by Pamela Yaye
“That’s like asking a bellboy if he would like a tip!” Autumn had answered, a broad grin on her face. “I’m always in the mood to shop.” She had dressed with record speed while L.J. waited in the foyer, grabbed a cranberry-nut muffin and bottle of orange juice and followed him outside into the humid morning.
Their first stop had been Union Station, an Amtrak port complete with two levels of concourses lined with specialty boutiques, gift stores and a state-of-the-art twelve-screen cinema complex. After selecting a multi-color sundress for his mother, a set of golf clubs for his father and a stylish pantsuit for his sister, L.J. took her to the Station Bar& Grill for an early lunch. Over an appetizer platter of spicy popcorn shrimp, barbecue chicken wings and potato skins, they discussed everything from their dissimilar childhoods to American history to the wedding that had brought them together.
The drive to Dumbarton Oaks had been L.J.’s idea. The park’s ten rambling acres of formal gardens, fresh air, clear blue skies and overpowering scent of flowers made for a very intimate setting.
“Don’t tell me you’re giving up. We still haven’t seen the thousand bushes in the world-famous rose garden,” L.J. said good-naturedly. The thought of being alone with Autumn in one of the loveliest and most romantic spots in all of Washington had been worth the forty-five minute drive to Dumbarton Oaks and despite the crowds and the intense heat, he was having a great time. “We still have a lot to see, Autumn.” When she didn’t make any moves to stand, he sat down in the chair beside her.
They were so close their knees and elbows were touching. His heat stirred all sorts of dreamy thoughts in Autumn’s head. She forced herself to remain calm and tuned back in to what he was saying. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t need to remind herself to pay attention and to be a good listener, but she was with L.J. And whenever she was around the man, little things like remembering to breathe and swallow were challenges in and of themselves.
“I know you’re not giving up on me. You heard what Courtney said, ‘People come from far and wide to see our cherry blossoms! There’s nothing else in the world like it!’”
Autumn laughed at the phoney enthusiasm in his voice. “No, I’m not giving up. I’m just taking a much-needed breather.” She was quick to add, “It’s been years since I was last here. I’m glad we came.”
L.J. nodded in agreement. In the lull of their conversation, he heard the high-pitched voice of Courtney, their energetic tour guide, and the chatter of an all-female group of tourists. “Here comes the group. We’d better go join them before we get lost again.” L.J. stood and offered her his hand.
When the tour had started seventy minutes ago, Autumn had been gung-ho about seeing the sights. The remarkable collection of terraces, geometric gardens, tree-shaded brick walls and elegant fountains had left the group of nature lovers snapping pictures at a fevered pace. Autumn and L.J. had taken enough pictures to fill an entire photo album and they still had an hour left to go on the tour.
“I don’t know if I can make it.” When Autumn saw his smile dim, she felt guilty. All L.J. wanted to do was spend some time with her and all she could do was complain. She didn’t want him to think she was being a baby, but she said, “We’ve been walking around in the sun for an hour and a half and I’m bushed. L.J., you’ve walked me off my legs and feet this afternoon! I think this might be the end of the road for me.”
L.J. wondered if she was leaving something out. Maybe she was tired of being with him. They had been together for most of the day. Autumn was probably sick of hearing about his life back in Atlanta. “I’m sorry you’re not having a good time. I’ll take you home.”
“No!” Jumping to her feet with renewed energy, she grabbed his forearm and stepped into his space. “I didn’t mean—”
Before Autumn could finish, L.J. was pulling her into his arms and kissing her. The kiss was as welcome as a hot fudge sundae on an August afternoon. Once the shock subsided and her mouth warmed, she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck.
They were astoundingly close, but not close enough for L.J. He tried to ignore the intense throbbing between his legs, but when he felt her hands on his chest, he gave in to his need and brushed himself against her. This was neither the time nor the place to lose control, but he would have a better chance capturing a wild tiger in an open field than of reining in his desire. They were in a public place and could be caught at any minute, but L.J. palmed her breasts through her flimsy cotton sundress.
L.J. felt as if he was on an out-of-control roller coaster, but he was enjoying every terrifying minute of the ride. Autumn was everything he wanted and he wasn’t letting her go until he had had his fill of her. Seconds passed and then what seemed like several minutes. L.J., who could easily have remained fixed in that spot like one of the surrounding iron sculptures, was the first to break away. It was either that or swipe her off her feet and duck behind one of the waist-high bushes to finish what they had started.
L.J. watched Autumn straighten her dress. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you opened your front door.”
“So, what took you so long?” she teased, glazed eyes staring up at him.
“I didn’t want you to yell at me again.”
Autumn laughed. “What do you want me to do, L.J.? Get down on my hands and knees and beg for forgiveness? I’ve apologized about what happened in my office about a hundred times!”
“I know,” he agreed, kissing her forehead. “I just like messing with you.”
Autumn smiled brighter than the sun when he put his arm around her waist and steered her out of the Arbor Terrace.
She was moving slower than a tortoise, but L.J. kept quiet. He hoped Autumn didn’t bring up leaving again because he wasn’t ready to leave the park. Not because he was enthralled with Dumbarton Oaks or hell-bent on completing the tour, but because leaving meant the end of their date. L.J. knew he was being selfish by monopolizing her time, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed a woman’s company this much. L.J. had a good sense for people, and his gut was telling him that Autumn was special. She knew a bit of something about everything, but didn’t come across as sounding self-important or arrogant. She smoldered with sexuality and had a sexy way of doing things, and he could listen to her laugh all day. He loved it. It was childlike and feminine all rolled into one and depending on how long she laughed, it would rise and fall like a see-saw.
L.J. led Autumn past another group of tourists posing for pictures.
“Is that how silly we looked?” Autumn asked, chuckling.
“Afraid so.”
Autumn stopped. She hated to cut short the tour but she couldn’t go any farther. “L.J., would you be terribly disappointed if we skipped the rest of the tour? I don’t think my body will forgive me if I keep on going.”
L.J. bowed at the waist in an exaggerated gesture of chivalrousness. “If you want to go, we’ll go. Your wish is my command, my lady.”
She grinned. “Is that so?”
He nodded and returned his hand to her waist. It skimmed dangerously over her hip and sent pleasurable vibrations throughout her body. The memory of their stroke-and-grope in the Hamiltons’ living room came to mind. His touch had been soft and light, just like now. Autumn shut her eyes, as if to file this new experience away in her mind. When his fingers playfully caressed her neck, then the smooth curve of her hips, she shivered.
It took Autumn a half minute to work things out in her mind. With L.J. staring down at her with those deep-brown eyes, thinking was becoming more challenging than a game of backgammon. She didn’t want their date to end. They were having too much fun and, aside from giving herself a pedicure, she had nothing going on tonight. Nothing at all. “Why don’t you come over tonight for dinner? I’d love the company. I’m no wizard in the kitchen, but I do make a mean shepherd’s pie.”
Autumn was troubled by his silence. Feeling her confidence deflate, she reneged the offer. “We can always do
it another night…. I understand if you have plans…. Just forget I even said anything. I have work to do and…”
L.J. cut into her rambling. “Are you asking me out?”
Too busy analyzing the meaning behind his delayed response, she didn’t hear the playfulness in his voice or see the gleam in his eyes. Did I just ask him out? That was a first. Autumn had always played it safe by waiting for the guy to make the first move but no one had ever made her feel the way L.J. did. She wasn’t the type of woman who chased after men, but she wasn’t about to let this man with the bedroom eyes, sultry voice and honey-sweet lips get away, either. Even with all his wealth, status and promising future, Tyrell Wellman had nothing on L.J.
They went through the front gate of the park. The awkwardness hovering over them finally lifted when they reached the truck. L.J. had to fight long and hard to get the passenger door open and Autumn enjoyed teasing him.
“Want some help? You know what they say, L.J., sometimes less is more.” Autumn made a muscle. And when L.J. threw his head back and laughed, she did, too.
“What I need to do is take some gas and a box of matches to this stinkin’ old truck,” he said gruffly. “This thing is a piece of junk.” He had hand-washed it that morning, but there wasn’t much improvement. Mud stained the hood. The windshield had streaks. And dirt and grime coated the bumpers. Sentimental reasons kept him from driving down to the junkyard, setting it on fire and leaving it to burn in the midst of the other garbage.
L.J. helped her inside his truck and watched her wiggle around on her seat. “You still haven’t answered my question, Autumn. Is this a date?”
“It depends on whether or not you’re saying yes.”
He chuckled. Autumn Nicholson was some woman.
“Well?”
“I’ll come,” he conceded, his eyes dipping from her face to her thighs, “but only if you promise to wear something that shows off those sexy legs of yours.”
Autumn planted an airy kiss on his lips. “Your wish is my command.”
Chapter 12
Driving north on Connecticut Avenue later that evening, L.J. tried to keep his speed and his flailing hormones in check. He had been heavy on the gas ever since he had backed out of his driveway, and his feelings had been running rampant ever since he had come across Autumn stranded at the side of the road. L.J. was doing his damnedest to fight his feelings for her, but it was hard not to fall for Autumn when they shared a love of jazz, African-American history and an attraction so crushing it threatened to do them both in.
Autumn lived in a quiet, suburban neighborhood in the multi-ethnic community of Adams Morgan. And, as L.J. made a right turn onto Porter Street and his truck entered her apartment complex, he couldn’t help remembering all the trips he and Peter had made to this neighborhood back in the day. They used to meander around the area, just hunting for something to get into. Uninterested in what the haggling street vendors were selling, or the spirited festivals and parades, they’d had only one thing on their mind—girls, and pretty ones, too.
L.J. flashed a friendly smile at the group of Puerto Rican women coming off the elevator and entered the now-empty space. He took a deep calming breath, and when that didn’t help, he took another. He was wound tighter than a garden hose and he hadn’t even reached her door yet. As he walked up to her apartment, he chided himself. This was just a date. Brushing aside his nervous excitement, L.J. lifted his hand and rapped on Autumn’s door.
When Autumn unlocked the door, her face lit up. She opened her mouth to say hello, but the greeting stuck in her throat. L.J. looked incredible. As if he had just stepped off the front page of a fashion magazine and onto her doorstep. She was surprised to see him in a suit, but pleased he had taken the time to dress up. Autumn licked her lips. Handsome didn’t even begin to describe him. He looked like a block of chocolate in his all-black ensemble, and there was nothing she loved more than dark chocolate.
As far as her eyes could see, he was physically perfect. Long muscular limbs. Wide strapping shoulders. And an upper body that looked as though God himself had sculpted it. She could feel the smooth muscles of his chest under her fingertips already. Could taste his lips on hers, feel his hands cupping her.
Autumn forced her eyes away. She was losing it, and losing it fast. She had no business entertaining thoughts of making love to a man she barely knew. What happened to your two-year-old pledge? Her conscience chastised. You’re supposed to be waiting for Mr. Right, not Mr. Right Now. What do you even know about him?
Everything, she replied to the niggling voice in her head. L.J. was allergic to butter. He hated cabbage. His biggest pet peeve was people talking with their mouths full. And when he was teasing her, which seemed to be his new favorite pastime, his eyes twinkled and his nose twitched.
In ten short days, Autumn had learned more about L.J. than she knew about Tyrell, and she had dated the womanizer for eight miserable months. L.J. Saunders was no Joe Schmo. He was chivalrous and gracious and kind. And if they ended up making love tonight, which seemed like a foregone conclusion, Autumn would have no regrets. Not one. The man standing on her doorstep had a superfluity of virtuous qualities and she would do almost anything to marry a man of his caliber. Autumn knew L.J., like every other man on the face of the planet, had chinks in his armor, but when it came to what truly mattered—honesty, respect, compassion and tenderness—he was faultless. He was exceptionally sweet, had a great sense of humor, and he looked at her as though she, and not Halle Berry, was the sexiest women alive.
Autumn opened the door, and stepped aside. Welcoming him inside with her smile, she said, “Please, come in.”
L.J. took a step forward and almost fumbled over his feet. He gave his head a slight shake, and reminded himself again that this was just dinner. Two people of the opposite sex breaking bread. No big deal. Yeah, but you want her. Just one look at her and you’re harder than a bar of gold. Trying to ignore his thoughts, which were dead-on, he slipped off his shoes, and then returned his eyes to his lovely hostess.
L.J. was pleased that Autumn had honored his request. Her long legs were on display for his viewing pleasure, as well as her toned arms, her taut stomach and her full chest. Autumn’s sleeveless, burgundy top and matching miniskirt flaunted all that the good Lord had given her and then some. Her cinnamon-scented lipgloss and the flirtatious glimmer in her eyes were having an effect on his loins and his stomach.
L.J. yearned to pick up where they had left off that afternoon, with them wrapped up in each other’s arms, but something held him back. How would it look if you pounced on her in the hallway? He searched her face for a clue, but there was nothing there. L.J. could only guess what Autumn’s reaction would be. Would she push him away or melt under the warmth of his lips? Unconvinced of the latter, he banished all thoughts of kissing her from his mind. He would just have to wait until he was sure that Autumn wanted him to kiss her.
L.J. opened his mouth to tell Autumn she took his breath away, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. Nothing. Instead of trying again, he handed Autumn the bottle of wine and a small bouquet of flowers.
“These are pretty, L.J. How did you know I loved daisies?” She stuck her nose into the flowers, closed her eyes and sniffed.
“Just a hunch,” he lied, finally finding his voice. He wasn’t about to tell her he had called Melissa to find out. “You look marvelous.”
“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
They both laughed. Autumn beckoned him with her hand. “Follow me.”
L.J.’s head swayed to the swish of her teardrop bottom. Her walk was intoxicating, not too much hip action, just enough to let a brother know she was confident and in tune with her body. “Thanks again for the invite.”
She waved away his thanks. “It’s my pleasure. I love to entertain. Make yourself at home while I finish up in the kitchen. You can put on the TV or turn on the stereo system if you like. The remote’s on top of the entertainment
unit.”
L.J. would much rather watch Autumn than any top-rated television show, but he went into the living room as she directed. He took a minute to take in his surroundings. Dark walnut hardwood floors glistened throughout the main floor. The living room and formal dining room were one continuous space and modestly appointed with comfy furniture, ceramic sculptures and balloon vases filled with cherry-red roses. Autumn had an extensive collection of erotic literature and poetry alphabetically organized on a solid wood bookcase. Silver picture frames sat along the mantel, which extended around the triangular-shaped room, and six tiers full of CDs by soul artists like the Isley Brothers, Anita Baker, Barry White and Sam Cooke were neatly stacked. Autumn’s apartment was the perfect reflection of the woman he thought she was.
He was impressed. And turned on. His lady love was a hopeless romantic. He would have never pegged her as one of those poetry-quoting, dancing-in-the-rain types, but she was. The find made him want to know even more about her. Warmed by the discovery, L.J. chanced a look at his hostess. Preoccupied with transferring salad from an orange plastic bowl to a crystal one, Autumn didn’t feel the heat of his eyes. She was so absorbed in her task at hand, L.J. thought of sneaking up behind her and stealing a kiss. Autumn had warmed up considerably since their picnic dinner, but he didn’t want to press her. They had agreed to take things slow and he had every intention of keeping his word, even if it killed him.
L.J. turned away from her and redirected his eyes to an oversized painting of two lovers. They were reaching for each other. The sinewy woman looked blissful, a smile of pure radiance spread across her lips. She was angelic-looking and pretty, kind of like his Autumn.
“Dinner’s ready,” Autumn called out, flipping off the oven.
“Great,” L.J. said, rubbing his stomach, “because a brother’s starving.”
