“Family problems.”
Fascinated, Misha watched the muscles flex in Talib’s chest when he tensed over the answer.
“Things ended tragically. Ducker didn’t take it well at all. He was no more than twelve or thirteen, but it can take a lifetime to get past some things.”
“Especially if you keep them to yourself?”
Further conversation was silenced. Talib was kissing her and it didn’t take Misha long to realize their talk was over. She braced against his chest, but Talib kept the upper hand, driving his tongue voraciously against hers. Misha was soon past any arguments and Talib must have sensed that, for he eventually broke the kiss and filled his mouth with her breast.
Misha was limp with need and feared she’d slip right beneath the surface of the water. Talib’s fingers inside her and his tongue turning her nipples into rigid gems had her thoughts wholly centered on him and the pleasure he stoked.
Effortlessly, Talib lifted her from the tub. Dripping wet, they fell to the center of the bed and loved each other for hours.
Misha lay in the center of the bed, taking in deep gulps of air, following the explicit scene that had just occurred. Talib wasn’t wasting time catching his breath. He hadn’t stopped working over her since she’d collapsed minutes earlier.
A beautifully sculpted mouth traveled the length of her—leaving no spot untouched. He ventured lower, and, despite her worn-out state, Misha felt her sex clench when his teeth grazed the bare triangle of skin above it.
Talib moved on, though, grazing the top of her thigh then and down before he stopped. Misha felt him squeeze her leg and give it a turn. She opened her eyes to find him inspecting her knee.
“From the accident,” she said, marveling at how well he actually remembered her body.
For seconds, he was still. Only his thumb brushed the scar. He released her and slowly pushed up.
“We could probably use something to eat.”
Misha bit her lip to keep from saying what was at the tip of her tongue. Talib left the bed, quietly exiting the room.
Chapter 13
“You all right?”
Misha tightened the peach bandana that kept the hair from her face. “Yeah, why?”
“You’ve barely said a word since we set out.”
“Well, I’ve never seen this part of Arizona.” Misha turned to look out the passenger window of the F150 truck Talib drove. “Phoenix is beautiful, but this—” she waved her hand past the window where the Sonoran Desert whizzed by “—this is awesome. Where’re we heading, anyway?”
“Does it matter?”
It didn’t and that was the honest truth. At that moment, Misha believed she’d go anywhere he asked.
“I just can’t imagine anything civilized being out here,” she clarified when he looked over at her.
Talib chuckled, flexing his fingers on the wheel. “Well, that depends on your idea of civilized.”
“True,” Misha laughed, and then shrugged. “It’s just that most people wouldn’t give up all the comforts for desolation and remoteness no matter how lovely it is.”
Talib leaned his head on the headrest. “Are you counting yourself among that lot?”
Misha’s brows rose as she considered the question. “No, no, I’m not.” The response was genuine and even surprised her a little. “I think in spite of my upbringing, I could really do without seeing twenty million people every day.”
“The city girl longing for a country life, eh?”
“I’m not longing.” She rested her head against the padded rest. “There is something…hypnotic about it all, though.” Her sparkling dark eyes traveled from the voluminous clouds filling the sky to the mountain ranges in the distance. The windows were down and even the air held a crispness, an aliveness, that she wanted to soak in.
Ten minutes later, Talib was turning the truck down a dirt road. At least, Misha figured, it was an actual road. Every path they’d taken that morning had been pretty much dirt-laden. She saw a sign that was decorated by a double set of horseshoes on either side of two elegant capitalized letter C’s.
“C.C.?” she inquired when they passed beneath the sign.
“Conrad Cove.”
It didn’t take long to make the connection. “Ducker Conrad.”
Talib nodded.
“Is this the best idea?”
“Why, whatever do you mean, love?”
“I mean, you can’t possibly be this dense.” Misha lifted her chin when he slanted her a look. “This is your business, Talib. I shouldn’t be interfering. I’m guessing this won’t be a party.”
“You’re not interfering. You’re accompanying.”
“It all comes down to the same thing and I really don’t need to be there.” She folded her arms over her chest and flopped back on the seat. “I sure as hell don’t need you worried that this will wind up in a story.”
“Shedding a little light on the situation might do Duck’s ass a little good, actually. Everyone will know what a jackass he’s being.” He grinned. “Hold that thought. The Chronicle may be in for a scoop.”
“Talib—”
“Do you happen to recall our agreement?”
Sharp as ever, Misha pursed her lips as memory served. “Whatever you say, Talib.”
“That’s more like it.”
The lengthy dirt road eventually ended at what Misha could only describe as an oasis. Aside from the unexpected Mediterranean-style home in the distance, the area was filled by an unexpected expanse of green and was fenced by trees.
A few horses roamed the front and far sides of the house. Misha could see various buildings spanning the property beyond the living area. All was encased in a simple white fence that appeared to run on into oblivion.
“How?” was all Misha could ask, looking from the property to Talib.
He didn’t need clarification. “Blaine Conrad can make anything grow, or so it’s rumored.”
Misha leaned close to the window, eyeing her surroundings with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. Absently, she accepted Talib’s hand when he came around the truck and opened her door. She followed quietly while he led the way. Moments before they breached the privacy fence, she braced against him, prepared to argue her case again.
Talib turned, cupping Misha’s face as he leaned down to look straight into her eyes. “I need you with me here, all right?”
“It’s your business, Talib. Mixing that with me hasn’t worked too well for us, you know?” She looked down.
“I need you in there, love. Can’t that be enough?”
Misha searched his dark eyes with hers and smiled at what she saw. He pressed a hard kiss to her forehead when she nodded.
“For better or worse, Blaine Conrad, Ducker’s father, is a real ladies’ man,” Talib explained once he and Misha were headed toward the house again. “Our conversation is likely to get tense. With you there—” he squeezed her “—perhaps we can still make a little headway.”
“You’re a sexist, Mr. Mason.”
Talib shrugged. “Sue me.”
“Pretty face on hand or not, the man’s not going to like having a stranger overhearing his family business.” She frowned, not liking the look Talib was giving her when their steps drew to a halt.
“Stranger?” He laughed softly, and then kissed the back of her hand before they fell into step again.
The couple was met by a tiny, round Hispanic woman whom Talib called Armelita and greeted with a warm hug and kiss. He turned toward Misha and the little woman’s eyes brightened.
“Is this Misha?” she asked, her rich brown eyes twinkling in wonder.
Misha gasped, her eyes flying to Talib’s face before she looked back at the tiny woman. Remembering her manners, she extended her hand for a shake but found herself drawn into a hug instead.
Curiosity far outreaching apprehension then, Misha wanted answers. They’d have to wait. She and Talib were being bustled into the house but Misha could scarcely appreciate
the loveliness of it all especially when Blaine Conrad came out to greet them.
Although older, Blaine was as tall as Talib and just as well built. Talib had called him a ladies’ man and Misha could very well believe it. His face was handsome and weather-beaten. He was clearly a sun worshipper, which was understandable given his line of work. The brilliance of an even white smile was a dazzling contrast against his tanned skin and sun-bleached blond hair.
“Is this Misha?” Blaine asked when he and Talib hugged.
“How is it that I’m so well known?” Misha felt she’d kept her curiosity quiet long enough.
“Talib’s a frequent visitor to our humble digs,” Blaine explained, having walked over to drop an arm across her shoulders. “He and I have had many discussions over many things. Especially the things that mean the most to us.” He tossed a wink toward Talib. “This guy’s mentioned you more times than I can count.”
Misha would’ve expected Talib to change the conversation or at least look away when she fixed him with a questioning stare. But he met her gaze evenly as though daring her to argue with how much she meant to him then.
“So, T, is this a Ducker visit or a fun one?” Blaine’s question saved the moment from turning too charged. His sky blue gaze twinkled as he observed Misha. She laughed. Ladies’ man, indeed.
Talib wasn’t quite as amused. “It’s definitely a Ducker visit.”
Blaine’s expression soured a bit. “Then this’ll require drinks.” He offered Misha his arm. “What’s your poison, beauty?”
Talib hung back, watching the two walk off into the shadowed interior of the house. If things worked according to plan, there’d be more than talk over Blaine Conrad’s angry son.
Conrad Cove was the place he came to think, to reflect and to plan. His intention was to use the time to finally share with Misha what he’d been unable to for far too long. He only prayed his emotions and his own storage of anger and hate wouldn’t get the better of him.
Grimacing just slightly, Talib headed off into the house.
“You need to talk to your son.”
“It’s a waste of time, his and mine,” Blaine said once Talib had shared Ducker’s latest dilemma. “No way is that boy ever going to forgive me for what happened between his mother and me.”
Misha’s gaze snapped to Talib’s face, but he was all business.
Blaine tossed back the rest of his bourbon. “And until he does, there’s no way he’s gonna listen to me about a damn thing, including his football career.”
“He’ll listen, Blaine. I truly believe this may be the one way to get through to him, and if you think about it, it’s the one thing we haven’t tried.” Talib leaned over and brought a hand down on Blaine’s knee. “He needs you. That kid can push and shove everyone else away but you’re his dad. You can shove as hard as he can. You should shove as hard as he can.”
“I pray you’ll never have to see hate in your son’s eyes, Talib,” Blaine said as he rose from the sofa and paced the den. “It’s perhaps one of the few things in the world even a strong man can’t stomach—hate lurking in your child’s stare.” He went to toss back more bourbon and realized the glass was empty. “I’ve seen that from Duck more times that I can count.”
“You can change that.”
“How, Talib?”
“You love him.”
“And love conquers all.”
“Sometimes, yes.” Talib shrugged. “As it relates to a parent and child, I’d say definitely yes.”
“He won’t go for it.”
Talib leaned back in the armchair he occupied. “We’ve arranged for him to meet with the team execs. I told him what I expected of him, save for the fact that you might be there.”
Blaine turned. “And?”
“He didn’t argue.” Talib smirked. “Of course, that was probably because he’s too afraid of me to do so. But if we can use that fear to open up some communication between the two of you—why not?”
Blaine looked hopeful but still felt too jaded to let that hope mislead him. “Talib, do you really believe in your gut that my boy will talk to me?”
“If my father gave a damn enough about me to come see me through rough times, I’d be interested enough to hear what he has to say.”
Misha was riveted by Talib, whose expression then gave away more than he probably realized. Just then, Armelita came in to offer a tour of the house. Feeling it best to give the men their privacy, Misha accepted.
“So did you bring her here to share things you should’ve already told her?” Blaine queried once the women were gone.
“I’ve been trying to work my way up to it.” Talib shook his head and looked out the glass doors across the room. “Been trying to work my way up to it for a bloody long time.”
“And this is kind of like the preamble?”
Talib grinned. “I guess. Hell, Blaine, I don’t know what the devil I’m doing. I don’t do too well talking about this. It pisses me off just to think about how the past still affects me. I’m a grown man, for Christ’s sake.” He leaned forward to rub his hands across his head. “She deserves the truth, though. I owe it to her—all of it.”
Blaine perched on the back of the leather sofa. “So you expect to get her back afterward.”
“I have her back now.”
Blaine smiled, approving of the younger man’s confidence.
“When I start talking of the past though—” Talib flexed a fist “—I wonder if I deserve her.”
“Don’t do that, son. You’ve gone too long without her—don’t second-guess yourself now.”
Talib knew Blaine was right. “It just doesn’t make it easier, you know?”
“This I know all too well.” Blaine chuckled.
Talib joined in on the laughter. “We’re quite a pair.”
Blaine went to refill his drink at the pine bar in the corner of the den. “So how long will it take for you to talk with her now that she’s here?” he asked.
“Being here helps.” Talib stood and walked over to the glass doors. “When I think about it…it makes me so damn mad and then she’s right there and…”
Smirking, Blaine passed his friend a fresh drink. “Talking is the last thing on your mind?” he guessed.
“She’s like a drug.” Talib studied the burgundy liquid filling the glass. “She’s always been that way to me.”
Blaine clapped Talib’s back once he’d joined him at the doors. “That’s something you sure as hell don’t want to lose.”
Talib and Blaine caught up to Misha and Armelita toward the end of the house tour. Afterward, the group went on a riding tour of the grounds. Misha commended herself on handling horseback, crediting her abilities to the trip out to Victor Lyne’s ranch the previous year.
It was past lunch time when the outdoor tour ended, but Talib had another area he wanted to share with Misha before they settled down to a meal.
The now familiar subdued feeling plagued Misha again, only this time there was also contentment. The dwelling Talib led them to was sheltered behind a wealth of trees much like the ones shielding the main house.
It was extraordinary, yet comforting, to find such shade amidst a desert oasis. Talib helped her from the amber-colored mare and kept hold of Misha’s hand while leading her toward the house there.
“So who are we meeting now?” Misha faked playfulness to mask how nervous she was.
“Only the two of us here, love.” His regal tone held a hushed quality. “The guesthouse is only open to me. It’s where I spend much of my time when I’m not handling business in Phoenix.”
Again, Misha’s eyes were wide in purveyance of her surroundings. “I thought you lived in Phoenix.”
“I work in Phoenix.” He checked his chain for the key. “I come out here to get away from all that.”
“Humph, I see how it is. Some of us go to our apartments, while some of us have heavenly escapes to enjoy,” she teased, but sobered when he suddenly brought her hand to his ch
est.
“It hasn’t been heaven until now.”
Gently, Misha extracted her hand and ventured beyond the threshold when the door opened. She shouldn’t have been surprised to know he came here for rejuvenation.
The man held a fondness for soft lighting, that was for sure. The place was cozy and awash with a palate of earth tones. Elaborate sculptures and paintings decorated the space. The pieces were lit with just the right sort of illumination to draw an onlooker’s eye toward each creation while accentuating the background of the room. Exotic cacti and other flowers indigenous to the area filled the cottage. “You’re very lucky in your real estate acquisitions, Mr. Mason.” She folded her arms across the scoop bodice of her peach T-shirt and turned toward him. “Now I’m hoping you didn’t bring me here for a tour or anything physical,” she added when he advanced. “Unless it’s talking.”
Talib’s expression rivaled his eyes for darkness and he walked off toward the bar.
“How long will we dance to this song, Tali?” She leaned next to the sofa. “If it makes you feel better then by all means we can certainly talk under the pretense of the story.” She smiled when he whirled around to face her.
“You’re about ten times as private as Asher. Exactly how long did you expect me to buy that you’d allow any of what you told me so far to wind up in a paper?” She rounded the sofa and selected a place to recline. “So let’s talk, Mr. Mason. And fix me a drink while you’re at it.”
Chapter 14
Over drinks and salads, Talib and Misha settled down in the living room. At first, the sounds of pepper grinding and utensils cutting into veggies were all that filled the room. Two bites into the salad, Talib began to talk about how he’d met Blaine Conrad.
“I talked to my uncles about wanting to go to school in America. They suggested I visit first just to be sure. I still had no idea where I wanted to study once I got here. My uncles arranged for me to come and stay with Blaine and Ducker—who was only eleven or twelve at the time. My uncles breed horses and met Blaine years ago—they were all great friends.”
Every Chance I Get Page 10
