HERO SERIES: FIRE & DESIRE
Yvette Hines writing as Monique Lamont
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission by the author.
Hero Series: Fire and Desire
Copyright © 2014, Monique Lamont
Cover Artist: Char Adlesperger
Editor: Deatri King-Bey
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DEDICATION
To my husband and daughter, I thank you both for your love and patience. For every time we were headed somewhere and I said, “I’ll be ready in a minute” and you waited…hours. I love you both with all my heart.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To my family, thanks for your support and understanding every time I brought a laptop to family functions. To my mini fan club La-Tonya, Julinda, Jackie, Pascha, Jeannie and Germany Ladies. To Andrea, Cheryl, Denise and Jasmine, a critique team who’s straight forward and honest, as well as friends. You all are the best. Mark and the other men who reserve our table in a busy Starbucks every Tuesday night when we write, Cheers!
Lastly, but never least, Ms. B. Jenkins who told me, “Don’t worry, it will all work out”. D. K-B., my editor that taught me so much when this book was first released, for your confidence and support I thank you.
Prologue
Five years since the “accident” and his life changed. Trevor still couldn’t release the anger he’d harbored for so many years. Carrying it around with him became as natural as the air he breathed. Over the years, he learned that Manning men got everything handed to them on a silver platter, never struggling for anything. They had the world eating out of their hands because of a smile that could calm babies and woo women—never appearing to get what they so often deserved.
The Mannings of the world could ruin the lives of other people with a smile and an apology. They never knew what it was like to lose something and never fully get it back.
Trevor’s thoughts rambled on, and sweat rolled into his eyes as he brutally attacked his punching bag. He did his best to wipe away the image of Manning from his mind. Just like he had done many times before, he began to repeat his mantra of five years, One day, Christopher “Golden Boy” Manning, you’ll lose something that you hold dear…I’ll see to it personally.
What would you do if you got caught in the revenge you set for someone else?
One
The sounds of running water woke Tiffany. Her world was spinning, and she hadn’t even opened her eyes yet. The emptiness of her stomach cramped with pain, along with the subtle aches in various places on her body. Her mouth was filmy and dry, as if she had been eating a mixture of cheese and cotton all night.
She dragged her body to a seated position, placed her head in her hands and took a few calming breaths before opening her eyes.
Excruciating minutes passed before the topsy-turvy room righted itself enough for her to look around. Her unfocused gaze traveled the room. A sinking feeling came over her. Things weren’t quite right. Instead of being at the townhouse with her friends, she was in bed at a hotel.
Her clothing was scattered in multiple places on the floor, leading her to believe she had been drunk when she’d undressed.
The warmth of the starched sheets against her skin made her very aware that her underclothing had met the same fate.
Tiffany leaned back against the headboard with a groan of disgust. Because she was so focused on trying to figure out how she’d gotten there, she didn’t hear the shower turn off or the bathroom door open.
“Good morning, sunshine,” came a silky baritone voice.
The voice caused heat to radiate up her spin. Tiffany lifted her head slowly, not wanting to believe her ears nor allow the dizziness to attack her again.
While dealing with the shock of her situation, the sight of the male standing in the bathroom doorway was undeniable. He was at least six-two with broad shoulders and skin the color of chocolate satin, which looked smooth and inviting. He stood leaning against the doorframe, his body still glistening from his shower. The only form of modesty he showed was the towel loosely tied and riding low on his hips. Tiffany knew he was the guy from the party.
The desire to kiss his chest assailed her. A quick deep breath helped to clear her mind.
Man, what is coming over me?
Her gaze returned to the sex symbol now lounged against the bathroom door. He looked different without his mask. Especially to anyone who didn’t know he had light brown eyes instead of the dark brown contacts he’d worn during the performance.
Hmm, perfect fit, his words echoed in her mind. Feeling her nipples tighten at the memory of the day before, she pulled the sheet to her chin and held it firmly to cover the evidence of her arousal. “What are you doing here?” she inquired.
He lifted his eyebrow.
Tiffany realized it was a stupid question. Since she didn’t remember booking a room, most likely she was the outsider.
“Let me rephrase that…Why am I here?”
“Where else would you be?”
Tiffany always hated when people answered a question with a question. Being hung over didn’t make it any more likable. “I was supposed to be with my friends in Las Vegas.”
“Well, one out of two isn’t bad,” he said in a voice that brought back vague memories of the previous evening, causing her pulse to accelerate.
“I’m probably going to regret asking this…but what happened last night?” Finding it hard to make eye contact, Tiffany stared down at her hands.
“You don’t remember…anything?” The skepticism was evident in his voice.
Tiffany gazed toward him. “Nothing after mid-night,” she confessed. Glancing at her clothes again, she mumbled, “Can pretty much guess some of it…”
“Hmm…you think?” was all he said.
“It’s not rocket science,” Tiffany informed him. The best defense mechanism—sarcasm.
Tiffany had had enough. She needed to get out of this room. She had a plane to catch that evening, and she wanted to put all of the ugliness of the night before behind her. It took three attempts before she could negotiate her body off the bed without falling over, while keeping the sheet wrapped around her. Seated on the edge of the bed, something caught her eye on the nightstand. She turned and saw the bold writing across the top. Marriage Certificate.
One hand clutched the sheet behind her while she reached for the paper with the other hand and read the names across the bottom, just above the signature of the minister of Eternal Bliss Wedding Chapel.
She snapped her head around to face the person she could only assume was the name and signature below hers—Trevor Wayne. “Tell me this is some kind of joke.” Anger catapulted through her body. It had been a long night, and she felt disgusted with herself. She was not in the mood for any more foolishness.
He looked straight into her eyes. “It’s no joke.”
Tiffany couldn’t st
op the tremor of rage that shook her hand. Throwing the paper down, she began to gather her clothes from the floor as if someone had just yelled fire.
When she located everything but her underwear, she held the bundle to her chest and headed toward the bathroom.
She stopped in front of Trevor, who was still blocking the door. Using the voice she used to put reporters in their place and keep them at bay, she bit out, “Move.”
“It isn’t necessary for you to dress in the bathroom.” A lopsided smile adorned his lips.
Tiffany couldn’t miss the slow roaming of his eyes down her body and the heat that radiated from his body as they stood in close proximity.
“Well, I think it is very necessary, Trevor.”
The calm shrug of his shoulders as he sauntered out of the way annoyed Tiffany.
She waited for him to clear the path, then rushed into the bathroom and stopped cold as she realized that her toga had slid off her body. She closed the door, but not before she caught a glimpse of Trevor with one corner of the sheet in his grasp and a dimple winking in his cheek, confirming he had gotten a full view of her backside.
“Even better than I remember,” she heard the echo of his voice rumble through the door.
Once inside, she immediately moved to the toilet and dropped to her knees with remorse over her alcohol consumption the night before. It was several minutes of dry heaves before she was able to get up. Sheer alarm apprehended her when she noticed her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Her hair was in disarray. Her eyes were blood shot and puffy. The biggest shocker was her nipples, which were swollen, red and tender to the touch. Only one explanation came to her mind for their state—thoroughly suckled.
Tiffany raised her hands to them. She was amazed when her breasts responded by puckering to pebbled points. She quickly dropped her hands. Operating on automatic, she dressed, refusing to ponder what had happened the previous night. After she combed her hair in a bun and splashed cold water on her face, she felt controlled enough to exit the bathroom.
She was relieved to see that Trevor was dressed. She ignored the small voice of disappointment inside of her at seeing his body clothed.
She figured him to be a reasonable man, so she decided to start with logic and a confident smile. “Listen, I don’t know exactly what happened last night. A big part of me never wants to know. Unfortunately, we have to address one of the issues that can’t be allowed to linger. But there’s an easy solution to it.”
Trevor sat on the edge of the bed with his elbows on the top of his knees. “What’s that?”
“Well, evidently…” Tiffany tried not to look at the evidence of the rumpled bed, “an annulment is out of the question. We’re just going to have to get a quickie divorce. It’s Las Vegas. As easily as a wedding can be done, it can be undone.”
“Only one problem with that. It’s Sunday.”
Tiffany hadn’t thought about that. Even cereal-box license law offices in “Sin-City” had to take a day off. “Then you can stay here for a few days…I’ll pay for the room through the week.
Tomorrow you can go down to one of those pop-up courthouses they have for situations like this and get the form. Then FedEx it to me, and I’ll sign it uncontested. Overnight it back and we can be done with it,” Tiffany finished, broadening her confident smile, praying he didn’t realize it was for bravado’s sake.
“Listen, I don’t have time to kill sitting on my butt in some Godforsaken city waiting to do your bidding.”
Her smile dropped, and her anger returned, evident in the trembling of her voice. “Look, I can pay you, if that’s what’s bothering you.” Looking around until she found her small black Coach clutch, she picked it up and opened it. “How many shows do you normally do in a week?”
She whipped out her checkbook, pen poised.
Tiffany could have sworn she heard a growl as he stood up, taking the few steps to bring them eye-to-eye. He’s even sexy when he’s angry.
“I’m not for sale.”
Tiffany’s nerves jumped with his nearness. For the first time that morning, she looked into his eyes and felt a little trepidation. Oh my God. I would be the one to find myself married to a stripper with principles.
Fear was not something she was used to feeling. “Maybe you’re taking this the wrong way. I mean no offense, but you need to understand something…I’m Tiffany Selina.”
“So?”
“The Tiffany Selina. I don’t know if you follow politics in your line of work, but I’m the governor’s daughter.”
“Frankly, in my line of work, I wouldn’t care if you were the Queen of Sheba. I’m not staying.” His tone rose an octave.
“And I can’t be married to a stripper.” Her own pitch elevated to a screeching tone.
They both stood toe-to-toe, almost breathing in each other’s breath.
“Too late.” He punched out through clenched teeth.
“So, you’d stay married to someone you don’t love because it isn’t convenient for you?”
Tiffany threw her hands up in frustration.
“You could always change your plans,” he countered.
“Believe me, if I could, I would.”
“Things probably are different in your class, but in mine, wedding vows are something you honor for life.”
“What vows? We were drunk…God only knows if we even made any.”
“That’s right, but He’s the only one who counts. Well, you do what you have to do,” He said softly.
“Fine!” She turned to walk out of the hotel room.
“Tiffany.”
She stopped her progress toward the door upon hearing her name. A glimmer of hope bubbled in her heart that maybe he’d changed his mind.
When she turned and saw what he held in his hand, the glimmer died.
“You don’t want to forget these. If you got into an accident, you may have to explain how you lost them.”
Marching over to him, she grabbed her panties out of his hand and shoved them in her purse. “It wouldn’t be any worse than having to explain being married to you, if anyone ever found out.”
She turned and stormed out of the room.
~ML~
Trevor could have kicked himself a dozen times. What have I gotten myself into? He repeated the same question to himself after Tiffany left, as he began gathering up his few meager belongings into the overnight bag he’d brought with him when he flew in yesterday afternoon.
His plane was due to leave in two hours, and he needed to get to the airport.
The last thing he grabbed before leaving out of the room was the piece of paper binding him to Tiffany Selina. Leggy, sexy, caramel-brown skinned Tiffany Selina.
He checked out of the casino hotel and took a taxi to the airport.
Once seated in the waiting area with forty-five minutes to spare, he allowed himself to think about the past week—back to when the plan started.
Leslie, his aunt and the owner of Elite Entertainment, had called him at home last weekend in dire need of a dancer. His aunt hadn’t called him in over five years about doing a job for her, not since he’d told her he was focusing on his business and wouldn’t be available to help her in that capacity any longer. The Tiffany Selina, the governor’s daughter and party planner extraordinaire, had just called her about a bachelorette party. He had originally thought maybe it was her own and that she and Manning had decided to do a small secret wedding with family.
But his aunt assured him it was for someone else.
Aunt Leslie was his favorite. They dined at least once a month with each other. Her business had been a tremendous help to him while he was in college. Dancing for her during holidays and summers had allowed him to pay the twenty-five percent of his Ivy League college tuition that his scholarship hadn’t covered.
His aunt told him that providing the entertainment for a party thrown by Miss Selina was a definite opening for her business into another realm of the upper class. All of her other male
dancers were already obligated over the weekend, so none of them would be able to perform.
He originally thought about turning her down, not wanting to jeopardize the contract he was bidding for. Then he discovered the party would not be held at the governor’s family home in Northern Virginia, nor the Governor’s Mansion in Richmond, but in Las Vegas—over 2,400 miles away.
This was a golden opportunity to get even with Manning for what he had done to him years ago. He knew he would never be able to hurt Manning like he’d been hurt, but he figured he could at least wound Manning’s pride. For men like Manning, sometimes that was the best place you could attack them.
He agreed, and within days, his plan was moving into action. When he met Tiffany Selina at the door of the town house, the first thing that struck him was her smile. Her face lit up in a way that the news camera’s lens couldn’t capture. As she gave him a tour, she was warm and friendly, but left no doubt a stripper party was not her type of entertainment. She told him it was something she did per her friend’s request. In no way did she want to be involved in his act.
That was okay with him because the striptease was just how he planned to set the stage.
He’d met women like Tiffany before, women who appeared to keep themselves aloof during the party, but after the show, they were the main ones trying to get him in their beds—a big no-no in his aunt’s company. The reputation of her business was important to her.
He was willing to risk his aunt’s wrath to get back at Manning. This was the last job.
“United Airlines flight number A320 from Las Vegas non-stop to Dulles International is now boarding.”
The efficient voice of the airline’s female ticket agent crackled across the overhead speaker and broke into Trevor’s thoughts. He pulled out his first class ticket from the side pocket of his laptop case and got in line. He flowed with the line until he was able to hand the agent his pass, walked down the jet-bridge, nodded toward the flight attendant, located his seat on the plane, then stowed his laptop case and small overnight bag in the compartment above.
Fire & Desire (Hero Series) Page 1
