All the Wright Moves

by McKenna Jeffries

  The reprimand wasn’t subtle. He backed off, not willing to get into an argument over that. Time for a new tactic. “Okay. When can you spare some time for me?”

  “I—”

  He read it in her gaze. “I know what you’re doing, Katiya. You’re rationalising what’s growing between us. And you’re scared. I’m not giving up so easily.” Just like I told you that first night, beautiful. I get what I want. And I want you.

  She ducked and scooted around him. He rotated and followed her swaying hips as she headed for the door. She stopped and glanced back at him.

  “I’m a lot of things, Warwick Taylor. Scared isn’t one of them. What I am is busy.” The smile was short and tense. “Thank you for today.”

  Then she was gone.

  He chuckled nervously and went to the driver’s door. Staring at her place, he sighed.

  “You can call it what you want, Katiya. I know what it is.”

  He drove away and wondered about the change in her demeanour from last night to today. It wasn’t glaringly obvious but he’d noticed and picked up on it.

  She had still been wonderful company but there had been times when she’d looked…well…uncomfortable at his place.

  So many secrets, Katiya. I wonder when you’ll let me all the way in.

  Katiya sighed and rested against the door. She ran a frustrated hand over her face while she toed off her shoes.

  Warwick Taylor.

  Just the name alone was enough to send rolling waves of desire through her.

  Warwick. Giga. Mr Taylor.

  It didn’t matter what he was referred to as, her response didn’t change. Lust. Hot and fast. Electrifying. Bone rattling with its intensity.

  “I shouldn’t have gone,” she bemoaned, striding to her bathroom where she stripped and stepped into the shower. His collection of trucks had been very impressive. So had his house—his massive, sprawling home with its gated entry. But each second she spent there, the more obvious it became how different their worlds were. Warwick Taylor existed in a world she didn’t feel she belonged.

  “I can’t go through it again,” she admitted to the steamy bathroom. “I just…can’t.”

  Despite the number of years since Darren Sharp had been in her life and had passed on to the afterlife, the pain of rejection from his family still burned strong and fresh.

  Her pensiveness remained as she stepped naked from the shower stall. She grabbed a large yellow towel and dried off. Once finished, she gathered up her dirty clothes, tossing them in the wicker hamper, and striding to her adjoined bedroom—her sanctuary, done in her favourite colours, like her office.

  While she dressed, her mind—that traitorous thing—meandered its way back to rest upon the one and only handsome Warwick Taylor.

  He’d worn a pair of khakis and a white polo shirt with loafers. Both items had intensified his muscular physique, daring her to reach out and touch the man beneath. All the attraction came flooding back. Hard. Intense.

  “And that kiss,” she muttered, as she applied lotion to her legs and feet. “That kiss.”

  It had robbed her of all common sense and honestly she wouldn’t have cared one whit if he had taken her against a vintage truck. But he hadn’t.

  More’s the pity, she thought. Her hypersensitive body agreed.

  It didn’t matter. No matter how much he wanted her. She’d seen the look on his face. Almost like he’d wondered if he’d betrayed someone. She knew he’d lost his wife—maybe he hadn’t got over her. She may be horny as hell. She may be attracted like hell to him, but one thing she wouldn’t do was be a second to anyone. If he still pined for her then that was fine—not her business, but she wouldn’t get involved with him.

  “Should have stuck to my no dating rule,” she said with a self-deprecating sigh.

  There was no denying the sparks between them indicated one fiery joining. She groaned and stomped out to the kitchen. Her body responded to the mere thought of experiencing the thrill of Warwick’s hands and touch on her body. Maybe he’d just not wanted to move so fast and it’d had nothing to do with his wife.

  Dropping her head to the cool counter, she moaned. “I just need to get laid.”

  “Wow.” Feminine laughter filled the room.

  Jerking up, she expelled a sharp breath when she spied her youngest sibling, Delicia, sitting on the other counter. I didn’t even see or hear her. She muttered a curse.

  Bad thing about being in town with one’s entire family…they tended to come and go as they pleased.

  “Lis, what are you doing here?”

  “My big sis complains about needing to get laid and wonders why I’m here? Don’t you think I would be the one with questions?”

  She glared at her sibling.

  Delicia’s bone straight, honey-hued hair was gathered in a high ponytail. She wore a silver camisole edged in black and a pair of black shorts. With each kick of her legs, her black high tops swung into Katiya’s view. The eyes were a giveaway—the brown orbs told of her exhaustion.

  Immediately concern overtook annoyance. “Everything okay, Lis?”

  Her sister smiled, it was also tired. “I’m good. Sorry to just drop by but you asked me to drop off some pics for The Oasis. I put them in your living room. Whatever you don’t want just set aside and I’ll get them later.”

  She sighed, not for one second believing her claim of being fine and sent her sister a grateful smile. I totally forgot. “I’m sorry, Lis. Totally skipped my mind. Thank you.”

  “Anytime.” She slid off the counter. “I have to go, start shift soon.”

  They hugged briefly and Lis headed to the door. She paused and glanced over her shoulder. “You know, seems to me that Taylor would do great in taking care of that problem you were bemoaning.” A devilish twinkle filled her dark eyes, eliminating the exhaustion she had been portraying. “At least, so Leo said based on the reports he received on you two up at Capri’s.” She waggled her fingers and slipped out. Moments later the rumble of her Jeep could be heard pulling away.

  “Did I say how much it sucks at times to have your whole family in the same town?”

  There was very little hope that her parents hadn’t heard about her necking episode. Caught. With fogged windows and everything. Like a pair of randy teens.

  “Crap!”

  Desperate for something else to occupy her mind, she went to the stack of photos and moved them from the coffee table to the dining room. With one hand she spread them out on the large table.

  They were amazing. Lis was an amateur photographer and had dropped off some of the black and white shots she’d taken of places and people around New Mexico. They were all wonderful.

  “Bless you, Lis.”

  She lost track of time as she continued to stream through the large matte photographs. So attuned was she to the items before her that when the doorbell pealed, she jumped. She glanced at her watch and muttered another curse. I’m late.

  She moved to the door then opened it and smiled warmly at the women standing there. Women she’d gone through school with, a mixture of married and single, they had remained fast friends through the years. Anita, Connie, Bethany and Yurandol.

  “Hey! I know I got a bit sidetracked and let time slip away, but why are all you here? Weren’t we meeting at the restaurant?”

  Yurandol pushed by her into the house, her long braids swaying with each confident step she took. “We picked up pizza, wine coolers, and came here.”

  Baffled and bemused, she watched in silence as they all paraded in.

  “Why here?” she asked again, closing the door on the warm spring night.

  “Figured there’d be less prying eyes and eavesdropping ears here when you tell us about you. And about you fogging up the windows at Capri’s,” Connie said, her hair in its usual spiky style.

  “Not to mention who it was with.” Bethany chortled, making herself right at home pulling down plates and cups before taking them to the table.

 
“Warwick Taylor,” they all said at once, their voices a collection of dreamy sighs.

  She groaned, knowing full well there was no escape. For a moment she wished Lis was there instead. Of all her family, Lis tended to be the least to pry. Sure, she’d tease but she wouldn’t be like this group.

  “Heffas,” she groaned, grabbing a plate and helping herself to some of the piping hot, cheesy pizza. “All ya…heffas.”

  Anita took a big bite and said without bothering to swallow first, “Maybe, but we’re your heffas. Now dish.”

  How true.

  “So…what gives?” Connie asked, removing the top on her wine cooler and taking a healthy swallow.

  “We went out and…got a bit carried away.”

  Laughter exploded around the table. “A bit?” Anita questioned. “Please, you know those impressionable teens that work there will be talking about this for days to come. Usually it’s the folks up at Lovers’ Peak who get fogged windows and the cops rappin’ on them, but…not you. You do it in Capri’s parking lot.”

  “Who cares, Anita?” Bethany interjected. “I want to know how it was. How he was. I mean, this happened to our calm and collected Katiya.”

  Katiya’s body pulsed with liquid heat at the mere thought of the feel of Warwick’s touch upon her. So hot. So passionate. The large evidence of his arousal against her needy core. She shifted on the cushion trying to alleviate the rapidly building pressure between her legs.

  It didn’t work.

  A low whistle cut through her haze of mounting desire. She blinked quickly a few times.

  “Damn, girl, was it that good?”

  “Must have been, Connie. Look at her, she’s flushed. Probably about to mess up her nice chair.”

  She glared at Yurandol and reached for her drink. The cool sweet liquid ran down her throat, barely tamping her increased core temperature. I have got to get myself under control. There was no point in arguing with them. They’d only increase their ribbing. So she settled in, ate her pizza and took it good-naturedly.

  After the meal, they chatted about everything. Family. Kids. Work. Nothing was off limits. Each with one of the five choices of ice cream in bowls, they all sat around Lis’ photos and helped her decide on some for the walls at The Oasis.

  “What’s he like?” Connie asked around the spoon in her mouth.

  “What’s who like?” Katiya countered, even though she had an idea of who Connie meant.

  “Kokopelli,” she retorted with an eye roll. “Who do you think?”

  I knew who you meant. I was hoping I would have been wrong.

  “Yeah, is he like a lot of recluses? Hiding out for good reason?” Anita queried.

  She shook her head, picked up a photo of the Taos skyline at night and smiled. “No. Not at all. He’s very thoughtful.” She filled them in on what he’d so graciously done for her centre. “And there is this gentleness about him that…that…” She trailed off.

  The women nodded in understanding. She shrugged. “What can I say? He’s hot as sin and an amazing kisser.”

  A chorus of murmurs rose up. Her smile remained until she met Anita’s gaze. Those dark brown eyes stared at her, astute and assessing. She lifted her brow in silent question.

  “When you two going out again?”

  Unsure of how to answer, she put another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and ate it slowly. The table fell silent as they all waited for her response. One by one she met their gazes. Anita waited, her foot up on the chair, arm resting upon the knee, spinning the spoon through her fingers, her gaze direct and unflinching.

  One finely plucked eyebrow rose. “Well?” Anita pried.

  She dropped her spoon into the bowl with a clang. “I don’t know.”

  All of her friends frowned. And all she could do was shrug, helpless without any kind of a response.

  “Is this because of Darren’s family being uptight bastards?” Bethany questioned.

  “It’s a hard thing to forget,” she said by way of admission.

  “Bastards!” Yurandol muttered. That comment elicited unanimous agreement from the group of women.

  She glanced at them all again—her friends from the days of kindergarten.

  Yurandol Blake—single, spitfire, and an attorney for their local field office of the FBI. Dark mocha skin, black braided hair, which fell to the middle of her back, and sparkling brown eyes.

  Bethany Donovan—married mother of three, the head librarian at McKingley’s main branch. Red hair in soft waves fell to her shoulders offsetting her café-au-lait skin with medium brown eyes.

  Anita Poole. Blonde hair, in a pageboy cut. Tanned skin covered her curvaceous figure. She had her doctorate and taught botany at the local college. Single with killer baby blues.

  Connie Velázquez was also a married mother, of two this time. She owned a bookstore. Had spiky hair and flawless copper skin. Her jet black eyes always seeing more than one thought she had.

  They were the greatest group of friends anyone could ask for.

  “Since when do you let the dictates of others make up your decisions for you?” Bethany asked without looking up, instead dishing herself more ice cream.

  Good question.

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Sure it is,” added Connie. “Either you like him or you don’t. You want to spend time with him or you don’t. This boils down to you, Kat.”

  “You’re not a teen. You’re a grown woman who is capable of knowing her own desires and wants. Do what you want.” Anita gave her two cents.

  A flash of anger sparked at their comments but faded as fast as it had risen. These were her girls, women she trusted to be honest with her. Brutally so, if necessary, like they were being now.

  “I know,” she replied with a resigned sigh. “I know. But my heart and brain don’t necessarily want to forget.”

  “So you spend the rest of your life alone because of the past?” Yurandol challenged.

  Her lip curled. “I’m not the only single one here,” she snapped, sending Yurandol a pointed glare.

  The attorney was unperturbed. She stared briefly at her perfect nails before sucking on her teeth. “I’m not the one who was caught getting all hot ’n bothered up at Capri’s. If you don’t want to be with a man who’s not only hot enough for you to break your years of no dating but also get a reprimand from the law for fogging up the windows, pick some viable excuse. A man you say is, and I quote, ‘hot as sin and an amazing kisser.’ Don’t lump him into a category. If he’s an ass, then fine, but if your only complaint is he’s rich—even disgustingly so—that, Katiya Wright, is just stupid.”

  The others murmured in agreement and she dropped her gaze to her ice cream remnants. Damn that sharp and spot-on lawyer mind. She lifted her head and peered at each woman, seeing determination on all their faces. They wanted her to find happiness and had no problems calling her out on any roadblock she threw in the way. She also knew they’d be first in line to kick the ass of anyone who hurt her. They had her back and she had theirs.

  Reaching for the carton of ice cream from the middle of the table, she sighed. “I really wish you wouldn’t beat around the bush, Yurandol. Stop holding back and tell me how you really feel,” she grumbled good-naturedly.

  “Sorry,” Yurandol said with a totally blank expression. “I’ve been trying to be more direct ’n not sugar coat things as often.”

  Her eyebrows rose at how calmly her friend had managed to spout that malarkey. “Yeah? How’s that coming along for you?”

  Yurandol flipped her off and burst out laughing. “Well…thanks.”

  With a harrumph, she dug her spoon into the chocolate ice cream and ate a big bite, forgoing the bowl, before sliding the container across to her friend.

  Chapter Four

  Warwick watched Katiya surreptitiously from his peripheral vision. She stood with two others, a man and a woman, discussing something. He didn’t know what and he wasn’t sure he cared. Okay, he knew he didn’
t care. All that mattered was for the past four days she’d done a bang up job of managing to be too busy for a little one on one time. At least with him. For others, she found time. What little interaction they had, she kept short and professional.

  The first day, it had seemed everyone watched them to see if there was going to be a repeat of the happening up at Capri’s. But her cool demeanour had nipped that in the bud. Hell, he was feeling frostbite from her.

  He didn’t fault her, though. She was extremely busy. Every night she stayed well past the time he’d finished for the day. Yes, he knew that because he’d swung by her house hoping for an interaction only to not find her there then later seeing her vehicle by the centre.

  Katiya.

  He ached for her. There was no other way to put it. He ached. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, strip off that ensemble she wore and make long, slow love to her, memorising every inch and swell of her beautiful body. He longed to sink deep with the heated velvet walls he knew would hold him like a dream.

  His body throbbed and he muttered a curse. Then stole another glance.

  She wore a turquoise belted crossover tunic covering a white shirt. The tunic’s belt emphasised her waist and rounded hips—hips made for a man to hold onto as he pounded into her, over and over again until they were both covered in sweat and had no energy to go anywhere. Her pale jeans had turquoise embroidery upon the legs and drew his attention to how much he wanted settle between them. The same hue of blue made up her ballet shoes.

  Another round of lust broad-sided him and he barely stopped the groan of need from pushing through his lips. Mouth in a tight line, he tore his gaze from where it lingered over her lush body. Back to the work at hand.

  “Why don’t you just go talk to her instead of standing over here like you don’t give a d…crap?”

  His head jerked to the side to see his brother standing there. “You should mind your own business.”

  Calix gave him a grin that did nothing to set him at ease. His brother moved to the other side and blocked his view to where he could no longer see Katiya. “Really?”

  A low growl worked its way up from the depths of his chest. “Calix…” he rumbled in warning.