Huddle with Me Tonight (Kimani Romance)

by Farrah Rochon

  “I’m not completely sure yet,” Paige answered honestly. She dipped the tempura in soy sauce. “I still believe this will die down soon. Now that we’re no longer fueling the flames with our remarks, interests will wane.”

  “Don’t you think I’ll still need to do some damage control?” Torrian asked.

  “How much of a hit do you think your reputation has taken because of this?” she asked. Although it shouldn’t matter to her in the least, Paige didn’t like the thought of people not liking him because of what had transpired on her blog over the past few days.

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure.” He placed the chopsticks on his plate and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He had a set of the most decadent lips imaginable. Same went for his eyes. “There have been a lot of comments on your blog,” he said.

  “Yeah, but not all of them have been bad. Your die-hard fans have stood up for you. And when you think about the number of fans you have around this city, those comments on my blog are only a drop in the bucket.”

  “The thought of even one fan being disappointed in the way I behaved on your blog is too many for me,” he said.

  “I’m impressed that you care so much,” she admitted. “At first, I thought it was all about your book and restaurant; that you didn’t want fans to think negatively of you because it would affect your sales.”

  His eyes softened. “At the risk of losing the drop of respect I seem to have earned from you, I’ll admit that the book and restaurant factor into it.”

  His honesty had the opposite effect. Between his visit to her apartment and their conversation here, her opinion of him had changed dramatically.

  “Can I ask you something?” Paige asked, using one chopstick to stir up the bowl of sashimi dipping sauce. “You have a successful football career. Why is the success of this book so important to you?”

  “It’s not so much the book; it’s the restaurant. It is my sister’s dream.”

  “The sister you mention in the book? The one who raised you?”

  He nodded. “I owe Deirdre everything. She sacrificed her future to make a better one for me. This restaurant is the one thing she’s always wanted. It scares the hell out of me to think that her dream could be crushed because of all of this.”

  His concern wasn’t for himself, but for his sister. Paige’s heart melted then and there.

  “And here I thought you were a jerk,” she said, allowing her own grin to travel along her lips.

  “I don’t like the thought of you thinking I’m a jerk. If you give me a chance, I’d like to prove to you that I’m not.”

  Paige’s breath caught somewhere in her throat. The zing that had only occurred when they touched hit her again, and this time it spread all over her body.

  His voice, when he spoke, was low. Seductive. “Will you let me prove that to you, Paige?”

  She tried to speak, but the words would not surface.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Smallwood?”

  At the interruption, they both snapped to attention. Paige wasn’t sure if she should be disappointed or relieved.

  Two girls, who couldn’t be more than sixteen years old, held out napkins. “Can we please have your autograph?” they asked in unison.

  Torrian turned his attention to his fans, smiling up at them both. For the first time, Paige noticed a difference. The smile on his face now was indulgent; it didn’t encompass his whole face the way it had when he’d smile at her. This was his game face. He’d given her the real thing.

  When he’d signed the napkins and taken pictures with both girls on their camera phones, he turned back to her. “Sorry about that.”

  Paige waved off his concern with a flick of her chopsticks, deciding it was for the best that they had been interrupted. “It’s to be expected. I’m not sure how much I’d want your life,” Paige said. “I like my privacy.”

  “You have a fair amount of fame yourself.”

  “Not really, you hadn’t heard of me before this all happened.” She grinned.

  “No, I hadn’t,” he said, “But apparently I’m the exception, if the number of people who read your blog is any indication.”

  Paige shrugged. “There’s a measure of anonymity in writing for the paper. I like that I can let my voice be heard but maintain a low profile. This situation with you has given me a bit more attention than I’m used to.” She felt the smile tipping up the corner of her mouth. “I have to admit to enjoying it just a little.”

  “Happy I could help with that,” he said, his voice a mixture of amusement and heat.

  “Um, Torrian? What’s happening here?” Paige asked as nonchalantly as she could. Her heart rate had been on continual escalation mode since the moment he’d reached over and traced his fingers along hers.

  “We’re having dinner,” he answered, that smile still on his face, his voice still as seductive as a candlelit dinner with champagne and strawberries.

  “You know what I mean,” she said. “Just a day ago we were mortal enemies.”

  He stared at her, the look in his eyes intensifying. “Of all the things I’d like to be to you, your enemy is dead last on the list.” The lone candle flickering from the small blue bowl in the center of the table cast a shadow across his strong, smooth jaw. “You feel this,” he said, the words low, seductive, intense. “I feel you shiver every time I touch you.”

  Paige tried to speak but couldn’t. She wanted to deny his words, but how could she when they washed over her with such delicious warmth? She did feel it. This buzz of sexuality pulling between them, as if they were two magnets trying desperately to meet, but being pushed apart by the discord between them.

  “We shouldn’t feel this,” Paige said. “We… This isn’t right.”

  Torrian captured her hand. “What’s not right about it?”

  Paige jerked her hand away, but her eyes were still imprisoned by his deep, dark gaze. “What about everything that’s been said?” she reasoned. “I can’t go from despising you one minute to…to not despising you the next.”

  “You already have,” he said. “Can’t we just agree that we jumped to the wrong conclusions about each other before really getting to know one another?”

  “We don’t know each other now.”

  “I want to change that.”

  “Why?” she asked, hating the pleading in her voice.

  “Because I want to know you, Paige. I’m attracted to you.” He pushed the platter of sashimi to the side and caught her other hand. “We’re attracted to each other,” he amended. “Whether it’s just physical, I’m not sure, but don’t you think we owe it to ourselves to figure that out?”

  Paige’s first instinct was to deny that what she felt for him was attraction, but how could she when her skin still tingled where he’d held her hand?

  “How would it look if after spending the past week and a half engaged in verbal swordplay with you on my blog, we all of a sudden ended up being seen together?”

  “No one has to know.” His intense stare stole her breath away. “Come on, Paige,” Torrian continued. “Tell me you don’t feel this.”

  She couldn’t. As much as she wanted to deny it, her conscience would not allow her to voice such a lie.

  But just because she felt this attraction, it didn’t mean she was willing to explore it. Her professional reputation was at stake. She’d busted her butt to make a name for herself on her own merit. She would not be accused of riding the coattails of a celebrity.

  “I can’t do this,” she said. She pulled her hand from his and pushed away from the table. “Don’t worry about dinner. The restaurant is picking up the tab.”

  “Paige, wait,” Torrian said. He stood up, grabbing her arm. They stood so close their bodies touched. The heat radiating off him was as hot as molten lava.

  “No one has to know,” he repeated.

  Paige closed her eyes. Every cell in her body screamed for her to say yes. He was the object of millions of fantasies, and he was interested in her. She would
be a fool to turn down his invitation to see where this fire-hot attraction could take them.

  But she had to.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry,” was all she could manage before pulling away and escaping the restaurant.

  Chapter 8

  Paige’s fingers flew across the keyboard as she put the finishing touches on this week’s column. The sushi restaurant had been a hit, despite her cowardly escape from Torrian. Unfortunately, the off-Broadway show she’d attended last night needed to scoot a little further off Broadway. The playwright was not ready for the big time.

  Paige clicked into her e-mail again. “Come on, Angela,” she said. She’d been waiting to get the okay from Angela to post her next review, but couldn’t wait any longer. Seconds after she hit the button to post the review, she got the approval.

  “A bit late,” Paige murmured. She hoped the review would help curb her readers’ obsession with this Torrian Smallwood thing. Their online sparring match had been a nice boost to her readership, but it was time for it to end. The disquiet she’d sensed in Torrian had been real. He was genuinely concerned about what this was doing to his reputation, and the impact it could have on the restaurant he was so generously opening so his sister could live out her dream.

  It was hard to ignore the tug on her heart every time she recalled the sincerity she’d witnessed in his eyes.

  She went into the kitchen to make tea. As she reached for the honey, Paige noticed something familiar in the corner of her eye. She turned to the television. Her picture from the blog shared a split screen with a picture of Torrian in a Sabers uniform. Paige dived for the remote and raised the volume.

  “…the most heated exchange the Fire Starter has ever had. Local entertainment columnist Paige Turner shows she isn’t star-struck by the Sabers star player. When it comes to her book reviews, Ms. Turner is an equal opportunity attacker.”

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Paige groaned. She folded her arms on the bar and dropped her head on them. Making the evening news was not going to help in burying Torrian’s review.

  She was itching to check the site statistics on her blog, but she had to get ready for the weekly staff meeting at Big Apple Weekly. Paige turned off the fire under the tea kettle and left her teacup sitting on the counter untouched. She quickly dressed and twenty minutes later, walked into the offices at Big Apple Weekly.

  “They’re meeting in the smaller conference room,” Veronica, the receptionist, informed her.

  As she walked down the hallway, Paige noticed the larger conference room was stacked with boxes. Kaydie, the intern, and Mitchell, the lead Web designer, were sitting at the table in the smaller conference room when Paige entered.

  “What’s going on?” She pointed toward the other conference room.

  “Peter’s wife threw him out again,” Mitchell answered, his eyes never leaving the screen of his laptop. Peter Pedlam’s wife threw him out of the house at least twice a year.

  “Your blog has been getting major traffic,” Kaydie said to Paige.

  “Yes, I know,” Paige answered. “Although I’m not sure how good all this attention is.”

  “Any attention is good attention.”

  Angela entered the room, quickly followed by the other half of the Pedlam brothers, Jory, who, by all accounts, had a fairly stable relationship with his wife.

  “Peter won’t be joining us,” Jory said by way of greeting.

  “We figured,” Mitchell said, still staring at the computer.

  It took less than twenty minutes to go through the weekly staff meeting’s normal agenda.

  Jory turned his attention to Paige. “Lastly, I received a call from KWEZ, Channel 10. They have a proposal for a news segment featuring Paige.”

  Paige sat up straight. “What kind of proposal?”

  “They want to bring you and Torrian together on their show. They’d like to meet with us tomorrow.”

  Paige shook her head. “I don’t know about that, Jory.” How was she supposed to bury this thing with Torrian if people kept bringing it up?

  “Don’t be so quick to say no. I think it’s in the best interest of both you and Big Apple Weekly to at least listen to what they propose.”

  Anytime Jory used the in-the-best-interest line, Paige knew he’d pretty much made up his mind on the subject. She needed to convince him otherwise.

  “Jory, this thing with the Smallwood book has gotten way out of hand. I’d rather it die a natural death than to continue fueling the fire by appearing on the news.”

  Jory gave her a peculiar look. “I’m not saying you have to do it, but you should listen to what they have to say.” He addressed the rest of the room’s occupants. “That’s all for now.”

  “Jory, can I speak with you?” Paige called before he could follow the others.

  Her boss turned with his hands up. “This can be a good thing, Paige. Just trust me,” he said.

  “Are you kidding me? Have you even read the back-and-forth between us on the blog?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “And yet you can say this could be a good thing with a straight face? Impressive, Jory.”

  “Paige, just…” Jory’s jaw twitched. “Look, you are at a pivotal point in your career. Trust me when I say you want to see this through.”

  There was something in his voice that caught Paige’s attention. “What’s going on?”

  His eyes widened in feigned surprised, but he didn’t do the innocent act well.

  “Fess up,” Paige said.

  “Fine, but if this falls through, you only have yourself to blame for being disappointed. There’s talk of syndication,” Jory continued. He put his hands up, staving off her inquiry. “I don’t have specifics yet, so don’t even ask. But yes, there has been talk.”

  The air in the room seemed to dry up instantaneously. Paige was so shocked she could hardly breathe.

  She’d been happy writing for Big Apple Weekly these past few years, but her goal—as with any journalist—had always been to see her name in print in a major paper. Paige knew syndication of her entertainment column was a huge jump in the direction of a columnist position with one of the bigger papers. Her blood began to pump faster just at the thought.

  “That’s why I want you to meet with KWEZ tomorrow,” Jory continued. “This can be a huge move for you, career-wise.”

  “Whatever this is,” Paige said. “What if whatever the station suggests makes me look like a fool?”

  “Any buzz you can generate would be a mark in the plus column.”

  Jory was right. It was all about exposure. That was the whole point of being syndicated, to expose as many readers to her writing as she could. Good God. Syndication. Paige could hardly wrap her brain around it.

  “What time is tomorrow’s meeting?” she asked Jory.

  Her boss smiled. “Eleven a.m. I’ll see you there.”

  Torrian entered through the revolving glass door of the building on West 57th. KWEZ Channel 10 was on the twenty-eighth floor. It took him and his agent, David Sage, a full ten minutes to make it across the atrium to the bank of elevators. Even businessmen had kids who wanted autographs.

  “You ever get tired of that?” David asked with a sly grin as he held open the door to a surprisingly empty elevator car.

  Torrian shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”

  “Hold the elevator, please,” came a voice he’d been hearing in his dreams.

  Paige Turner, flanked on either side by men in business suits, appeared in the open elevator door. Torrian experienced the same jolt of sensation that shocked his system whenever he occupied the same space with her. What was it about this woman that caused his heart rate to go from zero to sixty in less than a second?

  He moved to the side and gave her a gentlemanly nod. “Good morning, Ms. Turner.”

  She walked into the elevator. “Good morning to you, Mr. Smallwood.”

  Damn, her voice was sexy, and she smelled like lemon and some type of
flower. He didn’t know which one, but it was soft and sweet and perfect for her.

  One of her flankers jutted his hand out. “Torrian, how are you doing? Jory Pedlam.” He gestured to the second guy. “This is my brother Peter. We’re co-owners of Big Apple Weekly.”

  “Nice to meet you both,” Torrian answered. He turned so he could bring Paige into his line of vision. He wanted to see her. “I’ve learned a lot about your magazine over the past couple of weeks.” He gestured toward David. “This is my agent, David Sage.”

  “Ah, yes,” Peter Pedlam said. “You’ve scored some major clients in the past couple of years.”

  “None as big as number eighty-eight here,” Jory put in.

  Torrian noticed Paige’s eye roll. Obviously, she wasn’t as impressed by David’s client list as her bosses.

  He leaned closer and said in a low voice, “How are you doing this morning?”

  “Just fine,” she answered. “Curious as to what this is all about.”

  “So am I,” he agreed. In fact, Torrian had debated whether he should even be here. The media, for the most part, had been kind to him. But they could turn on you in an instant. David had badgered the producer who’d called to set up this meeting, but all he could pry out of her was that they wanted to discuss a charity fundraiser revolving around Paige and Torrian’s blog war.

  On the twenty-eighth floor they were immediately greeted by a guy in khakis and a polo-style shirt with the KWEZ logo on the breast pocket. He led them into a conference room. In one corner was a bar with two coffee carafes, pitchers of both orange juice and iced water, and a basket of pastries.

  The men waited for Paige to take her seat. Her eyes roamed around the table. “Oh, please. Just sit down,” she said. She leveled Peter and Jory with a glare. “I’ve told you both before that all this chivalrous stuff freaks me out. I’m used to two brothers who both would pull my hair and slip frogs under my bed sheets.”

  “So, that’s where you learned to hold your own when you’re up against the big boys?” Jory laughed.