Passion Overtime

by Pamela Yaye

  “Who was he?”

  A frown wrinkled her forehead. “What are you talking about?”

  “You don’t trust men, specifically black men, and I want to know why. Who hurt you so bad that you’ve built this cold, hard shell of protection around your heart? Was this really all my doing?”

  Kyra blinked hard. The hurt and betrayal she’d tried to conceal for years threatened to overtake her, but she didn’t falter. Terrence must have sensed her impending collapse, because he gently touched her arm. She was wary of him and worried that she was opening herself up to the man who had betrayed her trust. Kyra quickly composed herself. Better not to let him see her vulnerability. “I’ve been hurt, but who hasn’t? Everyone’s outlook on life is clouded by their past experiences, including you.”

  Embarrassed, and anxious to move beyond the awkward moment, she stepped out of reach. Most of the onlookers had returned to their air-conditioned homes, but across the street, a pair of silver-haired women sat on lawn chairs whispering.

  “There’s more to this than you’re letting on,” he insisted.

  “No, there isn’t.” Intent on knocking Terrence off his high horse, she opened her mouth, poised to fire a stinging retort at her one-time love, but the words died on her lips. Kyra wasn’t upset because he’d badgered her, but because his observation was dead-on. It was true. She didn’t trust men. The man she’d loved most had betrayed her trust, so why would she give Terrence or anyone else the opportunity to hurt her?

  “You’re not the only one who’s been dogged, Kyra. You wouldn’t believe some of the characters I’ve met over the years.” She didn’t speak, and he continued. “I love spoiling my family and buying my mom things she never dreamed of, but fame and fortune isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Remember that Notorious B.I.G. song, Mo Money Mo Problems? Well, that’s my life in a nutshell.”

  “There’s something I’m curious about.” He tipped his head back, studying her, those dark, mysterious eyes producing a searing heat. “This guy Charles. Are you really into him? I mean, he doesn’t seem like—”

  Following his train of thought, she interrupted, saying, “He’s a great guy.”

  “A great guy?”

  “You can believe what you want, but he’s a perfect gentleman and he treats me like a queen.” Another cliché, but Terrence was staring at her and it was all she could think of in the face of such extreme pressure.

  “The eyes never lie, Kyra.”

  Unsure of what to say, she waited for the words to come.

  Then, in a move that stunned her, he touched her cheek. A satisfied look on his face, he spoke so quietly, she couldn’t hear his soft utterance without inching forward. “I’m going to restore your confidence in men. And in me.”

  Kyra didn’t respond. Now she understood why the former NFL running back was still single. Being handsome couldn’t expunge personality flaws, and Terrence had an ego larger than the Statue of Liberty. “What are you going to do? Wine me, dine me and buy me expensive things I don’t need?”

  “I have my ways.” Four short but devastating words.

  Chapter 11

  “What do you mean Charles’s still in Denver?” Kyra demanded, clutching the cordless phone. “We’re going to the theater tonight.”

  “Mr. Roberts requested I contact you, and extend his apologies,” explained the woman, who’d identified herself as his personal assistant, Mrs. Sutton-Brown.

  Swallowing a curse, she leaned against the granite counter, seething inwardly. Kyra couldn’t believe this. What kind of man had his employees do his bidding for him? She’d had enough of Charles’ insensitive behavior, but dumping him wouldn’t solve her immediate problem. She had a stunning Roberto Cavalli designer dress hanging outside of her closet and nowhere to go.

  “Would you like to leave a message for Mr. Roberts?”

  “No, thank you.” Kyra disconnected the call. Her conversation with Mrs. Sutton-Brown festered on her mind. And the endless ticking of the grandfather clock only reminded her that she had nothing to do and nowhere to go. Women arrived at the African American Theater of Arts dripping in diamonds and draped on the arms of fine, dark men, but since she didn’t know anyone who fit that bill, she’d asked Charles to be her date. Now, she couldn’t think of a single person to invite. Her mother was home, but Kyra knew she couldn’t invite her to the raunchy, sexually explicit show.

  “I’m gonna jet.”

  Kyra surfaced from her thoughts. Hands pressed against the wall, his face glistening with sweat, Terrence stood with his head poked inside the French doors.

  Managing a smile, she picked up the phone and put it back into the cradle. “Have fun at Snoop’s party.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Because you just dropped the phone into the garbage!”

  Kyra stared down at the silver canister. Realizing her mistake, she retrieved the cordless, wiped it off with a paper towel and tossed it on the counter. “God, I’m so annoyed I could scream.”

  He stepped inside. “Chill out, Kyra. It was an honest mistake.”

  “No, that’s not what’s bothering me.” Terrence asked what was wrong and before she knew it, she was telling him about her conversation with Mrs. Sutton-Brown. “Can you believe he had his assistant call to say he wasn’t going to make it?”

  “Maybe he’s tied up in meetings.”

  Kyra wasn’t buying it. “Charles doesn’t go anywhere without his BlackBerry. He couldn’t have taken thirty seconds out of his day to call or send a quick text?”

  “Sometimes we have no control over what happens.”

  “So it’s okay to leave someone in the lurch just because something more important came up?”

  His face soured. “Kyra, I can’t speak for him.”

  “Then speak for yourself.” Voice dripping with disdain, she said, “Is that the kind of thing you ball players do? Get someone else to do your dirty work for you?”

  “That’s not how I operate,” he told her, “And I’d move heaven and earth before I ever stood you up.”

  Dirt specked his T-shirt, but didn’t detract from his smoldering hot looks. Attracted to his strength, and his killer wit, she considered asking him to be her date. Kyra liked how Terrence made everyone around him from the waiter to the valet feel special. And if she arrived at the theater on Terrence’s arm they’d make the front page of every newspaper in the city. More good press for Hollington College. “Have you ever been to the African American Theater of Arts?”

  “The theater is one of my great loves.” After a long beat, he broke out laughing. “I’m kidding, but I take Mom to see classical music every Mother’s Day. It’s not my thing, but if it makes Mom happy, then I’m happy!”

  Kyra laughed when he called himself a mama’s boy. “A man that takes care of his mother is a good man in my book.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.” Terrence paused. “Is there anything I can do to help? I know I look like a sack of potatoes right now, but I clean up pretty well.”

  “Forget I said anything. You have plans tonight and—”

  “You’ve been to one rap party, you’ve been to them all,” he joked. “It’s no biggie. I’ll catch up with Snoop at the next video awards show.”

  “Then, in that case, I’ll meet you outside of the theater at seven.”

  “No, I’ll pick you up.”

  Wary of his motives, but glad she was going to put her designer gown to good use, she agreed. As Terrence turned toward the sliding glass door he asked about the play. “What are we going to see?” he asked good-naturedly. “One of those big, overblown musicals or a witty play?”

  Biting back a smirk, Kyra smiled innocently and shook her head. “No, The Vagina Monologues.”

  Terrence checked his watch. If they didn’t leave for the theater in the next ten minutes, they were going to be late. Not that he minded, though. Seeing a raunchy, feminist show was going to blacken his reputation a
nd when his old teammates found out, he’d be the laughing stock of the league.

  Terrence was listening to his voice mail messages, when Kyra appeared at the top of the staircase, smiling apologetically. “I’m sorry I made you wait,” she said, in a rush of words, “but I couldn’t find the tickets.”

  They don’t make sisters like that anymore. Struck dumb, he managed a weak nod. His collar was choking him, and his legs didn’t feel strong enough to support his weight. The elegant cut of her gown drew his attention to her compact waist, and the sapphire-blue shade was an attention-grabber. Though her look wasn’t overtly sexy, he had a growing erection.

  “Ready to go?” she asked, staring up at him.

  Without thinking, he grazed his fingers across her cheek. His mouth dried and couldn’t right his thoughts. Terrence lowered his head, but before their lips touched, he pecked her cheek. As surely as walking on hot coals would blister his feet, he knew if he kissed Kyra, he’d never be able to stop. “Kyra, you’re stunning. What attracted me to you from the very beginning were your eyes, but tonight, it’s the entire package.”

  Red, rosebud lips flared into a cheeky smile. “You were right, Terrence. You do clean up well.” Laughing, she reached out and smoothed a hand over the lapel of his blazer. His heart grew soft. He’d been touched by an angel and Terrence knew he’d never be the same again. To keep from twisting a curly lock of dark hair around his fingers, he stuck his hands in his pockets and waited for his feelings of longing to pass. “Great suit,” she said. “I love the color. Is it Armani?”

  “No, Calvin Klein.” Bursting with pride, he told her about his conversation with his agent. “They want me in their new ad campaign.”

  “Well, you certainly have the body for it,” she said easily. “I’m sure you’ll make the company a boat load of money.”

  Grinning ruefully, Terrence stepped forward and placed his hands gently on her waist. “So, you think I’m hot, huh?”

  “No, you think you’re hot!”

  They laughed. Terrence tried to control his breathing, but it was a losing battle. “Come, my fair lady,” he said, in his best theatrical voice. “Your chariot awaits.”

  On the drive to the African American Theater of Arts, Terrence amused Kyra with tales from his childhood and his quiet, suburban life now in Pittsburgh. They were mobbed by fans when they stepped out of the limo, and as onlookers cheered their arrival and cameras flashed, Terrence reached for her arm, pulling her close.

  Hand in hand, eyes locked, they entered the modern, brightly lit auditorium. On the outside, Kyra appeared calm, but on the inside, she was battling her own demons. And when Terrence bent down and whispered in her ear, she was more confused than ever. Kyra wasn’t the type of woman to play mind games or send mixed messages, but when Terrence said she looked beautiful, she felt her body fill with a delicious heat. Feeling blissfully happy, she kissed him softly on the cheek. He smiled and the knots in her stomach disappeared. Her feelings for Terrence were growing, deepening, and although the realization scared her, Kyra refused to let anything spoil their night.

  At midnight, after a decadent six-course meal, Kyra and Terrence left the trendiest restaurant in downtown Atlanta and slipped into their waiting limo. Reveling in the beauty of the night, Kyra sank back in the cushy leather seats and stared outside the tinted window. Trees and pedestrians whipped by as the limo sped down the block.

  “Slow down, Mr. Chapman,” Terrence ordered, his voice firm, but his tone light. “I have a princess back here, and I promised her a smooth ride.”

  Kyra’s eyes grew heavy but cocktails, rum-laced brownies and dirty dancing could do that to a girl. The excitement of being with a fine-looking brother turned her on, and every time Terrence touched her, she shivered. No one had ever planned such an elaborate date for her, and she’d felt like Cinderella since the moment he picked her up.

  Allowing herself a glance of his side profile, she sighed wistfully. Exquisite in a honey-colored suit, he was a walking advertisement for a men’s fitness magazine and easily the best-looking man she had ever dated.

  On cloud nine, she closed her eyes, smiling to herself. Never would have imagined an evening as magical as this. They’d met the all-star cast, and even attended the celebrity after-party. Kyra felt as if none of this were real and worried she was going to wake up tomorrow and discover that it had all been a dream.

  Kyra must have drifted off to sleep, because she heard distant voices and had the distinct feeling that someone was carrying her. It was a challenge, but she pried her eyes open. She was curled up on the seat, nestled in Terrence’s arms, and smooth jazz was playing. Definitely Najee. “How long have I been out?” she asked, smiling up at him.

  “You make it sound like you were drugged.”

  “Was I?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “I’m so tired I can barely move.”

  “That’s why I’m taking you home.”

  “You said we could swing by Snoop’s party.”

  He shook his head. “They’ll be other parties. Besides, you’ve had a long day, too much to drink and you were moaning in your sleep.”

  “I was?” Kyra sat up. “What was I saying?”

  “Oh, the usual.” His lopsided grin widened. “‘Terrence, you’re such a caring, thoughtful man. I love you, boo.’”

  Kyra giggled. “You’re such a liar. You wish I’d say something like that.”

  “You’re right, Ky. I do.”

  His confession was explosive, and for a moment, Kyra couldn’t think of a single thing to say. The strength of his gaze made her wet and kindled the fire between her legs. He lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed them. Stifling a moan, she turned away from his deep, penetrating eyes. Terrence wasn’t the right man for her, so why was she hungry for his kiss? She could assert herself without being rude, and she would, right after he finished stroking her back.

  “Would you be mad if I kissed you?”

  No. Yes. No…Before she could respond, he lifted her chin, and slowly brushed his lips against hers. Desire was in the air, more stifling than smoke fumes, but when he parted her lips with his tongue, she pulled away. “This isn’t right.”

  Still grinning, he stared blankly ahead and spoke to the driver.

  When the limo pulled up in front of her house, the driver dashed around to the passenger side. A gentle wind whipped Kyra’s hair around her face when the door opened. The scent of rain was heavy in the air and the dark, gray sky suggested an impending thunderstorm.

  Terrence helped her up and didn’t release his hold until they were inside the foyer. “Thanks for accompanying me to the play, Terrence. I had an amazing time.”

  “I’m glad somebody did.”

  “Get off it. You enjoyed the show as much as I did.”

  “It was torture!” He chuckled loudly. “I’d rather have my chest waxed.”

  Kyra wasn’t buying it. “For someone who hated the show, you sure did a lot of cheesing for the cameras,” she pointed out, and they laughed.

  After a night of wine, music and stolen kisses, she spoke freely, sharing all the feelings and emotions flowing through her. “Honestly, this is one of the best dates I’ve ever been on in a long time. I’ve never felt so spoiled or pampered.”

  “Oh,” he drawled, raising an eyebrow, “so this was a date?”

  “Your birthday’s coming up isn’t it?” Intent on changing the subject, she searched her mind of the correct date. “If I’m not mistaken, it’s only a few weeks after the reunion, right?”

  Terrence placed a hand over his chest. “I’m touched that you remember. And you’re right. I’ll be thirty-three years young on October 20.”

  “How will you celebrate? A night at the strip club with your friends, perhaps?”

  “Naw, I did that last year.” Her eyes flew open and he released a deep, belly laugh. “I’m only kidding. I have no plans—” he paused expectantly “—unless my favorite PR director wants to make me dinner.”

 
“All right, it’s a deal. I’ll make you an authentic Southern meal.”

  “I’m looking forward.” He squeezed her shoulders, his facial expression one of genuine concern. “I better get out of here. Have a good night, Kyra.”

  “Wait!” Wearing an innocent face, she pushed a hand through her short, tight curls. Her thoughts were a web, a maze, more confusing than a thousand-piece puzzle, but deep down, Kyra knew she didn’t want Terrence to leave. “Do you want a beer or maybe a cup of coffee before you go?”

  “If I stay, all bets are off,” he told her, his fingertips caressing her warm skin. “I want you, Kyra, but not for just one night. When we make love, I want to possess all of you. Your heart, your mind and your body.”

  Make love? The thought consumed her mind. And the combined effects of his cologne, his touch and that disarming smile of his rendered Kyra speechless. She couldn’t put her feelings into words, but her body was red-hot. On fire for a man she’d once loved with an all-consuming passion.

  “It’s been ten years since we dated, but nothing’s changed, Kyra. I still want you. I never stopped.” Terrence lowered his head toward her, and she did the unthinkable. Reaching hungrily for him, she parted her lips and pressed herself hard against his chest. Losing herself in the kiss, she closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his full, moist lips and the tender intimacy of the moment.

  Chapter 12

  Cork, an upscale wine bar in downtown Atlanta had been reserved for the private cocktail reception for Hollington’s most elite alumni. Anxious to join the classy, upscale event, Terrence handed the keys to his Ferrari luxury sports car to the tuxedo-clad valet and strode confidently through the sleek glass doors.

  The party was in full swing. It felt good to be back at the place that had launched his football career and when he entered the large, open space filled with tall, round tables and stools, he was given a hero’s welcome. Surrounded by a crowd of well-wishers and energetic Dallas Cowboys fans, he slipped off his tinted shades and slowly combed the room for his favorite PR director.