Shawna put her hand on the young woman’s trembling shoulder. “Tell me about your brother. Why is this so important to you?” Her eyes strained on the pitcher, who was hurling the ball straight into the pocket of the mitt of the catcher crouching behind home plate.
“Because I owe him.” She lowered her gaze to the bleachers. “I was his big sister and I didn’t protect him.”
Shawna’s hand reached out to cover Shay’s.
“When my mama was in rehab, we ended up with the only family that would take us,” she said, her eyes clouding over with pain. “Our uncle … hurt Deion. It started when he was eleven. Didn’t stop until he was fifteen. Focusing her gaze on her brother “After the first time, I threw away his bloody underwear. We pretended everything was okay.” She swiped away the tears with the back of a trembling hand. “Uncle said Deion would get thrown out of the house if we told. When everything was closin’ in on him, Deion told it. No one believed him. So that’s when he ran away.”
Yet another missile flew across home plate; the batter swung a second too late. “Strike!” roared the umpire. “Pay attention, son.”
Shay focused on Shawna once again. “He hung out with some kids, stealing food, sleeping wherever. Mama reported him as a runaway, and he ended up in juvie. The counselors believed him. Uncle is serving six to fifteen years.” Her gaze followed Deion’s fastball hurtling toward the plate. “Deion’s just trying to have a better life.”
“Strike again! Let’s call it a day.”
The player threw down the ball, trudged over to Deion and embraced him. Daniel signaled the end of practice to the rest of the team. The team ran onto the field, laughing the whole way.
Shawna took Shay’s hands in hers and held them loosely. “Thanks for sharing. Deion is lucky to have a sister looking out for him. My sister always has my back, too.” Shawna watched the team wrap up, pick up balls and mitts, and gather wrappers and water bottles in a black garbage bag. After a final check of the area, the team dispersed. “It’s going to work out, Shay. It really will.”
Daniel’s gaze locked on hers from across the field, and he moved in her direction.
“I think you’re about to have company.” Shay patted Shawna’s arm and then levered herself up to join her brother. “Don’t look like you just killed somebody. Men like it when you smile at them.”
Chapter 9
“I couldn’t see your face beneath that floppy hat, but I’d know that strut anywhere,” Daniel said, ushering Shawna to a table for two at an outdoor grill across from the Dana Hotel and Spa. “It’s like you’re walking to some music in your head.”
“I think I’m the only one who hears it, sometimes.”
He caressed the back of her neck. The softness stirred him. “I hear it.”
Cars and buses zipped up and down the busy street. They were treated to a symphony of screeching tires, honking horns, and music playing loud enough to pierce the eardrums. He scooted closer to the table and reached for her hand. “Why did you come?”
“I … I took your advice,” she stammered, and for a moment she looked both vulnerable and fierce.
“Which was what exactly?” He scanned the area to catch the waiter’s eye. Having no luck, he returned his attention to her. She was biting that lower lip in the way he loved.
“To live, to stop reliving the horror of Bryan’s death day after day.” Her thigh touched his and lingered, and he relished even that small touch. “First thing I did was list the condo. It sold before the broker finished the paperwork.” He held out his fist to her, and she obliged him with a power bump and a smile.
“Impressive,” he said. “That’s a good step, and your home in Arkansas is just waiting for you to walk in and take over.” He finally got the waiter’s attention and signaled that they were ready to order. After being with the boys for three hours, food was definitely in high demand.
“Lauren received a certified check from the proceeds to cover the cost of her expansion,” she said, smoothing a wayward curl behind her ear. “This week is the first time she spoke to me without telling me I was a stubborn heifer.”
“Why would she call you that?”
“Because of you and the way I handled the whole land business.”
The waiter took their order—a steak sandwich and bottle of Coors beer for him, a large salad and a glass of white wine for her.
“What’s next?”
She put down her glass and reached for his hands. “That’s up to you.”
For a moment, he was speechless. For the past three weeks, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. It was something more than lust, more like love—the need to cherish her, protect her, erase the last five years.
Daniel had been working hard at finding another place for his project and was on stage three of a presentation to an estate outside of Jackson, Mississippi, in another part of the Delta. He had every intention of returning to Arkansas once he secured it. Then the land issue wouldn’t come between them. If Shawna turned him away then, it wouldn’t be because he didn’t try, and it wouldn’t be because she thought he had an ulterior motive.
She stroked a thumb across his open palm. “I love you.”
The words slammed into him, and he stared for the longest time. His upraised hand signaled the waiter to halt his approach.
“I never planned to feel like this,” she confessed, as she stared back at him. “Women pray for a good man, and then we …” She shook her head. “You’re the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen.”
Daniel was too touched to speak. Instead, he scooted around, pulled her into his arms. “I want to build a life with you, but I don’t want anything to come between us—not land, not doubts, not anything.”
She nodded, then leaned away to look at him. “I can’t keep wasting time. You’re right, that’s not living.” Tears of joy ran down her face. “Love is a gift, and I want to embrace it. I want to share your vision.”
He used the back of his hand to stroke her face. The waiter stood nearby, grinning as he held their plates. Daniel nodded, and the young man moved forward, set the food down, and hurried away.
Shawna reached in her bag again to pull out a presentation folder. The words under the artist’s cover sketch read GORDON FAMILY FARM: OPERATED BY SHAWNA GORDON AND DANIEL FITZPATRICK.
The reality of what that meant caused a joy that he never thought he’d feel again. He pushed the unopened proposal back across the table. “I don’t give a damn what you propose. As long as we’re doing it together, the answer is yes!”
Shawna smiled, accepting his kiss as she said, “I believe those are words to live by.”
Joyce A. Brown is a motivational speaker and author who uses her creative energy to give voice and meaning to the challenges women face in all walks of life. She grew up in Rockford, Illinois in a household of strong women, but her professional career expanded her reach into Peoria and Battle Creek, Michigan. She is a proud member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc. and has served as a direct services worker, executive director, program director for a major foundation, and an entrepreneur. Joyce has experienced many uplifting moments as a professional and as a dedicated parent and strives to bring those events and lessons to life through her characters in the contemporary fiction novels she pens. Her most recent novel is What You Can Get Away With, and she is also one of twelve collaborating authors in Baring It All: The Ins and Outs of Publishing and a contributing author in a romance anthology titled, Signed, Sealed, Delivered … I’m Yours. Visit Joyce on the web at www.livethedreampublishers.com
Baby I Need Your Loving
by Tanishia Pearson-Jones
Chapter 1
DECEMBER 19, 2013
“Girl, you’d better start giving it up or you’re going to end up by yourself!” Celeste warned, her red lips pursed in a thin line that spoke of her disapproval.
“By myself? What do you mean, I’ll be by myself?” Keri asked, feeling a little hot under t
he collar about West Monroe’s infamous playgirl giving her advice about men.
Celeste held a sapphire blue, full-length dress to her petite frame, but tossed it on the La-Z-Boy recliner and focused on Keri as she answered with, “Alone. Lonely. Lonesome. Single. Solo. You know what I mean?”
“Why do I have to be so generous?” Keri defended, adjusting herself on the sectional sofa. “We both know a woman can sleep with a man and he’ll still roll out without giving her a second thought. Been there, done that!” She gave her friend a pointed look. “Well, at least one of us has … a lot more than others.”
Celeste’s olive skin crimsoned to the color of her high-heeled shoes. The irritating smile on her face disappeared, only to be replaced by a scowl that was cold enough to freeze the Mississippi River.
Since high school, the woman had endured many flimsy, revolving door relationships that left a sour taste in Keri’s mouth and an earful of on-going complaints from Celeste.
Keri patted the seat next to her, beckoning for her best friend to join her.
Celeste trudged from her spot on the wall and slumped down on the sofa.
“It’s tragic that so many people have that ‘hit it and quit it’ mentality,” Keri said as she took Celeste’s hands in hers. “You might get down like that, but I’m not about that life. This time, I’m saving myself for my husband.”
Celeste freed her hand, pouting like a four-year-old. “Yeah? Well, that didn’t work out so well the first time.” She ran her fingers through her auburn tresses. “Good luck with that.”
Keri didn’t need luck. She held stead-fast to discipline and hard learned lessons. Being the daughter of a well-known minister, Keri James was anything but naïve. Falling for smooth-talking men and empty promises had cost her more than she could afford to pay, thanks to a man she felt she’d be with her entire life. No, Shane McCoy may at one time have been the deepest love of her life, but he also represented her greatest heartache as well.
Shane was smooth, handsome, and at that time he was everything a young girl of eighteen could dream of. A Warhawks’ star running back, with a bright future ahead with his draft into the NFL and he had pledged his eternal love to her—promises of marriage, comfort, and family, too.
Two years, she made him wait.
On the night of their two-year anniversary, Keri was entranced by Shane over a wonderful candlelit dinner.
“Keri James, I love you more than anyone else in this world. You’re the only woman for me and I want you in every way.” He kissed the place where his engagement ring rested. “There should be nothing we can’t share. I love you just that much.”
She wallowed in his love, in his affection, in his commitment, and respect for her. Their union was destined, Keri believed. And like him, she wanted to express their love on a physical level. That same magical night, Keri floated into Shane’s arms back at his penthouse and gifted him with her most prized possession, knowing in her heart that he would be the only man who would ever make love to her.
That night of bliss had been short-lived.
Betrayal found quick feet to her door later that afternoon when she showed up at his home. Standing a few feet from the entrance of his building, Shane swung open the door wrapped only in a towel and planted a steamy kiss on another woman!
Michelle Thomas had a reputation that slithered into a room a month before she did. The scene crushed Keri, as apparently the two of them had more than a passing acquaintance.
“You can hold out for Mr. Right if you want to,” Celeste redirected, her voice pulling Keri from the past. “I’m enjoying Mr. Right Now.”
“Girl, you need help,” Keri sighed.
“And you need to take two stiff drinks, a few long strokes, and call me in the morning.” Celeste recommended, laughing at her own humor as she ran he manicured hand over the dress that Keri had purchased for an upcoming event. “Maybe you’ll find a date at the Lancaster’s party this weekend. Then you might find yourself a little trouble to get into.”
“Listening to you will land me in trouble.” Keri rose from the sofa and ushered her friend out the front door. “That’s the last thing I need in my life.”
Chapter 2
Find a woman you love, cherish her, and provide for her to the best of your ability. A real man understands those things.
Brian King wouldn’t be swayed by the popular, small-minded thinking of men these days. His father, Melvin, was a staunch example of how a real man cherishes his woman. His words of wisdom echoed in Brian’s mind often. Brian would do no less for his son, someday.
“Hey there, handsome,” a gorgeous, twenty-something sprinter purred to Brian.
He stood several inches over six feet, with eight-pack abs, toned calves and ripped arms that rivaled those of any NBA player. But when it came to his love life, he’d been missing baskets like Shaquille O’Neal missed free throws. Maybe that was about to change.
“Hello, yourself. How are you?” he returned, taking in her dazzling white teeth, tapered waistline and sculpted legs.
The sprinter’s friend checked out Aiden—his best friend. “Hello, sexy!” Her friend teased, bending her petite frame to stretch her legs. “You got plans after your run?”
Aiden readied to speak, but Brian chimed in, “Sure do. Meeting a special woman.”
“Ooooh, too bad,” the friend moaned, her lips curving into a pout.
“Yes, too bad,” Aiden snapped at Brian, who tried to keep from laughing at his friend’s shocked expression.
As they jogged away, Brian overheard one of them say, “They were fine with a capital F-I-N-E.”
“Man, what’s wrong with you?” Aiden said through his teeth, glaring his disapproval.
“You and your libido aren’t going to come between me and one of my mom’s good, home-cooked meals.” With that, Brian took off down the track, leaving his friend struggling to catch up.
Five miles and a cool down lap later, they were making tracks to the King residence in West Orchard for breakfast.
* * *
Stubbs Vinson, a striking residential area of Louisiana, had Aiden taking in the beautiful homes that boasted well-manicured lawns. They parked and grabbed their duffle bags which contained an extra set of clothes.
The side door of his mother’s stucco and brick two-story home opened without a need for a key. “Mom, we’re home,” Brian called out, frowning as he followed his nose to the kitchen.
He replaced the key in the pocket of his sweats. “What did I tell you about leaving the door unlocked?”
“I knew you were coming,” she countered, drying her hands on a towel before walking over and giving them a warm hug. “Goodness, you two need to freshen up,” she said backing away, nose crinkling with each step.
“Bet our two new friends back at Malone Stadium would’ve appreciated us any way we’d come,” Aiden protested, causing Brian to give him the evil eye.
Once showered and dressed, they settled in with a breakfast of eggs, turkey bacon, French toast, fresh strawberries, and fresh-squeezed orange juice.
“Mrs. King, you sure know how to cook,” Aiden crowed, shoveling in the last piece of crispy bacon. “That was delicious!”
“Mom, you put your foot in that French toast!”
She blushed, and for a moment Brian wondered if she still saw them as the scrawny little boys who would come in from playing basketball for a water break, stinking up the kitchen only to go back outside to play some more; or if she saw them as two grown men who were successful at their careers as Senior Chiefs in the United States Navy.
Her smile suddenly vanished and Brian focused on her serious expression.
“What is it, mom?” he asked.
“You two are attending the Lancaster’s Annual Motown Christmas Party tomorrow, right?”
They chorused, “Ummm …”
“Don’t ummm me,” she scolded, hands on her fleshy hips. “Your tuxedo’s ready. Both of yours.” She shifted her eagle-eyed gaze to
Aiden, whose panic-stricken expression was almost comical. If Rita Lowe, Aiden’s mother, had dry cleaned his tuxedo in advance without telling him, it could only mean one thing.
“Mom, I’m not walking into another set-up,” said Brian.
Aiden nodded his position on the matter.
Brenda swiftly cornered the counter, picked up the kitchen phone, punched in a few numbers, and then placed the call on speaker.
“Diva!” Rita shouted immediately on the other end.
“Diva!” Brenda returned.
Aiden’s expression mirrored his own—defeated and ambushed. Brian glanced back at his mom and both men groaned. The book club members and best friends for over twenty years were a force unto themselves.
Brenda flashed a wink and victorious grin. Their lively banter flipped from party attire to the list of young eligible bachelorettes who would be in attendance.
Once Aiden’s mother loudly confirmed his tux was ready, Brian cleared the table and said, “Looks like we’re going to that party.”
* * *
DECEMBER 20, 2013 7:00 P.M.
The Lancaster home was a breathtaking structure on forty-five acres of countryside in West Monroe, Louisiana. Luxury cars filled the circular drive, which wrapped around a hand-carved stone water fountain.
Guests gathered into a foyer adorned with crystal chandeliers and marble floors. In the corner was an amazing Christmas tree with antique ornaments representing the various countries the Lancaster family had visited. That, along with the silver tinsel and vibrant lights strewn throughout the dining hall, brought a warm touch to the holiday décor.
Brian and Aiden entered behind a trio of chatty couples, their mothers’ arms entwined with their own, as they threaded through the elegantly dressed crowd.
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