Huddle with Me Tonight (Kimani Romance)

by Farrah Rochon

  “I can go over your head,” he said without a hint of smugness, just utter and complete certainty. “I’m sure I can convince the powers that be at Big Apple Weekly to listen to what I have to say.”

  Paige had no doubt Angie would back her up. The suits, however, were another story. The Pedlam brothers, Jory and Peter, who owned the paper, would probably side with Torrian for no reason other than he was a superstar they wanted to impress.

  “Nearly two thousand people have already responded to the blog,” Paige said. “Besides, I’m sure your response has been copied onto hundreds of other Web sites by now. Deleting it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.”

  “You wouldn’t have to delete anything,” Torrian said.

  Paige took a step back, needing distance between them as much as she needed her next breath. “What are you suggesting I do, if not delete everything?” she asked.

  His shoulders had become rigid; the look in his eyes telling her that he’d been just as affected by their proximity. He broke eye contact, shaking his head and glancing out the window before turning back to her.

  “I’ve been thinking about it since I called you,” he started. “Instead of deleting any of our exchange, you can post another entry saying that we concocted this whole thing. Make it sound as if this was one big publicity stunt. The review, our arguing back and forth. All of it.”

  “My readers are much too smart to believe this entire thing has been a hoax,” she explained.

  “Maybe you give your readers more credit than they deserve.”

  “If you want to get on my good side, you’ll cut back on the insults,” Paige warned.

  He groaned, ran a hand over his close-cut hair. “I’m not trying to insult you or your readers. I just think that if we really put our heads together, we can turn this whole thing around.”

  He reached out and grabbed her hand. Paige tried to jerk it away, but he held on tight. “You want an apology? Fine, I’m doing it right now. I’m sorry for ninety-nine percent of the stuff I said on your blog. I was pissed and I stepped over the line, but I need you to make this right, Paige.”

  The anguish in his plea caused the breath to catch in her throat. She looked up from where he grasped her hand, and was bowled over by the genuine distress in his hazel eyes.

  “Please,” he implored.

  Shaking her head to spring herself from her dazed state, Paige managed to pull her hand from his.

  “If—” She cleared her throat. “If I were to consider this, I still believe we’d have to come up with something more plausible than what you suggested.”

  He hunched his shoulders. “I’m all ears. What do you suggest?”

  “I don’t know,” Paige admitted. “To be honest, I think this is all going to die down in no time if we stop posting nasty responses to each other on the blog. I’m putting up my next review tomorrow. Once readers start discussing that one, yours will fade into the blackness.”

  He wasn’t convinced. Paige could tell by the way he said, “How can you be so sure?”

  She sent him a slight, wry grin. “Yours is not the first review to stir up a bit of controversy on my blog.”

  His cell phone rang. He took it from his pocket, glanced at the phone, then said, “Excuse me.”

  He turned away from her, back to the window. “What’s up, Dee?” A pause. “He didn’t tell you where he was going?” she heard Torrian say in a troubled tone. It was a bit intrusive to stand here and listen, but she was in her own apartment. He’d brought his conversation here.

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” he finished and ended the call.

  He turned back to her, and Paige refused to look guilty for listening in. His furrowed brow and tightened lips compelled her to ask, “Is everything okay?”

  “Can we finish this later, over dinner, maybe?” he asked as he started walking toward the door.

  “I’m not going out with you,” she said.

  “Come on, Paige. I think we could do a better job of settling this if we did it over a nice meal.”

  “No,” she returned. The intimacy such a setting would create started a mix of anxiety and anticipation churning in the pit of Paige’s stomach. She had to keep things on a professional playing field where Torrian was concerned.

  Still, Paige couldn’t help but feel concern over the unease she sensed flowing over him. She followed him to the door. Without thinking, Paige grabbed his forearm, halting his retreat. “Is there anything I can do?”

  He looked down at her hand clasping his arm, then back up at her. Something flashed in his eyes. It didn’t take Paige but a second to recognize what it was. It was the same thing that was running through her own blood.

  Hunger.

  Instant, intense, burning hunger.

  Electricity surged between them, holding her captive. The charged air made the skin on her arm pebble with goose bumps. She wanted to jerk her eyes away from his, but she couldn’t. His molten gaze held her spellbound.

  Finally Paige found the strength to release his arm. She took a step back, and they both swallowed long and deep.

  “I…I’m sorry,” she said, even though she didn’t know what she was apologizing for. Who was at fault for the intense desire that had begun to thrum through the air the moment she touched him?

  He took a step closer, and her breath seized in her throat.

  His cell phone rang again.

  “Dammit,” he whispered. His eyes bored into hers, filled with a heat so extreme it warmed her from the inside out. “I have to go,” he said.

  Without another word, he walked out of her apartment, closing the door behind him.

  Chapter 7

  Paige poured tea from the ornate teapot and sat it back onto the trivet in the center of the table. She was tired of drinking this darn tea. If Angela didn’t get here in the next five minutes, she was going solo.

  But not having the distraction of Angela and her fiancé to share in the dinner conversation left her mind open to explore other things. Like Torrian Smallwood’s visit to her apartment. Having him there had been…well…nice. Too nice. So nice that it’s all she had been able to think about.

  His position as a wide receiver had lent to his perfect build. He had muscles for days, but they were lean, sinewy and just the right size. The power in his muscular legs had been displayed to perfection when he sat on her favorite green chair and the fabric of his expensive jeans had stretched taut over them. The man was a study in the perfect body.

  She was safer having that perfect body on her television screen, not in the middle of her living room. He was just a bit too tempting, and a stark reminder of a basic missing element in her life.

  It had been over two years since she’d had what could be even remotely called a serious boyfriend, and to be honest, there was nothing serious about her relationship with Michael Weston. He’d started out as a coworker at her first job with a small paper in New York, and they had soon become friends. A few months later it had turned into something more, but neither of them had any illusions that what they shared would lead to something permanent. Michael had told her in his last e-mail that he had just proposed to his old girlfriend. Paige was happy for him.

  Her cell phone chimed the tune she had designated for Angela.

  “You’d better have a good excuse for being so late,” Paige barked into the phone.

  “I’m in the hospital,” Angela answered.

  “What?” Paige shrieked, causing more than a few heads to turn. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s Bryce. He was trying to trim roses he bought to surprise me. I’m really sorry, Paige. I know this is the second time I’ve stood you up.”

  “Well, it couldn’t really be helped this time,” she answered. “Tell Bryce I hope he feels better.”

  “Thanks, Paige. If the food is any good, maybe we can go again next week. My treat.”

  “I’m not holding my breath,” Paige laughed.

  “I totally deserve that,”
Angela chuckled. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Paige disconnected and sighed. She was used to eating alone; she didn’t know why the prospect seemed so bleak now. She motioned for the table attendant. She didn’t need to occupy such a large table now.

  “May I help you, ma’am?” the attendant asked.

  “The rest of my party couldn’t make it,” Paige said. “Can I move to one of the smaller tables in the corner?”

  “Of course,” the girl answered. She gathered the teapot and trivet from the table. “I will bring you more tea.”

  “No, no more tea,” Paige answered. “Actually, you can bring me a drink menu once I’m seated.”

  “Of course. Right this way, ma’am.”

  Paige rose from the table of four and followed the table attendant. Her step stuttered as she spotted Torrian heading straight toward her.

  “Oh, God,” she muttered. Of all the sushi restaurants in New York…

  And, of course, the table attendant was guiding her directly in his path. There would be no escaping him. She could only hope he would ignore her as he made his way to his table.

  She should have known better.

  He stopped yards away and waited for her. “Good evening,” he greeted as Paige approached.

  “Hello, Mr. Smallwood,” Paige said, her voice as unaffected as she could possibly expect it to be considering the situation.

  “C’mon, Paige. I think there’s enough history between us to be on a first-name basis by now,” he said with that smile that made her stomach tremble and skin get all tingly.

  “I don’t know. I kind of like some of the other names I’ve been calling you,” Paige said.

  He barked a laugh. “I definitely don’t want to hear any of those.” He leaned in and said with a stage whisper, “Unless they’re really dirty.”

  She shouldn’t engage in this back-and-forth with him, but she found it hard not to fall into the playful tit for tat. “Oh, they are pretty dirty,” Paige said. “Not the way you think, though.”

  His smile widened, and there was a definite weakening of her knees.

  “If you don’t mind, I was just about to have dinner,” Paige said.

  He looked to the table attendant, who’d been standing there watching their exchange with interest. Paige considered deducting a few points from her review of the restaurant for having a nosy waitstaff.

  “Are you dining alone?” Torrian asked.

  “I am now,” she answered honestly.

  “Would you mind some company?” he asked. “You’re alone?” The question escaped her mouth before she could temper her surprised tone.

  “The last time I took my sister and nephew out for sushi, it didn’t go over too well,” he answered, and with a shrug continued, “I’ve been eyeing this place for a while and decided to finally give it a try. After turning down all my invitations to dinner, I can only assume this is fate stepping in.”

  In her book, what he was doing qualified as flirting, but Paige wasn’t sure the same rules applied to charmers with the professional expertise Torrian possessed. She’d seen him unleash that smile on enough fans and reporters to know that reading anything more into it would be a faux pas on her part.

  But what about that…something that had passed between them before he left her apartment? Tremors of excitement rippled along her skin whenever she thought about his heated gaze. It made her wonder what would have happened if his cell phone had not interrupted them. Would he have left her apartment? Would she have let him?

  “So, Paige, can I join you for dinner?” He leaned just a bit more toward her, and lowered his voice. “Maybe we can finish what we were discussing yesterday.” Which part? she wanted to ask.

  Over the course of the half hour he’d been at her apartment, the air surrounding their discussion had traveled along a spectrum of intimacy that still caused Paige’s breath to hitch. She went from not wanting to invite him into her home, to suffering a moment of sadness when he’d had to leave. How was that even possible?

  “For two?” the table attendant asked, an expectant, excited look on her face.

  “For two,” Torrian said, and Paige didn’t refute him.

  They were guided to a table in a corner, which is what she’d asked for, Paige remembered. It certainly had a different connotation to it now. The attendant waited until they were seated, then presented them with menus. “I will get the drink menu you requested,” she said before leaving.

  Paige nodded her thanks, then turned her attention to her new dinner guest. “Did everything turn out okay?” she asked. “You left in a hurry last night.”

  He waved away her concern. “My nephew is going through a knucklehead phase. Skipping class, missing curfew, driving his mom crazy. She’s convinced it’s something more than typical teenage stuff, so I had a little heart-to-heart with Dante last night. It’s all good.” Torrian opened his menu. “I’ve heard some good things about this place. The shrimp tempura is supposed to be excellent.”

  “I hope so,” Paige said. “I’ve been impressed with the atmosphere so far. If the food lives up to the hype, it’ll make things a lot easier.” At his confused looked, Paige clarified, “I’m reviewing the restaurant for my next column.”

  “Ah,” Torrian sat back. “I hope they know not to get on your bad side.” His grin was rueful, but Paige thought she caught a bit of self-deprecation. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I couldn’t help it.”

  She felt the need to defend herself. “Negative reviews are not my default.”

  “I shouldn’t have said any—”

  “People seem to think—”

  The attendant returned with the drink menu, interrupting Paige’s rebuttal. They ordered sake for two and two bottles of mineral water.

  When the attendant left, Paige continued, determined to make her point. “I don’t go into a review hoping to find things to complain about,” she said.

  “I know that,” Torrian said.

  “It feels as if I’m getting a reputation for being this ball-busting—”

  “Please,” he stopped her, reaching over the small round table and covering her hand with his. “What I said was uncalled for. I can’t seem but to stick my foot in my mouth when I’m around you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  Her skin burned where he touched it. Her entire body warmed with him so close. “We have gotten off to a rocky start,” Paige agreed, pulling her hand away in an effort to preserve her sanity.

  “I’m not the jerk I appear to be.”

  “Don’t worry,” Paige laughed. “You’re not the first person to accuse me of bringing out the worse in them.”

  “It’s not you, it’s this entire situation. Any confrontation I experience usually remains on the football field. I’m not good at handling it off the field. I guess I need to practice my diplomacy skills.”

  He smiled, and her stomach tightened. She’d seen him enough times on television and magazines to understand that there was something about Torrian Smallwood that went beyond what other men possessed, but to be inundated with that raw, in-your-face sexual magnetism was overwhelming.

  “You should have more practice at this diplomacy thing than I do. You said yourself that I’m not the first person who’s caused some strife on your blog.”

  “No, you’re not,” she answered. The people at Goldstein Publishing were probably ready to put a hit out on her.

  “So, what’s the deal?” He leaned forward and settled his elbows on the table. “Why did you chew me out on your blog? What do you have against me, Paige?”

  “I don’t have anything against you,” Paige insisted. “My review was not personal. When I read a book, or see a show, or eat at a restaurant, I have a certain set of criteria in mind, and your book did not live up to those criteria. It’s as simple as that.”

  “So are you saying none of that stuff you posted on your blog was personal?” Torrian asked.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be,” she said. “I did take a coupl
e of cheap shots, though. I apologize for that. But you did the same,” she pointed out to make herself feel better.

  “I know.” He shook his head, staring at a spot on the table. When he looked up at her, genuine remorse shone in his honey-colored eyes. “I really am sorry for some of the things I said.” A rueful smile edged up the corner of his mouth as he toyed with the packets of artificial sweeteners on the table. “I pride myself on setting a good example for my nephew of how to be respectful of women, and here I am, doing the complete opposite.”

  Paige leaned over and caught his hand. “Stop beating yourself up. I accept your apology.”

  As soon as she touched him, something changed. His eyes slowly traveled from where their hands touched up to her eyes. His thumb caressed the underside of her wrist, moving back and forth across the sensitive spot.

  The table attendant returned with their drinks, and Paige pulled her hand away. What was it that passed between them every time they touched? The mystifying current of electricity had continued to thrum through her body long after he’d left her apartment, and the same was happening again. Her wrist tingled where he’d touched it.

  “Have you decided on what you would like for dinner?” the waitress asked.

  Paige asked Torrian about his preferences, but he conceded the ordering to her. She ordered shrimp tempura, a platter of assorted sashimi and a spicy yellowtail roll.

  “So,” Torrian asked. “What are we going to do about the blog?”

  “I’ve been considering your proposition from the other day.”

  “You agree that we should just say this was one big publicity stunt?”

  “Yes…and no,” she said. She stopped him before he could say anything. “Pulling this ‘publicity stunt’ may be acceptable in your line of work, but not for me. I would lose credibility with my readers if they thought my review was part of some big hoax to drum up attention for your book. I can’t allow that to happen.”

  “So what do you suggest?” he asked. Their food arrived in record time, and Torrian dived in, using his chopsticks to expertly lift a sliver of raw tuna from the rectangular dish.