Authors: Elena Brown
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #United States, #African American, #Romance, #Women's Fiction
Sweet Heat
| Sweet Heat |
| Elena Brown |
| (2014) |
Sweet
Heat
Elena Brown
Copyright © 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Copyright © 2014
Table of Contents
Suzanne Headley closed the door to her modest Vinegar Hill apartment and collapsed back against it with a thump and a weary sigh. She dropped her Fendi — a birthday gift from one of her mother’s boutiques — on the spindle-legged occasional table to her left and kicked off her heels, groaning as her naked soles touched the cool wood floor.
“I need wine,” she told the empty apartment, wiggling her aching toes. “Lots and lots of wine.”
She really should get a cat, or a dog, or a bird or... something. Anything so she wasn’t talking to herself like her crazy Aunt Gladys, who often had entire conversations with her own knitting.
“How ‘bout a boyfriend, Suzanne?” Wow, she’d just sounded like her mother. She really needed that wine now.
Padding into the kitchen, Suzanne grabbed a half-empty bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and a wine glass before dropping onto one of the reclaimed wood stools. The seats were wide and comfortable, made for a woman like her, with a generous backside. Suzanne may have been born in Greenwich, but she had ghetto booty. She poured herself a healthy glass full of the peppery red wine, took a swig, and then topped the glass off again before re-corking the bottle.
She’d earned it, after all. It had been a hell of a day.
Normally, Suzanne enjoyed her job. Waterston Mutual Insurance was a venerated New York institution, and she’d been lucky to land the internship straight out of college. HR wasn’t exactly her passion, but it got her foot in the door. And given how enthusiastic her boss Clara seemed to be about her work, Suzanne felt pretty confident that they’d offer her a permanent position once the internship was over. A position doing what she loved.
Actuary may be dull as dishwater to most people, but Suzanne loved it. She’d always been good with numbers, and she felt almost clairvoyant doing risk evaluation. She knew it was weird, but that was just who she was.
She felt a pang as she thought of her Grandmother’s warm, slightly rough hands squeezing her own as she murmured, “You don’t owe anybody any explanations, baby. You just be you, Suzi-Q.”
Suzanne still missed her grandmother fiercely, which only gave her fatigue a sharp edge of grief.
As wonderful as WMI was in general, and Clara and her other co-workers were in particular, there were days like today, full of piles of paperwork and last minute surprise nitpicky details, that made her want to tear out her hair. Which would be a crime, because the cloud of tight, shoulder-length, dark brown curls looked fabulous framing her heart-shaped face with its wide cheekbones and small, pointed chin.
She was cute as hell, if she did say so herself. And she had to, because no one else would.
Suzanne picked up her wine glass, sipping slowly as she wandered into her bedroom. She put on the latest from Queen Bey, cranking it up and bopping a little with the beat, trying to get her energy level up.
After the day from hell she’d just had, all she really wanted to do was put on some stretchy yoga pants and veg in front of the TV with a pint of Häagen-Dazs. Instead, she needed to start getting ready for her ‘date’.
She caught her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door. Her fitted skirt hugged her ample hips, ass, and thighs, ending just above the knee. It was a dark gray shade called ‘alley cat’, with deep purple pinstripes. Her long-sleeved shirt was a paler shade between gray and white and dipped into a modest vee. The look was sexy office chic, but it wouldn’t do for a date. Even a fake one. She saluted herself with the nearly empty wine glass.
“Real or not, it’s the only date you’ve gotten in the last… way too long.” She shook her head and sipped her wine. “And who knows? It could turn out to be real after all. Power of positive thinking, right?”
Neither her reflection or her wine glass responded. She really needed to get that cat.
Could you ever call dinner with a guy your parents set you up with a ‘real’ date? Suzanne blew out a long breath.
Maybe it wouldn’t be terrible. Antoine might be the son of one of her father’s colleagues, an endocrinologist, but that didn’t mean he was automatically going to be stuffy and boring.
He
wasn’t an endocrinologist.
Her mother had assured her that he was a ‘bright, conscientious young man’, which didn’t exactly make him sound like a hot date, but given her track record lately she’d take what she could get.
As Beyonce rocked out, Suzanne shed her work clothes and hopped into the shower. She needed to get the lead out. She’d been late getting home and she was supposed to meet Antoine at Les Halles at seven thirty. Who scheduled a date for a weeknight?
Her mother, that’s who. Monique Headley, queen of the high-end accessories, believed in striking while the iron was hot, seizing the day, the early bird getting the worm… and this had been Suzanne’s first free evening after her mother’s call.
Fake date or not, Suzanne took the time to shave her legs and lotion her dark copper skin until it gleamed a luscious, deep, red-brown before putting on the emerald green silk dress and strappy gold sandals. She fluffed her curls, put on a pair of dangly gold earrings, some thick bangles, and slashed on some pomegranate lip-gloss.
The dress was modest, falling to her dimpled knees with a scoop neckline that began just below her collarbone, but draped flatteringly over her very generous curves.
Despite the fact that her mother had ignored her wishes, yet again, and set up this date for her, Suzanne’s heart was still fluttering as she exited the cab downtown in front of the upscale French restaurant.
The late spring air was warm with the pungent scents of auto exhaust, and spices wafting the curry place across the street. The restaurant’s dark wood exterior glowed in the mellow light of the street globes that illuminated it.
Standing just beside the door was a tall, thin black man with hair buzzed neatly to his head. Perusing him, Suzanne hoped he was her date. He wasn’t model gorgeous, but he was decent looking, with light umber skin and bold features. He was wearing dark slacks, a neat, dark blue dress shirt, and his shoes were shined to a gloss. He was also on his phone, his pleasantly alto voice carrying easily to her.
“I don’t care how difficult it is, I expect it to be done by tomorrow morning.” He paused as Suzanne moved to his side. He held up one finger. “Thank you, Adelle. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He hung up, slipping his phone into his pocket. His wide mouth curving into a somewhat reserved but welcoming smile. “Suzanne?”
She extended her hand, her own mouth curling. “Antoine? It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from my mother.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you as well.” His eyes swept her from head to toe. There was an odd tone to his voice. She couldn’t tell what it was. Had he been pressured into this as well? Was he disappointed with her appearance? She could understand his perhaps not being super enthusiastic about their date for the former reason. But the latter?
Suzanne had given up apologizing for how she looked a long time ago.
“Shall we go in?” She motioned to the bistro’s front door with a sweep of her hand that sent her hammered metal bangles jingling.
“After you.” Antoine put his fingers gently on her elbow as he opened the door for her.
Inside was lovely with high ceilings and lots of glowing dark wood. The walls were a warm ochre. Suzanne was even more impressed as they were led to their table upstairs. The decor somehow managed to seem homey and elegant at the same time.
The place was surprisingly busy, despite the fact that it was a weeknight. Suzanne had heard that the Park Avenue location had been made famous by Anthony Bourdain. This downtown location was newer though, and she didn’t think the renowned chef had ever cooked there.
Still, she had no doubt the food was going to be excellent. French cuisine wasn’t really her thing, she preferred spicier fare usually, but it was a nice choice for a first date. Which was good, because Antoine was still mostly silent.
“What do you do for a living? I don’t think my mother said.” She smoothed her hand over the soft linen of her napkin and looked into his eyes. They were so dark a brown that the irises were indistinguishable from the pupils.
Antoine licked his lips as he studied the menu, not bothering to look up. “I work on Wall Street.” He gave the financial district designation more weight than his other words.
“Oh! Are you a numbers guy?” Her heart flipped a little. Maybe this date might turn out to be something after all. Had she been wrong to mistrust her meddling mother?
His dark eyes flicked up to her and his mouth compressed into a line, showing creases around his lips. “No. I’m in Compliance.”
Suzanne’s stomach twisted a little. He was a lawyer. Like her father. She’d known a lot of them in her life, both growing up in Connecticut and then here in the city; all the endless functions her parents had dragged her to over the years. She generally found lawyers quick to argue everything, and judgmental in the extreme. Not all of them, of course. Her father was very kind, at least to her. But he was rigid and very old-fashioned too. And generally, it was the few exceptions that proved the rule.
Great.
“How nice. That must be very fulfilling.” Could he hear how fake the enthusiasm in her voice was? Suzanne hoped not. He deserved a fair chance and she was determined to give him one. Parental set-up or not.
“I find it so, yes. There’s always new laws and regulations our firm needs to be up-to-speed with. Damn crybaby Liberals. I guess I should thank them though, for keeping my job interesting.”
Suzanne blinked at the momentarily harsh words. The waiter arrived then, thankfully, and they ordered their drinks. Antoine ordered a Scotch, neat. Suzanne ordered a glass of good red wine.
Unfortunately, the conversation didn’t improve much with lubrication. Predictably, from the fact that Suzanne was one of the aforementioned ‘damn crybaby Liberals’ and Antoine was a staunch Republican, they didn’t like any of the same things. He didn’t read anything for fun. Suzanne loved books. His taste in movies didn’t stray outside the action explosion genre (she liked action flicks, but also documentaries and romcoms and horror too), and he didn’t like music.
She’d had to ask him to elaborate on that statement, because she thought that surely he couldn’t mean he didn’t like
any
music.
But sure enough, he’d shrugged and said, “I don’t really see the point in listening to music. It’s just organized noise. Why bother? I’d rather be at the movies, or the gym.”
The gym. Because he was a bit of a health nut. Beneath his dress shirt and slacks, Suzanne could tell his tall body was lean and toned. He didn’t lift weights, but did a lot of cardio and resistance training.
Normally, she would have found that kind of attractive. What she didn’t find attractive were the little comments he kept making about her weight.
When she’d ordered the crispy duck leg confit with truffle sauteed potatoes, he’d suggested she might want to try the grilled tuna and vegetables with lemon juice and olive oil. She went with the duck, and enjoyed every delicious bite. Antoine’s mouth had pursed into a judgmental moué.
As they finished up, the waiter came back to inquire about dessert. She barely had time to ‘hmmm’ before Antoine was declining for the both of them.
“Just the check, please.” His eyes slid to her face, and he must have seen the surprise because he had the decency to look a little sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind. I have an early morning tomorrow.”
She did too, but she would have liked to at least have had a look at the dessert menu without him acting as if she was going to order one of everything.
“That’s fine, Antoine.” Honestly, Suzanne was pretty much done, ready to go home and dig into the pint of Häagen-Dazs she hadn’t gotten to have earlier - because she’d been getting ready for this miserable excuse for a date.
Antoine paid the bill and escorted her back downstairs with a hand on the small of her back. He rubbed lightly as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, surprising her. He’d been stiff all through dinner, not laughing at any of her attempts at jokes or loosening up at all. But there was a more excited energy about him now as he waved down a cab for her.
As it pulled up to the curb, he opened the door. Suzanne mustered a smile. Dull or not, he seemed like a decent guy… mostly… and their parents were friends. She could be polite for her mother and father’s sake, but she was contemplating strangling her mother the next time she saw her. Had she really thought Suzanne and Antoine were a good match?
“I had a nice time tonight, Antoine.” It was only a little bit of a stretch to get the ‘nice’ out.
His dark eyes widened. “Oh, I thought…” His gaze darted to the cab and then back to her. He licked his lips. “That is, our mothers would never forgive me if I didn’t see a lady home to her door.” He grinned then, wider than he had all night.
Suzanne blinked. He was expecting to come home with her? Had he been on an entirely different date? And who did he think she was? Even if the date had been good, she wouldn’t be jumping into bed with him.
She kept her hand firmly on top of the cab’s door, blocking him from getting in. “That’s very… kind of you, Antoine, but I’m a big girl.” She put a little emphasis ‘big’, since he’d been poking at her weight all night. “I think I can get home alright. Besides, early morning, right? But I appreciate the thought.” Not really, but she reminded herself their fathers played golf together.