by Pamela Yaye
Hours passed, and as the night wore on, Geneviève felt herself loosen up. Relax. Speak freely, and flirt boldly. And she wasn’t the only one. Roderick held her hand in his, kissed her palm as he praised her inner beauty and played with her hair. Seated side by side on the couch, they chatted and flirted. He shared hilarious stories about his most outrageous clients, his colleagues and his siblings, causing Geneviève to shriek with laughter. It had been a long time since she’d met someone she was excited about, and Geneviève was excited about Roderick. Who wouldn’t be? He was charming, ridiculously smart, thoughtful and kind.
From the moment he’d arrived in Madrid, he’d gone above and beyond his job description, and Geneviève appreciated everything he’d done for her. He made her feel special, as if she mattered to him, and he was so easy to talk to, she’d confided in him about her tumultuous childhood. Roderick had everything Geneviève wanted in a partner—the personality, the character, the intelligence and the good looks—but could they have a successful relationship? Or would he end up betraying her like everyone else in her past?
“Yesterday, I read in the local newspaper that you’re dating a Real Madrid soccer player,” Roderick said, raising an eyebrow. “Is it serious?”
“Boy, please. We took a picture together at my show, I signed a poster for his daughter and we hugged. End of story.” Realizing she sounded bitter, she softened her tone. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to settle down and have a family, but most of the guys I meet would rather hook up than get to know me as a person, so for now I’m happily single.”
The wide-eyed expression on his face puzzled her, but Geneviève didn’t ask Roderick why he was gawking at her. She was dying to know more about his personal life, and hoped he’d answer her questions truthfully this time. “What about you? Are you dating anyone special right now?”
Roderick scoffed. “Not if I can help it, but my family is making it hard for me.”
“What does that mean?”
“My mom and my sister-in-law, Erikah, are determined to find me a wife ASAP, but since I refuse to go on blind dates with the women they choose, they’ve taken to sending females to my office damn near every day, and it’s infuriating.”
Gasping, Geneviève cupped a hand over her mouth. “No way! Are you serious?”
“At first, I thought it was amusing, but now I just want it to stop.”
“I’m not trying to be insensitive, but most men would love to have that problem.”
“Not me,” he grumbled, cracking his knuckles. “I’m tired of females showing up at the law firm with homemade cookies, tickets to sporting events and dinner invitations—”
“Have you ever dated one of your clients?” she blurted out, her curiosity finally getting the best of her. The question had been on her mind all week, ever since Roderick had showed up at her hotel suite to meet with her, but she didn’t have the courage to ask him—until now. The cocktails she’d had, and the gritty hip-hop song playing in the lounge, made Geneviève feel bold, and when Roderick met her gaze she said, “Go on, Counselor, answer the question. Don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me.”
“I don’t have any secrets. Furthermore, I’ve never dated a client, and I never will.”
Disappointment filled her, but she forced her lips to move. “Why not?”
“As an attorney, I’m subject to codes of professional responsibility and ethics,” he explained. “And the law firm has a strict conduct policy. I’d never want to do anything to humiliate them, myself or my family. Welker, Bradford and Davidson expect me to be a good steward of the firm, and I don’t want to disappoint them.”
“I’m surprised. You strike me as the kind of guy who likes to break the rules.”
“I do, but only when I’m in the boxing ring with Morrison.” Chuckling, he clasped his hands behind his head and crossed his legs at the ankles. “Ask anyone. I’m practically a saint.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “A saint? I find that hard to believe. You have the words bad boy written all over your face, and I bet you’ve broken hearts in all fifty states.”
“Contrary to what you think, I’m not a dog who mistreats women. I like to party, but nothing beats going home at the end of a long, grueling day to a woman I love, who loves me, too. Nothing at all. Not even courtside seats at the Knicks game.”
Geneviève sucked in a breath. Is Roderick serious? Does he really mean that? He’d rather be in a committed relationship than play the field? His confession boggled her mind, but thinking about how caring and gentle he’d been toward her after that frightening incident at the tapas bar proved he was telling the truth...or was he? Geneviève cocked her head to the right. Something he’d said minutes earlier replayed in her mind, renewing her doubts. “If you’re such a relationship guy, then why are you dead-set against your mother setting you up?”
“Would you date someone your father handpicked for you?”
Geneviève shivered at the thought. “God no! Dwight doesn’t know anything about me. Hell, I love my mom, but I wouldn’t let her hook me up either—”
“My point exactly. I’m a grown man. I can find my own wife, and when I’m ready, I will, but it won’t be anytime soon.”
“No? How come?” Geneviève asked, trying to sound nonchalant, even though she was secretly bummed by his confession. She wanted to date Roderick, but only if he was ready for a serious relationship. Her biological clock wasn’t ticking, it was ringing louder than the Liberty Bell, and if she didn’t do something about it soon she’d never fulfill her dreams of being a mother.
“Right now I’m focused on my career, and I don’t want anything to distract me from achieving my goals.” His brow was arched, his chin was set in determination and his voice was strong, full of conviction. “I’ll do anything to become the first African American partner at Welker, Bradford and Johnson, and I have to put all my energy into fulfilling my dreams...”
Geneviève’s iPhone rang. Glancing down at the table, she saw her mom’s name and picture pop up on the screen, but decided to let the call go to voice mail. She sipped her cold, fruity drink. Eyeing Roderick over the rim of her cocktail glass, Geneviève listened as he spoke about his career, his long-term goals and his upcoming trip with his brothers to Los Cabos for Morrison’s bachelor party in March. Their conversation turned to their favorite travel destinations, and when Roderick promised to take her bungee jumping in Nepal for Valentine’s Day, she burst out laughing.
“Not on your life,” she quipped, waving her hands furiously in front of her face. “I’m as adventurous as the next girl, and I love trying new things, but there’s no way in hell I’m jumping headfirst off a cliff, so find another travel partner, homey.”
“Don’t be like that.” Roderick winked. “You know I’ll take good care of you.”
His breath tickled her ear, and heat flowed through her body. Geneviève enjoyed hearing about his life, and wished he wasn’t leaving for New York in three days. She was having such a good time joking around with Roderick, she’d lost track of time, and if not for Demi blowing up her cell phone with dozens of text messages, demanding to know where she was, Geneviève would have stayed in the VIP lounge with Roderick until closing.
He was an open book. Transparent. Real. Sincere. And Geneviève liked that. Roderick was the kind of man other men wanted to be, and women wished they had at home—including Geneviève—and it blew her mind that he was still single.
“I’ve been on a lot of dates in my life, but I’ve never been on one that lasted twelve hours, across two cities, in one of my favorite countries in the world.”
Lines wrinkled his forehead, and confusion darkened his eyes.
Realizing her mistake, her cheeks burned with shame. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You’re my attorney and nothing more. I know that.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s not every day I get to kick it w
ith an international pop star, and I’m enjoying your company. You’re charming, and I’m fascinated by you.”
I feel the same way about you. Her gaze zeroed in on his mouth, and when he licked his lips, Geneviève moaned inwardly. “It’s not every day I meet a man who likes foreign films, winter sports and wine tasting, so you’re definitely a keeper.”
Roderick chuckled, and his deep, throaty laugh filled the lounge.
A waiter with blond dreadlocks swaggered into the room, stared right at her, and dread coursed through Geneviève’s body. Stopping in front of the couch, he claimed to be her biggest fan, then flashed a toothy smile. She knew what was coming next, what he was about to say, and held her breath. He asked for her autograph and two tickets to her concert on Tuesday night. His behavior was unprofessional, but not unusual. Service people routinely asked her for favors, and normally she obliged, but Geneviève didn’t want anyone to intrude on her time with Roderick, and asked the waiter to leave. “Not right now, but if you come back in an hour I’ll see what I can do.”
Mumbling under his breath, he sucked his teeth, then stalked out of the lounge.
“Do you want another cocktail, or something else from the bar?” Roderick asked.
“No, I’m good. I’ve had plenty tonight, and if I keep downing mai tais you’ll be carrying me back to the car and tucking me in at the end of the night.”
“With pleasure. I’ve always been a sucker for a beautiful woman, and you’re a stunner.” Roderick’s phone rang, and he swiped it off the table. Frowning, he raised it in the air. “It’s your mom. What do you want me to tell her?”
Geneviève waved her hands in the air. “Don’t answer it. I’ll talk to her later.”
“I need to take you back to the hotel before Althea calls Madrid’s finest and has me arrested for kidnapping,” he joked, pulling his car keys out of his pocket. “Let’s go, Geneviève.”
No, Geneviève thought, downing the rest of her cocktail. What you need to do is take me back to your suite, rip off my clothes and make love to me!
Chapter 10
The private elevator at Hotel du Lugo opened on the eighteenth floor, and Geneviève clutched Roderick’s forearm. He stood tall, like a man who was proud of his body and comfortable in his skin, and his self-confidence was a turn-on. Made Geneviève want to kiss him all over. Her gaze slid down his physique, and she appreciated every hard, muscled inch.
“I had fun today, Geneviève. You’re great company and you tell the best stories.”
His charm was endearing, and his smile was so warm it melted her heart. Desire flooded her body, momentarily paralyzing her, but Geneviève forced her legs to move. Her feet ached, but she strode through the dimly lit corridor, humming the Boyz II Men song playing in her mind—the iconic hit about making love all through the night—and wondered if Roderick had sex on the brain, too. He squeezed her hands, and Geneviève suspected they shared the same thought. Every time he touched her, her emotions went haywire, spiraling out of control, but tonight her symptoms were worse. Her mouth was dry, her palms were wet—her panties, too—and it took every ounce of control Geneviève had not to back him into the wall, grab his shirt collar and plant one on him.
Slowing, Geneviève peeked around the corner. She hoped her mother didn’t jump out of her hotel suite, ranting and raving about what an ungrateful daughter she was. Geneviève didn’t want to upset her mom, but she refused to feel bad for taking a day off and spending it with Roderick. They’d had a great time together in the VIP lounge, and Geneviève wasn’t ready for their marathon date to end. Their friendship was safe, unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and every time Roderick gazed into her eyes, she felt desirable, as if she was the only woman he wanted.
“I’ll walk you to your suite. It’s late, and I don’t want anyone to bother you.”
Stopping in front of suite 1824, Geneviève glanced at her gold diamond watch and tapped the glass. “It’s only nine thirty. You’re not turning in now, are you?”
“No, I’ll probably watch a movie, or the rest of the Arsenal game.”
“Good, I’ll join you. I’m great company.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You will?”
“Yeah, you’re welcome.” Winking, Geneviève plucked the hotel key card out of Roderick’s hand, slid it into the slot beneath the metal door handle and pushed it open. “And since I’m your guest I get to choose the movie, got it?”
Roderick chuckled. “Knock yourself out. The remote’s on the side table, beside the lamp.”
Entering the suite, he flipped on the lights and closed the curtains. Geneviève flopped down on the couch, stretched her legs out on the coffee table and crossed them at the ankles. Using the remote control, she turned on the TV, accessed the movie app and selected a Japanese chick flick she was dying to see.
“You can’t watch a movie without your favorite snack,” Roderick said, with a lopsided grin. “Wait right here. I know just what you need...”
No you don’t! If you did, we’d be making love.
Geneviève admired his profile. He carried himself with an air of authority, like a commander-in-chief, and she couldn’t help staring at him. Her gaze followed him into the kitchen. The movie started, but Geneviève was more interested in watching Roderick than what was on the screen. She’d never made the first move on a guy, but if life had taught her anything, it was to live in the moment, and for the second time in minutes Geneviève was tempted to pounce on her devilishly handsome host.
“One bag of sweet and spicy wasabi popcorn coming right up.”
Geneviève noticed the plastic bag in his hands, and shrieked. “No way! Where did you find this? I’ve looked everywhere for it, but I couldn’t find it anywhere.”
“They carry it at a tiny specialty store in Segovia, so when my web conference wrapped up yesterday I jumped in the Ferrari and made the trip.”
“I can’t believe you went all that way just to buy me my favorite snack. That’s so sweet.”
“I’d do anything for you. You’re more than just a client. You’re also a friend.”
“Roderick, I’m crazy about you.” Feeling free, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, she wore a girlish smile. “There, I said it.”
“I think you’ve had too much to drink—”
“And I think you’re scared of getting hurt.” Geneviève rested a hand on his cheek and caressed his smooth brown skin. “It’s understandable, considering everything your ex put you through, but you have to put the past behind you and move on. That’s what survivors do. They get up, dust themselves off and walk boldly into their future.”
Geneviève couldn’t fight her feelings for him anymore, couldn’t resist the desires of her flesh, and traced his lips with an index finger. Her attraction to him was so intense her body vibrated uncontrollably, and when Geneviève spoke she heard the need in her voice, the hunger. “All I can think about is kissing you, and touching you, and undressing you...”
It started with a long, lingering gaze that set her body on fire, then snowballed into something fierce—a passionate, sensuous kiss that Geneviève never saw coming. Their bodies collided, pressing hard against each other, and it was perfect. Everything Geneviève wanted. Needed. Desired. Craved. Feeling his mouth against hers, probing and teasing, proved he was desperate for her, too, and the realization bolstered her confidence. Made her feel sexier than a Playboy Bunny. The spicy flavors on his tongue aroused her taste buds, and his gentle caress along her shoulders was as welcome as a cocktail on a hot summer day.
Doubts assailed her mind, but his kiss soothed her fears. Their relationship had gone from zero to one hundred in minutes, but everything about being intimate with Roderick felt natural, right. And his fervor thrilled her. He acted as if he wanted every inch of her. As if he was desperate for her, and Geneviève loved it. His hands were in her hair, along her neck,
shoulders and hips, stroking her quivering body through her clothes.
Nibbling on his bottom lip, Geneviève marveled at how good he tasted. His touch was everything, turning her on, and Geneviève couldn’t get enough. Wanted to skip first base and hit a home run. She wished his hands were on her breasts, rubbing and tweaking her nipples, and she willed him to undress her, right then and there on the couch.
Her thoughts ran wild, and so did her hands. They moved through his hair, across his jaw, down his muscled shoulders, arms and chest. Climbing onto his lap, Geneviève cradled his face in her palms and pressed soft, light kisses against his lips. She rubbed her body against his, moving her hips in circles. Although she sang racy songs and wore revealing costumes onstage, Geneviève didn’t have a lot of experience with the opposite sex, and wanted to know what Roderick liked in the bedroom. “Tell me what you want,” she whispered against his mouth. “Does that feel good? Do you want more?”
Mischief twinkled in his eyes. “Yes, please!” he said, grabbing her ass.
Roderick brushed his lips against the hollow of her throat, then licked it with his tongue, sending shivers careening down her spine. Draping her hands around his neck, she sucked his earlobe into her mouth. Roderick pressed his eyes shut, gripped her hips roughly in his hands. She heard his groans, his heavy breathing, could feel his erection pressed against her inner thigh, and wished it was buried between her legs. She’d never met a sexier, more confident man, and making out with Roderick was more exhilarating than performing to a sold-out crowd.
Kissing him, Geneviève gently tugged on his lower lip with her teeth, playfully nipping it. Lost in the moment, her vision blurred and she was breathing so loud it drowned out the TV. Kissing Roderick was a total-body experience, one that had no equal, and as they desperately explored each other’s bodies, Geneviève realized she was in over her head. Out of control. Losing it. But that didn’t stop her from stroking his forearms and rubbing her sex against his crotch.
