“And you’re so certain that you won’t?”
“I’m so certain that I won’t.” She glared across the dashboard. “All this sudden…stuff between us is only due to being thrown together so much lately, nothing else.”
Talib’s hearty laughter resounded in the car’s interior. “You actually believe that, don’t you?”
“And you will, too, once you step back and admit what’s really going on here. Now,” she said, reaching across him to open his door, “out of my car.”
He wouldn’t allow her to straighten. Instead, he hooked two fingers into the bodice of her dress and kept her in place next to him. Whatever she thought to say when she opened her mouth was silenced when he kissed her hard and deep. Instantly, she became an eager participant, curving her hands about his neck and arching her breasts high on his chest. The caress he supplied to the bend of her knee and higher had her second-guessing her certainty that she’d not wind up in his bed. The kiss ended suddenly and Talib gave her a little jerk to bring her back to earth.
“You can think again if you believe I won’t do what it takes to have you back in every way.” Slyly he grinned and fixed the front of her dress. “See you in the morning.”
Misha watched as he left the car coolly while she sat staring after him in aroused wonder.
Chapter 8
Deep in thought, Misha reclined in her office chair and propped her feet on the cherry wood surface of the desk. Absently, she stroked the scar behind her knee and was still doing so when Talib arrived.
He watched her from just inside the office. Gaze faltering, he asked himself if he was really up for going through with the charade for a story he couldn’t have cared less about.
Before the breakfast at Red Sun, he’d have said no. He would rather have taken her somewhere, kept her there, loved her, made love to her until she believed in him again. That was before. Now he saw how deep it all went for her. Did she really believe he felt that way?
Talib grimaced, shifting his weight to the other loafer-clad foot. Why wouldn’t she think that? Considering the way things ended between them…it was ugly and uglier still when they returned to each other’s lives during Riley’s and Asher’s ups and downs.
She had every right to be wary of him. The story had taken on a different meaning for him now. She thought she wasn’t good enough for him. He was set on showing her that she was everything to him. Her voice jerked him back to the present seconds later.
“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out.” Misha had noticed him looming in her office doorway.
“You okay?” He pushed off the wall and strolled farther into the room. A slight frown marred the otherwise flawless face.
Focused on business, Misha left the desk with pad and recorder in hand.
“Pen,” she hissed. Turning back to her desk she bumped smack against Talib.
“Are you okay?” he asked again, settling his hands to her hips that time.
“I was just talking with someone who was at the party last night.” She smoothed a hand across the collar of her black silk blouse. “It seems that things got ugly with your fighter afterward.”
Talib closed his eyes and nodded while everything fell into place. He’d received the call about the scuffle first thing that morning and was glad he’d insisted on leaving early. They’d have never gotten out of there if the drama had occurred before their exit.
“It’s a real shame.” Misha was tapping the recorder against the mauve split skirt she wore. “He seemed like a nice guy—he and his sister.”
Talib smiled. “But you’re really okay?” He couldn’t ignore the drained tinge in her dark eyes.
Misha gave a resigned nod. “I promise. All I need is my pen.” Her voice was hushed and she didn’t trust herself to make eye contact with him. “I thought we could discuss the way I’d like to organize the story.” She spoke on the way to her desk and sent him a saucy look across her shoulder. “That is, if it meets with yours and Gloria’s approval.”
“I’m pretty sure anything you outlay will be fine with Gloria and me.”
“Hmm.” She cocked a brow and flipped a few pages on the pad. “I was thinking that your and Asher’s enthusiasts would enjoy a bit more background on you both. So let’s take your career in the pros, for instance. Was it always your plan to play? A kid with a dream? People love reading those stories.”
“It was more a means to an end.”
The comment sent Misha’s head snapping up. Question was evident in her sparkling onyx stare. Before she could inquire further, the phone buzzed.
“Damn.”
Misha bolted from the chair and smoothed her hands across the skirt again, much to Talib’s delight.
“Woman knows I’m in a meeting,” Misha grumbled, snatching the phone from its rest. “Yeah, Carla, what’s the emergency?” she greeted her assistant. “What?” Her frown deepened. “Carla…what? You have seen him before, you know,” she whispered.
Carla had been away from her desk when Talib arrived. Like everyone else on the floor, she’d quickly caught wind of the man’s presence.
“I’m as interested as anyone else, you know.”
“We’re trying to get started in here, Carla.”
“Well, can I get him some coffee or…anything?”
“He’s fine.”
“Damn right, he is.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Right, Misha.”
“Now can I get back to work?”
Across the room, Talib was having the best time watching her handle the call—he was having the best time watching her, period. He reclined a bit more on the sofa and enjoyed the way she leaned across the desk. Her hair covered her face as always and he imagined himself gathering it into a fist and drawing it away from her face as he took her. The image was enough to rouse a groan and Talib cleared his throat hoping she’d not overheard it.
Misha did overhear the clearing throat, though. “You’re a dead woman if you or anybody else interrupts me again,” she hissed to Carla.
“So sorry.” She rushed back to claim the pad and her seat. “What you said about football being a means to an end—could you elaborate on that?” She was perched on the edge of her chair and prayed he wouldn’t clam up on her.
“My goal was to get into college.” He focused on his hands, rubbing one over the other. “Football talent allowed me to get there, once I stopped confusing it with soccer, that is.” He grinned.
“But wouldn’t you have gotten there anyway? To college, I mean? After all…”
Talib’s head tilted when he gave her the benefit of his gaze. “After all what?”
“Well…” Misha crossed her legs again and had no problem being blunt. “Your family’s well-off. A college tuition shouldn’t have been a hardship.”
Talib’s dimples flashed when he smiled. “You’ve got the story wrong, Misha. A college tuition wasn’t even in my mother’s hemisphere.”
“But?” Misha was processing the information and quickly trying to obtain more. “What about the rest? You’ve got family in parliament for Pete’s sake.”
“I didn’t meet them until much later.”
Misha was silent for quite a while. Chewing on the cap of her pen, she realized how very little she knew about the man despite the three years they’d been together.
Talib was quiet then, too, considering exactly how much to tell her just then. The decision was irrelevant moments later when his phone rang. He winked and then sent an apologetic smile Misha’s way.
“Hey, Claudette.”
“Ah! Talib, thank God!” Claudette Silver’s usually easy tone was anything but. Asher Hudson’s executive assistant sounded as though she were in the middle of a three-alarm fire. “I’ve tried to get in touch with Asher and had to leave him a message. Now the issue I’ve got here is having a tantrum on the other phone line and on his way out here, I might add.”
Talib glanced back at Misha who was making notes on her pad. “What’s going
on, Claudette? What’s the issue?”
“Ducker Conrad is what’s going on.”
“Blimey.” Talib rolled his eyes and listened while Claudette explained.
Misha set aside her pad and watched Talib handle the call. This time it was her turn to savor the view. The way he strolled the room—head bowed as he focused on the issue at hand, massaging his nose and smirking as though the news on the other end of the line was no surprise.
“It’s all right, Claudette, you did fine,” Talib soothed and the woman quieted. “How long before Duck arrives? Mmm-hmm…right…I’ll take care of it.”
“When?” Claudette’s voice wavered nervously through the line.
“Soon. For the time being, Asher and I will have to hold a conference call with the idiot. We should be calling you back by the time the bloke walks through the door.”
“Well…if that’s the best you can do…”
“It is. Don’t worry, all right? Talk to you soon.”
Misha was at her desk by the time Talib ended the call. She made a passable pretense at straightening papers.
“We’re going to have to cut this short, love. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Misha kept her back toward him. “We can reschedule any—”
She wasn’t given the chance to finish. Talib turned her into a kiss that Misha believed she’d been craving from the moment he walked into her office that morning. He took his time massaging his tongue against hers in the same leisurely style that his wide hands massaged her waist.
“I’ll see you for dinner tonight,” he said once he’d ended the kiss.
“You don’t have to do that. We can always schedule something else—”
“But don’t you want more of the story?” He used her curiosity against her.
Misha averted her gaze and nodded.
Satisfied, Talib kissed her temple. “See you at seven.”
Chapter 9
Riley was relaxing in the living area of her office and reading copy for an upcoming Stamper Court article. A local baker was being sued for sexual harassment.
“‘…who allegedly molested his female cooks while the cakes were baking, so to speak…’ Ah, Coyt, give me a break.” She groaned.
Ahmad, who lay resting against his mother’s chest, let loose a long burp.
“I couldn’t agree more. My man knows crap when he hears it.” She nuzzled his head and the baby laughed.
It didn’t take much more for Riley to set aside the proof copy. She was far more interested in pressing kisses to Ahmad’s tiny palm and fingers.
Misha waited a moment or two before she knocked on the partially opened office door. “Can I interrupt you and your younger man?” she asked when Riley looked over.
“Sure. We can pick this up later, right, guy?” Riley said as she cuddled Ahmad and smiled. “That’s the thing about younger men, time is irrelevant.”
Misha paused to kiss her nephew’s head on her way to take a seat.
Riley’s brown eyes narrowed as she observed her friend more closely. “So how was your meeting with Talib?” she asked once Misha had dropped into one of the chairs flanking the sofa.
“Did you know his mother couldn’t afford to send him to college?”
Riley frowned. “But he was drafted from college, right?”
“‘College was out of my mother’s hemisphere.’ That’s what he said during the interview.”
“You sure?” Riley smirked when Misha raised her hands in response. “I wonder what that’s about?”
Misha crossed her legs. “I was hoping you could tell me. Has Asher ever mentioned anything?”
Riley was already shaking her head. “He and Talib became friends in school. I wouldn’t be surprised if Asher knew very little about his life before that, especially if it was troubled. People often go to college far away to meet new people, be part of a new world—forget the one they came from.”
“Yeah,” Misha recalled, having gone to college seeking the same thing.
Riley raised her chin. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m not sure.” Misha leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “I guess I just always had him pegged for some rich kid.”
“Why? Because he’s got a British accent?” Riley gave Ahmad a little bounce. “Trust me, girl, the U.K.’s got projects just like the U.S. does.”
“I know, I know.” Misha waved off the comment. “It’s just a shock, that’s all. We were together almost three years before… I never had a clue. Come to think of it, he never really talked about his mother or any of his family. I didn’t pry because, well…it just wasn’t who we were then. He only met my mother once.” She slanted Riley a wink. “I didn’t want to talk about my downtrodden life, either. It was time for upward mobility, success—the struggle was long passed.”
“Long passed, but still a part of who you are.” Riley thought how she’d tried to run from the troubles of her own youth by padding herself with work and goal-making. “I guess you’re becoming intrigued by this feature article after all, huh?”
“I’m curious, only…”
“Only?”
“Dammit.” Misha hissed and left the chair. “I just wish he’d stop touching me.”
Riley laughed. “No you don’t!”
Misha rolled her eyes. “Everyone doesn’t become a swooning fool over a man the way you did when Asher Hudson appeared before your eyes.”
Riley kissed Ahmad’s head again. “Aunty’s having trouble telling the truth.”
“I can’t focus on a single thing when he touches me.” Misha smoothed her hands across her blouse sleeves. “I think he may be doing it on purpose to keep me off balance.”
“And do you really mind so much? Really?”
“That time’s over.” Misha went to stare out the office windows.
“But the end for you guys came out of nowhere. Who knows how much of it has to do with the past he’s now starting to share with you.”
Misha’s smile was tight. She’d been thinking that very thing.
A light but genuine smile tugged Talib’s mouth when he stepped into the exotically furnished lobby of Misha’s Manhattan building. He admired her cunning, knowing she was waiting there to avoid time alone with him in her apartment. He approached the security island slowly, taking enjoyment in her features which were even more lovely in the wake of laughter with the gentlemen she charmed.
The guards sobered, though, when they all spotted Talib.
Misha frowned, watching the men straighten and take stock of themselves. When she glanced around and realized their reaction was due to her “date” she only shook her head.
“I guess I don’t have to make intros. Everyone already knows who you are,” she said to Talib as he approached.
Talib was grinning and moving in to shake hands with the three guards.
“Congrats on branchin’ out, Talib,” Gary Carmichael was saying.
“Guess you ain’t missin’ the pros a bit, huh?” Gary’s coworker Philip Shuster was asking.
Talib chuckled. “You kidding? Agents have the best of both worlds. We only have to get the players their paychecks—the rest is on them.”
“Good luck to you, Talib.” Sherman Benjamin shook hands and grinned as broadly as his colleagues.
Talib didn’t bask in having his ego stroked much longer. Shortly, he was saying good-night to the guards and ushering Misha out to begin their evening.
“This is nice,” he murmured, trailing his hands along the dress she wore. His dark eyes appraised the garment with its ruche bunching at the bodice. The rest was fitted black chic.
While she wouldn’t swear to it, Misha had the distinct feeling that he’d been checking for the garment’s fastening.
“Wow.” Misha didn’t mind letting her amazement show when she breathed the word. She’d visited the new building when she’d gone to see Asher. It had been the middle of the day then, though. There’d been no time for appreciating the spectacular v
iew of the lit city beyond the towering windows.
She let her purse and wrap fall to a chair and strolled over for a closer look.
Talib followed but was more preoccupied by her dress than with the view. His hands glided across the material hugging her hips and bottom. Muscles flexed along his jaw and marred an otherwise cool expression when she inched away from his touch. He turned his back on the view and took a seat along the sill.
“So how much time will you get to spend in such a great office?”
Talib’s laughter was brief. “Don’t worry. It won’t be much.”
“Talib.” She bowed her head to acknowledge the lack of subtlety in her question. “Can’t you understand how…strange this is?” She raked her nails across the sleeves of the dress. “After six years of nothing and now…”
“And now I’m trying to make up for it.” He smirked in spite of himself. “An idiotic move, maybe, but one I feel I have to make.” He inhaled deeply and slightly averted his stare. “Am I too late, Misha? If I am, tell me.” His throat constricted just as he managed to share the last of the statement. The last thing he wanted was her answer.
“What happens if this…whatever this is, works?” She gestured toward the view, hoping he hadn’t noticed that she’d evaded his question. “We’d have another problem, wouldn’t we? You won’t be here, much.”
Talib glanced across his shoulder then offered a flip shrug. “Compared to everything else going on between us, what’s a few thousand miles?”
Soft laughter colored the quiet office.
Misha realized her earlier feelings were right on the mark, but acknowledged she could have still been misreading Talib’s intentions when they arrived at his hotel a short time later.
“What are we doing here? Did you forget something?” She knew full well he hadn’t.
Talib knew that, too. He granted her a wicked grin before leaving the Navigator and coming around to open her door.
Misha inched back from his hand. “Talib…”
“Dinner’s getting cold, love.”
Knowing it was useless to make an issue of it, she took the hand he offered.
Every Chance I Get Page 6
