by Dyanne Davis
“This is supposed to be a happy occasion.” He smiled inwardly as she eyed him with disdain. “You’re treating me as though I’m the enemy. Anyone watching this display of temper might think it was only my money that you’re interested in.” He braced himself for her expected answer.
“I have my own money,” she sneered.
“Money that you wouldn’t have if it weren’t for me.”
She glared at him and he grinned. He loved getting a real response from Janice, even if it were only one of anger. God, she was beautiful when she was angry. Simon could feel himself growing hard with wanting her. He watched as her brown eyes flashed red fire. Then she suddenly looked toward his crotch and smiled.
“You always manage to get me, don’t you?” To Simon’s surprise she walked back to him, plastered her body to his, and slid her hand down the length of him, making him groan with need. His chest tightened and his arms went automatically around her, pulling her close. She didn’t move away. Instead, she kissed him, sliding her tongue between his lips. He felt her tremble, felt the fire in her and for a moment he thought they would make love. Then she pulled away, eyed him up and down, and grinned.
“Admit it, Simon, you like our relationship just fine the way that it is.”
She tossed that wild mane of hair and walked out of her bathroom, leaving him with a hard-on. And the moment faded. She’d been merely teasing him, showing him that regardless of his money, she was in control.
Simon licked his lips. He could buy women and all the sex that he wanted. He could even buy his way into a culture that wasn’t his, but that he loved. And he could do that without Janice on his arm. But he didn’t want to. He wanted her and God help him if it wasn’t love. He wanted her and he wanted a stable family with her. He just had to make sure that her feelings for the man in her past were dead.
He took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom. Janice wasn’t a stupid woman; she wouldn’t risk everything.
A little voice whispered into his brain that he should leave well enough alone but he’d never done things the easy way and he wasn’t about to start now. No. One thing Simon wasn’t was a coward. He allowed the sigh to escape and glanced down at his now semi-soft erection. That woman could make him hard as steel with but a touch and she could also deflate him quicker than a child could release air from a balloon.
What a life we’ll have, he thought as he walked out of the bathroom and into his future. He smiled at Janice and she smiled back and again he wondered. Maybe if he said it first. He took her arm. Maybe after they were safely married he’d tell her he loved her. Maybe.
Chapter Two
Janice settled comfortably in her seat, wondering what was up with her new fiancé. Simon was behaving oddly and for some reason that she couldn’t put her finger on, something felt wrong with the entire reception.
The service was impeccable, as always, and the food delicious. Why shouldn’t it be? They were at one of the most expensive hotels in the world. It was New York’s best. Yet there was something amiss and she sure wished she could figure it out. For one thing, Simon had barely taken his eyes off her the entire time. He’d watched her as though looking for some clue. His mention of a surprise came to her mind but she had yet to see it.
“It’s showtime.”
As the words were whispered into her ear, the soft caress of his warm breath filled her. She looked up at the owner of the words and smiled, for the first time nervous about what she was about to do. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“I am if you are,” she replied.
Simon took the podium and Janice pasted her eternal patent smile on her lips and listened, waiting for her cue to join him.
“You’ve all been invited here today to share in my good fortune. I have proposed to the very beautiful Janice Lace and she has graciously accepted. But what you don’t know is that I am also marrying the extremely beautiful Mary Jo Adams.”
Janice glared at Simon. What the hell did he think he was doing? She’d never used her Christian name in her bio. Mary Jo Adams didn’t exist anymore; in fact, she knew for sure she’d never told Simon her real name.
Simon ignored the look of fire his bride-to-be was shooting his way and laughed at his little joke. “Don’t worry.” He put his hand up to still the rustling of people, to stop the whispering. “They are one and the same, the famed author and the small town girl.”
He grinned, exuding charm, not looking directly at Janice, wondering if she would get up and march out of the room. She might when he spoke his next words, but he had to know.
“In honor of my wife-to-be I’ve decided to invest a great deal of money in something that is near and dear to her heart: the preservation of the small independently owned African American bookstores.”
He turned back to Janice. “Darling, would you join me now?” He waited, hoping his little stunt wouldn’t assure he’d have a block of ice in his bed tonight instead of the promise of sweaty hot sex that she’d indicated would be his when she’d earlier run her hand over his erection.
He watched as she rose from the chair. Her legs, long and graceful, sent a shot of adrenaline straight to his crotch, making him hard. He saw her swipe gently at her lips with the soft linen napkin, knowing she was stalling for time. Ah, if only he could be that napkin he thought for a second, and felt another quickening in his groin.
Janice sidled up to Simon and smiled even though her eyes glared at him. He laughed and kissed her right there at the podium, ignoring her rule against overt public displays of affection. Breaking off the kiss, he anchored his arm around her waist and pulled her closer than she wanted to be to him at the moment. When she squirmed, he pulled her still closer and kissed her again. “You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered.
“I’d now like to ask the representative for AABU, African American Bookstores United, to come up please. On behalf of my bride and myself I would like to donate one million dollars for the purpose of keeping AABU going. Please, everyone put your hands together for Mr. Tommy Strong. Tommy, would you come up here, if you would be so kind?”
He turned to Janice. “Smile pretty,” he whispered, and released her in order to clap his hands. He saw the first clink in her armor, the slight tremble of her fingers as she followed suit and began clapping, but as though she’d forgotten how. Waves of anger from her washed over him but this time it didn’t give him the high it usually did.
There was something lethal in her look as she eyed the man walking to the podium to receive the check. It was what he’d been waiting for. In the eyes of his bride-to-be he saw hatred for the man and Simon smiled, a genuine smile, ignoring the fact that Janice’s anger also included him.
He’d make it up to her; he’d buy her some expensive piece of jewelry or send her newest book straight up to number one. He had the power to do that. Yes, that’s what he would do, he thought as he saw Janice’s hatred for the man approaching them intensify. He almost wished he hadn’t done it. He didn’t know if she would be able to pull it off and remain at the podium with him or if she would turn and leave.
Simon shook hands with the man when he approached and presented the check to him. He watched as cold fury washed over the man’s face as he stared at Janice, glaring at her openly. Good, Simon thought, he hates her too.
Janice was trembling inside. She walked away from the podium feeling the frown on Simon’s face. She didn’t give a damn. What the hell was he trying to do and why had he chosen such a public arena to do it in? It was obvious that he’d dug deeper into her past than he had any right to do and she didn’t like it.
A second later Simon joined her at the table and when he smiled at her, for the first time in public she didn’t smile back. She glared at him.
“Your book will be number one by the end of the week,” he whispered into her ear, trailing a finger down her cheek.
“How many times do I have to tell you to keep your hands off my career? If my book makes number one, I want it to be on my
own merits. Don’t you understand that?” Janice closed her eyes tightly, forcing the tears that had not emerged in over ten years to remain where they were. She hadn’t known she still possessed the ability to cry and she sure as hell didn’t want to do it now, not in front of Tommy, the man who’d made her shed an ocean of tears.
She fixed her gaze on the podium, wishing she had the power to make the speaker drop dead.
The boy she’d loved with her whole heart, the one to whom she’d given her virginity and her soul, had changed little in the twelve years since she’d seen him. Janice sat a little straighter to observe him as he spoke with the same air of self assurance that he’d always possessed. The same charm spilled as easily from his lips now as it had when he’d told her that he loved her. Lies, all lies, she thought and looked at Simon, feeling an overwhelming dislike for the man she’d just agreed to marry.
Simon tore his gaze away from Janice and peered intently at the man to whom he’d just bequeathed a fortune. He looked at his neat corn-rowed hair with braids that hung down to his waist. He took in the man’s chiseled features, saw the expanse of his shoulders, and knew that beneath that Moroccan getup the man possessed muscles that Simon couldn’t get, no matter the amount of money he paid his personal trainer.
He listened to the polished voice, to the warmth that spilled from the man, and he watched intently as he turned his attention in their direction and paused boldly in his speech, perusing Janice with the same cold hatred she’d displayed toward him. Then without missing a beat, the man continued with his speech, most of which Simon didn’t hear.
Simon had badly miscalculated his move. So much steam was rising from Janice that he wondered for a moment what would happen. Then she turned her eyes on him and he knew. She was going to explode. And soon.
“I’ll make it up to you, just stay for now. It won’t look good for you to walk away only minutes after I’ve announced our engagement,” he whispered as her eyes narrowed into slits. Nevertheless, she stood and walked away from him with barely a glance.
He should have left well enough alone. He’d given her the damn gun, aimed it at his own foot and told her to pull the trigger and she had. She’d left him alone, knowing that every tongue in the room would be wagging about the reason she’d left. Of course he knew that was her point. He wasn’t a fool. At least he’d never been a fool until he met her. Now she had him doing things he would have sworn on his deathbed he would never do.
Simon picked up his wine glass and sipped, pretending that nothing was wrong, that he’d not just detonated a bomb and had no idea in hell how to avoid the explosion.
The thought that he should have just asked her about Tommy came months too late. He’d been so determined to find out everything there was to know about her before he married her that he’d not batted an eyelash when it had been suggested that he use investigators to fill in the blanks. He did it all the time in business, why not in the most important merger of his life? With marriage he was handing Janice the keys to half of what he owned. Damn right he was going to check things out.
Simon didn’t notice that Tommy Strong had left the podium and was standing next to him until a deep and firm masculine voice said, “May I speak to you out in the lobby a moment?”
Simon looked up at the man, thinking there was something odd in his demeanor. He rose easily from his chair, not liking the feeling of the man towering over him. “Sure.” He raised his hand to pat the man on the back, but Strong moved swiftly out of his reach and walked away.
What the hell? Simon wondered as he followed him out the door. He’d just given the man a check for a million dollars. He should be doing cartwheels and kissing his ass right about now. Instead, he was behaving as though Simon had offended him.
When they were in a secluded corner, Tommy Strong held out the check toward Simon. “What is this for?”
“Excuse me?” Simon attempted to laugh.
“This check, just what are you attempting to buy with it?”
“Buy?” Now it was Simon’s turn to be offended. “This is a gift.”
“It’s an awfully large gift. What’s the string?”
“It’s also a tax write-off if you must know.” Simon continued smiling, albeit a bit frostily. “I can spend my damn money the way I chose or I can fork it over in taxes. I chose to spend it and score a few points with my bride at the same time.”
“Don’t you mean bride-to-be?” Tommy muttered.
For the span of two lifetimes the men stared at each other, squaring off at least mentally if not physically.
“What the hell is this about? I don’t get the hostility. I heard that African American bookstores are being forced to close down and I learned that you were orchestrating something to help them. I want to help.”
“You wrote the check out in my name.”
“That’s because you’re the one in charge.”
“Why didn’t you make it out to the group?”
“Because I like to know who’s handling my money. Use it for the good of your people.”
“My people?” Tommy glared. “What the hell do you know about my people? You think because you’re sleeping with a black woman that it makes you black?”
Simon took a step back, visibly shaken. This he had not expected. He’d expected gratitude and maybe, well, he wouldn’t think about what he’d expected, at least not now.
“What if I decide to spend this money on myself and say to hell with the bookstores? What then?”
“It has your name on it.”
“Wrong answer.” Tommy shook his head. “I’m not for sale, slavery is over.”
That remark stung, as the man had intended. “What the hell do you mean by that?” Simon barked. “I’m only trying to help you.”
“No, you’re trying to buy me like you bought Mary Jo. It won’t work. I’m not for sale.”
Once again the two men squared off, this time the physical implication clear.
“What does my fiancée have to do with this?”
A deep laugh boomed out of Tommy’s chest. “You have no idea how damn amusing this is. I wondered why the hell you would invite me to this thing then I found out. And the check, I knew the moment you handed it over what you were doing. You didn’t fool anyone, least of all me. And from the way Mary Jo stormed out of the room I doubt that you fooled her either.”
“You leave my fiancée to me, and for the record, her name’s Janice now.”
“You’re the one who informed the world and reminded them just who she is. What carrot are you dangling before her? Money? Fame?” Tommy smiled. “You’ve won, she’s marrying you, so why did you think you needed me in your pocket?”
“I did this for Janice.”
“Bull, you did not do this for Mary Jo.”
Simon was not used to being challenged, not like this, and definitely not by a man to whom he’d just given a fortune. He watched as Tommy ripped the check into shreds and tossed the pieces into the trash like so much useless confetti.
“Like I said, I’m not for sale and to ease your mind a bit, you needn’t have bothered. In case you didn’t notice, your bride-to-be has as little desire to be in my life as I want her in it. You didn’t have to try and pay me to remain out of her life. I was already out.”
Tommy strolled away, leaving Simon standing there, knowing for sure that he should never have dredged up Janice’s past. He’d had no idea that Tommy Strong or Janice would understand why he’d done it. He’d thought his reasons for giving the money would work. Well, they hadn’t. He wondered for a moment if he should go and attempt to calm the storm brewing in his suite but decided against it. Better to let her cool off before tackling that situation. He’d erred; he wouldn’t do it again. He peeped into the trash. What a waste. What kind of fool threw away that kind of money?
* * *
Cold fury propelled Tommy’s movements. He walked to the elevator, rode down to the lobby, and was almost out of the door before he changed his mind and h
eaded in the direction of a house phone. He couldn’t believe how easy it was to be connected.
“Was it worth it?” he asked the once familiar voice that answered the phone.
“Was what worth it?” she snarled.
Tommy wanted nothing more than to be facing her asking her this same question. He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled and then shake her some more. Once he’d loved her with his heart and soul and she’d taken that love and stepped on it and thrown it back into his face.
“You sold yourself for money, for fame. God, you disgust me.”
“Then why are you talking to me? I didn’t ask you to. And while you’re being so high and mighty, I didn’t see you turning down that check he gave you.”
“Do you have any idea how that money would help the bookstores?” he hissed at her. He could tell her he’d torn up the check but he refused to do that. Let her think what she would about him, he didn’t care.
“I want to ask you one thing, Mary Jo.”
“The name’s Janice now.”
“Like I said, Mary Jo, I have one question for you. Are you white now? Has Simon Kohl’s money made you white?”
They both slammed the phones down at the same instant and Janice reached for the nearest item and flung it with all her might across the room. The expensive vase hit the wall, cracking a mirror and knocking a painting to the floor. Seven years’ bad luck. What else was new? Janice didn’t care. She walked away from the debris and toward the bedroom.
Chapter Three
“Damn.” Simon cursed and pushed phone buttons as he entered the private elevator. He’d overplayed his hand. He barked his orders into the phone. “I don’t give a damn who else is scheduled. I want it done and I want it done yesterday. Do you understand? I want her on every show that airs tomorrow. Am I making myself clear?”
Simon disconnected and cursed again as he stepped off the elevator and walked toward his suite. The moment he opened the door he knew why the man he had installed in the next suite had called him. The room looked like a tornado had torn through it. He knew the tornado had a name: Janice Lace.
