v
Up until that moment Cathy had been under the impression that athletes were to refrain from sex before an important game. But it seemed that no one had bothered to tell this to Marcus.
Pressed up as they were against the dishwasher, soft and sweet kisses started bursting into white-hot passion. Just as Cathy tried to get her bearings, Marcus kissed her neck while he skillfully unbuttoned her shirt with one hand. When her shirt lay on the floor, his eyes widened at the sight of her ample caramel breasts. They were so inviting in her sexy black lace bra.
“You’re gorgeous.” He panted. Thank God I wore a pretty bra, she thought to herself. Somehow I don’t think an industrial bra would have elicited this reaction.
Before she could say a word he kissed her neck and breasts. With sleight of hand, he undid her bra and caressed her breasts slowly and deliberately. Whoever said all you needed was a handful obviously didn’t know what he was thinking about, Marcus thought. I’ll take two handfuls any day.
Marcus pulled this shirt off and threw it to the floor. Cathy suddenly forgot how to breathe. He looked good in pinstripes but shirtless he was amazing. She ran her hands down his toned chest to his six pack abs; her hands were anxious to explore more of his tight, muscular body.
Marcus continued exploring the softness of all her curves. He ran his fingers through her hair, down her neck and then ever so slowly down her back. He paused to unbutton her pants and slowly pulled the zipper down. He felt her body tighten as he inched ever closer to the sweet spot just beyond.
NOT HIS TYPE
CHAMEIN CANTON
Genesis Press, Inc.
Indigo
An imprint of Genesis Press, Inc. Publishing Company Genesis Press, Inc. P.O. Box 101
Columbus, MS 39703
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, not known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission of the publisher, Genesis Press, Inc. For information write Genesis Press, Inc., P.O. Box 101, Columbus, MS 39703.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.
Copyright© 2007 by Chamein Canton. All rights reserved. ISBN-13: 978-158571-253-3
ISBN-10: 1-58571-253-1
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition Visit us at www.genesis-press.com or call at 1-888-Indigo-1
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to all the women out there who are afraid of rejection, may you be emboldened to take a chance on love. Your heart will thank you for it.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Writers lead somewhat of a solitary existence. However, no writer is an island. We need the support, love and encouragement of our families and friends, to whom we owe so much. I send my love to:
My fantastic family, most particularly my dad, Leonard Canton, Jr., who never gave up on me even when I wanted to give up on myself; my mother, Mary Wallace, whose Southern ways gave me an odd sense of humor; my younger and only sister, Natalie Sherman, who has turned out to be my best friend; my brother-in-law, Donell Sherman, who has made my sister happy and is a wonderful uncle to Sean and Scott; my brother in spirit, Joel Woodard, the big brother I never had but love just the same; to my twin uncles, Calvin and Cecil Canton, teachers who spent many summers nurturing my love of reading; and to my twin sons, Sean and Scott, who are simply the most wonderful sons any mother could have, I love them more than anything. And to all my family too numerous to mention, but no less important in my eyes.
My wonderful boyfriend, Michael Bressler, who opened my eyes and my heart to what real love is.
My grandmothers, Grandma Salley and Grandma Canton; my great-grandmother, Dorothy Donadelle; my Auntie Ruth, Aunt Edna and Uncle Willis who, although they’re gone, made an impression on my life and the woman I’ve become.
To my small circle of friends: Ed Kemnitzer, James Weil and Eric Smith. Thanks for being there, guys!
To my wonderful team at Genesis Press who put their faith in me and gave me a platform for my words and stories. You’re the best!
For my favorite team, The New York Yankees, and to #2 for being the epitome of style and grace under pressure both on and off the field!
CHAPTER 1
In the moments before Cathy Chambers stepped out of bed to get her day started she turned on the TV to see what The Weather Channel had in store for her. More red than yellow on the map meant the three Hs, hot, haze and humidity, would stick around, at least for the foreseeable future. Another hot day courtesy of the greenhouse effect. She sighed. Then a light smile washed over her face as she remembered the days when she could count on a fall cool down in September. Cathy had been one of the nerdy kids who actually looked forward to going back to school. Growing up, her summers were filled with religious meetings five times a week and a daily door-to-door ministry during the dog days of summer. Back to school meant a reprieve from her summer grind. The only downside was the end of summer meant the end of the regular baseball season. It wasn’t all bad, though. Her favorite men in pinstripes always made it to the post season.
Thinking about the Yankees, Cathy changed the channel to see the baseball results from the night before, but the ESPN scroll was showing results from the National League. I missed it, she sighed. Since it was already four twenty-five, Cathy knew she didn’t have time to waste waiting for it to loop around to the American League again. She had a business lunch and staff meeting in Manhattan.
Slowly but surely Cathy’s morning routine unfurled: She washed her face, put her shower cap on and hopped into the shower. She preferred baths but the time manager in her opted for showers as a time saver. After a quick ten minutes, she hopped out, then dabbed a little Oil of Olay on her face, a tip courtesy of her mother. Although she tended to balk at some of her mother’s other suggestions, this one she followed. Despite being over sixty, Elizabeth, Cathy’s mother, had very few lines on her face.
Covered by a towel, Cathy stood in front of her closet and searched for just the right outfit. A full-figured woman for most of her life, she had a keen eye for what worked with or against her curves. After studying the closet’s contents for a moment, she held a Yankee blue v-neck shirt dress up against her and examined herself in the full length mirror. The blue complemented her caramel complexion and the v-neck would enhance her biggest assets, her boobs.
Good choice, she mumbled aloud. It’s authoritative yet feminine, and a little sexy. Cathy laid the dress on her bed and continued getting ready.
Makeup flawless and dressed to the nines, Cathy went outside to get the newspapers on her way to the kitchen. She glanced at the headlines, then flipped over to the sports page before she tossed the paper on the dining room table. A long time magazine junkie, Cathy’s business was such that she rarely got the chance to catch up. But this morning was different; she put the latest Glamour on the hutch so she wouldn’t forget to read it. One out of eight, I guess that’s not too bad, she thought as she glanced at the pile of magazines she had yet to read.
However, there was one important piece of business to take care of first: her morning coffee, which she fixed in a flash. With Glamour in one hand and her coffee mug in the other, she sat at the kitchen table. The morning silence was broken by the sound of her sister rummaging through her closet. Ten to one she’s looking for shoes, Cathy thought, snickering softly, knowing her sister to be qu
ite the shoehorse.
The aroma of baked muffins from the night before was still in the air when Anna entered the kitchen. Four years younger than Cathy, Anna put the idea of the mousy accountant in the dust. At 6’1 she made a traditional skirt suit or pant suit look as if it belonged on the runways of Milan. Her shoulder length brown hair framed her high cheekbones and perfect oval-shaped face to give her a soft look that belied her frank and precise nature. Anna was definitely not the stereotypical accountant and it had taken a secure brother to win her heart. Her fiancé was Roger Beckett, an electrical engineer, who at 6’3 loved being seen with his tall mocha latte, as he called her, a reference to her glowing, even complexion. “Another morning filled with fresh baked goods. You know I’m going to gain at least ten pounds this summer.” Anna patted her thighs.
“You can blame it on me,” Catherine laughed. “It should be so easy.” She checked out Cathy’s outfit. “You look nice this morning. “
“Thanks, Anna. I’m heading into Manhattan later on.” Anna nodded her head before turning her attention to
the muffins. “How many carbs are in the muffins?” Cathy thought for a moment. “Twelve. I used Splenda to lower the sugar.”
Anna, an insulin dependent diabetic, programmed the number into her pump.
“Are the papers here yet?” Anna asked.
“They’re on the dining room table.” Cathy pointed to the table.
Anna retrieved the papers from the dining room table. She stopped to giggle.
Cathy looked up. “What’s so funny?”
“You didn’t see this?”
Cathy raised her eyebrows. “You know I’m only interested in the sports page in the morning.”
Anna chuckled. “I’ll never understand why. You watched the game last night. You know your Yankees won.”
“True, but you know how I am during the season.”
“How could I forget?” Anna paused to read the back page. “I see your man was on point last night.”
Cathy let out a dreamy sigh. “I’ll say. He was three for four last night.”
Smiling, Anna shook her head. “Why can’t you be into basketball like the rest of the sistahs?”
Cathy looked up with a wry smile. “Because basketball wasn’t our summer reprieve, baseball was.”
Reminded, Anna backed down. “You’re right about that. I don’t know what came over me.”
“So what’s happening in the gossip columns?” Cathy said as she turned her attention back to the magazine.
“It seems the gossip columns can’t decide whether Britney has lost or gained weight after having a baby. Then there’s another blurb here about a model who had a month to get the baby weight off for a fashion show.”
Cathy hung her head, disgusted. “Nine months to put it on and thirty days to take it off. You see why I stick to the sports page. That’s ridiculous.”
“Tell me about it.” Anna tossed the newspapers on the table while she made her tea. “If you’re not reading the paper, what’s so interesting?”
“An article in this month’s Glamour I’ve been meaning to read.”
Anna sat down with her muffin and tea. “What’s it about?”
“Sex, of course,” Cathy chirped.
“Figures.”
“The article is fascinating. Women are revealing their true number of sexual partners.”
“Must be anonymous.”
“Of course, women never reveal such things unless it’s to complete strangers.”
“So how do we stack up?”
Cathy laughed. “We’re in the embryonic league.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m no heavy hitter, but I can’t be that bad.”
“You’re also engaged.”
Anna beamed at her princess cut diamond engagement ring. “True. When’s the last time you had sex?”
“It’s been so long I think I might be a reconstituted virgin. Mother will be so proud.”
“I wouldn’t go around telling anyone that,” Anna cautioned.
“Career wise, I’m a 21st century woman.” “With a sex life from the 1800s. We’re not living our lives to please Mom anymore. We can’t.”
“We couldn’t please her if we wanted to. As far as she’s concerned we might as well install a revolving door and put golden arches over our bedrooms.” Cathy leaned back in the chair.
“You’re right about that,” Anna said sipping her tea.
Ten years ago Cathy and Anna had been members of a religion that didn’t celebrate holidays or birthdays. Dating was permitted with a chaperone or in a group as long as the couple intended to get married. This rule applied to twenty-somethings to forty-somethings and beyond. Needless to say, premarital sex was definitely way off limits. After years of feeling confined, Cathy and Anna left the fold to pursue a more normal adult life without restrictions. Although they didn’t go buck wild, Elizabeth, their mother, was concerned that was exactly what they did, and there was no talking her out of that belief.
“My lack of a sex life has nothing to do with Mom. I just decided to take some time off from relationships and dating. I’m concentrating on my health and my business,” Cathy said.
“You’re hopeless. Ivy League education and this is what you do with it. You know there is only so much cooking, cleaning, walking and working you can do to work off your sexual tension.”
Cathy was floored. “What sexual tension?”
“Listen, sister, I’ve caught you detailing the kitchen floor grout with a toothbrush at two o’clock in the morning.”
“So you caught me once or twice, that’s not a big deal.”
“You also bake like a fiend in the early hours too.”
“So? I like to bake.”
“So you had a little after hours energy and you really wanted to do someone, not something.” She sipped her tea. “On the other hand, you could be Madison and lose count of who’s warming the sheets every other night.”
“He’s a legend in his own mind. A divorce attorney with a capital D. I think he leaves his cell phone on vibrate to save time on his off nights.”
There was a knock on the door.
Cathy looked at her watch. “It’s about that time. It’s Madison.”
“What’s up with him?”
“His car is in the shop.”
“That figures. The door’s open!” Anna yelled.
Doing what could only be termed as his George Jefferson strut, Cathy and Anna’s first cousin Madison walked in. Madison had been one of the few African Americans to make Law Review. He had since taken his degree and translated it into a thriving matrimonial law practice. His reputation as a hard line negotiator and prenuptial agreement buster kept his appointment calendar full. Always concerned with his appearance, Madison put the metro in metrosexual long before Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. At 5’6 he was one of the shorter people in the family. However, what he lacked in height he made up for in attitude and style, winning over clients and judges alike. His motto was, ‘Barrister defend thy clients as thy would defend thyself.’ It was a lesson he learned early after getting burned by his own divorce. Now Madison lived his love life à la carte, sampling as many women as humanly possible. This was a habit which got him in more trouble with women than it was worth.
Head held high, Madison strutted in. “I could have melted waiting for you two to open the door.”
“This isn’t the courtroom. You don’t have make such a dramatic entrance. You surely do not impress us.” Anna crossed her legs.
“Not to mention you’re wearing your custom suit from Brooks Brothers.”
Cathy sipped her coffee. “Your car’s in the shop. How did you get over here?”
“Rena gave me a ride in her shiny new Jaguar.”
“Rena. The one woman you can’t have,” Cathy said.
He grabbed a muffin. “She is a lesbian, you know. While the thought appeals to me, she’s not having it.”
“Rena has a new Jag?” Anna asked.
&
nbsp; “Yeah, even lesbians drive chick magnets.”
“Except they call it a clit magnet and they know where to find it, which is more than I can say for some men, my fiancé excluded.”
“You are most certainly not talking about me; I’m familiar with the terrain.”
Cathy covered her mouth. “God, you know how to ruin someone’s appetite in the morning.”
“He said terrain. Talk about a misnomer,” Anna quipped.
“Ha, ha, very funny.” Madison barked.
“I still don’t know why you bought that linen suit; your pants will look like an elephant’s butt at the end of the day,” Cathy teased Madison.
Anna burst out laughing.
“I look damn fine. Would it kill you two to agree with me once in a while?”
“You already have a harem for that,” Anna joked.
He turned to Cathy. “So what are you wearing, Ms. Chambers?”
She put her magazine down. “Cotton. I don’t want people to feel compelled to throw peanuts at my butt every time I get up.”
Anna snickered but again Madison wasn’t amused.
“You’re heading into the city, right?” Anna asked.
Cathy nodded. “We have a staff meeting.”
Madison looked surprised. “You’re not doing the home office thing today?”
“No.” Cathy sighed at the thought of a long day. “It’s a mandatory meeting, but I won’t be in Manhattan for too long.”
Anna stood up. “I’ll call the president on my way to work and remind her that you’re not going to be home today.”
Cathy cracked a smile. “That’s right, she wanted to go shopping. I have to neglect my duties of state.” She tapped her hands on the table to the beat of ‘Hail to the Chief.’
The president thing was a running joke with Cathy and Anna. Somehow their mother hadn’t gotten the message they’re adults.
“Don’t worry, she’ll probably go with Ingrid,” Anna shrugged it off.
“Imagine that, and I wore the right bra and everything,” Cathy joked.
Not His Type Page 1
