“Well, how are the kisses?” Isabella inquired gently.
“Wonderful…fantastic!” Gisella slammed the bowl on the counter. “Kissing isn’t the problem. Getting him into my bed is. Hell, last night I was tempted to strip in the hallway just to get his attention. I mean, where is this sex-crazed egomaniac I keep hearing about? And why won’t he have sex with me?”
“Don’t forget the low-down, lying dog that needed to be put out of his misery part,” Waqueisha reminded her. When the women glared at her, she turned defensive. “I’m just saying.”
Gisella tossed her hands. “You know what? I don’t even want to talk about it anymore. In fact, I’m not even sure I’m going to see him again.”
“Sounds like somebody’s in heat.”
Isabella jabbed her hands on her hips. “Waqueisha, you’re not helping.”
“What? I’m just saying that your girl wants to get laid, and this Charlie dude needs to catch a clue.”
Isabella started to argue when Gisella cut in, “She’s right. I’m ashamed to say it, but I’m horny as hell, and Charlie is as cool as a cucumber.”
“Have you thought about taking him to a seafood bar and feeding him oysters all night? They’re supposed to be like some kind of aphrodisiac.”
“I thought of that,” Gisella said. “He’s allergic to shellfish.”
“Ms. Jacobs, there’s a delivery for you,” Krista said, poking her head back in the kitchen.
“Coming.” Gisella sighed and washed her hands in the sink before rushing up front.
“Are you Ms. Gisella Jacobs?”
“Yes, sir,” Gisella said, walking toward the UPS man.
“Sign here.”
She quickly raced over and signed the package. “Amélie DeLorme. It’s from ma grandmère,” she said, stunned and walked to the back office. What on earth was her grandmother sending her?
Sitting down at her small desk in her matchbox-sized office, Gisella ripped into the package. Buried beneath a mountain of packing popcorn was a large decorative wooden box.
“Recettes secrètes.” Gisella gasped. Her grandmère’s secret recipes. Barely able to contain her excitement, Gisella bounced in her chair and then carefully pulled open the top. Immediately, she recognized the beautiful pen strokes on the three-by-five decorative postcards. “I can’t believe it.”
Gisella glanced back at the UPS box and wondered if there was also a note. She searched through the packing peanuts and withdrew a lavender-colored envelope with her name written in the same elegant penmanship.
Grabbing the letter opener from her desk, she ripped the top and unfolded the delicate lavender stationery.
“Is it something good?” Isabella asked. She and Waqueisha popped their heads into in the office.
“It’s more than good,” Gisella sighed. “She sent me the recipe for Amour Chocolat!”
The announcement left Isabella and Waqueisha clueless.
“This means my little problem with Charlie Masters is over.”
“You need to file bankruptcy?” Taariq braided his large hands and leaned over his desk. “Brother, I didn’t even know you were in trouble. Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”
Charlie drew in a deep breath and worried whether his massive migraine was going to do him in. “Nobody knew. I haven’t told anyone. The last couple of years, I’ve done everything I could to stay afloat, but I’m going to have to shut down the office soon. I won’t be able to make payroll past next week.
“This market has just dried up in Atlanta. There are too many commercial contractors like myself playing cutthroat politics for the few contracts that come available. Hell, I’ve even lost the bid on a few government and foreign contracts. Man, it’s just time to just cut my losses and move on.”
He looked over at his friend and appreciated the absence of sympathy and pity in his expression. “Can you help me out?”
“Sure.” Taariq shrugged. “I just thought that you had your own set of corporate lawyers for this kind of thing.”
“If I can’t make payroll I certainly can’t bankroll a team of expensive lawyers.”
“I’m not exactly cheap, either,” Taariq reminded him. A playful smirk hooked the corners of his lips. “But I guess I can see about getting you a discount, being that you’re like family and all.”
A genuine smile bloomed across Charlie’s face. “Thanks, man. I appreciate that.” He placed his fingers against his temples and gave them a vigorous rub.
“Are you all right, man?”
“Yeah. Sure. I’ve just been suffering from some killer migraines lately.” Charlie flashed him a weak smile. “Probably from all this stress from the job.”
“With Masters Holdings folding, how are you doing—financially, I mean? Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Nah, man. Thanks. Most of my personal situation is separated from the company. I still might have to give up a few toys until I launch into a second career, but other than that, I’m doing good. Thanks for asking.”
Taariq nodded.
“Well, I better go. I’ll get the financials together from the accounting department to you by the end of the week.”
“Trust me. It’s going to take you longer than a week to get everything we need together. But don’t worry, if you need for me to roll up my sleeves to help out, you got it.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
“Appreciate hell. You see about getting me an invitation to Momma Arlene’s meals, and we can just about call this transaction square.”
Charlie laughed. “Consider it done.”
The men shook on it.
However, when Charlie stood to leave, he experienced a severe case of vertigo and wobbled on his feet before plopping back down.
“Whoa.” Taariq leapt from his chair and raced around his desk. “What’s going on with you?”
“I’m cool. I’m cool.” Charlie shook his head. “Any way I can get some aspirin?”
“Sure. Hold on.” Taariq quickly buzzed his assistant.
Less than a minute later, Charlie was handed two pills and a large glass of water. The whole time he could feel the weight of Taariq’s gaze.
“Have you seen a doctor? You don’t look so good.”
Charlie chuckled and tried to dismiss his concerns. “It’s just a migraine. Nothing serious.”
“You’ve been having a lot of those lately.”
“I already have one mother.”
Taariq’s hands shot up in surrender. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Don’t worry, man. As soon as these pills kick in, I’ll be good as new.”
She didn’t know what she was looking for. It was the second time she’d managed to gain access to the exclusive high-rise apartment and broke in to Charlie’s bachelor pad. It was easy to do since her brother was head of security.
The last time she was in here, she’d totally trashed the place. But that, just like when she vandalized his car, she’d hoped the act of revenge would make her feel better.
It didn’t.
Especially now that it seemed like the philandering playa had a new girlfriend.
French bitch.
In the last month, she’d followed them all over town. Every other night it seemed they were either going to some play or movie or concert or eating at the most exclusive restaurants. At first she thought she was mistaken about their relationship. As far as she could tell, Charlie and his foreign-exchange girlfriend had yet to spend the night together. It made no sense because just watching him with her, she could tell he was crazy about her.
Always smiling.
Always touching.
Always kissing.
The constant public show of affection was enough to make her gag. There’s no doubt about it, Charlie Masters was in love.
So why weren’t they sleeping together?
Was that the secret to winning his heart—keeping your legs closed? What kind of prehistoric thinking was that?
> She drew a deep breath as her anger returned in full force. Her friends told her to stay away from him. Why didn’t she listen?
She took another glance around the apartment, looking for something—anything—she could use to extract her next wave of revenge. But as soon as she walked into his bedroom, she was caught up in his world.
In his closet, she roamed her hands over his suits and shirts. At his chest of drawers, she sniffed his cologne and even dabbed a little bit on her wrists. The pinnacle, of course, was when she climbed into his bed and hugged his pillows against her chest.
Lost in her own fantasy, she almost didn’t hear when the apartment’s front door opened and then slam shut.
He’s home.
She jumped off the bed and scrambled around in a circle, trying to think. Soon his heavy footsteps filled the hall.
I’m going to get caught.
She had seconds to find a hiding place.
After a hard day, Charlie entered his bedroom and started peeling out of his suit. He was looking forward to his date with Gisella. Just being around her was like a soothing balm to his soul. She calmed him. Grounded him.
She was everything a man could hope for—beautiful, funny and smart. As much as he wanted to make love to her, he was proud of himself for holding back. Without sex, he was free to discover Gisella the woman. He might not have appreciated her if he’d, like he usually did, rushed to sex.
Tonight, she said she wanted to cook him a homemade meal. She bragged that she could go toe-to-toe with his mother. If she could, he just might have to go through on his promise and buy her a ring.
He was leaning toward buying her one anyway.
Of course, he didn’t know how she would feel about marrying a man who was on the verge of losing everything and whose days were possibly numbered.
Charlie ignored the pinprick of guilt for not keeping his doctor’s appointments and for even ducking the bone marrow test. The main reason he’d bypassed the test was because he felt fine. How could he be dying when he felt as healthy as a horse?
Most of the time.
He thought about the increasing number of migraines he’d had, but he wasn’t convinced that they weren’t products of the amount of stress he’d been under on the job. Then there was the vertigo.
“I’m fine,” he insisted with a firm shake of his head. He refused to think about the matter anymore. He needed to rush. There was just enough time for a quick shower before his date.
Charlie turned toward the adjoining bathroom and stopped cold. His hackles rose unexpectedly and he cast a curious glance around the room. Something was wrong. Something wasn’t quite right about the room.
His gaze skittered over toward the bed and he noticed the sheets were wrinkled. Didn’t the maid come this morning? Just then he sniffed the air, but he only smelled his cologne.
“Okay, old boy. You’re imagining things.” He laughed and left the bedroom.
Underneath the bed, she watched Charlie disappear into the bathroom. She held her breath until he turned on the shower. Relieved, she dropped her head against the carpet and waited for her heartbeat to return to normal.
Soon after, Charlie started singing a lame version of New Edition’s “Candy Girl,” and she crawled out from her hiding place. Despite knowing that she needed to get the hell out of there, she instead crept toward the bathroom with the overwhelming desire to see Charlie naked.
You’re going to get caught!
It was a real possibility, she knew. When she was just a few inches from the door, she stopped and stood there a full minute, debating.
Finally, she backed away and rushed to leave his bedroom. But at the door, she stopped again. Something caught her eyes.
A book.
She picked it up and flipped through its page. “Well, I’ll be damned.” A broad smile stretched across her face. She had just hit the jackpot.
Still singing, Charlie shut off the water and grabbed a towel. He walked back into his bedroom, patting himself dry when he heard the unmistakable sound of his front door slamming shut.
Chapter 18
It had been so long since Gisella had tried to seduce a man that she worried whether she even remembered how. Luckily, she had a secret weapon. Once she’d received her grandmother’s recipe box, she immediately left the shop in search of the foreign ingredients for Amour Chocolat. Of course, once she told the women at the shop the urban legend surrounding the recipe they’d all clamored for a piece of the action.
“A date-rape cake,” Fantasy Charlie said. He shook his head. “It’s a sad day in Gotham.”
“Stop it.” Gisella frowned, carefully setting the night’s dessert down on the kitchen counter. “It’s not a date-rape cake…it’s date-enhancer cake,” she corrected.
“You say tomato.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she said.
“I’m starting to think that you’re getting sick of me.”
“No offense. But I’m ready for the real thing.” She smiled and winked.
Like a tornado, Gisella hit the kitchen and prepared her favorite roasted herb chicken, steamed some vegetables and made sure that she had plenty of red wine. Since it was her first time cooking a home-cooked meal for Charlie, she wanted everything to be perfect.
After a record-breaking shower, a rush through some hot curlers and tossing on a simple black dress, the doorbell rang.
“Showtime.” Fantasy Charlie’s voice floated around in her head.
Sasha meowed from the corner of the bed.
“Wish me luck, girl.” Gisella raced to the door. “Good evening.”
Charlie, holding yet another single red rose, took his time allowing his gaze to roam over her body. “As usual, you look lovely,” he praised.
“And you look equally debonair,” she returned, accepting the rose. Gisella inhaled its fragrance and then turned to add it to the near two dozen, in different stages of bloom, sitting in a vase in the entryway.
“It smells wonderful in here,” Charlie said.
“I hope you brought a hearty appetite.” She closed the door behind him. “I plan on giving your taste buds a night they’ll never forget.”
“Be still my heart. You’re talking the language of love now.” Without warning, his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her pliant body toward him.
When he pressed his pillow-soft lips against hers, Gisella emitted a submissive whimper. She loved how easily he dominated her body or how with a flick of his tongue she was reduced to putty in his hands.
“I missed you,” he panted when he pulled away.
“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since our last date,” she said breathlessly.
“It still felt like a lifetime.”
Gisella knew exactly what he meant. Her body seemed to count the seconds from their last touch. “Did you remember the movie?”
He held up a video box. “Your favorite. Mahogany.”
“Good boy. I just might keep you around.”
Smiling into each other’s eyes, they held each other a little while longer and swayed to the music inside their heads. In what was becoming the norm, Charlie pulled away when the outline of his erection pressed against her belly. She didn’t understand why he continued to resist his attraction toward her.
“Now let’s see if you can back up all that trash talk about being able to beat my momma’s cooking.”
“Oh, I can back it up. I just hope you brought my ring.”
Charlie laughed as she led him by the hand toward the dining room. “Can I help you with anything?”
“You can light the candles and pour the wine,” she said before heading off toward the kitchen.
Minutes later, Gisella set their dinner plates on the table. “Bon appetit.”
Charlie closed his eyes and dramatically inhaled the food’s rich aroma. “Damn, woman. You already have my mouth watering.” Before digging in, Charlie stood and pulled back her chair.
“Ah, a
true gentleman.” She sat down.
“I gotta take care of the cook.” He brushed a kiss against her cheek and then returned to his seat. “I really appreciate you wanting to cook for me.”
“It was my pleasure, and I fully expect for you to return the favor in the near future.”
He laughed. “I don’t know my way around the kitchen too much, but I can work a mean grill.”
“Then barbeque it is.”
Charlie took her hand and recited the Lord’s prayer. Afterward, he clapped his hands and rubbed them together. Ready to dig in.
Anxious, Gisella watched. She wouldn’t admit in a million years that she was actually nervous for his critique. As if sensing her anxiety, Charlie took his time cutting, inspecting and even smelling it again.
Gisella finally smacked him on the hand. “Stop it. You’re killing me.”
Laughing, Charlie took his first bite. Instantly, his eyes closed while he released a long moan of pleasure.
Gisella smiled as her chest puffed with pride.
“Oh, woman. You put your foot in this,” he praised.
The smile melted off her face. “I did not!”
Charlie’s eyes sprang opened before he rocked back in his chair laughing. “That’s a Southern saying. It just means you put your best foot forward. You know. You gave it all you got.”
“Oh.” She fluttered a hand across her chest in great relief.
Charlie cut bigger and bigger pieces of his chicken and then moaned louder and louder. The biggest compliment came when he blinked his big hazel eyes at her and asked for seconds. “I have to be honest. I didn’t think you had it in you, but I’m going to have to give it to you. You can give Momma a run for her money.”
“Thank you,” she beamed, handing him his second plate.
“I just need to know whether you want a church or an outdoor wedding.”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to get back to you on that.” They laughed and then fell into easy conversation. Gisella imagined them doing this for years to come. She could picture them gray-haired with a loving family surrounding them. In that moment, she was the happiest woman on earth.
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