Hooked!: A Contemporary, Multicultural Romance

PROLOGUE

Kammille
was trying not to draw attention to how anxious she was the weekly meeting she
attended at the Chamber of Commerce to be over. She usually looked forward to
them because it gave her a chance to network and get the name out about her growing
catering business. It also got her out of the house these days.

Since
her breakup almost a year ago with the man she just knew she was going to
marry, she’d focused on little else but business, rarely leaving the house
unless it was to attend a business event, or go for a quick run around her
neighborhood or in the park close to her home.

But
ever since she’d returned from Miami a few days ago, flashes of how thoroughly
she’d been ravaged by the handsome sports agent conquered her every waking
second. His tongue had been like a human vibrator, thrusting in and out of her
so expertly it had made her bones go numb when she exploded in orgasm after
orgasm.

He’d
been such a masterful maestro over her body, granting Kammille her every wish –
and then some. His hands molded her body like clay, knowing just where to touch
to make her whimper, moan … and beg. Yes, she’d begged. Begged to be licked
here, sucked there, driven into harder, held longer. Pride had gone the way of
her panties and the rest of her normal inhibitions – away, away and away.
Where? She didn’t know and she hadn’t cared for those precious hours she’d been
in his arms.

When
her business partner – and best friend, Liza – had inquired about how her short
trip was, Kammille had turned in an Oscar-winning performance, responding, “I
spent most of my time in bed.” Not so much as a smirk or a smile had even
flitted across her features.

“Good,”
Liza sighed. “You’ve been working like a madwoman since things went south with
Omar. Even though your trip was cut short, I’m glad you at least got a change
of scenery. Hopefully it gave you some space to reflect on the way things
turned out with him so you can get on with the business of moving on.”

“Oh,
it did. It definitely did. You’ve been right all along, a getaway was exactly
what I needed, even though it was a quickie,” Kammille agreed.

What
she
didn’t
say was the time away had nothing to do with putting things
into perspective with her ex, but how she’d spent that time – and with whom.
But it would remain her little secret. Even though things had taken an
unexpected turn after their night of passion and she was embarrassed to admit
it – even to herself -- she didn’t regret it. Her only misgiving was that she’d
never look into those cool grey eyes again. She shouldn’t even want to after
the way he’d treated her after, but lord help her, she did.

Forget
him Kammille
,
she berated herself for the umpteenth time since returning from Miami.
You’ll
never see him again – and you should be thanking your lucky stars for that!
 

But
fate was a cunning witch. She always had different plans.

Chapter
1

Kammille
kicked off her shoes as she entered the massive foyer of her home. She’d often
thought about selling it and moving into the belly of Atlanta where all the
action was. The house was way too spacious for one person, and it she was the
only single woman living in the neighborhood – the
only
one. All the
other 49 homes that made up the small, upper-middle class subdivision were
occupied by regular, every day families; almost all of them with school-aged
children. There were two retired couples and one gay couple – and even they had
kids.

If
she’d known how things were going to turn out with her ex-fiancé, Omar, she
never would have bought the house. They’d bought it “together” ostensibly, but
because his credit hadn’t been the best, they’d decided to put it in her name
only to get a better interest rate.

Looking
back, she saw how fortuitous it was on one hand – there was no property to
split once they split. But on the other, there was no one to come home to in
this massive house either. She’d moved from her chic, one-bedroom loft in
midtown to this suburb on the outskirts of Atlanta – all in anticipation of
marriage and eventually, motherhood.

But
alas, it wasn’t to be.

           
After a year of being engaged, she’d pressed Omar to set a date, especially as
they had gone into debt ‘together’ for the house. But he’d consistently put it
off. When she’d given him an ultimatum of either setting a date or ending the
relationship, she never dreamed he’d choose the latter. He told her that he
loved her, but wasn’t ready for marriage.

“So
when do you think you will be ready?” she’d asked.

“To
be completely honest, I don’t know,” he’d responded.

“A
year, two years?” she’d pressed.

“Like
I said, I just don’t know Kammille. I love you. I really do. But I’m just not
ready to take that step yet.”

As
they’d been together for four years, she was sure it was a case of cold feet, and
told him so. “Honey look, every guy is afraid to give up his freedom I suppose.
I’m a little scared too, believe it or not. I’m sure it’s just a case of cold
feet.”

And
that’s when Omar had dropped a bombshell, one that she knew she could never
recover from. “I’ve been thinking about this ever since I proposed Kammille. In
fact, to be completely honest, the second I asked you, I wanted to take it
back.”

Kammille
stumbled backwards as if he’d sucker-punched her. She remembered how it had
taken him almost a month to give her a ring after he’d asked. And he’d only
done that after she teased him about being engaged, but with no ‘rock’ to show
off to her girlfriends. She remembered thinking that she cared less about the
ring itself; it was what it stood for that meant the most to her, that she was
taken -- taken by a man who cared enough to let the world know he wanted her to
be his wife.

“It
has nothing to do with you,” he’d rushed to explain. “You’re everything a man
could want. It’s just …”

“I’m
everything a man could want … except you; except the man I love who is standing
in front of me,” Kammille had said.

Omar
hadn’t responded to that. The next morning she’d asked him to move out.

She
recalled what Liza had said to her about Omar soon after their breakup.

***

“I
told you about getting mixed up with guys who don’t have good credit.”

“Just
because somebody doesn’t have good credit, it doesn’t make them a bad person
Liza. And besides, that had nothing to do with why we broke up.”

“I
didn’t say anything about it making him a bad person, Kammille. I just said men
like that are bad marriage material. And indirectly, bad credit says a whole
lot about a person, in my opinion.”

“Like
what?” Kammille had asked.

“Well,
for one, it’s a clue as to if a person knows what they want out of life. Omar
definitely didn’t know what he wanted.”

Kammille
furrowed her brow, confused at her partner’s reasoning. But, she kept quiet.

“I
don’t mean to be harsh Kammille, but you mean to tell me that after four years
of being in a relationship with you – and a year of being engaged to you --
that he wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted. I mean, y’all were living together
already. It’s not like he was in for a big surprise. But he backed out, which
says to me that he had no clue as to what he wanted from your relationship. And
when a man doesn’t know what he wants, he’s likely to do all types of stupid
crap -- like lose control over his finances and lose control over his sperm.
This makes him non-marriage material in my book. I don’t care how fine he is,
how much money he makes, or how nice he is. If he can’t control those two
things, then those are deal breakers for me.”

“Now
you are really going off on a tangent. What do you mean control over his
sperm?” Kammille questioned.

“As
in, having a whole bunch of kids with a whole bunch of women. Anything more
than one is too many for me. I mean look at President Obama – he managed to
have none. He kept his sperm in check until he got married. Too many men just
don’t know how to do that these days. And we as women don’t make them. If he’s
got three kids with two different women, we just saddle on up like it’s no big
thing … and many of us become baby mama number three. Craziness!”

“Well
Omar didn’t have any children. And his credit was just a little banged up. It’s
nothing that couldn’t have been fixed. People bounce back from bad credit all
the time Liza.”

“But
few of them bounce back from indecisiveness – especially at his age. Again, not
to beat a dead horse, but if he was in his twenties with ‘banged-up credit,’ as
you put it, I could maybe see it Kammille. But Omar was 34 – long past when he
should have had his, forgive my French, shit together. And his pride should
have made him
not
allow you be the sole signor on that mortgage. I mean,
what kind of man does that? Good thing you make good money and didn’t need him
to pay the bills. You’d be stuck with a big ole mortgage all by yourself. Now
you’re just stuck … by yourself. But that won’t last. One thing he did get
right is that you’re an awesome catch!”

***

Maybe
it was time to take that break Liza was always bugging her to take. She hadn’t
taken any time off since her breakup with Omar and in exactly 11 days, it would
be one year to the day since it had happened.

She’d
decided to save her intimate self for a serious relationship, but that didn’t
mean she had to start waiting to enjoy life. After a half hour of surfing,
she’d booked a four-day, three-night excursion to South Beach, Miami. It was the
only amount of time she felt comfortable taking off with a growing business to
look after.

Eleven
days from now she’d be on a plane to sun, sand and hopefully some form of sanity
again. And she could rewrite history; the date Omar had broken her heart would
have a whole new meaning.

A
fresh start; she’d been denying she needed one for way too long.

Chapter
2

11
Days Later

“Try
not to overbook us while I’m gone, will ya,” Kammille threw over her shoulder
as she left her office.

“I’ll
try not to, but I can’t help that your marketing is so effective,” Liza said.
“I don’t know what you say to those Chamber members when you go to those
networking events, but it seems that every time you go, the next day the phone
is ringing off the hook. We need to screen a few more reliable banquet servers,
order some more aprons, look for larger event space … just get your bottom out
of here and get back soon!”

“Are
you sure you’re gonna be okay with me gone Liza? I mean, I know you’re capable
and all, but when I booked this trip, I had no idea we’d be so busy. I could
delay …”

“Oh
no you don’t missy. You’ve delayed this trip by almost a year too long in my
opinion. Now go. Go! Go! Go! … And don’t forget to have fun. Do something
sinful; something you’d be embarrassed to even tell your best friend about.
Something that can remain your little secret; that can bring a smile to your
face during the middle of a hectic day and have people wondering, ‘What the
heck is that impish look about?’”

“Why
Liza, I didn’t know you had it in you,” Kammille said. “You sly devil. Only
someone who has secrets of her own can command someone else to start piling
some up.”

“A
southern belle never tells,” Liza smiled, one eyebrow going up. “Now git you.”

“’Git’?
Really Liza? You do realize that you lapse into southernese when you’re
 up to something or upset, don’t you?”

“Why
yes, I doooo,” Liza said, drawing out the word ‘do’ in her strongest southern
accent. “I’ve been told by more than one suitor that when I …”

“Git
Kammille. Git! You’re making me break my own rule of never kissing and
telling.”

Kammille
laughed as she exited her office.