Tulips for Tonica

www.beautifultroublepublishing.com

Tulips for Tonica

RaeLynn Blue

Copyright © 2011 by RaeLynn Blue

All Rights Reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, recording, electronic transmission, or by any information storage or retrieval system without prior written permission from the authors or holders of the copyright. 

This book is a work of fiction.  References may be made to locations and historical events; however, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.

Published by

Beautiful Trouble Publishing, LLC

PO Box 61

Colfax, NC 27235

www.beautifultroublepublishing.com

Cover Art:  Shara Azod

Editor: Barb Wilson

Proofreader: Novellette Whyte

http://authorgurunovellette.blogspot.com/

Formatter: Jim & Zetta,
http://www.jimandzetta.com/

E-book Conversion:
Jim & Zetta,
http://www.jimandzetta.com/

ISBN: (e-book)
978-1-61788-213-5; (print) 978-1-61788-214-2    

For Drea…You already know.

Note about eBooks

eBooks are NOT transferable.  Re-selling, sharing or giving away eBooks is a copyright infringement.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author or Beautiful Trouble Publishing.

CAVEAT

This work of erotica contains adult language and sexually explicit scenes, which are smoking hot.  This book is intended only for adults, as it is defined by the laws of the country in which the purchase is made.  Keep this book out of the hands of under-aged readers.

PREFACE

An Invitation

The GSO beats in the heart of North Carolina, drumming out tales of lust, love, and mischief. Those that reside in the Greensboro area, the GSO, are Southern and sensual, sexy and smart. So, set your GPS for the GSO and lose yourself in RaeLynn Blue’s wickedly delicious and wildly wonderful backyard.

Stories in the GSO series (in reading order)

C.A.K.E

AN ENGLISH ROSE

TULIPS FOR TONICA

Chapter One

“How can you be content to be in the world like tulips in a garden, to make a fine show, and be good for nothing?” —Mary Astell

Rain splashed down in big droplets, splatting so hard against the pavement that Tonica Faye heard the
splat
amplified across the other noises saturating downtown Greensboro. As the downpour intensified, she skirted around domed trashcans, hid behind thick telephone poles, and huddled alongside sporadic crowds of people vacating the shops. With the collar of her ebony raincoat turned up, Tonica suppressed a shiver as a trickle of rain infiltrated her coat. It slipped down her back, cold and wet. She narrowed her eyes, peering through the squall at her objective—Carte Seay.

Handsome, sexy, and a snake, Carte Seay had been known for his taste for the ladies. Nearly six feet tall, athletic build with the best pair of hardened thighs Tonica had ever seen, Carte’s body made women, judges, prosecutors and gay males alike swoon, salivate and submit requests for private counsel. A woman reputed to be one of Carte’s ex-girlfriends, Shae Williams, demanded to prove via paternity test that Carte had fathered her two boys. Carte had denounced in the media and through his five lawyer-mouthpieces that he hadn’t fathered the children because he never had sex with Shae. The woman hired a local investigative firm, Stevens & Eaton Detective Agency, to try to snag the man’s DNA. Hence the reason why in this horrible shower, Tonica, who worked for Stevens & Eaton, was walking behind the best criminal attorney in Guilford County.

Why Carte didn’t just take the test puzzled her.

Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, and she glanced around, taking in the gloomy, rain-drenched surroundings before removing it from her pocket. She slipped across the soaked sidewalk to the mouth of a narrow alley between Joaquin’s Hot Tamales and the Smokin’ Lizard Tobacco Store.

“Yeah,” she answered, whispering into the phone.

“How’s it going?” Olivia Eaton, co-owner of the detective agency, asked.

“Really? You called me off a tail to ask me how it was going?” Tonica wiped the precipitation streaming down her face and hunched against the wall, trying to stay somewhat dry.

Olivia Eaton and her boyfriend, a former police officer, Hal Stevens, worked in partnership. At first, Tonica thought she’d been lucky to be hired as a new recruit. She’d just gotten her private investigator’s license and her B.A. in Criminology when Olivia came to their college looking for a new PI for her budding agency, just two short years ago. Now, at 26, she felt more confident in herself and her career path.

“Yes, rookie, I did,” Olivia said, her voice hard. “What’s your location?”

“I’m on West Market Street. Carte just disappeared into a restaurant.”

“Okay, give it a rest and head on back.”

“What?”  Tonica’s knuckles ached. She’d gripped the phone so hard, they hurt. Releasing her death grip, she took in a deep breath. “I’ve been soaked chasing him, following him for most of the day and now you want me to just quit and come back to the office? He’s going into a restaurant! A perfect opportunity to get his spit in a cup. What the hell, Olive?”

“First off, you don’t get to call me Olive. We’re not sleeping together, and you’re not a six foot tall, brunette white man named Hal. Secondly, like I said,
rookie
, you follow my lead or you go find another place to work. I hear Burger King’s hiring.”

“Fine, whatever,” Tonica said, too pissed off to trust herself to say more. Ever since she blew the tail last week on a suspected wife-beater, Olivia hadn’t trusted Tonica to do much of anything on her own. With Hal working undercover on another case, Olivia’s quick-fire temper escalated from occasionally pissed to pissed-all-the-time.

With the flip of her phone, Tonica ended the annoying call and sighed.
Fuck
. She was so soaked, her feet squished inside her sneakers and her pants legs looked like she’d been walking through a flood. Watermarks lined the fabric up to her knees. Her hair hung in soaked strands. An umbrella would’ve given her position away—Carte would’ve noticed the same umbrella following him through Greensboro. So she’d been a good PI and left the umbrella at home. Now, looking like a drowned squirrel, Tonica pushed her hair back, and sighed. All of this for nothing.

“To hell with that,” she said to herself. She headed out of the alley and down the sidewalk toward the restaurant she’d spied Carte entering a few minutes before. She’d get the goods on the lawyer by herself. She didn’t need Olivia’s permission to go into the eating establishment. Last time she checked, America was still a free country.

With her mind made up and determination fending off the chills, Tonica walked down the sidewalk and right up to the sushi restaurant. She took in a strong breath of courage, grinned at the tingle of anticipation and adrenaline coursing through her and opened the door. Inside, dark ebony tables covered in ivory tablecloths sat coupled with chocolate leather booths and chestnut wood chairs. Throughout the compacted space, innocent ivories, bold scarlets, and vibrant verdants abound from framed art to napkins to chopsticks.

She’d been here before, but couldn’t quite remember when. Maybe during her time at college, she couldn’t be certain. She couldn’t pin down the memory before a handsome host approached. Dressed all in black, the soft lightening highlighted his ebony hair and dark-brown almond eyes. His bangs flirted with his eyes.

“Welcome to
Wasabi’s Sushi
. A party of one,” he spoke with a slight accent that revealed what he thought about her, but his eyes took in her soaked attire and a small grin appeared on his face. “If you’ll follow me.”

She did, but she searched the candlelit tables for Carte. Not knowing where the host would place her, she had to figure where her mark sat so she could get closer to him. If he’d been sitting by the restrooms, she could excuse herself and go by his table, visually snagging whatever information she could, or better, eavesdrop on his conversations. If he sat at the sushi bar, she could easily pretend to be interested in the creation of the various sushi rolls and do the same.