Smoldering Desire (5 page)

“That’s a good point, but a better point is that a punching bag didn’t cheat on me, you did.  Scumbag.  Sorry I couldn’t resist,” she added at seeing his look of astonishment.  She slipped on her gloves then thrust her hands out for him to tie.  “Thanks,” she said after he tied them.

“Where’s mine?” Devin asked and Shepherd put her hands on her hips, which was hard to do, since they kept slipping off but she still managed to look stern.

“Seriously?  You’d hit a girl?”

“I just want to protect myself.”

“I’m leaving you unprotected like I left my heart years ago.”  She slipped on her head guard.  Shepherd began shuffling around, and began air boxing to warm-up.

“Sorry.”

“I know you are, but this will help me a lot.”

“You’re looking pretty good, like you’ve boxed before.”

Shepherd continued her fancy footwork.  “Not at all.  Just Tae Bo and occasionally working out on a punching bag, that’s all.”

“
That’s all?
  That’s serious.”

“How do you think I stay so toned?  Certainty not lifting all those glasses of margaritas and daiquiris.”  She flexed her biceps.  “These are the result of a lot of hard work…just like yours.  Ready?”

Devin nervously nodded.  Shepherd threw a punch at him, it landed on his arm.  “This is for cheating on me.” She jabbed him in the stomach, he didn’t flinch.  “This is for lying to me.”  Devin stood silently while she pummeled him.  He watched helplessly as her eyes watered, he knew that tears weren’t far behind.  She jabbed his arm. “This is for not respecting my love.”  She kicked him hard in the shin as tears began streaming down her face.  She sobbed loudly and when she was done, she slumped into Devin’s arms.

“I’m so sorry Shepherd.  So sorry.”

She lifted her tear stained face.  “You hurt me.  You took away my trust.”

“I’m sorry baby.  I was so wrong for that, I was so immature.”  Devin hurried over to a counter and plucked tissue from a dispenser.  He used them to dab at her eyes.

“Thanks.”  As soon as she calmed down, she pulled off her boxing gloves then slapped Devin across the face, her hand stung, but it felt good.  Shocked, Devin stumbled away from her.

“What the hell?”

Shepherd grinned at him.  “Now we’re even,” she quipped.

CHAPTER 9

As soon as Shepherd dropped her suitcases, her phone dinged, signaling an incoming text.  She knew before looking at it that it was from Devin.  Last night they had decided to see each other, with the stipulation that they take it very slow.  But they both had different definitions of slow.  He had wanted to see her the upcoming weekend and have her fly to Atlanta the weekend after that.

She had agreed to him visiting her, but she was still undecided about her visiting him.  There was a possibility of her falling in love with him and she wasn’t ready for that yet.  He still had to prove to her that he wanted the same thing she wanted and that he was willing to commit one hundred percent to her.

Shepherd checked her text, he wanted her address.  “Oh, he must be sending me some flowers,” she muttered to herself while sending him the information.  She pulled her luggage into her laundry room and debated whether to do her laundry.  “I’ll do it later.  I need to rest,” she decided.

She strolled up to her bedroom, stripped down to her underwear, turned on the TV then changed it to Lifetime.  Fifteen minutes later she was asleep.  A couple hours later the ringing from her cell phone woke her up.  “Hello,” she answered her voice heavy with sleep.

“Hey girl, just checking to make sure you got home okay,” Mackenzie chirped.

Shepherd pushed herself up and built a mountain of pillows for her to recline on.  “I’m here.  I was resting.  I was so tired.  Why aren’t you tired?”

“I just woke up,” Mackenzie admitted.

“Did you want to stop by—?” Her doorbell pealed.  “Wait hold on, somebody’s at the door.”  She hopped off the bed and trotted down the stairs to the front door.  She peeked through the peephole.  “Oh my God!” she said.

“What’s wrong?”

“Let me call you back later.”  She clicked off her phone before she pulled open the door, Devin stood on the other side. “What are you doing here?  You’re supposed to be in Atlanta,” she sputtered.

“May I come in?”

“Of course, come in.”

Devin strolled in and Shepherd led him to the living room.  “Nice house.”

“Thanks.  What are you doing here?” she blurted.

Devin sat down on the couch.  “Sit next to me.”  Shepherd sat down beside him.  “I wanted to talk to you in person.”

“Okay,” Shepherd said, her stomach fluttered nervously.

Devin grabbed her hand.  “I want to apologize again for what I did to you.”

“Thanks.”

Devin made little circles on her hand with his thumb and Shepherd shivered with desire.  “I had a good time this week…a really good time and it was all because of you.”

“That’s sweet Devin.”

He took a shaky breath.  “I couldn’t let another day pass without telling you that.”

“You could’ve called me baby.”

“No.  Then I couldn’t have done this.” He lowered his mouth to hers and passionately kissed her.  Shepherd gently nudged him until he was on his back; she crawled on top of him.  She cupped his face between her hands and began kissing him, they both groaned loudly as they enjoyed each other.  Moments later they broke apart.  “Another reason I flew in is because I want you to see how committed I am to us.  And if you want me to, I’ll fly or drive over every weekend to see you,” he said earnestly and Shepherd laughed her heart happy.

“I believe you.  How long are you staying?”

“Until you get tired of me.”

Shepherd grabbed his hand and guided him up the stairs to her bedroom.  “I don’t see that happening for a
long
time.”

Thank you very much for purchasing my novella.  There are tons of books to choose from and I really appreciate you choosing mine.

Happy reading.

www.desireeday.com

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Willow Hillsborough angrily stabbed at a piece of spinach.  “What a horrible birthday.  This isn’t how I expected to spend my thirty-first birthday,” she mumbled.  Willow set down her fork and dropped her head in her hands, her honey blonde tresses curtaining her face.  What was supposed to be a romantic dinner with her date had turned into a solo dining experience.  Instead of enjoying a scrumptious meal of oysters, lobsters and champagne, all aphrodisiacs, her date preferred to troll the restaurant for clients.

All around her, couples whispered in each other’s ears, held hands and gazed adoringly in their partner’s eyes.  “But not me,” Willow muttered.  She lifted her head and glanced across the restaurant at her date, Marius Santiago.  He was a driven man, the kind she admired and dated for the last ten years but tonight, instead of admiration, she found herself irritated, even angry.

A plastic surgeon, Marius had the chiseled looks that his clients paid thousands to get.  But Willow knew his good looks were the result of a beautiful gene pool.  She knew because he kept a family portrait of his siblings, parents, and grandparents prominently displayed in his office.  His brushed bronze skin, strong nose and sharp cheekbones came from his Puerto Rican mother and black father, as did his glossy black hair and full lips. 

One time he’d casually asked if she wanted breast enhancement surgery, on the house, of course.  She turned him down flat, not only did she not want to end up looking like a Barbie doll, but because she really liked her body, no amount of silicon, saline or collagen was ever going to contaminate it. 

Willow’s BlackBerry chirped.  She glanced down then groaned.  She recognized the number.  “Can my birthday get any worse?” 

For the last five years Willow had worked as an entertainment lawyer.  Her client roster was made up of Atlanta’s fresh crop of newly minted entertainers and seasoned celebrities.  She was the go to lawyer for rappers, actors and reality stars for their legal woes.  Her workweek was no less than eighty hours; she practically lived in her office. 

Willow tapped her finger on the table debating whether to take the call, but she knew she was obligated.  It was, Lynda, the mother of Pretty Boy Troy, a client of hers and she was calling for help.  Pretty Boy Troy was a twenty-year-old rapper who sounded like the late Notorious B.I.G., danced like the legendary Michael Jackson and looked like the popular rapper Drake, had the potential for super stardom.  All he had to do was stay out of trouble, which he wasn’t able to do.  He had opened up for T.I. and Lil Wayne.  His agent was in the process of ironing out a contract for him to tour with Chris Brown.

Willow clicked on her phone and before she could say hello, Pretty Boy’s mother began spewing her problem.  A couple of weeks ago, Pretty Boy had been driving his hundred thousand dollar car, which puzzled Willow as she couldn’t for the life of her understand why a twenty-year-old needed such an expensive car.  When she was twenty her twelve-year-old Honda Civic had gotten her around just fine.

The Atlanta Police Department had stopped him for speeding which normally would have garnered him only a ticket.  But the suspicious smelling cloud that billowed out the open door prompted an immediate search.  The APD found just enough weed to arrest him.  He was due in court Monday and his mother hadn’t seen him in days.

Willow sipped her wine, took a deep breath and tried to calm Lynda down.  “Yes he needs to be in court Monday.  But relax he goes MIA all the time, you know your son, he’ll show up as though nothing is wrong.  He’s okay.”  After another five minutes of coddling and reassuring her, Willow clicked off, then immediately called Troy, she refused to call him by his moniker.

He picked up his phone on the first ring.  “You’d better show up in court Monday,” she barked, then, “call your mom,” she added softly before clicking off.  She knew that he was at his boyfriend’s house.  If anybody found out the truth about his sexuality, his rap career was over.  The sexy playboy persona that he had spent years cultivating was a sham, only a handful of people knew the truth, unfortunately, his mother wasn’t one of the privileged few. 

Willow refocused on Marius.  All through law school she found herself dating men in powerful positions, the President of the Black Student Association, VP of the Black Lawyer Student Association and President of the Debate Team.  Her dating preference continued way past college, where her dates of choice were, CEOs, COOs, business owners, doctors and lastly lawyers, like herself. 

Willow’s mouth tightened when she saw Marius pull his blasted BlackBerry from his pocket and began entering information.  A few minutes later he turned on his heel and sauntered across the restaurant, smiling smugly.  Without an apology, he slid into his chair, snapped his cloth napkin, and smoothed it over his lap. 

“Are you enjoying yourself,” Willow asked tightly.

“I am,” Marius smiled at her, oblivious to her simmering anger.  “Did I tell you how beautiful you look?”

He had, many times, he had told her when he picked her up, on the way to the restaurant and once when they were seated.  In honor of her birthday, Willow had poured herself into a Donna Karan party dress, which accentuated her curves.  It stopped mid thigh, showing off a set of well-toned legs.  Her honey colored skin glistened with the sparkling body powder she had caressed on her shoulders before her date.  Willow narrowed her eyes, she knew his game, and she wasn’t about to fall for it.  She wasn’t going to be distracted…not tonight. 

“I wish you hadn’t stopped to talk, I thought tonight was going to be about us,” she said, not mentioning that this wasn’t the first time he had gotten up during dinner to talk to prospective and past clients.  Or every time she wanted to talk about something of substance, like her mother who was suffering from Alzheimer’s, he deftly changed the subject.

Marius grinned, showing obscenely straight white teeth.  “Sorry baby, I just can’t say no,” he said, then shrugged apologetically. 

“It’s my birthday; you can ignore them, besides they know how to contact you.”

Marius laughed.  “Lighten up Willow.  We didn’t have a verbal agreement that I’d spend every second of your birthday with you.  What are you going to do, sue me?”

Willow bristled.  “That wasn’t funny.  All I ask is that you focus on me for three hours.”

“I could.  But then I wouldn’t have been able to buy those beautiful pair of earrings for you.  I need to make the money baby.”

She glanced down at the jewelry box that held a pair of two-carat, platinum, tear drop earrings.  “I would much rather have you than a piece of jewelry,” she said and she meant it.  Over the years men had lavished her with exquisite jewelry, expensive trips and clothes, the truth be told, as an entertainment lawyer, she could easily purchase all those gifts and then some for herself.  But the men liked buying things for her, and at the time, she liked receiving them.