“Hey, I’ve been there, remember?”
“I remember.”
“So let me share what I’ve learned, okay? Maybe you can get some use out of it. Heck, put it to use tonight at Vic’s dinner party.”
“Crap.”
“You forgot about that, didn’t you?”
Very much so, Misha silently confessed to herself. The New Chronicle had put together a celebration to honor its former employee and his first year as a professional basketball player.
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“Where are you, anyway? What’s all that background talking?”
“I’m gonna try to help Coyt fine-tune his revisions to some of his pieces.”
Riley laughed. “Good luck with that.”
Misha nodded, thinking of their overly descriptive junior staff writer. “Anyway, we’re meeting over here at Orton’s.”
“Well, I’ll let you get to it, then. Think about what I said, all right?”
Misha promised to do so and was tucking the cell into her bag when she looked toward the café’s entrance for Coyt. She found Talib Mason entering instead, along with two men she didn’t recognize.
“More hot water for your tea, ma’am?”
Misha looked away quickly from the front of the restaurant and barely nodded to the waiter’s offer. She thought about the invite tucked away inside her purse and wondered if Talib had gotten one. He probably had a string of women to choose from as his date. She tried to deny the stab of jealousy the thought evoked.
Risking another glance, she saw Talib and his group had moved on. Just as well. Sighing, she turned to her laptop and focused on one of Coyt’s pieces.
Talib settled for hot tea while his companions asked for black coffees.
“We think Duck’s a phenomenal guy—phenomenal stamina, phenomenal intelligence—simply phenomenal.”
The more “phenomenal” Ducker Conrad sounded, the more certain Talib became that Wade Casey was at his wit’s end.
“He’s giving you trouble, I assume?”
The vice president of the Nevada Blaze appeared to lose some of the stiffness in his shoulders. “We’d like to keep this quiet, Talib. No need for Duck to get wind and get bent out of shape.”
“More than he already is?” Talib asked.
Benny Austins chuckled. “You got a way with the kid, Tal. Everybody knows that. It could go a long way if you step in here.”
“What problems are you having with him exactly?” Talib asked the Blaze’s general manager.
Benny exchanged a frustrated glance with Wade and raised his shoulders slowly. “The kid just flips, Tal. Breaks bad over the simplest instruction. The coaches are almost fed up. You know how that kind of unrest can affect the rest of the players. And in that case there’s only one solution.”
Talib’s grimace remained in place when the waitress returned with their hot tea and coffee. It could be an agent’s nightmare working to place an athlete once word spread of attitude trouble. The situation could turn into a nightmare regardless of talent or the reasons behind the unrest.
Wade Casey leaned forward. “Don’t get us wrong, Talib. We want to keep Ducker with the team. He’s got the skill and smarts to be one of the greats—all the coaches think so.”
“If you and Ash could try talkin’ to him,” Benny urged, while lacing his coffee with an obscene amount of sugar.
“Maybe the fact that you guys are aware of what’s going on might help him get on the good foot,” Wade added.
“We’ll try.” Talib knew the promise was empty. It’d take more than he and Asher simply being aware of the trouble to do the trick with Ducker Conrad.
The waitress returned then for orders, but no one had even glanced toward the oversize menus on the table. The men focused on deciding their lunch meal and quiet settled all around.
Not surprisingly, Talib’s attention returned to Misha. He’d spotted her three seconds after he’d cleared the café’s front door. His conversation with Asher replayed silently. It hadn’t veered far from his thoughts since that morning.
The possibility of her seeing someone was one he’d refused to entertain during the past six years. Dwelling on that particular possibility was dangerous and pointless to boot. And now? Now, it was just as dangerous but worthy of acknowledging.
And what then? Would he bulldoze his way over any other who thought to put up a fight for her? Would he back away and let her stroll off into happily-ever-after with someone else? While he wouldn’t consider himself as coarse as to follow through with bulldozing over some unsuspecting soul, walking away wasn’t an option. Walking away didn’t even merit contemplation.
Moments later, though, Talib was revisiting his decision not to bulldoze some unsuspecting soul. He watched one stroll right up to Misha’s table and take a seat.
The lunch meeting with the Nevada Blaze execs ended a little over half an hour later. Talib waited at least fifteen minutes past that. He was glad the café didn’t serve alcohol until after 5:00 p.m. or he’d have downed at least six stiff drinks while watching Misha across the dining room with her date.
Instinct told him it was all probably work-related. More than once he saw them referring to her laptop. Sadly, common sense rarely prevailed during moments like this. Talib commended himself on at least having enough sense to wait until the poor sap left the restaurant. He left the waitress a hefty tip and headed toward Misha who was packing up to make her exit.
“Good afternoon.”
She prayed he hadn’t noticed her jump at the sound of his voice. Having already figured he’d not pay a visit to her table, she’d let her guard down. “Afternoon,” she managed.
He scanned the booth. “Am I interrupting?”
“I’m just finishing up.”
“May I have a minute?” He was already sliding into the seat across from her. “Will I see you tonight at Vic’s party?”
“Well.” Misha cleared her throat as if that would ease the pressure of her heart slamming hard and fast against her rib cage. “Since the Chronicle’s hosting the thing…”
“Mmm-hmm.” Talib studied her hands, one rubbing inside the other. “And will I see you at Jasper and Molly Faison’s couples’ thing?”
“Why’d they invite you?” Misha blurted out, even as her eyes closed in regret over the question. “I mean, you, um…you were invited, too?” She attempted to save face.
“I was just as surprised. It’s not like they know I’m seeing anyone.”
“Are you?”
“Not at the moment.” He pretended not to hear the interest shading her voice. “Not for a very long moment, actually.”
Misha didn’t bother hiding an expression which clearly stated she didn’t believe him.
“And what about you?” He focused again on his hands as he inquired. “Seeing anyone?”
“Not at the moment,” she sweetly countered.
“Ah, I see…not at this very moment.”
Misha leaned back against the booth and produced a knowing smile. “He’s a coworker. One of the writers for Riley’s section.”
“Did I ask?”
“In your way.”
“So I guess you won’t be taking him to Jasper and Molly’s?”
Heart slammed ribs again. “I may not be taking myself,” she muttered.
Talib rubbed his thumb along the table’s silver edging. “I hear they’ve got a great palace out on Long Island—it would be a shame to deprive yourself.”
“What do you want, Talib?”
“Go with me.”
For a time, she could only stare. “Why? So we can be at each other’s throats the entire time?”
Talib continued to study the silver grooves lining the table. “There’s more than one way to be at each other’s throats.”
“Oh, Talib.” Misha laughed. “What you want, you could get from anyone. Easily.” She let him see the appraisal in her eyes.
Before he could take note of it, there was a rush
of women to the table, all wanting an autograph from the former footballer. Obliging to a fault, Talib smiled and agreed.
Misha went about packing her things and checking dates on her calendar while Talib handled the adoring women.
“Pray tell why you wouldn’t want to take a sure thing on a trip like this.” Misha slid a gaze toward the women who’d gotten their autographs and were moving on. Frequently, they cast looks back toward Talib.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“It still comes back to that, huh?” She knew he was referring to her breakfast outburst days earlier. “It’s still not something I want to discuss.”
“You can’t keep walking around it, love.”
“There’s no point in doing otherwise.”
“Misha—”
“All right, look, I’ll agree to go with you to this couples’ thing on the condition that we drop this. We don’t discuss it, period, take it or leave it.”
Spreading his hands, Talib accepted the terms with a smile. He rose as smoothly as he’d taken his seat, kissed Misha’s cheek and left.
Chapter 5
The New Chronicle put together an intimate affair for their former fact-checker Victor Lyne. That is, if one considered a guest list of one hundred intimate. Nevertheless, the event was a fun-filled affair with former coworkers of the talented forward. There was much laughter and reminiscing that evening. The fact that Vic had had a stellar rookie season made the night that much more enjoyable.
“Talib?” Misha waved while stepping closer to the man next to her. “Coyt Parsons,” she said when Talib approached. “Coyt’s a writer for The Stamper Court.”
Talib’s midnight stare reflected recognition. He offered Misha a quick smirk before shaking hands with Coyt.
“I was wrong for putting you through twenty questions earlier,” he said once Coyt had moved on through the party, “but any man would be out of his mind not to have entertained the thought.”
“Exactly how do your female employees feel about harassment, Mr. Mason?”
“Unseemly advances from me are things they’d never have to worry about,” he said as he brushed the back of his hand across her jaw. “You, on the other hand…”
“I, um…” Her gaze wavered and then brightened. “I need to go talk to Riley…about…something. Excuse me.”
“What time shall I drop by on Thursday?” he asked as he blocked her exit.
“Talib, we can’t—”
“We should probably hit the road early.”
“This is stupid. We don’t need to go to this thing together.”
“Eight? Nine?”
Misha briefly hid her face in her hands.
“Are you afraid of me now, love?”
“Not a bit,” she snapped back and dismissed the seductive allure in his tone. “You can pick me up at eight.”
Talib’s dimples flashed when Misha brushed past him.
Later, Riley and Misha lounged with their shoes off and their feet propped on the railing surrounding the balcony overlooking the city from Board Chairman Oliver Pacley’s uptown penthouse.
“So who’s gonna watch the little guy while you’re at Jasper and Molly’s?”
“I think it’s my mom’s turn.”
Misha smiled, thinking of Virginia Stamper. “Must be nice to have babysitters vying for turns with the baby.”
“Yes…grandparent is a beautiful word.”
A sly smile curved Riley’s mouth. “Ms. Frankie’ll be lucky when the time comes.” She referred to Misha’s mother, Francheska Bales. “She’ll have no other grandparents to compete with, unless Talib’s family—”
“Hold it, Riley. Just hold it.” Misha straightened in the wrought-iron chair she occupied. “We are not in that lane. Far from it and we probably always will be.”
“So you’re saying you wouldn’t like to have his child?”
“Riley.” Misha wilted. “Please stop.”
“Honey, the two of you are gonna see a lot of each other while he’s in town, you know? How are you gonna handle that?”
“I’ll just have to do whatever it takes this week end.”
Riley’s mouth fell open as Misha basically told her that she and Talib were going to the event together. “You know it’s a couples’ weekend, right, Meesh?”
“And we both got invites, meaning we’ll both have our own rooms to share with our own date.” Misha studied the button cuff of her blouse.
“And how much time do you expect he’ll let you spend away from him?”
“Wasn’t it you who told me not to let him keep taking the upper hand? And you were right. I’ve got to make the effort. Otherwise I’ll wind up some simpering idiot every time I see him.”
Riley reached over and squeezed Misha’s foot. “Funny how love does that to a woman.”
Misha winced, recalling the time she’d once said something similar to her friend.
Chapter 6
“Hungry?” Talib asked as he pulled into the side street convenience store/café.
“I’m fine,” Misha insisted.
“Don’t you at least want a sandwich or something?”
“Talib, we should really get a move on. With all this stopping we won’t get there until nightfall.”
“Does that make you nervous? Being on the road with me after dark?”
Misha rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid.”
Talib parked and shut off the car. “Do I make you nervous?”
“Now that really is stupid.”
“Is it?”
“Do you want me to be nervous?”
“I want you to be many things. Nervous is definitely not one of them.”
Misha rolled her eyes and was about to look away when he captured her chin and followed the action with a slow, thorough kiss. Misha sank into it before it even registered that she was kissing him and wanting more, wanting so much more than a kiss.
Talib rose with the cooler head though and pulled away. “Come on. We’ve got time for a quick bite. I promise to have you safe and sound at Jasper and Molly’s by nightfall.”
Misha watched him leave the truck and head around to open her door. All the while, she prayed her legs would work. Luckily they did, and soon they were seated at a small table inside the café.
“I hope this isn’t some excuse to talk about what I asked you not to mention.”
“The only one mentioning that right now is you.” Talib studied his menu but set it aside as a thought occurred. “Have we ever discussed the consequences of breaching the forbidden subject?”
“What do you expect to come from this?”
He reached for the menu again. “An easy lunch, light conversation,” he said smugly.
“I mean what do you expect to come from this attempt at being civil?”
He leaned back against the booth. “I was a jerk, Misha, and if civility between us is all that comes from me finally acting like I’ve got a brain in my head, so be it.” Once again he picked up the menu. “Now what are you ordering?”
Jasper and Molly Faison’s Long Island retreat was the perfect setting for what was in store for the weekend. With an exquisite view of the Long Island Sound from the rear of the house, the lawn was set with cushioned chairs and umbrella-covered tables. A self-serve bar sat in their midst, fully stocked and ready to appease even the most diverse tastes.
Inside, the surroundings were just as mellow, just as provocative. Soft lighting glowed throughout and smooth music piped into every room. As the couple traveled constantly, they each knew the value of sharing time, hence the retreats they loved to have with their friends.
Billiards and dancing were the order of the evening. Misha, who took pride in her skills, felt far safer at a pool table than on the dance floor, as her partner would of course be Talib Mason. The atmosphere was heavy with seduction as practically every couple huddled, cuddled or snuggled across the expanse of the glass-encased den/rec room.
“I know how to play the game, Ta
lib.” Misha’s lashes fluttered as he moved in closer to assist with her hold on the cue.
“Not as well as I do.”
She turned with challenge in her eyes. “What are you willing to bet I can take you?”
He smiled down dangerously. “We don’t need to place a bet for you to take me, love.”
Misha smiled, but inched away just the same.
“We lucked out with those adjoining rooms, eh?”
“Right. Luck.” Misha glared toward Riley who twirled on the dance floor with Asher. She wondered how much of the room arrangement was coincidence and how much had been orchestrated by her crafty friend.
“So about this bet,” Talib said as he sharpened his cue, “if I win you sleep in my room, if you win I sleep in yours.”
“And exactly who comes out the winner there?” Misha laughed. Seconds later, her stomach lurched at the sinful change of Talib’s features.
The evening’s events lasted into the early-morning hours. Guests trickled off to their suites in other areas of the house. Meanwhile, the piped-in music transitioned from up-tempo to slow and sultry, befitting the various private events taking place throughout the dwelling.
Misha and Talib ventured to their adjoining suites, and it appeared that no private events were going to be taking place between them that night.
After regretting this for the entire night, Talib decided to remedy the situation the next morning. Around eight-thirty he was rapping on the door adjoining his and Misha’s suites. She eventually answered—drowsy, disheveled and quite agitated.
The smell of coffee wafting beneath her nose was an effective wake-up call. Talib held the mug just out of her reach, gesturing for her to cross over into his suite.
Craving the coffee, Misha didn’t argue. Seconds later, she was seated cross-legged in the middle of his bed and enjoying the black, flavorful brew. “What are you doing up while everyone else is still dead to the world?” she asked.
“Half the house was otherwise engaged for the better part of the night and morning.” He appeared crestfallen. “I didn’t have that problem, unfortunately.”
Every Chance I Get Page 4
