Tonight

by Nana Malone

  “Didn’t you see me standing here?” she asked. A coppery mix of golden highlights with loose curls that cascaded to her shoulders.

  Oh, shit. This wasn’t one of the cute bridesmaids he’d collided with. It was the bride’s sister. What was her name? Dejon, Delilah, Darla? They were introduced only a few hours before the ceremony—why couldn’t he recall her name? He’d noticed her the moment they had been paired to walk arm and arm down the aisle. If he hadn’t argued with his father earlier that day over something trivial, he might not have dropped his focus and pursued the beauty.

  “I should have seen you,” he cleared his throat. The action drew her gaze up from the stain on her dress to his eyes. “You’re one of the most beautiful women here,” he said in a voice unintentionally thick with desire. Her gaze was so cold it pierced him like a spear of ice. Man, he wasn’t prepared for those eyes. Long-lashed, deep brown with amber sparks. This lovely beauty had the eye color of his favorite brandy when held under light. The kind of eyes certain to snare a man from a single glance. Her pretty face, with its plump lips and smooth deep brown skin, was the deal sealer. The right side of her hair was tucked behind her ear. She wore large diamond studs that glistened and sparkled from her dainty little lobes, and big bracelets that created their own music each time she moved to wipe at her dress.

  “This is going to stain!” she sighed.

  He had to chuckle. Who cares about the dress, doesn’t she see me drooling here? She caught his reaction and his smile deepened at the way her cute little nose wrinkled and her lips pressed together in offense. Finally it looked as if she recognized him. Who wouldn’t? He was damn near a celebrity in every circle, especially one as personal as his kid brother’s wedding.

  “I’m Jon Hendrix, Cliff’s older brother. Looks like you bumped into me, sweetheart,” he teased. It was her turn to apologize. Fawn all over him like the rest of the women at the reception. He arched a brow with expectation.

  “Stay in your lane, Jon.” She huffed and sashayed off. The swing of her hips, the sway of her locks and the trail of her fragrance as she escaped made her parting even more bitterly received.

  His brows lowered and his gaze narrowed over the disrespect. “Did she just dismiss me?” he asked himself.

  Jon eyed the other guests laughing and smiling around him, certain someone had seen the snub. Since when did any woman take an immediate dislike to him? That was new. He tracked her as she moved through the crowd of guests dancing and gathering around to gush over having not seen each other since the last Hendrix family event. He caught her as she shot him a final glare over her shoulder before disappearing into the mix. He was definitely losing his touch.

  “What was that about?” his father barked from behind him.

  Jon tore his eyes away from the crowd the beauty had slipped through and focused on dear old dad. “Nothing, a misunderstanding. She’ll be okay.”

  His father stared at him for a moment. “That young lady is the bride’s sister. You are not to make that family uncomfortable. Are we clear?”

  “I don’t need a lecture,” Jon shot back.

  “You will not embarrass the family,” his father said through clenched teeth. “Are we clear?” he repeated.

  “Right. Clear. I won’t break the facade, reveal who we really are,” Jon said.

  Elvin Hendrix scowled. “You plan on staying for the toast or vanishing yet again?”

  “I’m here for Cliff, not you. Of course I intend to stay,” Jon answered. He followed his father’s gaze. They stood side by side watching his little brother sweep his bride across the dance floor. His parents never ceased to amaze him. They lived very pretentious, exclusive lives. But from the moment his baby brother showed up with his African-American fiancée and announced he would marry her, his family had been nothing but accepting. He had to wonder, if he had made the same choice in a woman, would his father have been so tolerant?

  “He’s done well. Look at them.” His father said with a proud smile. “They’re perfect.”

  Jon rolled his eyes. “On second thought I need some air. You make the toast.”

  Before his father could respond he started off. The crowd at the open bar was too congested for him to quickly grab a bottle so he turned left. There was a bar inside the hotel. Forget the wedding. Forget dear ole dad and his judgment. He’d grab a few bottles and catch the last of the game.

  * * *

  “I’m done!” Deja announced.

  “Done? Dee hasn’t thrown the bouquet. She hasn’t danced with Daddy yet. Whoa...wait, what happened to your dress?”

  “That jerk over there walked directly into me. Spilled my champagne.” Deja pointed to the shifting crowd of guests clustered near the buffet table. There were too many people gathered around, but none of them she knew. The lawns to the back of the resort hotel were vast and as green as emeralds. The Hendrix family owned the grounds as they did many others. They had insisted their son’s wedding and reception both be held in the gardens. Large white tents shielded the guests from the afternoon California sun.

  “Who? Who was it?” Dina asked.

  Dina was the middle child, and Deja the oldest. That made the bride, their sister, the baby of the trio.

  “It was the best man. Now hand over the keys.”

  “Wait? Jon Hendrix? The Jon Hendrix?” Dina asked. She rose on her toes in search of him. “Did you look at the man when you walked down the aisle holding his arm?”

  “Why?” Deja asked with disgust.

  “Because he’s the fine one. The rich one! The only single man here worth a damn, Deja. The man looks like he stepped out of a GQ photo shoot. Where is he? Where did he go?”

  “Put your tongue back in your mouth before your husband sees. I couldn’t care less who he is,” Deja said with a sigh.

  Dina continued as if she hadn’t heard Deja’s direction. She walked on her toes to try to locate Jon Hendrix herself. But there were too many guests. “Darn it. He’s gone. Deja! Girl, you’re missing out. He’s the hottest bachelor in the universe. I think he dates black women, too, like his brother. Saw him in a magazine with Layla Thomas.”

  “I don’t care!” Deja scoffed.

  “Your last boyfriend was a Cambodian musician. You date the rainbow,” Dina snickered. “Don’t pretend you aren’t interested.”

  Deja rolled her eyes. “Jackasses come in all races, sister dear. And would you stop pointing out race, Dina, it’s embarrassing. What if one of the guests hears you?”

  “Oh, please. As if these white folks aren’t already scratching their heads over our chocolate little Dee-Dee marrying into this family,” Dina said, chuckling.

  Deja glanced around to see if anyone had overheard their conversation. Dina had been making digs at Deja’s taste in men since their baby sister had come home with a white investment broker who happened to be the youngest male heir to the Hendrix hotel and resort fortune. It wasn’t Deja who’d introduced them. They lived in a progressive age. Many people in the bay area dated interracially. But she didn’t bother explaining that to her sister. She couldn’t care less about the eldest playboy Hendrix.

  “Oh, and Darren said he’s Robbie Steven’s manager,” Dina prattled on. “He just signed that kid who won the top college athletic award and signed a deal with one of the best teams in the league. It’s all over the news.” Dina grinned. “What if he brought Robbie to the wedding? Jeez, Darren would flip out if he got to meet Robbie. Speaking of Darren, have you seen my hubby?”

  “No.” Deja turned her head and glanced back at the hotel. She should have kept her purse with her.

  “Would you stop being such a buzzkill,” Dina whispered. “People are already calling you the mean sister.”

  Startled by the accusation Deja glared at her sister. Dina stepped closer and lowered her voice. “You should be inter
ested that a single cute man is in the vicinity,” she said. “Not because he’s white. Not because it’s been six months since your last date. You should be interested because it’s time to move on. I’m married. Dee is married. Look at you. When are you going to stop being such an ice queen and get a little excited about any man again?”

  Deja shook her head and stalked off. Dina called her name but she ignored her, picking up her pace. She stepped out from under the tented reception area into the grass. The resort loomed up the hill. When she glanced back she saw her baby sister, Dee, take to the dance floor with her new husband. She paused. Dee looked so happy. She beamed up at her husband who had swept into her life and proposed only a few months later. Her sister deserved happiness. She smiled briefly and started up the hill careful of her sinking shoes in the grass. She’d find her purse and go back to her room. She had an early flight to catch for an interview she had that next week. If it all panned out and she got the teaching gig at NYU she’d start over in New York. Dina was wrong. She didn’t need a man. She needed a new beginning.

  * * *

  “Hold the elevator!” A deep voice called out.

  Deja hit the button to stop the doors from closing before she identified who had just bolted inside. She should have looked up first. As soon as the doors closed her heart skipped a beat in her chest. He was with her. Jon Hendrix.

  “Six please,” he said with a hint of a smile.

  She tried to appear unaffected by his presence. She pressed the button and lifted her gaze to the electronic number display praying for a swift ride up to the fourth floor. But she could feel him staring. The man’s gaze had heat to it. And his presence carried a sense of mystery. Addictive predatory mystery like the bad-boy musicians she loved to bed. But Jon Hendrix was no musician. She peeked at him. He had a pale gold tanned face with coal-black hair and firm chiseled features. A tall athletic frame tucked nicely in a tuxedo. He caught her staring and his piercing blue-gray eyes went smoky dark in an instant and snared her.

  “Ah hello,” she said.

  He gave her a single nod. It was his eyes that did the speaking for him. They swept her face and lowered from her face to her breasts and then her hips. When they returned they sparkled with interest. She swung her gaze back to the number display.

  “About earlier, beautiful...” he began.

  “Forget about it—” She waved the explanation off and the elevator froze with a jolt. Deja stepped back in surprise. They were on floor three. She pressed the button. Nothing. She hit it with her fist. Nothing. Panic rose like a black tide and dragged her under.

  “Hey, it’s okay.” She heard him say.

  She didn’t know her emotional collapse was that transparent. She was barely aware that a startled cry of terror had escaped her mouth or that she was panting hard. Immediately she began to breathe hard through her nose, and perspire. Her little secret, unknown even to friends and family, was her claustrophobia. She battled anxiety in small cars, windowless rooms, and yes, elevators.

  “We’re trapped!” she wheezed.

  She looked up into the mirrored wall of the elevator and saw his concern. He must be thinking she was crazy. She felt crazy. “I can’t. I can’t be stuck in here! It’s stuck! It’s stuck!” She screamed out loud.

  He put a hand to her arm. Deja backed up to the wall with closed eyes. There was constriction in her chest and lungs. A sharp cramp in her gut robbed her of the ability to breathe. She suppressed the urge to cry. “Get me out of here! Get me out!”

  “Mr. Hendrix. We will have the elevator moving in a few minutes, sir. We see you.” A man spoke on the intercom.

  “Make it quick!” he barked the order.

  She opened her eyes and he was in front of her. The look of concern in his smoldering eyes was genuine. “You’re okay. Breathe, breathe with me,” he said.

  “I can’t! I can’t!” she gasped.

  He touched her face. It was the most calming touch she had ever felt. With her back against the elevator wall she felt it all at once. At the base of her spine a hot, white current of terror soothed by a pool of soft, warm sensations. His touch resonated through the bloodstream and she calmed into a warm fuzziness as her heart beat slowed.

  “Now. Look at me, look at me, beautiful,” he said. “Breathe through your nose and out of your mouth. Inhale deep and exhale slow.”

  Deja lifted her gaze and looked into his eyes. She did as he instructed. The bubble of hysteria popped. Everything stabilized. She inhaled deep and exhaled slowly through her pursed lips. The color and texture of her surroundings were solid and formed. She had to wonder if it was some kind of aneurysm or brain spasm that brought her collapse on. Surely an intelligent woman like her didn’t fall apart because of a stuck elevator.

  He smiled. “Wow, sweetheart. Are you always this intense?” he asked.

  Instead of being insulted she actually appreciated his humor. She just couldn’t speak just yet. Instead, she smiled and kept breathing.

  “Good girl. Feel better?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” she croaked. “It’s just not my day, or year for that matter.”

  When he stepped closer she touched his chest. It was a reflex reaction and a strong one. The hard strength she felt underneath the fine silk threads of his shirt vibrated through her palm. She relaxed. She was scared, but not panicked as she once was. “How...how long before... before the doors open?”

  “Minutes. These things happen.” He looked up at the ceiling and then back down to her. “Probably a circuit of some sort. He’ll get us out of here.”

  “I can’t stay in here,” Deja pleaded. “I really can’t.” She closed her eyes and swallowed. She tried not to think of the suffocation rising in her lungs once more. “I... I have anxiety.”

  “Hey, do you know the truth about anxiety?” he asked as he lifted her chin.

  She blinked up at him. “What truth?”

  “Nothing lasts, beautiful. Not the feeling of happiness, of sadness, fear, even anxiety. You can’t feel the same emotion consistently forever. So if you focus on me for the next several minutes, you’ll be out before the terror returns.”

  Was he for real? She stared into his eyes. His boldly handsome face held a certain sensuality. His hair gleamed under the bright elevator lights with dark tendrils curled at the edge of his forehead. His eyes, chiseled features and self-confident presence gave him a larger-than-life appearance. All he needed was the square rimmed glasses and he’d be a super hero in disguise. The man crowded her with his height. He had her blocked in against the wall. He began to touch her wherever he pleased from her face, arms to her hips. She could only look to him for help. And something mischievous sparked in his eyes that said that was his intention. Plus he was tall. The man was so stunningly virile she lost all fear of confinement. Deja was a sucker for tall men. Her tastes tended to lean more toward the lanky guitarist in rock bands, with a penchant for leather pants and heartbreaks. But a jet-setting celebrity playboy could fit the bill.

  “Looks like you’re feeling better. Right?” he asked.

  “You sound like a shrink,” she tried to joke.

  “Seen a few,” he winked.

  Deja chuckled. She prayed he would continue to speak and touch her, distract her. And her prayers were answered. Except this time his hands were stroking up and down her arms. And he was closer. So close she could feel his body heat.

  “What’s your name?” he asked. His hand moved to hers and squeezed.

  “Huh?” she answered.

  “Your name is huh?” he asked.

  She laughed and shook her head no.

  “Tell me your name, beautiful,” he said. They’d met just an hour before the wedding. He’d walked her down the aisle. Didn’t he remember? When she considered it further, she recalled that be
sides the drink spill incident they hadn’t spoken, and were never formally introduced.

  “Your name?” he whispered again. God help her, her knees nearly gave way. All he was doing was stroking her arm and it excited her.

  “Deja,” she said.

  “Ah, Deja. Very beautiful.”

  She was about to request some space. She desperately needed him to give her at least ten inches for air and sanity. The elevator, however, shook and dropped a floor. Deja screamed. She leaped at him and he scooped her up into his arms fully. His strong embrace crushed her against a solid chest. She deliberately shut out awareness of how nice it was to be pressed against him.

  It didn’t work.

  The kiss happened.

  And it felt right.

  Deja kissed him. His tongue swept in her mouth and she gripped the nape of his neck as a slender delicate thread of desire wrapped around them. Her insides jangled with excitement and her body bloomed with lust so thick and languid it threatened to take them under. Oh, yes, she welcomed this drowning.

  * * *

  Passion greeted him where he expected resistance. The heat of her mouth, the tangled dance of their tongues, the woman herself made his loins burn. Nothing prepared him for how soft and beautiful she would feel to him after one single kiss.

  His hand began to slip ever so slowly around her slender waist and then down to cup her round ass. And she held on to him. He squeezed her butt with both hands and elicited a shudder from her, which his ego absorbed and savored. Strange, but ever since he bumped into the lovely Deja he’d wanted to feel her ass. It was nicely formed in her bridesmaid’s dress. He wished to buy her a closet full of those dresses.

  The elevator shook again as if trying to make a climb. The lights inside blinked off. She whimpered and he felt her body’s tremble go through him.

  “I have you,” he whispered between the kiss and licks of her lips before he kissed her harder. He took her into his arms. He pushed her up against the elevator wall to prevent her escape. He wanted her undivided attention. The bulge of his erection was now pressed against the apex of her sex. He found her petal-soft and warm between her thick thighs and wondered if she was tight for him, as well. She groaned. The elevator responded with a loud grinding of gears. As if a switch was flipped it came to life and started to climb.