His gaze fell on a framed photograph of his precocious daughter, Ruby. He struggled to remember exactly how old she was in the picture—maybe four or five. It was an adorable picture of her with her thick black hair parted into two fat ponytails. On the day of the picture, she was so proud to show off the loss of her two front teeth. Her big quarter-size hazel eyes danced with excitement at the possibility of seeing the Tooth Fairy.
Lucius reached over his desk and picked up the photograph. Instantly, his irritation and annoyance at Erica melted away and a broad smile broke across his face. Ruby was a perfect amalgam of him and Erica. She had his warm brown complexion and hazel eyes and Erica’s button nose and full lips. “Daddy’s little girl,” he whispered, feeling his chest swell with pride.
Ruby Elizabeth Gray was the absolute joy of his life—despite what her mother thought. Sure, he had been thrown out of his element from time to time by tea parties with imaginary guests or playing baby dolls with dolls that actually did number one and number two. However, most of that came from the fact Lucius grew up in a family dominated by men.
It had been a real shock to him when the doctor told him and Erica that they were going to have a girl. He didn’t know what to do with a girl. Up until that ultrasound, he had envisioned mock football and basketball games with Junior. Instead he got a little girl that stole his heart like no other. And he was a better man for it.
Lucius slowly rocked his neck from side to side, but his tense muscles refused to relax and his empty stomach rumbled in protest. Sighing with regret, he knew that it was finally time to call it a night. Propelling out of his chair, he quickly stuffed the case files into his briefcase, slid on his office jacket and crammed his tie into his pocket.
As he exited the building of Kendall, Hendrix and Gray, LLC, he contemplated which fast-food drive-through he was in the mood for. Once behind the wheel of his black Cadillac SRX Crossover, he elected instead to finish off some leftovers he had back at the crib. He’d always been careful to take care of his body through regular exercise and a healthy diet, and there was no need to wreck all that for a greasy burger.
It was well past eight o’clock by the time he finally pulled into his large two-car garage. As usual when he headed toward the garage door that led into the kitchen, he tossed a longing look toward his old wood workshop. His man space, as Erica used to call it. How long had it been now since he’d lost himself in the hobby of building things—six years…seven?
He had always enjoyed working and making things with his hands. It had a way of relaxing him. However, with the influx of bank and credit fraud, his law firm had enjoyed a healthy spike in litigation and court cases. There just hadn’t been any time to whittle the hours away in his workshop.
Soon, he promised himself. He’d make the time one day soon.
Lucius entered the house, flipped on the light switch, placed his briefcase on the counter and made a beeline toward the refrigerator. Thirty minutes later he was settled at the dinner table and casually sifting through the day’s mail. He stopped when he came across the envelope from Hollington College.
His smile was instant. “Hollington.” He chuckled, opening the envelope. “My old stomping grounds.” Suddenly memories of football and frat parties filled his head, as well as the small string of college shawties he’d juggled while struggling to maintain his high GPA.
“‘October homecoming weekend,’” he read. His eyes quickly scanned over the invitation card. “Tenth anniversary? Has it been that long already?” He shook his head. Where had all the time gone? Thinking about it, a lot had happened in ten years: marriage, law school, law practice, a baby, working like hell, making partner, working like hell, divorce, working like hell.
There was a theme in there somewhere.
“All work and no play make Lucius a dull man,” he whispered. He glanced up and truly took stock of the empty dining-room chairs surrounding the table. Outside, the evening crickets played their songs while his expensively furnished house felt awfully cold…and lonely.
His gaze shifted back to the invitation. Maybe this was exactly what he needed. A little time out with some old friends…and old girlfriends.
“Beverly, what do you mean you’re not going to the reunion?” Kyra asked, her hands propped on her slender hips. “This is a big weekend for the university and I’m counting on you to be there.”
“I don’t see why,” Beverly said, straightening a rack of embellished skirts. Her trendy, high-end boutique, Hoops, was on North Highland Avenue and a steady stream of twentysomethings flowed into the store and left carrying enormous white shopping bags with the dainty Hoops logo. The sparkly chandelier, golden cherubs and tasteful furniture lent a chic, intimate feel to the place. “Aside from you and a couple of other people, I haven’t kept in touch with anyone from our graduating class.”
“Beverly, you were homecoming queen and everyone’s expecting you to be there.”
“That’s too bad, because I’m not going.”
“Give me one good reason why you can’t go.”
“I’ll give you three. For starters, I’m swamped here.” Selecting a dazzling sheath from off the rack, she slipped it off the gold, padded hanger and held it up to one of the mannequins in the front window. “I’m putting together the final touches for my new spring line, and I have to design a gown for Gabrielle Union to wear to an awards gala next month.”
“You seem stressed, Bev. Why don’t you let me take you out for lunch?”
“So you can pressure me into going to the reunion?” Beverly shook her head. “No way. I don’t have time for this right now. I’m up to my neck in paperwork and it’s going to take me the rest of the afternoon to fill the online orders.”
“Beverly, you’ve been dodging my calls for weeks and the reunion is less than a month away. I need to help finalize the rest of the plans for homecoming.”
She said nothing, just continued dressing the mannequin and humming to the Smokey Robinson song playing in the background.
Kyra heaved a heavy sigh. “So, that’s it? You’re not going and there’s nothing I can say or do to change your mind?”
Beverly gave a brisk nod, and then changed the subject. “I was at my favorite fabric store last week and it seemed the whole town was abuzz with the news of Terrence’s big return.”
“Yeah, his arrival has generated a lot of good press for the school. We’re received hundreds of online applications, and we had so much traffic on the Web site yesterday, it crashed!”
“I bet,” Beverly agreed. “After all, he is the pride of Hollington.”
“I’m lining up as many interviews as I can. I even contacted my old sorority sister, Tamara Hodges, about doing an article on Terrence becoming the Lions’ coach.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You got him to sign on already?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
Beverly started to speak, but her words were drowned out by a shrill, piercing laugh. Realizing they needed privacy, Kyra grabbed Beverly’s hand and dragged her into the back office. While the boutique was bright and glitzy, the office was a simple, understated space teeming with fashion magazines, invoices and poster boards. “Now,” Kyra began, closing the door and standing in front of it, “spill it. What’s the real reason you won’t go to the reunion?”
Beverly stood her ground. “You’re not going to change my mind, so you might as well save your breath.”
“The class of ninety-nine voted you homecoming queen, Beverly. How’s it going to look if you don’t show up?”
“Like I’m a popular fashion designer who has orders to fill.” Straightening up, she folded her arms across her chest, her gaze drifting to the open window. “Kyra, I’m not trying to be difficult, but I’ve moved on from beauty pageants and modeling contests. I want to be taken as a serious businesswoman and that’s not going to happen if I’m riding on top of a flowered float.”
In an effort to keep the peace, Kyra listened to what she had to say without int
errupting. Beverly was frowning, and she could tell by the faraway look in her eyes that her mind was somewhere else. “Why does it feel like you’re blowing me off?”
“I’d never do that,” Beverly insisted, shaking her head. “We’re friends, remember?”
“Then can a sister get a discount on that gold Ferragamo gown?”
Beverly gave a brief sputter of laughter.
“Hanging out with old friends is just what you need. You’ve been divorced for almost two years, but you haven’t been on a single date. I’m not telling you to go out there and party like Paris Hilton, but live a little, girl! Go to the reunion, and have a good time. And if you see someone who catches your eye…” Kyra trailed off, her glossy red lips curling into a mischievous smirk. “There are going to be plenty of handsome, eligible brothers at the reunion, Bev. It would be a shame for you to miss out.”
A smile broke through. “You must be very good at your job,” she teased.
“I try,” Kyra sang, laughing. Sensing a subtle shift in her friend’s mood, and anxious to get her on board, she continued, “Homecoming weekend is your opportunity to shine. Do you know how much business you’ll drum up for the boutique just by being there wearing one of your gorgeous, one-of-a-kind creations?”
“I never even thought of that. It would be great for business, wouldn’t it?”
Kyra nodded. “How about I contact Tamara and ask her to do a piece in Luster about Hoops? It’s free publicity and last year the magazine surpassed Glamour magazine in sales.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Oh, you’re going, all right,” Kyra vowed, lobbing an arm around Beverly’s shoulders, “because I won’t take no for an answer!”
That was exactly what Beverly was afraid of.
Chapter 2
“Girrrrl, you are going to get laid for sure in that dress.” Clarence, Beverly’s best friend and self-appointed relationship advisor, snapped his fingers and twirled her around so she could face the full-length mirror.
A cocky grin sloped across Beverly’s face. She did look good. The red cocktail dress hugged her curvy body like an extra layer of skin and she debated whether she even needed the thin silver belt. What was even more surprising was how much she loved her new hairstyle.
Clarence switched his hips and smacked his clear, shimmering lips. “Do I know how to hook my girl up or what?”
Beverly happily agreed. The shorter, darker do made her golden eyes pop and easily erased the past ten years from her face. She might actually pull this off.
“Now remember, whatever booty you get, fifteen percent of it is mine.”
Beverly howled and then bumped her hip against his. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”
“Love me, sweetheart. That’s what they all do with me.” He leaned forward and blew air kisses. Dressed in an immaculate pair of shiny denim jeans and a cloud-white shirt beneath a black merino sweater, Clarence was as sharp as any male model strutting down a Prada runway. On his youthful, effeminate face he wore the lightest touch of face powder and lip gloss.
“Well, I better go,” Clarence said as he turned away from the mirror and marched out of the bathroom. “It’s Friday night and you’re not the only bitch trying to get laid.”
Beverly laughed as she followed. “Thanks again, Clarence. I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t come over.”
“Uh-huh.” Clarence glanced around the large hotel suite, specifically the huge king-size bed.
“Look, I’m just staying here at the hotel during homecoming weekend because it’s a lot closer to Hollington College than my house. If I happened to have a few drinks, it’s easier to catch a cab here than risk driving all the way back out to the suburbs.”
Clarence wasn’t buying it. “Whatever, chickie.” He switched his hips as he retrieved his jacket. “You just make sure this big ol’ bed doesn’t go to waste this weekend. I’ve been telling you you needed to get your groove back for a while. I’m glad Kyra finally brought you around.”
Beverly actually blushed. “I never said I was going to this homecoming to get laid.”
“Uh-huh.” Clarence popped his lips.
“I came to just have a good time and catch up with old friends.” The lie even sounded weak to her.
Clarence rolled his eyes. “Girl, I know a freakum dress when I see it.” He headed to the door. “Have a good time and I expect details when I come by Hoops next week.”
Beverly chuckled and then added, “Thanks again for coming to my hair emergency. I was ready to pack up and go back home.”
“Relax.” Clarence reached over and squeezed her hand. “You’re the homecoming queen. They’re going to love you. And if that jerk of an ex-husband of yours does show up, give him a good swift kick in the balls for me.”
Lucius was getting excited at the thought of returning to his old stomping grounds. Rumors had been circulating that both Terrence Franklin and Micah Ross would be swinging through the joint. He hoped to get a little face time with his old buddies and shoot the breeze. He had only one last business errand to run over at the downtown Hilton before he headed off to the college. Once he dropped off a few documents with one of his clients, he promised himself to turn off his BlackBerry and just enjoy his weekend.
Hell, he deserved it.
However, Atlanta’s Friday bumper-to-bumper traffic delayed his plans for a carefree weekend. While surrounding cars engaged in an endless game of cutting each other off, honking and tossing a few middle fingers in the air, Lucius slipped in his old The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill CD. Ten years ago, his senior year in college, this disc stayed on repeat. His boys loved it and, more importantly, so did the ladies.
When his favorite jam, “Ex-Factor,” came on, a broad smile carved across his lips as he bobbed his head. This was just what he needed to get in the ’99 mood. An hour later, he finally arrived at the Hilton and met businessman Mitch Paulson in the hotel bar.
“Ah, right on time,” Paulson said as he stood to shake Lucius’s hand. “Can I get you a drink?” He waved and caught a waitress’s attention.
Lucius glanced at his watch. “Actually, I—”
“Ah, c’mon.” Paulson gestured for him to take a seat. “It’s the least I can do after having you deliver those papers on such short notice.”
Lucius hesitated, glanced at his watch. No way would he make it over to Cork for the school’s private cocktail party on time. Then again, maybe it was better to show up fashionably late.
“Don’t be rude, Lucius. Have a seat,” Paulson insisted and then added a boisterous laugh. “You know businessmen don’t like drinking alone.”
Lucius relented with a chuckle. “Maybe just one drink.”
Their waitress popped up the moment Lucius took his seat. “Whiskey on the rocks,” he ordered.
“Make that two,” Paulson corrected, giving the pixie blonde a flirtatious wink.
However, the waitress’s blue gaze was busy assessing Lucius. She was cute, but Lucius would most likely always crave the touch and love of a curvy sistah. That was just how he rolled.
When the waitress saw that she wasn’t getting any play, she drifted away from the table.
“Ah, well,” Paulson huffed and reached inside his jacket and retrieved a cigar case. “I guess I’m losing my touch.”
Or you shouldn’t try to pick up someone young enough to be your granddaughter.
“Just as well, I suppose. It’s not easy keeping up with these young girls,” he said, laughing at his own joke. “I damn near threw my back out last year with an eighteen-year-old hell-bent on turning me into a pretzel.”
Lucius laughed along, though he picked up on a few notes of sadness.
“Who knows? I probably should’ve stayed married,” Paulson continued. “But…well, back when I was your age I was married to my job more than I was to Sheila.”
This always happened when Lucius shared drinks with his male clients. Alcohol loosened tongues and Lucius f
ound himself cast in the role of a pseudopsychiatrist.
“You married, Lucius?” Paulson asked just as their waitress returned with their drinks.
“Divorced.”
“Hmmph.” Paulson shook his head. “Big mistake.”
“I don’t know. It seemed to have worked out for the best.”
“Sure you say that now. Let a few more years roll by.” He took a sip of his drink. “Seeing anybody?”
Lucius shifted in his chair as he took a few sips of his whiskey. “Let’s just say that I’m keeping my options open.”
“How many hours are you putting in at the firm?”
“What is this, an interrogation?”
“Let me guess,” Paulson went on, sizing him up. “You look like a workaholic. I’d say about 85 to 90?”
Their gazes locked.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Paulson flashed him a lopsided grin. “Tell me. Have you noticed how cold a house gets at night yet?”
Lucius didn’t answer.
“Hmmph.” Paulson shook his head. “Believe me. It gets a lot colder. Thing is, I don’t ever remember it being that way when I was married. A house is meant to be a home.” He leveled his gaze back on Lucius. “And man was never meant to be alone—that’s the one passage I remember from the Bible.”
Lucius quickly took another sip of his drink.
“A career is great, but a good woman is even better.” Paulson scanned the room. “Are you a breast or leg man?”
“I, uh—”
“Aww. Maybe you like a woman with a little junk in the trunk?” He winked.
Lucius would never get used to old white men trying to talk hip. “Yeah. I guess you can say that I like it all.”
Paulson’s drink stopped midway to his lips. “Then it looks like you’re in luck. Check out who just walked through the door.”
Tender to His Touch Page 2
