“Garcelle?” he asked softly.
“Yes.” I smiled. “Hello, Cortez!”
“Well, hello, you.” He took me by the hand and pulled me into a quick, innocent embrace. “How are you?”
“I’m great,” I lied. “How are you?” I asked as we let go of each other. “Has your bag come yet?”
“No.” He laughed. “It’s not looking good, so I probably won’t wear my brand new suit tomorrow at the wedding.”
“Oh, no!” I frowned. “Are you in the wedding?” I started unbuttoning my coat.
“No, but I wish I were, then I would have been renting a tux here instead of bringing one. Now, I may have to buy yet another suit.”
I threw in my logic. “Well, if the other one is new and you have your receipt, maybe you can take that one back.”
“I already had it altered by a tailor outside of the company.” Cortez moved behind me to help me out of my coat. “Let me help you with that,” he said, as I shivered.
“Thank you,” I whispered. Our eyes caught each other when I glanced shyly over my shoulder.
“Mm.” His soft baritone made my eardrum tremble. He leaned in closer to me. “You smell amazing,” he said, and pulled the coat away from my body.
“Thank you, it’s Vera Wang,” I said.
“Very nice.” He nodded his approval, then gestured at the barstool. “Care to have a drink, or would you like to get started on dinner?”
How absolutely big and fat would I sound if I said we should start on dinner? I smiled. “I would love a cocktail.” I sat on the heavy leather chair as he adorned its back with my black felt coat. “What are you having?”
“Whiskey sour,” Cortez replied as he waved the bartender over. “What do you feel like?”
“I’ll have a Bellini.” I smiled.
“A Bellini for the lady,” Cortez said to the man, as he sat next to me and turned in my direction, resting his elbow on the bar. “You have such an incredible voice.”
“Really?” I blushed. “Thank you!”
“You should do voice-overs,” he advised.
He caught me off guard. “Voice-overs?” Oh, he meant incredible voice in that way. I thought he meant incredibly sexy, but he meant incredibly marketable. “Thank you.”
Over two drinks, our conversation stayed pretty safe. We discussed the weather, things to do in the area, and things related to the business. Even after we strolled over to Wave, the hotel’s restaurant, our chat was still very formal, only added to the pot were politics and boxing, which we both were fans of. My grilled free-range chicken with caramelized onions and roasted garlic, and side of macaroni and cheese gratin, had come and were almost gone when he suddenly said, “I didn’t expect you to be so . . .” He paused. “There’s only one way to put it, so attractive.”
My eyes widened to the size of saucers, and I forgot to breathe. “Thank you,” I said on my next breath, as my inner self ran around the table screaming cheers of joy.
He drank the last of his four whiskey sours. “I’ve been fighting the urge to say that since you walked in.” He smiled. “I hope that I’m not out of line or unprofessional for saying that.”
“Well, we have been talking about work an awful lot,” I teased with a smile, “but we aren’t at work.” I eased his mind.
“Great!” He relaxed. “As I said earlier, your voice is incredible, and your personality over the phone is amazing, but your smile, your skin . . . your beauty is astonishing, and you’re single,” he said. “It’s rare to find all of that in one woman without her being a nutcase,” he joked. “So, what’s wrong with you?”
“I’m wanted in several states,” I teased.
“True,” he flirted. “One being Florida.”
“Maybe,” I said.
“No, certainly,” Cortez assured me. “You would be a welcomed attraction in Jacksonville.”
“Thank you.” My whole body blushed as his commanding brown eyes proved too powerful for me to stare into. “You’re a very good-looking guy yourself.”
He laughed. “Well, thank you.”
“But I had already seen a picture of you on the Blare Web site,” I confessed.
“Snoop.” He made fun of me.
“So, now, what if I showed up and you didn’t find me attractive at all?” I asked.
“There would be no difference in my conversation, generosity, or friendship,” he said. “I obviously didn’t invite you out based on what you look like. It was because of the great job you do and your personality.” He sipped his drink. “The fact that you’re a sight for sore eyes is just a bonus.”
Though he paid me compliment after compliment, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was picturing me fifty pounds lighter and thinking, Damn, she would be so much finer if she lost some weight.
“Well, thank you,” I said, and then things got quiet.
“Oh, don’t get shy on me now,” he said. “So, what if you didn’t find me to be, as you say, a good-looking guy? Would you have agreed to dinner?”
“Heck no,” I joked. “Nah, seriously. I would’ve still agreed to dinner. After all, you are an executive in the home office who I can bounce ideas off of, get a better understanding of things from, and find out more about the company from. I would consider it a learning experience.” It was what I called a beauty pageant answer. It sounded good and would impress the world, but there was no truth to it at all.
Cortez laughed. “A learning experience, huh?”
“Yes,” I said. “You can never have too many of those.”
“Ugly dates?” He played on my words.
“No.” I laughed heavily. “Learning experiences!”
“So,” he continued, “why would you say that you’re single?”
I was unsure of what to say. “Well, I guess I could be dating if I wanted, but it seems I just keep meeting the same man with a difference face and name.” I shook my head. “So I’m on a little sabbatical to see if it’s something I’m doing to keep attracting the wrong men.”
He laughed. “I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong.” He gave me a hungry once-over. “I mean, look at you. Any man would be honored to have you on his arm.”
I didn’t want to say anything to seem unsure of myself, but out it came anyway. “Well, you know that most men like women who are more on the, how can I say?” I thought carefully because I didn’t want to sound like a hater. “Women on the size-two side.”
“Size two?” He grinned. “Nah, the only thing a size two can do for me is hang around in case I lose my key. She can slip through the keyhole and open the door.” He laughed. “I like a woman who looks and feels like a woman. I need curves and shape.”
If I were pale, I would’ve gone red in the face. “Well, it’s certainly good to know that you know how to appreciate a real woman.”
He gawked at me across the table from the waist up and then down again. “You are definitely real, a real beauty.”
“Thank you,” I said. The flattery was great, but I didn’t want him to get too cheesy. I changed the subject. “So, what’s wrong with you?” I questioned. “Why are you single?”
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “I’m actually newly divorced.”
Oh, God! This piece of information I didn’t know. Was he one of those divorced men who was free and looking to fuck any and everything in a skirt? Or was he the kind who was now bitter toward women because one had basically made him feel like a failure? Did he have kids? How long had he been married? Oh, God . . . I could smell the drama coming. “How long were you married?”
“Four years,” he answered. “I know what your next question is. I have no children.”
“Okay!” I breathed a nonchalant sigh of relief. “How long have you been divorced?”
“Well, we were separated for a year and a half, but the divorce has been final now for about five months.”
“Sorry that things didn’t work out.” I was at a loss for words.
“It’s cool
,” he said. “You live and learn.”
“So, what did you learn?” I asked.
“Ha!” He sat back in his chair. “I learned that getting married because you’re sick of arguing about not being married is not the right route.”
Over another round of drinks at the dinner table, he told me the story of his failed marriage, unsuccessful business they started, and two miscarriages. He didn’t seem hurt, bitter, or nostalgic about his wife; he truly seemed as though he was over it and ready to move on.
“Can you see yourself getting married again?” I asked.
“Mm. Good question,” he said, and sipped his drink again. “I can see it, but it won’t be anytime soon. She would have to have something to bring to the table, and not just show up expecting to have everything supplied for her.” He thought for a moment and continued. “The chemistry can’t be questionable; we have to be best friends.”
“Sounds good.” I didn’t know how to answer without sounding like I wanted to audition for the part of wife number two. “Good luck.”
“No, no, no luck.” Cortez chuckled. “I don’t want another woman who is lucky to have me. I want to be considered a blessing to someone.”
“I hear that,” I said.
He looked at his watch as if he had something else to do and was about to call it a night, but surprisingly, he said, “So, the night is still young. Would you like to do something else?”
“Something else?” I repeated the question. “Something like what?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “This is your town; you were supposed to come with an itinerary.” He laughed, and then recalled, “What was the tall building you were telling me about before?”
“The Hancock Building?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “As many times as I have visited here, I have never been there.”
“Well, we can go there if you want. On the ninety-sixth floor is a lounge with an unbelievable view.”
“I bet,” he said. “Maybe we can do that tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow night?” I asked in shock.
“Yeah.” He signed his receipt, and then apologized. “I’m sorry, you probably have plans.”
“I’m free tomorrow night.” I blushed. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy the view.”
“I’m already enjoying it,” he said. He stood and stared down at me. “And it’s breathtaking.” He reached down for my hand.
“Thank you.” I smiled. “So, where are we about to go?”
“I was going to suggest a walk, but it’s negative two hundred degrees outside.” He laughed. “So, I can speak with the concierge and see what’s happening in the area tonight, and we can take a cab. Is that okay?”
“Sure.” It had been a long time since I had been out and truly enjoyed myself with a guy. He was nothing like the last few trifling men I had gone out with. Like Jason, for example. What kind of foolishness was that? Some men felt that because a woman had a few extra pounds to carry, they wouldn’t mind carrying their sorry grown asses around, too, but I didn’t have the strength or tolerance for all of that dead weight.
After a few minutes of speaking to the concierge, he turned to me and said, “I know it’s cold outside, but how about a horse and carriage ride to Hole in the Wall?” he reluctantly asked.
“Are you sure you won’t be cold?”
“I should be okay as long as you sit close enough.” He ushered me into a hug.
“I’ll see what I can do.” I grinned.
Fifteen minutes later, a breathtakingly sturdy black satin stallion pulling an eggshell-colored carriage galloped up to the street in front of the hotel. Cortez stood. “Ready?”
“Let’s go.” I smiled. I had never taken advantage of seeing the city by horse and carriage. It was already looking even better.
Cortez helped me into the carriage as the driver looked at us and asked if we were celebrating anything special. I shook my head when I heard Cortez say, “It’s our first date.”
“Lovely!” the man replied. “So, will there be a second one?”
“I think so,” he answered, and looked over at me. “Will there be a third?” he asked, putting me on the spot.
“I don’t see why not.” My cheeks were flushed. “But the night is still young,” I joked.
Cortez paid the driver and adjusted his scarf before sitting down. “This is nice.” He looked around the plush coach.
I was awestruck! “Wow,” I said, as I looked up and around downtown Chicago. We slowly trotted down Ontario Street. “This is amazing,” I said. “I mean, I’ve been down this street a million times, but it’s so different this way.”
He interrupted, “It’s the night air, the smell, the sounds of the city; it makes a big difference.”
“Yes, it does.” I sat up in my seat a bit, and fell silent for a few minutes as I took in my Windy City.
“Are you cold?” Cortez asked, breaking the silence.
I was hardly paying attention. “Huh?”
“Cold?” he asked, staring down at my exposed legs.
“A little, but I’m from here,” I said. “The question is are you cold?”
“I’m glad you asked,” he answered with a mischievous grin. “I’m freezing, but I think if you sat just a little closer, it would help my situation.”
“You think so?” I nestled closer to him. “How’s that?”
“I still feel a chill.” He pretended to tremble. “Come closer.”
I put my hand on his kneecap and pulled myself even nearer to him. “How’s this?”
“Great, thank you!” His strong hand caressed my arm through my jacket. My heartbeat mirrored the click-clacking of the horse’s hooves. A thick quiet fell between us. Not the type where no one has anything to say, but the kind where there is so much to say that no one wants to say it first. What did I want to say? In a million ways, I wanted to tell him just how much I was enjoying his company. I cuddled up to him again; his chest was firm and his fragrance delicious. “I cannot believe that we’re doing this.” He pointed at himself and then me.
“I know.” I held his arm.
He said, “After all this time on the phone, e-mailing you, and being curious about you.”
“What were you curious about?” I turned into an investigative reporter.
“I wondered if you were single, married, or had kids,” he said. “I wondered what you looked like, smelled like, felt like.” We both fell silent and rode the rest of the ride that way.
We were seated at a tiny table in a dimly lit, smoke-filled Hole in the Wall, listening to a jazz band get down. I pinched myself to see if any of this was real, and, just then, he reached across the table and stroked my hand. Minutes later, he pulled me to the dance floor and we danced like we owned the joint. Afterward, we drank coffee and shared a slice of chocolate-and-raspberry cheesecake, my favorite.
It was after midnight when we stood in the lobby pretending that we could just say good-bye and pick up where we left off another time. On the third hug, Cortez asked, “Why don’t you just come up?”
“Well,” I said, smiling, “because you haven’t asked.”
“Oh.” He raised his eyebrows. “Is that all I need to do?”
“Maybe,” I teased.
“Well, Miss Monroe.” He pulled me into him. “Will you join me in my room upstairs?”
“Sure.” I winked at him. “I would have ten minutes ago.”
We decided to have one more round of drinks before going up. His phone chimed while we were at the bar. He said it was Bill from my office, so he walked to the restroom, on the phone, and I used the time to freshen my makeup. My last drink was a Long Island Iced Tea. What a mistake. It pushed me over the line of buzz to drunk, and it was a full moon, so I was horny! I wasn’t cum-in-my-face-’cause-I’m-a-dirty-whore horny, I was I-really-want-him-to-at-least-rub-me-through-my-panties horny, but times three. I had no business being in close proximity to a man so sexually appealing under these circumstances.
&nb
sp; When we got to the room, he asked, “Would you like to watch something or listen to some music? What would you like to do?”
“What would I like to do?” I repeated tauntingly, as I stumbled to the bed. “I could think of a million things I could do in this room.” At this very moment, Jamie Foxx’s “Blame It” would start playing on the soundtrack of my life. “Mm, so much to do, starting with you.”
His eyes jumped open. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” I kicked off my shoes. “Come here.” I beckoned him to the bed. “Let’s see what you’re working with.” Yes, I actually said that. It was a line straight out of the Ghetto Trick Hall of Fame. What was I doing? I had never even thought of saying that to a man. Insert chorus to Jamie’s song here.
“What?” He laughed it off.
Instead of leaving well enough alone, I continued. “Please don’t tell me that you like men.”
“Men?” His smile was gone when he turned to look at me. “I think that over the course of this evening, I’ve shown you several times what I like.”
“Why are you all the way over there then?” I mumbled as I made the short trek over to where he was standing. I held on to him to keep standing. “And why are you wearing all these clothes?” the Long Island Iced Tea in me asked. “Let’s get you comfy.” I removed his coat and dress shirt. He was wearing a T-shirt that exposed the definition in his arms, and that excited me. “Oh, I would love to see your chest.”
Cortez obliged, unveiling his solid chest and abs. I raked my fingers across his abs and loved it. I would be in a coffin for a year before my stomach was that flat. “Very nice,” I said as my hands traveled up to his chest, where I circled his nipple and moved in for a kiss. Our lips touched and had a heated conversation of their own. His lips were soft and sweet. After several long pecks, there was no pulling us apart. He passionately guided my tongue into his mouth, as a snake charmer would a snake, and drew it gently into his warmth, but I wanted more and fast. I abandoned his lips and left a sensual trail of kisses on his cheek. I traveled down his neck, onto his chest, stopped at his nipple, and encircled it with my tongue.
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