Talib helped himself to another forkful of the zesty Southwestern salad. “Blaine was happy to have me here. Duck needed someone closer to his age, so to speak, with all that had happened with his mum.”
Misha focused on picking through her salad. “What happened there?” she asked, fearing Talib would clam up again when he didn’t continue right away.
“Blaine once took his crown of ladies’ man very seriously. It didn’t much matter that he was married.” Talib washed down the salad with a swig of liquor. “One night his wife had enough. She caught him out in the stables. Ducker never forgave his dad.”
Misha set her salad dish to the coffee table. “While you and Blaine were talking, I got the feeling that there were some similarities there.”
Talib winced, as if losing taste for his salad, as well. “I don’t know how much of a ladies’ man my father was, but he screwed up royally with my mum.”
“Will you tell me?”
“He swept my mother off her feet. She fell in love.” He leaned forward, focusing on rubbing his hands together. “All she wanted was to be a wife and mother. Her family didn’t like it, or my dad, for that matter. When I was old enough to ask about it, she’d only say ‘when a woman’s in love…’”
Misha smiled. She understood that phrase all too well.
“We were a happy family, I thought. Until my dad’s assistant wanted to be more than his assistant.” His rubbing hands turned into flexing fists. “I’d hear my mum crying, trying to argue, screaming for someone to stop calling and then screaming at my dad, demanding answers.” He propped an elbow to his knee and rested his chin on his fist. “One day the woman came to the house and said Dad was hers. She said a bunch of other stuff and my mother just stood there…I don’t think I understood all of what was going on, but I knew I wanted my mother to stop crying. I wanted us to leave him so she’d stop being upset all the time. But she said dad was a good provider and we needed him.” He squeezed his eyes shut against the pressure of tears behind them.
“Then one day he didn’t come home. Mum got an envelope filled with money a few days later. It paid the bills for a month.” He smiled sourly. “Then she had to get a job, and with the few skills she had, well, it wasn’t much of a job.”
Misha realized her fingers were curled tight into the sofa cushions. She was forcing herself to remain seated when all she wanted was to go to him. It tore at her heart to see him rubbing at the moisture in his eyes.
“We made it for a while.” He inhaled as though drawing in strength. “We had to move several times as our flats became too expensive. There were nights we didn’t have food because the utilities had to be paid or we didn’t have utilities because we were hungry as hell.”
“But her family…” Misha scooted forward on the chair.
Talib nodded. “One night, I was about twelve, I think. She bundled me up, packed my clothes and we took a train ride.” His stare softened as the memories grew more vivid. “I was excited because we didn’t do extravagant things like that. We even had dinner on the train. Afterward, we walked a long walk, but it felt good on a full stomach.” He stroked his jaw. “A maid answered the door Mum knocked on. The woman looked like she’d seen a ghost when she saw my mother. I’d never been inside a house that big. I’d seen plenty…” A grin emerged. “When I discovered I was going to live there…I met my uncles that night and they terrified me.” He laughed and fell back against his chair.
“They looked scary and stern as hell, but the first thing out of my uncle Baron’s mouth was a joke and then my uncle Cafrey was asking if I liked pumpkin ice cream. The maid had brought a crap-load and they couldn’t stand the shite.”
Misha burst into laughter.
“That’s exactly the way he said it, I swear!” Talib’s laughter rumbled a few seconds longer before it began to taper. “Mum laughed, even. So we had some of the ice cream in the living room before the fire. Then mum was kissing and hugging me and the maid was taking me to a room. I was so worn out I didn’t argue, couldn’t even get my head around the fact that the room was mine.”
He massaged his forearms, visible beneath the short sleeves of his black polo top. “The next morning I woke up happy for the first time in so long. I got dressed and raced downstairs looking for my uncles and my mother. I found my uncles. But Mum was gone. She left me with them. They told me she said she couldn’t stay.” He held his face in his hands for a moment. “Weeks passed…then the police came calling one evening—told my uncles they’d found her on a cot at a soup house. She was…she was dead.”
“Talib,” Misha whispered and moved to go to him but he stood and turned away so she wouldn’t see his face streaked with tears. “Talib, I’m so sorry….”
“So you see the background you think I’m so removed from—I know it quite well.”
Misha stood behind him, studying his back, broad and tense with frustration. “Why would you think that any of what you’ve gone through made any of what happened between the two of us your fault?”
Talib braced his hands to the bar and bowed his head. “When that story came out six years ago, all I could think of was the woman who took my father away from my mother and I. I remembered her standing there in my mother’s kitchen telling her she could never keep a man like my father. She said my mother had nothing to offer, nothing to talk about except the bills or what little Tali did at school. My father needed a career woman, she said. A woman who’d do what it took to be someone—a woman who’d do whatever it took to have it all.”
Misha had taken a seat on the coffee table and pulled the bandana from her head in order to clench her hair between her fingers. She was shuddering as it all fell into place.
“I let that ruin what we had,” he was saying. “I let the image of that woman and what she was turn me cold and angry and unwilling to listen to anything you had to say.” He turned to look at her then. “That’s why I can say it was my fault, Misha. I put you in that hospital bed the same way I put my mother in her grave.”
Misha left the table and walked around in front of him. She caught the hem of his top when he would have turned his back again. “You’ve got no right to do that. Your mother wouldn’t want you taking blame for something like that.”
“You didn’t know her,” Talib snapped, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. “You have no idea what she’d been through, killing herself to support me.”
“I know she was your mother.” Misha grabbed his forearm and squeezed until he looked at her. “I know no mother worth a damn would want her child blaming himself for something like that.”
Unfortunately, Talib was beyond hearing anything Misha said then. “It’s getting late. We should be going.”
She dropped his arm. “Do we have to leave? I—I was hoping we could stay the night.” She knew a long drive was the last thing either of them needed.
Talib was already shaking his head. “You’re better off in your suite. Thank you for insisting on it.”
Misha didn’t want to be apart that night. Not with him being so out of sorts. “I’d feel better if we were together.” She winced at the lost tone in her words.
He was kissing her senseless before she could speak another syllable and had her half out of her bra before he withdrew.
“That’s the only thing you can expect from me tonight, so get your things and let’s go.”
Knowing he was in a frightful mood, Misha took her unease firmly in hand. “I don’t want to leave,” she cried out when he grabbed her fast, jerking her into another kiss that was far hungrier than the last.
Misha could feel his frustration coming through in the kiss much like the other times he’d been affected by talk of the past. Her heart beat triple time in her throat yet she surrendered to what he needed, overcome by the passion of his desire. She could hear the low, growling sounds he uttered as his mouth took possession of hers. His hands roamed with mastery and desire entwined.
Talib helped her to the floor and took Misha ou
t of her clothes. Her whimpers filled the room in response to his mouth and his fingers left no spot untouched on her body. He scooped her up then and held her against a wall until his drugging kisses and the added intensity of his caresses had her crying out for more.
In the bedroom, he gently tossed her down on the bed and pushed away her hands when she went to help him disrobe. He finished the task himself, took care of protection and pulled her from the bed. He settled her sweetly once he’d cradled her bottom in his hands. He demonstrated his strength, taking her while standing dead center in the middle of the room without the aid of a wall or doorway to lean upon.
Misha was as aroused by his awesome show of power as she was by him guiding her slowly up and down the length of his shaft. She gasped over a moan when her nipples brushed the sleek pecs that tensed each time he drew her up over him.
She kneaded the mesmerizing hardness of his biceps. She couldn’t close her hands around them. He ordered her to kiss him in that deep, beautifully accented voice of his. Of course she complied, moaning even as she obeyed. Faint slurping sounds accompanied her moans and she could feel the abundance of liquid streaming from her core.
Talib’s hands tightened on her bottom. His climax was near but he wanted more from her, much more.
Misha felt the same. This was perfect, too perfect with the moonlight streaming softly past the blinds. The sounds of the wind hitting the chimes that surrounded the house and the sounds of their need swirled through the room. Misha clenched her fists against his broad chest and beat softly while succumbing to the effects of his very filling sex. He took her right to the edge, allowing her to dangle there before he tugged her over.
Misha woke early the next morning and decided to indulge in a little sightseeing on her own. Gingerly, she eased from the sheets and wrapped herself in the fleece blanket that had fallen to the floor during last night’s encounter.
She didn’t venture far from the house and didn’t need to for what she had in mind. She enjoyed a devastating sunrise from the rear patio area. Her eyes misted and she knew it was a mix of her reaction to the beauty before her eyes and sorrow for the man she loved.
He’d been honest with her the way she’d wanted. Now she couldn’t be sure if he was better or worse for it. She couldn’t even be sure if she was.
Talib carried so much guilt for the things that had happened. There was guilt that he couldn’t erase and that he wouldn’t allow anyone else to erase. Just where did that leave her and the story she’d yet to share? He would surely hate himself for what happened if she ever told him. As for removing the guilt from his heart, she could just forget about that.
But he deserved to know just the same, right? He deserved to know the reasons fueling her cautions about them jumping back into all the many levels of the sweetness they’d shared. He deserved to know, even if she wound up losing him just the same.
Misha felt his fingers in her hair and smiled, meeting the kiss he bent down and offered.
“May we share?” Talib motioned toward the blanket she’d wrapped around her otherwise nude body. He was just as nude.
Misha gave him a saucy look. “Why, what would Armelita say?”
Talib was tugging open the blanket. “She’s seen it. Long story,” he added when she laughed.
Misha quieted when he snuggled behind her and pulled her onto his lap. She could have melted onto him as love, warmth and a glorious vista fed her body and soul.
“Do I have permission to talk about last night?” she asked once a few moments of the renewing quiet had settled.
Talib’s fingers began a devilish journey beneath the blanket. “Which part?” he murmured next to her skin.
Her resolve fled and seconds later she was twisting and rising to meet the provocative movements of his hand between her legs. “I’m trying to be serious,” she moaned and then cursed her lack of willpower.
At last, Talib took pity. He removed his hand while urging her to have her say.
“I only want to know if you’re okay.” She turned beneath the blanket, resting her hands flat on the granite wall of his chest. “The conversation got so intense last night. I wanted to know everything but I hate that you had to go through that.”
“I didn’t hate it.” He prodded her chin up with his thumb. “I didn’t hate it. At the time, yes, but now I feel like a weight’s been lifted, and I know that sounds clichéd but it’s true.” He smoothed his thumb across her chin and followed the movement with his ebony stare. “I’ve walked around so bogged down by that story and for so bloody long that I didn’t know what it’d feel like to walk around without the weight.” He nudged her forehead with his. “Thank you for bullying me into talking about it.”
“It wasn’t me.” She raised her hands defensively. “You wanted to share it. You just needed a shove.”
“You’re right.” He found her hand beneath the cover and squeezed. “I wanted to share it, should have shared it long ago. If I had—”
“Hey? Shh…” Hair slapped her cheeks when she shook her head. “I won’t let you do that. You took a huge step last night.”
Talib laughed when she kissed him. “I’m trying to confide here, you know?”
“Well, I’m taking a page from your book, then. When faced with a subject you prefer not to discuss, kiss.”
Talib’s sleek brows rose as he considered the phrase. “That’s a pretty good move, isn’t it?”
“It gets better,” she promised and plied him with another kiss.
Chapter 15
Talib took Misha back to her suite without much conversation along the way. He had the feeling she could use the time alone. He could probably use some himself. While he’d planned to share more with her during their trip, he never thought things would become so intense. But talking to Misha the way he had, no matter how emotional, had done him good. He felt drained, but in a good way. Perhaps now he could turn a more skeptical eye toward the guilt he’d saddled himself with for the better part of his adulthood. Perhaps.
“So what’s gonna happen with Ducker and Blaine?” Misha asked when she and Talib were at the front door to her suite.
“We’ve arranged for a meeting at the office tomorrow.”
“Do you feel good about that?” Misha braced back against the message desk near the door.
“Right now I do.” He grinned. “Ask me again after the meeting.”
“So…” Misha sighed when the silence grew a bit too heavy.
“We’ve got the event for the Arizona Orchestra and then our trip will be pretty much at its end,” Talib shared, his dark eyes narrowing. “I’ll let you rest.” He kissed her cheek and left.
Misha spent the morning reviewing notes from the budget meetings she’d missed. Silently, she thanked Riley for keeping her in the know. After scanning the meeting minutes, she planned to get some editing done on pieces the rest of the writing staff had emailed.
Again, she gave thanks for the work. She needed all she could get her hands on. She wouldn’t dwell on the fact that it’d take no less than a ton to keep her mind fully occupied and off of Talib Mason.
The bell rang and she slipped from the armchair. Outside there waited a smiling woman with a huge box in hand.
“Bowtiques, ma’am.”
Misha stared blankly at the card the woman produced. Then, snapping to, she moved back from the door and granted her entrance.
“Excuse me, who…”
The young woman laughed. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re the dress-and-tuxedo shop on the corner. Will you need any help trying on your item?”
“Uh…” Misha blinked as the sales associate removed the box top. “No, uh, thank you.” With tentative steps, she moved closer and gasped at the “item,” a dazzling black satin creation. “No, thank you,” she breathed, smoothing the back of her hand along the rose blush bow which ran diagonal from just below the bodice to drape the middle of the dress.
“There, um—” mesmerized, Misha rubbed the material betwee
n her fingers “—there must be a mistake. I didn’t order anything. I’m just in town for business.”
“Oh yes, ma’am.” The young woman smiled bashfully. “Mr. Mason placed the order on his account.”
Renewed interest brightened Misha’s face. “Right.”
“Have a good day, ma’am.”
When she was alone, Misha whipped the gown out of the box and gave it a closer look. The dress was absolutely gorgeous. She saw the gift card lying within the silvery tissue wrapping.
From me, to you, for me.
She smiled and then she was stifling a moan in response to the tingle the suggestive words evoked. The ringing of the room phone offered a much needed interruption.
“Miss Bales?”
Misha was still scanning the card. “Yes?”
“Ms. Bales, this is Rita from Lorel Spa. We’re just down the block and calling to confirm today’s appointment.”
Misha was wholly focused on the call then. “Rita…”
“Yes, ma’am, of the Lorel Spa.”
“I see.” Misha tossed the card back into the box. “Rita, was this appointment set up by Mr. Mason?” She smiled when the woman sounded as if she were actually giggling.
“Why, yes, Ms. Bales. Yes, it was.”
“Misha. Good morning.” Talib raised the mug he held. “Have some?” he offered, waving the cup so that the aroma of the coffee wafted toward her.
Misha blinked away from the slab of honey-braised chest visible beneath the folds of his hunter-green terry robe. “I came to thank you.”
“Ah.” Talib stepped back and waved her inside the condo.
“Lovely, but unnecessary,” Misha said with a sigh once she’d strolled into the living room.
“Well, you can’t very well go to the orchestra naked.” He sipped the coffee and scanned her body. “Nice as that might be for me.”
Talib set down his mug and walked over to where she stood leaning against the sofa. He leaned down to cup her face. “I did this because I wanted to, not because you’re the type of woman who’d expect it or would do anything to arrange it.”
Every Chance I Get Page 11
