by Janice Sims
He’s either going to be a politician or quite the lady killer when he’s a few years older, Cherisse thought. But for now, he’s just a socially inept kid.
Danielle looked to her mother for some sign of acquiescence. Cherisse smiled and said, “Maybe for a couple of hours.”
Danielle beamed. “I’d love to,” she said to Dante, who almost jumped for joy but was able to avoid embarrassment by controlling the impulse.
“Great!” he said. “I’ll come back for you after we’ve all finished dinner. See you.”
“See you,” said Danielle.
Harry was perhaps happier than she was at the turn of events. He and Cherisse would have at least two hours alone.
Over dinner, Harry wanted to hear about Cherisse’s growing up in Denver. He said he had never known anyone who was actually born there. Cherisse didn’t doubt him since statistics showed that in the 1990s Denver grew by thirty percent. Approximately one thousand people moved there every week for ten years straight. Therefore Denver’s population had a lot of people who were from someplace else.
“I loved the city,” she told him. “I didn’t know anything else so I might be biased but there was always something to do in Denver. And school was fun because the teachers, the parents, the community were all working together to keep you interested. That’s why, I guess, the overall high school and college dropout rate in Denver is among America’s lowest. Plus, my mom was a teacher. Teachers’ kids never caught a break.”
“So you graduated from high school and went straight to college,” Harry guessed.
“No, I took a detour,” Cherisse said with a smile and a glance in Danielle’s direction.
Danielle spoke up. “What she means is she and Dad, who were high-school sweethearts, got married and had me.”
Cherisse had told Danielle about the circumstances of her birth. She didn’t believe in keeping things like that from Danielle because her daughter had a very inquisitive mind. Danielle would eventually find out that Cherisse was pregnant with her before she and Charlie were married. She would be upset that she had to discover it on her own instead of having been told by her parents, especially her mother.
Cherisse wondered why Danielle let Charlie slide with everything, but expressed disappointment with her if she neglected to behave like an exemplary parent. Another reason Cherisse sometimes resented Charlie.
“Charlie and I got married, he got drafted by the Philadelphia Eagles, decided to skip college and we moved to Philadelphia. I was nineteen when Danielle was born. I didn’t know anything about being a wife or a mother. I just played it by ear.”
“But she must have done something right,” said Danielle. “I’m not crazy.” She crossed her eyes. “Well, not too crazy, anyway.”
They laughed.
“Charlie and I tried to make our marriage work, but we were too different,” Cherisse said. “After the divorce Danielle and I moved back to Denver to live with my mother, Joann, and I went to nursing school and got my bachelor’s and master’s degrees.”
Danielle remained silent about the reason her mom and dad’s marriage didn’t work. She was aware that her mom couldn’t live with her dad because he was addicted to gambling. Charlie wouldn’t take responsibility for his family.
Her mother had put up with it for nine years. Danielle couldn’t fault her for wanting a better life for herself and her child. In fact she was glad her mother had decided to leave her dad.
Her dad had finally decided he needed help three years ago and the last time she had spoken to him he had promised her that he hadn’t gambled on anything. He swore he hadn’t even bought a lottery ticket in over a year.
Maybe she would eventually get the father she had always wanted.
Growing up she had accepted what little time he spent with her, not complaining because she didn’t want to give him an excuse not to come see her. If he thought she was disappointed in him, or irritated with him due to his repeated lies about coming to see her or sending her a gift, he might have been too ashamed to show his face.
With her mother she could always be herself. Her mother was strong enough to take anything she dished out. That’s how she wanted to be when she became a woman.
Plus, another reason Danielle figured her mom hadn’t mentioned the gambling to Harry Payne was because they had just met. She might tell him the truth one day.
After dessert, Danielle was delighted to look up and see Dante coming over.
When he got to their table she rose and said her goodnights to her mom and Harry.
“Be back in the suite by midnight,” Cherisse told her.
Danielle didn’t try to negotiate a later curfew. “Okay, midnight.”
She and Dante hurried off as if they hadn’t a minute to lose.
Harry smiled at Cherisse. The Delacroix Brothers were performing “Embraceable You.”
Several couples were already on the dance floor, and most of them were older couples who had undoubtedly been dancing together for years because they were quite good.
Cherisse watched them, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth and a dreamy look in her eyes.
Harry felt pretty confident that she wouldn’t refuse him if he asked her to dance. He offered her his hand, which she immediately took. They rose and walked onto the dance floor and she smoothly went into his arms. From the moment her body touched his, Harry knew that they would fit well together.
Her body was firm, yet soft, and the fragrance she wore floated off her warm skin and into his olfactory senses like the fumes from a witch’s brew. It was just as spellbindingly intoxicating. He was hooked.
She sighed softly, which further aroused Harry. He started talking in order to distract himself. “Emmitt Smith isn’t the only ex-football player who can dance, you know.”
Cherisse gave a low, throaty laugh as she looked up into his eyes. “Harry, are you nervous?”
“Kind of. Aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I’m much more attracted to you than I should be.”
Harry’s heartbeat accelerated at this admission. And blood rushed to a certain area below his waist. He cleared his throat. “Why did you put it that way? Is there a reason you shouldn’t be attracted to me? Because I’m telling you now, I want to see you again. And I’m glad you feel the same way.”
“I do,” she said, “very much. But how would it look if it got out that you were dating the mother of the skier your company is sponsoring?”
“I don’t care how it would look,” Harry said calmly. “I was attracted to you last Saturday night when we met on the balcony. I didn’t even know who you were then. I was tempted to look for you but you didn’t give me your last name!”
“You were?” Cherisse asked with a bit of an awestruck tone to her voice.
“I was,” Harry confirmed. “Now that there’s nothing standing in our way, don’t go inventing obstacles. Whose business is it if we date?”
“It’s nobody’s,” Cherisse said. She wanted to believe that once the media learned Harry—who was a celebrity in Denver and Vail because not only was he a renowned ex-Bronco but he also owned one of the most successful businesses in this part of Colorado—was going out with the mother of the young woman he’d agreed to back in the 2010 Winter Olympics they would not put a salacious spin on it.
The news wasn’t what it used to be. You used to be able to turn on your TV and hear serious news reported by serious journalists. Some of today’s news networks thrived on rumor and innuendo. Entertainment in the form of gossip obviously helped pay the bills.
But looking up at Harry, Cherisse decided she was willing to risk it. Honestly, it could go either way: she and Harry could be left alone by the media or the media could fall on them like ravenous wolves. Either way, perhaps they would have something so good between them that they would be able to weather the storm.
“That’s right,” Harry said, pulling her closer against him. �
��It’s nobody’s business except ours.”
For the remainder of the song, they seemed to float together on the dance floor, eyes locked, with contented smiles on their faces. Two minutes after the Delacroix Brothers finished “Embraceable You” and “It Had to Be You” and announced to their audience that they were taking a five-minute break and everyone else cleared the dance floor, Davis Winters called out, “Um, Harry, in case you hadn’t noticed, the music’s stopped!”
Cherisse and Harry hurried off the dance floor amid good-natured laughter from all present. “Thank you, Davis,” Harry said.
“Just looking out for you,” Davis said, laughing.
Cherisse blushed to her ears. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I was about to suggest that,” Harry whispered.
They went back to their table where Cherisse collected her clutch and her wrap and they walked hand in hand from the restaurant.
Once they were clear of prying eyes, Harry wrapped his arm about her waist, pulling her close to his side. “How would you like to sit by the fire and listen to music while sipping a cup of tea?”
Cherisse smiled at him. “I’d love to.”
Harry’s suite was the largest space in the hotel. Like the new condominiums it had two thousand feet of living area. On the top floor, it had the appearance of a loft. Very few walls and miles of hardwood floors with expensive carpets placed strategically around the suite.
Masculine furnishings with muscle, big overstuffed couches and chairs in earth tones accented with rich woods. Once Harry ushered Cherisse into the suite he insisted that she take her shoes off and get comfortable on the couch in front of the fireplace.
He removed his jacket and went to light the fire in the fireplace. This done, he turned to smile at Cherisse and found her looking at him intently. She had taken off her shoes and was sitting on the couch with her feet tucked under her. She would have been embarrassed to admit what she’d been thinking while she had watched him bend over to light the fireplace. Harry Payne had a great butt! In fact, in his shirt-sleeves with the muscles of his arms and chest and stomach easily delineated, and the muscles of his legs and thighs working underneath his dress slacks, he was a treat to behold.
Harry didn’t have to ask what she had been thinking. He could see the mischievous glint in her eyes and guessed she’d been checking out his backside. She was a healthy, red-blooded girl, after all.
“Celestial Seasonings tea,” he said. “We get it by the truckload. What kind do you like?”
“Peppermint,” Cherisse told him. “It’s good of you to patronize a Denver business.”
“I try to use local businesses as much as possible,” said Harry while strolling over to the entertainment center to select a CD. He picked up one of his favorites. “Do you like Taj Mahal?”
Cherisse looked perplexed. “I’m always open to new artists.”
Harry laughed softly. “He’s been around for more than thirty years. He has a kind of rock/blues/country sound. Have you ever heard of Keb’ Mo’?”
“Yeah, I have most of his CDs,” Cherisse said.
“Well, now you get to listen to one of the artists who inspired Kevin Moore, otherwise known as Keb’ Mo’.”
He put the CD on and soon the sound of a blues guitar filled the air. Taj Mahal launched into “Statesboro Blues,” which had some very funky guitar riffs in it. Cherisse sat back and enjoyed while Harry went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
A few minutes later, he returned with two piping hot cups of peppermint tea sweetened with honey and handed Cherisse one of them.
By this time Taj Mahal was singing “She Caught the Katy and Left Me a Mule to Ride” about his woman leaving on the train and his following behind trying to convince her to come back to him.
Harry sat beside Cherisse. “What do you think?”
“I like him,” she said with a smile. “He sings with a lot of emotion in his voice. I believe him when he says he loves his woman, big feet and all.”
Harry laughed. Setting his cup on the coffee table in front of him, he reached for her right foot and began massaging it. “You have beautiful feet.”
Cherisse was glad she’d given herself a pedicure last night and had generously moisturized her feet before going to dinner tonight. Harry’s strong hands felt heavenly on her feet. He even knew how to work the soles of her feet and hit that spot that sent shivers up her spine. Lord, yes, the man had talented hands.
It had been six long years since a man had…Wait a minute. She’d told Harry about her long abstinence from sex the first night they met, thinking that it was perfectly safe to spill her guts to a stranger. Someone she would never meet again.
Now here she was letting him massage her feet, a week after meeting him. Damn, he was good. Or, she was slow. At any rate, she’d come to her senses in time.
She reached down and stayed his hand. “Harry, don’t do that.”
He smiled that sexy smile of his. “Doesn’t it feel good?”
“It feels too good.”
“Then I’m doing it right,” Harry said, still smiling sexily.
She grabbed his hand, removed it from her foot and then, still sitting, put her feet on the floor, searching for her Jimmy Choos with them.
Harry watched, confused. “What did I do?”
Shoes on, Cherisse rose and looked down at him. “Six years, Harry Payne. You know I haven’t been with a man in six years. You played me like a fiddle tonight!”
Incensed, she spun around. “Look at me, standing in your love nest.”
“Love nest?” Harry cried, trying his best to contain his laughter. He got it now. Because she had confided in him that she hadn’t had sex in six years she thought he was putting the moves on her. Okay, he was putting the moves on her, but not with the intention of taking her to bed but, maybe, getting a good-night kiss. That was all. Honestly.
“I was hoping to kiss you, not make love to you,” Harry told her. “I know you’re not the type of woman who goes to bed with anyone on the first date, if you can call dinner and a couple of dances a date!”
Cherisse calmed down a bit and eyed him skeptically. “I guess I was letting my lust-crazed thoughts run away with me. It’s hell when you meet a gorgeous male and find yourself turned on by him, knowing that you really shouldn’t entertain the thought of anything other than a chaste kiss good-night when your body is saying, ‘Hell, girl, you haven’t had any in ages. Go for it!’”
Harry guffawed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to turn you on. Okay, I did mean to do it, but only enough to taste that luscious mouth of yours.”
Cherisse found herself smiling in spite of herself. She walked into Harry’s open arms.
“You know, we were never supposed to meet again, that’s why I felt my secret would be safe with you.”
“I know,” he whispered, lowering his head. “It’s still safe with me. You’re safe with me.”
“Oh, Harry,” Cherisse breathed, and gave him her mouth.
When she said his name like that, all breathless, Harry’s desire for her increased tenfold. Their mouths collided in an orgiastic dance. Harry had meant to be gentle, to make her feel comfortable in his arms until she loosened up and learned to trust him.
Cherisse had meant to test the waters, expecting to be able to maintain some semblance of control.
They were both disappointed.
One taste of her sweet mouth sent Harry on the quest for more of that addictive nectar. He devoured her. The part of his brain that wasn’t lost in sensation and was still able to conjugate verbs was pleasantly surprised by Cherisse’s lack of reticence.
This was not a shy, retiring celibate. She was doing things with her tongue that he hadn’t even learned yet.
Cherisse knew it. The smell of Harry, his strong body and talented hands had all worked together to break down every fortress she’d built around her in the past six years. She had known he was trouble!
Now that she had tasted him, she
wanted so much more.
Her feverish brain whispered, “Do it. Do it. Do it till you’re satisfied!” Wasn’t that from an old seventies song?
Get out of my brain! Then get your tongue out of Harry Payne’s mouth and go to your own suite like a good little girl.
With some effort, she was able to tear her mouth from his, but one look into his sultry eyes, and she was kissing him again.
This time it was Harry who pulled away. “Listen, sweetness, I think I ought to walk you home before we both break our vows of celibacy.”
Cherisse laughed. “You’ve taken a vow of celibacy?”
“Cheri.” He said her name so unlike any of her other friends said it. He said it as if he really were saying “dear” or “darling.” “Cheri, until you invite me into your bed, yes, I’ll remain celibate. No matter how long it takes.”
Chapter 8
Danielle couldn’t believe it. She’d finally met a boy who could keep up with her on the dance floor! Echo enjoyed more intellectual pursuits, saying dancing was for the mentally challenged. Danielle knew he said that only because he had two left feet.
And Dante not only knew the latest moves, but his energy level also matched hers.
They had danced five straight dances before he suggested they get a drink. The DJ played some of her favorite artists: Rihanna, Beyoncé, Chris Brown, Ne-Yo and Timbaland.
The ballroom was packed. She figured kids from the surrounding area also came to the Saturday night dances. She saw kids who looked younger than she was, and quite a few who were pushing twenty-one, probably, but not that many over twenty-one. She supposed the DJ’s emphasis on hip-hop attracted a younger crowd.
As they moved through the throng, trying to make it to the bar, Dante held tightly to her hand. A gentleman, he made sure the way was clear for her. When they reached the bar, he let her have the sole remaining stool on the corner and he stood next to her.
The bartender walked up to them. “What can I get you?”
“Bourbon on the rocks,” Dante joked.
“Don’t mess with me tonight, Dante,” the bartender, a young African-American woman with spiky black hair and enormous green eyes said. She was chewing gum and popping it with alacrity.
