Date Cute Marry Rich

by Alexis Nicole

  OMG! Malcolm!

  How had I forgotten about the most important man in my life?

  Now I was in serious moving mode. I couldn’t wait to tell Malcolm. We rushed out of the courtroom, and as we made it outside, I grabbed my cell phone from my purse. There was no way I was going to be able to wait to tell Malcolm.

  “We need to celebrate this one,” Jason said. “I’m not even going back to the office.”

  “No need to do that,” Nicole agreed. “Let’s party! Where should we go? Any ideas, Chyanne?”

  I glanced up from my cell. “It doesn’t matter to me. You guys can choose. But wherever we go, I’ll meet you there. I want to run back to the office for just a sec.”

  Jason groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re going to work? Come on. This is huge. We have to celebrate.”

  “And I want to. Really, I’m not going to be long. Just want to make a few calls,” I said, glancing down at my cell. Malcolm’s number was right there, and I couldn’t wait to tell my man this great news.

  “Oh, yeah,” Jason said. “I guess you gotta call your friends, especially your man.”

  My eyes widened, and I dropped my cell back into my purse. “What do you mean?” I demanded to know. My heart was already pounding. Did people know that Malcolm and I were an item, after we’d been so careful?

  “Whoa!” Jason stepped back. “I didn’t mean a thing.”

  “You said my man,” I barked, as if I was interrogating him.

  “I was just sayin’. I mean, a girl as fine as you gotta have a man.”

  “Uh,” Nicole said, stepping in, “we won’t even begin to talk about how sexist that remark is.”

  “Look, ladies, I’m not about to get into a fight with the two who just won this case. All I’m gonna do for the rest of the night is drink!”

  “That’s more like it.” Nicole laughed.

  But I didn’t find a thing funny. There was no way anyone could ever find out about me and Malcolm. Malcolm had made it perfectly clear that our relationship could jeopardize both of our careers at Bailey, Booker, and Smith. And I wasn’t about to put Malcolm in that kind of situation.

  Though I did wonder what was going to happen in the future. I mean, it was clear that our relationship could be categorized as serious and was heading toward the next level. But if I kept winning cases like this, it would be a nonissue. The firm would be crazy not to want to keep both of us.

  But until that happened, I had no problem keeping our relationship on the down low. It was easy here; unlike many other places I’d worked, there wasn’t any gossip, no talk of the partners at all, at least not with the crew I hung out with. That made it all the easier for me. No one asked about my private life, and I didn’t ask about theirs.

  “Okay,” I said, getting my regular voice back. “I’ll meet you guys over at Chelsea’s. Give me about an hour,” I said as I hailed a cab right in front of the courthouse.

  After I gave the driver the address, I called Malcolm, but the call went straight to voice mail. That was okay—I was sure that he was in the office and would hear the news soon. And now I could just use this short ride uptown to bask for a few minutes in this victory. Even though this was the outcome that I’d worked eighteen hours a day to achieve, I still couldn’t believe it had happened for me.

  Inside the office my assistant met me at the elevator. With the way she was beaming, I knew she had already heard. “Congratulations,” she sang before I could say a word.

  “Wow! I guess what they say about good news traveling fast is true.”

  “Yeah! Everyone in the office already knows.”

  I stepped through the hall and into my office with my three-inch pumps hardly touching the floor. Closing the door behind me, I inhaled the air.

  Ah, victory smelled so sweet.

  Rushing to my desk, I picked up the phone and tried Malcolm once more. Voice mail again. But I didn’t dwell on that. There were some other folks I had to contact to tell this fantastic news.

  I dialed another number.

  “Hey, girl,” Skye said the moment she answered the phone. “What’s up?”

  “Just hold on,” I said, without even saying hello. “Hold, hold, hold!” I clicked over, dialed Devin’s number, and when he picked up, I connected the three of us.

  “Okay, we’re all here?”

  “Yes,” my crew sang, as if they were in a chorus.

  Devin said, “What’s up, Ms. Chyanne?”

  “I have some news for you guys. I won . . . I won my first case!”

  My crew cheered, just like I knew they would. The three of us always had each other’s backs that way.

  “You won?” Devin asked. “You actually won?”

  “Yeah, you sound surprised.”

  “Well, I am. I mean, I’m not, really. But . . . this is big!” Devin exclaimed. “Chyanne, do you know how big this is?”

  Skye and I laughed at Devin’s silliness.

  “We have got to get together and celebrate,” Skye said.

  “For real,” Devin agreed. “Let’s set it up for tomorrow night. Right after work. And nobody can cancel, Ms. Chyanne. And nobody can be late, Ms. Skye.”

  “What you trying to say?” Skye and I said together, and then all three of us laughed.

  “Okay, tomorrow it is,” I said. But before I could say anything else, there was a quick knock on my door. Three men entered, and I gave my friends a quick good-bye before I stood in front of three of the partners of the firm—Calvin Bailey III, Patrick Henderson, and my man, Malcolm.

  But even though Malcolm was there, I was still intimidated by the presence of the other two, who were actually there, in my little office. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel worthy. I did.... I’d just won this case. It was just that I was in the presence of legal royalty. Calvin Bailey was the grandson of the man who’d founded the firm. He was from a long line of wealth and influence, and his entire bearing—the way he walked with his head high and his back so straight—told that story. Next to him was the man whom the firm had stolen away from another top firm ten years ago, and Patrick Henderson had lost only five cases in his thirty-year career!

  And now these two stood in my office, just staring at me, and all I kept thinking was, Thank God I’d won the case. The silence was so long and so loud that it was driving me crazy—and I just wanted them to say something, anything.

  It was Mr. Bailey who finally spoke first. “Well, young lady, we just wanted to officially congratulate you on a terrific win. We are aware that you have worked on several high-profile cases, and to win a case like this as a first chair is a big accomplishment for a younger attorney. Definitely the kind of things this firm needs.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Mr. Henderson added, “We are proud of you and glad that you’re a part of Bailey, Booker, and Smith.”

  I wanted to think of something intellectual or at least clever to say, and all I could come up with was, “Thank you,” again. I was sure it was Malcolm’s turn to say something, but all he did was smile.

  Mr. Bailey said, “We’re here to not only offer our congratulations, but we’d like you to come to the firm’s gala.”

  Okay, now I had something else to say. “Really?” OMG! This was a big deal. The summer gala was for the most senior of associates, and it was kind of a midyear celebration. I had never heard of a junior associate being invited.

  “Thank you,” I said to all three of them, though Malcolm looked like he was a little surprised by the invitation. “I would love to attend.”

  “Good. My secretary will get the invitation to you, and I just want you to know, Chyanne, that we expect to see lots of good things from you.”

  “Yes. Definitely.”

  Mr. Bailey and Mr. Henderson turned to leave, but Malcolm lingered behind. When we were alone, he closed the door, and it didn’t take two seconds for me to be in his arms. He kissed me with a passion that we normally reserved for the bedroom, and when we stepped away from each othe
r, I was breathless.

  “I am so proud of you,” he said.

  “Thanks! I can’t believe I did it.”

  “You were well prepared.”

  “Because of you. Thank you for all you did for me.”

  “You’re welcome—not that I had to do much. You had it under control the whole time.”

  Yeah, right! If he only knew that for the last week I’d spent half my life on my knees, hugging the toilet bowl. “Thanks, but I’m telling you, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you. And can you believe that I was invited to the gala?”

  The smile that was on Malcolm’s face dimmed just a little. “Yeah, they didn’t tell me about that. It’s nice.... It’s just that . . .”

  I frowned. “What?” But before he answered, I said, “Oh, I know we won’t be able to go together.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “And that might be awkward.”

  “Why?” I smiled. “You don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you?”

  “Actually . . . I was thinking it was the other way around.” He pulled me into his arms. “How will I keep my hands off of you?”

  We both laughed.

  “We’ll talk about this some more later,” he said. “So, I take it that you’re going to go out to celebrate with Nicole and Jason.”

  I nodded. “But you know I want to celebrate with you.”

  He kissed me again, and I hoped that was his answer. He said, “I have some work I have to finish up here, but I’ll call you and we can hook up at your place.”

  That was not exactly the celebration I wanted—I was hoping that he would sweep me away and take me out to a fabulous dinner. Because of our positions at the firm, I knew we had to be careful but we could go anywhere and not run into anyone. I wasn’t all that excited about just being in my apartment . . . once again.

  But did that matter? It really was all about the two of us being together—no matter where we were.

  “Okay,” I said, already shivering at the thought of all that we would do tonight in my bed.

  When he kissed me again, I sighed. If he didn’t get out of here, I was going to tear this man’s clothes off of him right here in this office.

  Finally, he left me alone, to bask in the wonderfulness of my life.

  Chapter 12

  Skye

  My life was a whirlwind of wonder.

  First there was work. My boss was so excited about some of the new designs I’d come up with in the past week . . . my black-and-white collection, I called it. She had decided to include three of my dresses in her next spring line, and can I tell you . . . I was ecstatic!

  Of course, this collection had been inspired by the man in my life. OMG! I was totally and completely smitten by Noah! I laughed at that word—smitten. It sounded old like lamb stew. And we all know how that turned out: absolutely wonderful.

  Noah was everything that I expected a man to be. He was still smart, sweet, kind and fine. But I was beginning to know this man on another level—through his passion. Of course, I’d already seen his passion in his work, when he created and when he just talked about his art. But I had also now been introduced to his passion . . . as a man . . . with a woman.

  No, we had not yet taken our relationship to the ultimate level. But we had progressed from just kissing. And the way he kissed me and touched me and held me, trust me, it was hard not to go all the way.

  I was glad that Noah and I were taking it slow, although in my heart, I knew what we had together was real. I didn’t want to get too excited about this, though, didn’t want to get all ahead of myself and start thinking about matching monogrammed towels in our master bedroom. But there were just some things that a girl knew—and what this girl knew was that Noah Calhoun was the man for me.

  That was why I couldn’t wait to see my crew. It had been too long since we’d gotten together, and tonight we would be celebrating more than Chyanne’s big win. When I told Chyanne and Devin about Noah, I knew for sure that they were going to be just as happy for me.

  I slipped into the jacket I’d designed, even though New York was having one of those summer days in May. But a fashionista like me still had to be cute at all times. And this dress needed this little cropped jacket.

  I took two steps to the door, and it happened.... It always happened. My phone rang. This time, though, when I glanced at the caller ID, I didn’t do anything but grin and then grab that phone.

  “Hey, babe,” I said.

  His voice was low, seductive. “What you doing?”

  “Thinking about you.”

  “Good answer.” He laughed.

  I chuckled, too. “No, really, I was just thinking about you.”

  “Good thoughts?”

  “Are there any other kind when it comes to you . . . and me?”

  “Absolutely not,” he answered. “So, what time can I see you tonight?”

  I slumped down into my chair. “Oh, babe. I can’t. I forgot to tell you when we talked last night that I was meeting up with Chyanne and Devin for dinner.”

  He chuckled a little. “Well, I can understand you forgetting. We weren’t exactly, uh, having a normal conversation.”

  Noah had that right! Our talk had gotten so hot and heavy that after I hung up, I dreamed about him all night long. Dang, I needed to be with my man tonight. “It’s just that I haven’t hooked up with Chyanne and Devin in a month, and if I cancel . . .”

  “No, no, no, no, no! Don’t cancel,” he said. “I understand.”

  Even though those were his words, I could hear the disappointment in his voice. I recognized it instantly because it was exactly what I was feeling. I said, “But tomorrow . . .”

  “Oh, yeah, babe. We have a lifetime of tomorrows.”

  See? This is what I was talking about.

  “But definitely tomorrow,” he said, “because there’s something I want to give you.”

  I sat up straight. “Really? What is it?”

  “Tomorrow,” was all he said.

  “No, please,” I whined. “Tell me now.”

  “Okay, I can tell that we haven’t known each other long enough, or else you would know there ain’t no way I’m giving up any information. No matter how much pleading, no matter how many pretty pleases it ain’t gonna happen till tomorrow.”

  I laughed. “All right,” I said, as if I was pouting, though I was grinning so hard, my face was starting to hurt.

  We said our good-byes, and I almost skipped out of the office. It was only five, and I wasn’t hooking up with Chyanne and Devin until seven. There were a couple of errands I wanted to run before I caught up with my crew, but first, I needed my second daily dose of java. I hadn’t had any coffee since this morning; I’d worked through lunch and even my normal mid-afternoon break since I knew I was going to be leaving early.

  So that was going to be my first stop. Except the Starbucks on the corner had a line of people ten deep. Dang. Had everyone missed their midday coffee break? I wasn’t about to stand on this line.

  Then I thought, Why not? I had time. But waiting for me was not going to be pretty. I glanced at my watch, crossed my arms, started tapping my foot, and tried to pretend that I had some semblance of patience.

  Of course, patience wasn’t a virtue that I’d been given, but I wasn’t alone. The man in front of me seemed to have even less than I did.

  He was on his cell phone, barking orders to someone about making sure he “got that bid”—whatever that meant. But every couple of seconds he inserted something into his conversation like, “Why the hell don’t they have more people working here?”

  The line was long, and I didn’t want to wait, but at least I wasn’t about to curse anyone out.

  Finally, he clicked off his phone, said, “I can’t believe I’m standing in a doggone coffee line.”

  He kinda said that into the air, not talking to anyone in particular. But even though I couldn’t see his face, I could tell that he was pissed. He stood with his back still to
me, shifting from one leg to the other. He towered over my five-foot-five-inch frame by almost a foot. But what really caught my eye was the classic, custom-made deep olive suit he was wearing. How did I know it was tailor-made? First of all, it fit his body better than any leather glove would fit his hand. And remember, I knew fashion. I knew a tailored suit when I saw one.

  “I’m outta here,” he said before he suddenly spun around so fast that he bumped right into me, almost toppling me over.

  Dang.

  “Oh! Oh, my bad.” He grabbed me by the shoulders and held me until I was once again steady on my feet.

  Dang, I thought again. What was it about me that had all these men almost knocking me over? Not that I minded—because now that he faced me, I got a full frontal view of this man, who was as good-looking as anyone I’d seen in New York.

  My goodness. Fineness was running rampant in New York City!

  This dude had hazel eyes, caramel-colored skin, and what I loved best was the facial hair that covered a good portion of his face. No, it wasn’t a full-fledged beard. He had more of a shadow, which just added an air of mystery to this stranger.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Are you all right?”

  How many weeks had passed since Noah had said those same words to me?

  I chuckled. “I’m fine,” I said to the stranger. “You’re okay.”

  “I really am sorry,” he said. But the man, who was in such a hurry just seconds ago, didn’t make a move to leave now. Instead, he gazed at me . . . his eyes giving me the once-over.

  Oh, he tried to be subtle about it; he looked me up and down with class.

  It did make me a little bit uncomfortable, though, the way he stared at me, so I said, “Really, you can go. I’m fine.”

  “You sure are.” He shook his head. “I didn’t know they sold lottery tickets in here.”

  I frowned.

  He kept on. “’Cause I just hit the jackpot.”

  Oh, that was cute. Corny, but cute.

  He reached his hand toward me. “Trent Hamilton.”

  I took his hand. “Skye Davenport.”

  “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”