Tommy Gabrini 4: Dapper Tom Begin Again

by Mallory Monroe

  After pouring the drinks, he took both glasses and walked over to her elongated seat. He stood beside her with one of the two glasses reached out for her to grasp. He glanced down at her iPad as he did so. She was not reviewing press reports as he had assumed, but balance sheets.

  When she looked at the glass, and then up at his face, his heart actually fluttered. She wore big reading glasses on her small face that made her look simply adorable to him, in a sweet, nerdy sort of way. She also looked weary to him.

  “Thanks,” she said, and accepted the drink.

  Tommy sat in the seat facing her. She looked at him as he did so. She didn’t realize until now that he had changed out of his expensive suit coat and now wore a light beige Ralph Lauren Cardigan sweater, although he still had on that same pair of dress pants. His Ferragamos were also gone and now he sported loafers. Christian Louboutin loafers if she had to guess. He was a man of style, she thought as she sipped her wine. No doubt about that.

  Tommy stretched out his long legs across the floor, within an inch of touching hers, and held his drink, with both hands, on his lap. Liz had gone back to watching clouds, as she crossed her legs and occasionally sipped her wine, and he had gone back to watching her. She still wore her slim-fit pants and tucked-in shirt, but her heels had been replaced with a pair of Jordans. And she rocked her short afro in a way that always turned him on. Show him a gorgeous black woman with a soft, neat afro trimmed perfectly to the shape of her head, and he’d show you a woman he wanted to fuck. It was the exposure that turned him on. It was the fact that a cut that short laid bare every flaw in a woman’s face. And every attribute. Very few women could pull off such a hairstyle. But with her high cheekbones and her flawless black skin, and with her nicely shaped head, Liz could. And she wore it well. But his mind couldn’t stop imagining, even as he drank his wine, what she would look like completely bare.

  Liz knew he was staring at her, but that was nothing new. He’d been staring at her, to various degrees, ever since they met. She usually didn’t like it. Men made her feel dirty when they overdid it this way. But a part of her, a small part, liked the fact that he found her interesting enough to give her his full assessment.

  She looked at him, to catch him in the act, but he didn’t seem to care. He didn’t look away. “This is a very nice ride,” she said. “Very smooth. Owned planes all your life, have you?”

  Tommy smiled. “Like no,” he said and Liz smiled too. “This particular plane,” he added, “is relatively new. Just a year or so old. What about you? Are you telling me that a magazine publisher such as yourself do not own her own plane?”

  “Like hell no,” Liz said, and Tommy laughed. “I barely own a car, are you kidding me?”

  “Now you’re exaggerating.”

  “I know. But it sounded good, didn’t it?”

  Tommy laughed. “It sounded good.”

  Then the laughter died back down. Liz was about to return her attention to her iPad, but Tommy spoke up. “How long have you been a reporter? Since after college?”

  Liz looked back up. “Since after high school. I got a job as a gopher for a local newscast and worked my way up to reporter within a couple years. Then I ended up at the local CBS affiliate and then, a few years later, I was with their national headquarters in New York. I scratched and clawed and worked like a dog and eventually became a war correspondent for CBS.”

  “Wow,” Tommy said, impressed. “You had quite a ride.”

  “I did. I worked my butt off for that ride, but it was worth it. But it was only so far a black girl was going to go in that world, and I knew it. So I took my expertise and got to work on my own thing.”

  “Kutana,” he said.

  She nodded. “Kutana. And I thank God daily that it worked. I would have lost my shirt if it had not.”

  “Thank God it did.”

  “Yes.”

  “And somewhere along the way, you and Gemma’s sister became best friends.”

  “We were best friends since childhood.”

  “Oh, were you?”

  “Yep, since we were kids. It’s funny because most people back then thought Gemma and I were sisters, and Chelsey was the neighbor. Gem was tall, I was tall. Gem was dark-skinned, I was dark-skinned. Yet here was this short, stout, high-yellow girl hanging out too. And they treated Chelse differently. I think that’s why I was drawn to her because of how she was treated.”

  “Even by her family?”

  “Not Gemma. Gemma never treated Chelse bad. But her father, yeah. He treated her awful. Her mother tried to stop him, I’ll give her that, but Rodney Jones ran that household. He wasn’t trying to hear what Mrs. Jones had to say.”

  Tommy waited for more. He waited for her to tell him the reason Rodney Jones treated Chelsey poorly. It was obvious to him. Chelsey was Cassie’s child, but she was not Rodney’s. Although he might be wrong, that was his conclusion. But Liz was too close to the camera. He honestly didn’t think she’d seen it yet.

  But Rodney and Chelsey’s drama was none of his business anyway, and he wasn’t about to meddle in it. “Do you know my brother at all?” Tommy decided to ask.

  “Only what Gem mentioned the few times we spoke on the phone,” Liz replied. “And when I met him, he was exactly as I expected. But you, as his brother? Not at all.”

  Tommy was curious. “Sal was exactly what you expected? What do you mean? How did you expect Sal to be?”

  “I expected a gangster,” Liz said bluntly. “A Mafia type. I did my research.

  “And when you finally saw him in person?” Tommy asked.

  “I saw a gangster. A Mafia type. I would have never expected straight-laced Gem to marry a guy like that.”

  “A guy like what?”

  “A guy like Sal. A Sal guy. I would have thought she’d prefer your type more so than your brother’s type.”

  Tommy smile. “Didn’t think I was a type.”

  “You are a type all right,” Chelsey said. “A nice type, but a type.”

  Tommy considered her. “What type are you, Liz Logan from Rosemont?”

  “I told you about that,” Liz said playfully. “I’m from Chicago now. I’m all Chicago all the time. Forget Rosemont, Indiana if you please.”

  Tommy laughed.

  “Rosemont was where my parents planted me. Chicago is where I planted myself. Big difference.”

  “Both of your parents still living?”

  “My father is. My mother died when I was a kid.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Where you an only child?”

  “I have no biological siblings, but my father married a woman with five kids.”

  “Whoa,” Tommy said.

  “Yep. So I have five stepbrothers and sisters. I’m the oldest.”

  “Do they all still live in Rosemont, or just your father?”

  “None of them live in Rosemont anymore, including my Dad and Stepmom. They moved to Wisconsin. I have siblings in California, New York, Florida, all over.”

  “Are you and your step-siblings close?”

  “They are to each other. I think they always saw me as their mom’s husband’s daughter, rather than their step-sibling. And the fact that I was older than they are didn’t help.”

  Great opening. Tommy took it. “How old are you, Liz?” he asked.

  “Thirty-three,” she said. “A whopping eight years older than any of my siblings.”

  “Ah,” Tommy said, nodding his understanding.

  “And because of that age difference, I always went my own way and did my own thing. But I would have liked to be closer to them, it just never worked out. They never wanted to come to Chicago. And would badmouth it too,” she said and Tommy laughed. “I’m serious,” she added, although she wasn’t all that serious. “I would even offer to pay their plane fare, but they never came. ‘It’s too cold,’ one would say. ‘It’s too windy,’ another one would say. ‘To that murder capital?’ another would say. Just badmouth it. So I don’t go to their adopte
d states either. Hell if they don’t like Chicago, I damn sure don’t like their little shitty towns.”

  Tommy laughed. “Well, tell me, Chicago,” he said, and Liz smiled. Then he turned serious. “What type are you?” he asked her again.

  She had to think about it. “I’m a lot of types,” she said.

  He stared at her. “Such as?”

  “I’m the lone Wolf type. The workaholic type. The girl most likely to succeed in her professional life and fail miserably in her private life type. I have no personal commitments and don’t want none.” She looked at him. “That type.”

  Tommy considered her. She’d had her heart broken too. But he wasn’t about to analyze the lady. Why would he bother? When they made it to Rome, that was going to be it for him, no matter if she gave him some or not. And based on what she’d just said, it was going to be it for her too.

  “Only that’s not true, is it? The last type. You and Chelsey are obviously close. And the way you stood up for her at her parents’ home was quite nice.”

  “Wasn’t that a trip though?” Liz asked him.

  “What was that about?” Tommy asked, to see if she had any insight.

  “Family stuff,” she said.

  “Because she stayed away too long?”

  “Oh, I’m sure that’s what they would love to pretend it is.”

  Tommy gave her a considered look. “That’s not it?” he asked.

  She didn’t mince words. “No. She stayed away, but that’s not the whole story.”

  “Why did she stay away?”

  “Because he treats her like crap, that’s why. Because he could never bear the fact that she wasn’t Gemma, that she wasn’t exactly like his golden child. And the fact that she’s a lesbian didn’t help.” Liz took another sip of wine, and then looked at Tommy. “Chelsey’s daddy doesn’t like her,” she said. “And she knows it. That’s why she stays away.”

  Tommy’s heart went out to Chelsey. He knew what it was like to have a hateful father, even if, as he suspected, Rodney was not her father. That kind of pain was a big deal to him.

  What was also a big deal was his reaction to Liz. He was intrigued with her. He knew she could be like Kryptonite to him. He knew he could easily start favoring her over all the other women he knew when he didn’t want to favor anybody ever again. He had his daughter. He had his business. He had friends and family. He had enough.

  But despite all of that, here he was sitting here staring at Liz Logan. Sitting here wondering what made the lady tick. Still looking down the length of her, at that rocking body, and wondering what it would feel like to be with her, and if he could be with her and not want her again.

  Not that being with her was a foregone conclusion. It wasn’t. Liz was different. She didn’t seem desperate to see his package, or to be fucked by him the way many women he met often seemed. She projected a whatever kind of attitude toward him. She might be interested, but if it didn’t happen that would be okay with her too. Women were usually hot toward him. He wasn’t used to lukewarm.

  Liz wasn’t as lukewarm as he might have thought. She was looking out of the plane’s window again, but she was looking, peripherally, at him as well. What was the story with this guy, she wondered. The way he was sitting there with his long muscular legs outstretched, with that glass of wine sitting just above that nicely packed bundle between his legs. Sexiness oozed from every fiber of his being. Just being around him was making her vagina tingle, and that was highly unusual for Liz! Good looking men were a dime a dozen in her profession. She was totally used to being around hunks of all stripes, and she’d tasted more than a few of them.

  But Tommy was a beast of a different color. He wasn’t desperate to get into her panties the way most men often seemed. Not that she thought he was some angel who didn’t want any. He did. There was no doubt in her mind about that. But the desperation wasn’t there. And oddly enough, she liked that it wasn’t.

  But as she thought about her reaction to that man across from her, she went to take another sip of her wine. But she had already drank the last drop. There was none left. She looked at Tommy. He was still staring at her, but his look had changed. Given her own pulsations, she was fairly certain why.

  “Are you going to drink that,” she asked as she looked at the glass of wine on his lap, “or just hold it?” Then she smiled, which seemed to be her go-to position. “I’ll be more than happy to take it off your hands.”

  Tommy was at that stage. He glanced down, at her big breasts, and then back up into her eyes. “You want it?” he asked her.

  Double-entendre indeed, she thought. And it caused her to hesitate. “Yes,” she said.

  Tommy’s eyes half-closed and his gorgeous head tilted back when she gave what they both knew was her permission. “Come over here and get it,” he dared her in a voice that sounded too sexy even for Liz.

  And too sexy for Liz to resist.

  She took her empty glass and sat it in the chair’s cup holder, placed her iPad on the seat beside her, stood up, and walked over to Tommy. As she suspected, he did not remove the glass from his lap, nor did he withdraw his outstretched legs. Since she did not have a clue how to be coy or pretend she didn’t know why he hadn’t moved to accommodate her arrival, she simply stood beside his long legs, reached down, and took the glass of wine from his hands. She took a sip.

  But when she smiled and was about to turn to go back to her seat, Tommy took her by the hand, wrapped his arm around her narrow waist, and pulled her, sideways, onto his lap. As soon as she sat down, and he whiffed her perfumed, fresh womanly scent, he was nearly overcome with passion. He wanted her. He wanted her now.

  Liz was feeling the heat too when he pulled her onto his lap. Although it appeared to be a spontaneous move on his part, it wasn’t lost on her that he had positioned her ass to sit directly on top of his penis. A penis that was ever expanding. A penis that she felt immediately beneath her. This man, she already suspected and now knew, was a pro.

  She was about to take another sip of wine, but he removed it from her hand. “You know what I want, don’t you?” he asked as he sat her glass on the side tray.

  “I never know what another man wants,” Liz responded. Then she smiled. “But I have a darn good idea.”

  Tommy was too far gone to smile. He was, once again, staring at her. “You’re a very beautiful lady,” he said. “Smart, sharp, confident. Did I miss anything?”

  “You missed plenty!” Liz said with her go-to smile. “How about sassy as all get out, competent beyond belief, independent and strong?”

  She was surface strong, Tommy thought. That was for damn sure. The way she stood up for Chelsey made him proud. Outwardly, she was a very strong woman. But he wasn’t at all sure how deep it went.

  “How about we add arrogant to that list?” Tommy suggested.

  Liz laughed. He lifted slightly to where his now hard penis bumped against her ass. And she turned serious too. She looked into his gorgeous eyes. “Are you married?” she asked him.

  “No, Chicago, I am not married.”

  “Did you recently divorce?”

  “What’s recent?”

  “The last month or two.”

  “I’m divorced,” Tommy said, “but it’s not recent. I didn’t just get there.”

  “Do you have a girlfriend you’re committed to who will not approve of this?”

  Tommy had women, but none of them rose to the level of girlfriend, and he had no obligations to any of them. “No,” he said.

  She nodded. “Okay. Just wanted to cover my bases.” She kissed him on the lips. “You are now free to roam around the cabin.”

  “Not so fast sister,” Tommy said.

  She looked at him, scared that she had overstepped. “What do you mean?”

  “You covered your bases. My turn to cover mine. Are you married?”

  She relaxed, and smiled. “No, Thomas, I am not. Divorced either.”

  “Any guys over in Chicago waiting in the wi
ngs?”

  She nodded. “Nope.”

  Tommy stared at her. “Why not?”

  “I’m not a franchise player. I’m a freelancer.”

  He looked at her. “A freelancer?”

  “That’s right. I don’t play for one team. I play the field.”

  He smiled. His heart should have leaped for joy. She wasn’t interested in any commitments, and neither was he. But why wasn’t it leaping?

  “If I understand you correctly, you play the field too. Yes?”

  “I certainly can’t deny that.”

  “Good,” she said, as if she was relieved. Although she oddly wasn’t.

  “But there’s no special one?” Tommy asked her, still unconvinced.

  “No.”

  He was unconvinced because it made no practical sense. “You expect me to believe that guys aren’t tripping all over themselves to get next to you?”

  “They may be tripping,” she said, “but they don’t get next to me.”

  He still had his doubts. “Not one?” he asked.

  “Not one,” she said.

  “Scouts honor?”

  She looked sidelong at him. “Whose what?”

  Tommy laughed. He really liked this woman. Then he glanced down at her breasts, at the cleavage he could now clearly see, and back into her big, brown, sexy eyes. He was serious again. “So I can bet on the fact that I don’t have a virgin on my hands?”

  Liz almost laughed. “I think that would be a safe bet,” she said.

  Tommy continued to give her that lustful, hooded look. “I can go hard?”

  Liz felt the heat deep within her. She could only imagine how she was going to feel if this man went down on her like that. “As hard as you can go,” she replied.

  Tommy’s dick throbbed. It began throbbing as if it were a heartbeat. And he didn’t waste time. He stood up, with her in his arms, and carried her to the bedroom. It was a new plane, a custom designed Gulfstream 550, and even Liz, who thought she’d seen it all, was impressed when he carried her into an actual bedroom. A bedroom in the sky! She thought only presidents and kings lived this large.