mocking it.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I dig it. I think it’s cool.”
She looked at him doubtfully, unfolded her arms and indicated the sofa. “Have a seat?”
He tipped his beer at her and took a seat in one corner while she took a seat in the opposite corner. “You were expecting me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I didn’t figure you for a beer drinker.”
“I’m not.”
He waited for her to elaborate or confirm, but she wouldn’t say anything else, so he let it go at that, decided he wanted to know more about this elephant craze of hers.
“So, what’s with the cabinet?”
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Beneath the Surface
“I would have thought it was fairly obvious.”
“That you’ve got a thing for pachyderms? I got that. Just not why.”
She shrugged. “Who says there’s a deeper meaning than the fact that I just like them?”
“I know you, Tabitha.”
“I wish you’d stop saying that.”
“Just calling ‘em as I see ‘em, and I know you don’t do anything without a reason behind it.” He peered at her waiting for that peek for which he was so hungry, a tiny peek, given up willingly, without his trying to probe her, into the workings of her mind.
She must have stared back at him for a good two minutes—damn the woman was stubborn—before she finally broke down and threw up her hands.
“Fine, fine! If you must know, I don’t just like elephants I admire what they symbolize.”
He arched a brow. “And that would be?” He wanted to hear her say it, not assume that he had an idea, which he did, and not assume that he’d read Hemingway’s
Hills Like
White Elephants
, and loved because it was so dependent on dialogue.
Tabitha sighed as if he was wearing her down, and EJ smiled as she glowered at him.
“In most cultures elephants are symbols of strength, wisdom, patience, fidelity…there’s just a whole laundry list of attributes that I refuse to go into right now, all right?”
“All right.” He chuckled, moving closer. “Besides, we both know I didn’t come over here to discuss your elephant fetish.”
She glared, holding his look for as long as she could before she lurched to her feet and paced the floor in front of the sofa. She finally stopped in front of him, pointing an accusing finger. “I hope you’re not expecting anything from me because of what happened the other night. If so, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”
“Will I?” he murmured, stood and took two steps towards her.
“Stop it right there.” She took two steps back.
He smiled at her, could almost imagine her wielding a crucifix to keep him at bay if she’d had one on hand.
“I think you have the wrong idea about me,” Tabitha said.
EJ shook his head. “No. I’ve got the right idea. You’re just sorry I know your secret.”
“What secret?”
“That you’re not just a control freak.” He took another step towards her, circling until he had her in front of the sofa where he wanted her. Then he advanced until she tumbled backward on the cushions.
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Gracie C. McKeever
EJ instantly covered her body with his, catching her wrists above her head with his hands and holding her just so, letting his body adjust to her curves, sinking into the softness of her, immersing himself in her vanilla musk scent as she arched against him.
She calmly looked up at him while he slowly caressed one bare thigh and calf.
“I like the shorts,” he murmured.
“I didn’t wear them for you.”
“Didn’t you?”
“I like my comfort when I’m home relaxing.”
“I’m glad they’re comfortable, but they’re still sexy.” He lowered his head and nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply, couldn’t get enough of her creamy aroma, couldn’t get enough of her trembling beneath him, her whiskey hued eyes darkening with lust. “Just like this muscle shirt. I was already hard listening to your voice downstairs, but I nearly came when I saw your bare athletic arms peeking out of the sleeves and these full breasts pushing against the white material, and this…” He curved his free hand around her slim waist. “Do you know what a smooth exposed belly does to me?” He caressed her navel with his thumb as if to emphasize his question.
“No, tell me.”
“It makes me hot.” He stroked her throat with his tongue, took one of her hands and guided it down until she cupped the hard bulge in his jeans. “I want you, Tabitha.”
“I can see that.”
He chuckled, sliding his hands beneath her to grip the delicious round ass that had been haunting his dreams since Texas and pressed her closer to his erection, simultaneously rubbing himself against her pussy. “Say you want me, too.”
She groaned as he nibbled her left ear. “You know I do.”
He almost gaped, shocked she’d finally admitted it. Not that he didn’t already know. He could smell her desire, feel the moist heat leaking through her panties to the crotch of her jean shorts, couldn’t wait to put his fingers inside her, couldn’t wait to taste her.
EJ was so busy fantasizing about all the different ways he wanted to take her, enter her, worship her gorgeous body, he didn’t hear the door unlock.
By the time he realized someone had entered the house this tall Black guy with a high bushy Afro was already standing over him and Tabitha on the sofa.
EJ leaped off of her and got to his feet.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
EJ grimaced as the dude swaggered into the kitchen as if he owned the joint, his blood beginning to cook in his veins.
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Beneath the Surface
“Eric…”
He turned on her as she coolly smoothed back her long hair as if waking from a nap and her placidity angered him as much as the big dude in the kitchen.
Tabitha stood up beside him as the stranger came out of the kitchen with a beer, and saluted EJ with it.
“Frankie this is Eric Vega. Eric this is Franklin Greer…”
Frankie proffered a hand, and just as EJ shook it Tabitha finished the introductions.
“My brother.”
“Your brother?”
“Yeah, her brother. You got a problem with that, homeboy?”
EJ jerked his hand out of Frankie’s grasp and turned to Tabitha. “If you don’t want to tell me who he is—”
“I just did.”
“Okay. Fine.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Should I?” EJ arched a brow at her incredulous tone, angry that she wouldn’t just fess up and be honest about who was her “friend.”
He had plenty of friends of the opposite sex, and Tabitha was entitled to exercise that same option. They weren’t exclusive, nowhere close. Cool. He could deal with that.
He just didn’t want to be slapped in the face with the evidence of her
Thoroughly Modern
Millie
ideals, and he definitely didn’t have to like how close she and “Frankie” obviously were.
The guy had a key! And he didn’t look like any brother of Tabitha’s. Not because he didn’t look
like
her. He just didn’t feel like a brother. He felt like a lover, or at least an ex-lover… living under her roof!
EJ turned to stare at the guy, felt the emotions right on the surface, the possessiveness, the desire and love, and suddenly turned on his heels to stalk towards the front door.
Tabitha followed him. “You’re leaving?”
He pivoted, and when she would have collided with his chest EJ caught her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “It’s obvious that I’m a third wheel here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
He glared at her for a long moment, arms itching to pull her close, ready to scan the truth, or at least the full story, out of her, but he had his pride, damn it. And evidently, she had her reasons for not wanting to level with him.
“Eric…”
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Gracie C. McKeever
He swooped down without another thought, took her mouth with his, biting and sucking her lower lip for a long glorious moment before sliding his tongue deep into her mouth and mating with hers. He came up for air seconds later to stare at her. “When you’re ready to come clean about this, give me a call.”
“Come clean?” She gaped.
EJ opened the door, stepped into the hall, and closed it behind him without another word.