Temptation's Kiss

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Temptation's Kiss Page 9

by Janice Sims


  After a quick shower and change in their respective trailers, they met at the caterer’s tent where many of the cast and crew were enjoying dinner. They sat at a table with four other actors. One of them, Ted Knowles, portrayed Bass’s nemesis, Jesse Beaumont, a crooked sheriff who was bent on revenge because he didn’t believe Bass, a lawman and a bounty hunter, should be allowed to bring in white outlaws and collect the bounties. Bass was so good at collecting bounties that he’d become quite well-off from it. This further incensed Ted Knowles’ character, and he’d falsely accused Bass of gunning a man down in cold blood, and that’s why a posse was after him. Bella was wanted for aiding and abetting Bass.

  “I hear that love scene was hot,” Ted joked as soon as Patrice and T.K. sat down.

  Lara Miller, a brunette who portrayed a prostitute who worked at the brothel where Bella worked, poked Ted in the side with her elbow. “You’re just jealous you weren’t in it with Patrice.” She winked at Patrice.

  Ted’s tanned cheeks darkened in a noticeable blush. He smiled at Patrice, though, and said, “I’m sorry you had to have your first love scene with a guy as ugly as T.K.

  “The acting gods should have mercy on you and give you someone like me next time.”

  He said this self-deprecatingly because no one would say Ted Knowles was handsome. He was a big, rugged-looking guy in his late thirties with dark hair that was thinning on top. His eyes were small, and his nose was large. He had thin lips and not much of a chin. He was a character actor who was known for portraying villains the audience loved to hate. He took pride in that. But as villainous as his characters were he was just as sweet in real life. He was the sort of actor other actors loved working with.

  “We can’t all be as handsome as you are,” T.K. said with sincerity. “If I were a woman I’d marry you in a second.” And he rose and kissed Ted on the bald spot on the top of his head.

  “Aw, now, quit it,” said Ted wiping the spot where T.K. had kissed him as though he were disgusted. “My wife doesn’t take kindly to anybody else kissing my bald spot.”

  Patrice got up and kissed it, too.

  “Well, I don’t have to tell her everything,” said Ted.

  They all laughed and continued eating.

  The cast and crew lived in trailers during the week, T.K.’s being the most luxurious among them. On weekends, they went to Casper, the closest city to them, looking for entertainment. When August ended, September arrived with a twelve-degree drop in the temperature: the lower seventies during the day and the lower forties at night.

  During the week, after filming had wrapped, the cast and crew ate dinner together underneath the caterer’s tent and then retired to their trailers to chat, watch movies, play cards or amuse themselves in some other way. Patrice noticed that since they had begun work on the film a few couples had formed among the cast and crew. She suspected that some thought she and T.K. were a couple, too; however, even though they’d exchanged keys to their trailers she hadn’t succumbed to him yet.

  They would take Sam on long walks in the evening, and T.K. and Sam would see her to the door of her trailer. There, she would give him a warm hug and say goodnight.

  In her bed, though, she would burn for him. She didn’t know how he was coping, but their bet was beginning to wear on her nerves.

  By October, when the daylight hours saw temperatures in the lower fifties, exacerbated by bitter winds coming off the plains and dipping into the lower thirties at night, Patrice’s mood turned as dark as the weather. Cast and crew were now walking around outside bundled up and trying their best to stay warm. By November, when temperatures could drop to twenty degrees at night, Patrice felt lonelier and lonelier in her trailer during the long nights.

  Everyone flew home for Thanksgiving, and Pa trice was happy to be in the bosom of her family in Albuquerque where they observed all the long-held traditions of the holiday. T.K. went to his parents’ home in Beverly Hills. Aisha had given birth to a healthy baby girl two weeks earlier and named her Mira. The doctor gently swabbed the inside the baby’s mouth for the DNA test and was able to determine that Mira was indeed Malcolm’s child. The McKennas celebrated. And T.K. wondered what Aisha’s next move would be now that it had been proven she was telling the truth.

  He didn’t have to wait long because shortly after Thanksgiving dinner, she asked to speak with him privately, and he found himself in his father’s study, standing a few feet from the new mother who was dressed rather inappropriately in a blouse that was too tight and a skirt that was too short. He knew she had money to buy clothes that fit because he provided her with a generous clothing allowance.

  She paced while he calmly sat on the corner of his dad’s desk. From time to time, she would look at him as if she were uncertain how to begin. She had a nervous habit of twirling her long, black extensions around her manicured fingers and pouting.

  Suddenly she stopped pacing and frowning and blurted, “Now that you know Mira’s Malcolm’s, what are you prepared to do to keep her in the family?”

  Taken aback, T.K. stood up. “What do you mean by that?” Her tone had been belligerent, as though she were issuing a threat, not simply asking a question.

  She smiled demurely and walked slowly toward him. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. I think that as Malcolm’s brother you should step up and take his place. I’d make a good wife.”

  T.K.’s first impulse was to laugh. Then he got so angry that he wanted to scream at her for making such a ridiculous suggestion. However, he did neither. It was obvious the woman was either delusional or a worse schemer than he’d thought she was.

  He kept his tone low as he looked her in the eyes and said, “I don’t know what you mean by ‘the way I look at you’ because I’ve never looked at you in any particular way. You’re my brother’s baby’s mother. I would never consider marrying you.”

  Aisha was crestfallen. Her lower lip began trembling, and her eyes filled with tears.

  “I’m not good enough for you?”

  T.K. didn’t want to hurt her feelings further. She had given birth two weeks ago. She was still healing. She might be suffering from postpartum depression for all he knew. “It’s not that, Aisha,” he said kindly. “The fact is I’m involved with someone else. Even if I weren’t, it’s distasteful for me to consider making love to a woman who has made love to and created a life with my brother. That would be dishonoring his memory. I loved Malcolm. You loved Malcolm. Let us come to some kind of agreement so that Mira will grow up knowing who her father was and being close to his family. I’m prepared to support you and Mira for the rest of your lives. But my marrying you is out of the question.”

  Aisha’s tears stopped falling as suddenly as they had appeared. She turned narrowed, hate-filled eyes on him and spoke between clenched teeth. “Marry me or I’ll take Mira and disappear. You’ll never see her again.”

  T.K. sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. He gave her a level stare. “Aisha, if that’s what you want to do, you should do it. But I don’t think that’s what you want to do. You have no discernible skills. The only job you’ve ever had was as a waitress in a diner in East L.A.”

  Her mouth fell open in shock. “You’ve been checking up on me?”

  “I don’t let just anyone move in with my parents,” T.K. told her. “You have been a rap groupie in hopes that someone would cast you in a rap video. You latched on to Malcolm because he was kind to you. That was Malcolm. He had a good heart. You were aware of his mental disability, and you took advantage of it. Let’s not hold anything back, if that’s how you want to carry on this conversation. You are a liar, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a thief as well. Malcolm’s bank accounts were rapidly dwindling while he was with you. You no longer had access after his death, which I’m sure helped you to decide to accept my offer to take care of you until the baby was born. Have I said enough, or would you like me to go on?”

  Tears once again sprang to her eyes. “I can’t take care o
f a baby. I’m twenty-six, and my life is over!” She put a hand over her still-puffy belly. “I’m out of shape. No man is going to want me like this. I have nowhere to go. And who’s going to want me when I’m saddled with a baby, anyway?”

  “I told you that I’ll support you and Mira,” T.K. reiterated.

  For a split second, T.K. noted, her eyes took on an avaricious glint. Then, almost instantly, they were back to looking downcast. “How would you support us?” she asked timidly.

  “I would buy you a house in or near L.A. and give you a monthly stipend,” said T.K. generously.

  He knew that by doing that he would never get rid of Aisha. However, to have Mira in his life, his brother’s only child, he would gladly do it. Already he loved the infant. From the moment he’d held her in his arms, it had felt as if he had a small part of Malcolm back.

  “If you wanted to go to college, I would pay for it,” he added.

  “College? Why would I want to go to college?” asked Aisha as if it were a preposterous idea.

  “To improve yourself, to set a good example for Mira, to increase your net worth,” said T.K. “I’m not made of money, Aisha. After I buy the house, I’ll be able to give you fifty thousand a year to live on. If you want more luxuries, you’ll have to go to work and buy them yourself.”

  “But what about Mira?” asked Aisha. “Will you make her go to work and earn whatever luxuries she might want later on?”

  “Mira’s education will be taken care of,” was all T.K. said. He had no intention of spoiling Mira with things. He wouldn’t be doing her any favors, just helping to turn her into someone like her greedy mother.

  “I’ll think about it,” Aisha said, and flounced from the room, twirling her hair as she went. T.K. watched her go, wishing he were anywhere but there. To think that she wanted him to marry her! She had plenty of gall.

  He went to the phone on his father’s desk and rang his lawyer, Saul Abraham. Saul answered on the third ring. He explained to Saul what had just happened and asked him to find out what, if any, rights he or his parents had to custody of his niece. Saul promised to get back to him as soon as possible.

  As he left the study, he yearned for Patrice. He couldn’t wait to get back to Wyoming tomorrow, even if they would be filming in the snow.

  When he and Sam left Los Angeles, flying this time for convenience, it had been an almost balmy sixty-two degrees. When they touched down in Wyoming, it was eighteen degrees. Sam didn’t even protest when he put on his doggy coat before leaving the terminal.

  Someone from the crew picked him up at Casper/Natrona County International Airport and drove him out to the site where the RVs were parked. After leaving Sam at his trailer, he knocked on Patrice’s door.

  There was no answer.

  He had not thought to ask the crew member if she was back yet. He looked around him. No one was out in this weather. The wind was bitingly cold, and the sound was like a banshee’s wail. What was more is that since the sun had gone down the temperature had continued to drop rapidly. She couldn’t be out in this weather.

  He jogged back over to his trailer and was greeted at the door by Patrice. She grinned and pulled him inside. “Why didn’t you check in the bedroom when you came in?” She was warm and toasty he discovered as he pulled her into his arms. She hugged him tightly then began helping him out of his bulky hooded coat.

  “I had your key. I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she told him. “Sam woke me. I knew you couldn’t be far so I came into the living room to wait for you. How are you?”

  T.K. was so happy to see her that he forgot about the bet and kissed her. She kissed him back. “I missed you so much,” she cried when he finally let her up for air. Her lovely brown eyes bored into his, and he saw that she had indeed missed him. He kissed her again and again. He had months of kisses to make up for.

  When they parted this time, he asked, “What made you give in?”

  She reached up and held his face between her hands. “Being with my family,” she said softly, “made me miss you more. Oh, I had a great time cooking Thanksgiving dinner with my mom and watching the game on TV. It was wonderful being with them. My heart was filled with love for them, but there was one key player missing—you.” She tried to read in his eyes how her statement had affected him. She only saw his desire for her in them. She gently kissed his lips. “I really like you, Trevor.”

  An indescribable feeling of happiness came over T.K. At last, he could tell her how he felt about her without worrying about that damn bet. Why had he ever come up with such a stupid idea in the first place? “I couldn’t wait to get back to you, either, Patty Cakes,” he told her, gazing down at her as though he could devour her whole.

  “Oh, my God, not a nickname,” exclaimed Patrice, but the sheer joy on her face belied her irritation. “Just kiss me!”

  He did, and he kept on kissing her all the way back to his bedroom where he undressed her and then undressed himself, and they began to create their own love scene without a script in sight.

  Chapter 9

  “Mmm, you smell good,” said T.K. as he kissed her neck and worked his way down her naked body. Her back was pressed against the bedroom wall. His hands cupped her hips as he knelt and licked her flat belly. Patrice held on to his powerful shoulders to maintain her balance. She felt weak with desire, her nipples were hard and she was wet and throbbing between her legs.

  She made an attempt at conversation to try to quell the mad beating of her heart. “I soaked in your tub while I was waiting.”

  From his kneeling position, he looked up at her and smiled. “So you were planning on seducing me?”

  She quivered. “The thought had crossed my mind. I hope you’ve got condoms, or I’m going to be highly upset we have to stop,” she told him.

  T.K. laughed and rose. He picked her up and carried her to the bed. “I was optimistic. There are a few dozen in the nightstand drawer.”

  Patrice let out a longing-filled sigh as he placed her on the bed and knelt over her.

  She drew him down and kissed him, her back arching upward. T.K. was already erect and steadily growing harder. He lowered his body onto hers, keeping his full weight off her with his strong arms. The urge to plunge into her was unbearably sweet. He didn’t want to dwell on it for fear he’d embarrass himself by ejaculating early.

  But what else could he do when her delicious body was pressed against his and she was writhing so temptingly beneath him? He felt her sex against him. It was so warm and inviting. The tip of his penis was at the opening, and she was shivering with need, almost panting, and he did what any red-blooded male would do: he took the plunge. Ah, she was tight. He felt her eager sex contract as if the lips of her vagina were her lips and she wanted to devour him. He couldn’t take it. He pushed, crying, “Oh, God, you feel good!”

  She cried out too, and then they were thrusting. She gave herself joyfully, as though a dam that was holding back her passion had suddenly broken and all of it was pouring forth for him. He rode her hard, his thrusts going deeper with each push and the momentum building. She screamed as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. At the sound of her release, he came to his senses and pulled out. His seed spilled onto her belly. He fell on top of her, half ashamed of himself for not being strong enough to resist her long enough to put on a condom.

  His body convulsed. Patrice was kissing his chest. He rolled over onto his back, thinking his bulk was probably smothering her. Up on his elbow, he peered into her face. “I’m sorry. That was worse than a teenage boy doing it with his girlfriend for the first time in the backseat of his car.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Patrice told him, running a finger along his jaw. “It was intense. I loved it.”

  He gratefully rained kisses on her face.

  “But I think I’ll be in charge of the condoms from now on,” she added with a smile.

  He laughed shortly. “Yes, ma’am. Maybe you ought to be. I forgot they existed fo
r a moment there.”

  “How about we shower together and see where that leads us,” Patrice proposed.

  He was down with that and got up and pulled her to her feet. He paused when he heard a scratching at the door. Sam wanted to be let into the bedroom.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Go ahead and start without me.”

  Patrice went to the bathroom, and he went to open the door. Sam ran straight to Patrice. T.K. had a hard time corralling the dog and ushering him back out to the living room. “I think he missed you,” he said.

  Patrice took a moment to rub Sam under the chin. “I’m really sorry, boy, but it would freak me out if you stayed.”

  T.K. grabbed Sam by the collar, and Sam allowed him to lead him outside. “You’re embarrassing me,” he whispered. “Can’t you see I’ve finally got her where I want her? Don’t ruin this for me.”

  Sam whined. T.K. led him to the kitchen and bribed him with his favorite kibble. “Just a little bit,” he said as he poured it into Sam’s food bowl. “I’ll take you for a short walk later on.”

  Sam whined again when the wind whistled. T.K. laughed. “Yeah, I know it’s cold outside, but you still need to go out later.”

  He left Sam enjoying his snack in the kitchen and hurried back to Patrice, who was already soaping her body by the time he entered the bathroom. He watched her for a moment. She was beautiful to him. She wasn’t beautiful in the Hollywood sense of the word. She didn’t have perfect features, and her breasts, although heavenly to him, hadn’t been augmented to inhuman proportions. She was healthy and vibrant, and the combination of her warm brown skin, toned and muscular body, wide-spaced brown eyes, high cheekbones, pert nose, full lips and raven’s-wing hair was like an aphrodisiac to him. She was a real woman, and after so many women who were not real walking in and out of his life for the past eighteen years, he could now appreciate a real woman.

 

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