Chaz excused himself from the table and began to work the room. The speeches would begin shortly, but there were still a few people he hadn’t personally thanked. He stopped at the table directly beside where he’d sat and thanked Max for supporting all of the time and money his wife, Liz, put into the charity. He noticed that Elizabeth smiled obligingly but it didn’t reach her eyes. Later, he would wonder if her pout had anything to do with the gorgeous, twenty-something sistah who also dined at their table. Chaz waved at Lois, who looked out of place, yet happy, as she sat at a table with Gina, Melanie, and other members of the law firm staff. He acknowledged the attorney whose unrelenting advances could be labeled sexual harassment; the matronly socialite who’d offered Chaz five million dollars to bed her and, after he refused, had given only half a million dollars to the charity; and attorneys from his old law firm. After shaking hands with James and hugging Taylor, Chaz greeted news personnel, local talk-show hosts, and doctors from the partner hospital, and he finally stopped at a table that bore two of the people he most loved in the world.
“You are the belle of the ball, honey,” he said, as he knelt down and hugged Cherish. He turned and hugged C.J. “I thought I was the most handsome man in the room,” he said, straightening the collar of his son’s tuxedo. “But I think you’ve got me beat.”
“Oh, Dad,” C.J. moaned. But his eyes beamed.
“Thanks for coming and bringing the children,” he said, sitting at the recently vacated chair next to Jennifer. “You look good. But the jury is still out on that chump you brought with you.”
“Antonio is a good friend,” Jennifer responded, delighted at the thought that Chaz might be jealous. “And the children love him.”
“Love him?” Chaz lowered his voice. “Is this guy spending time at the house? Around my kids?”
“Now, Chaz, I don’t know that that is any of your business.”
“If it involves my children, it’s my business.”
“No worries, darling. You and I still have unfinished business. If all goes well, we’ll take care of it soon.”
Before Chaz could respond, Jennifer’s date returned with their drinks. Jennifer made the somewhat stilted introductions, and then Chaz was forced to return to his table. It was time for the ceremonies to begin.
Tomorrow, the events of the evening would be splashed across both the business and society pages. But tonight, as the evening came to an end and Chaz drove through the rainy Chicago streets, his thoughts weren’t on his professional success but rather his life’s personal puzzle. Underlying issues aside, seeing Elizabeth with her husband and Jennifer with a date served to highlight Chaz’s loneliness in a room filled with one hundred people. He’d hoped that Naomi would return in time to join him. But the last two calls he’d made to her had gone to voice mail. Chaz knew that he was an eligible man who could get almost any woman he wanted. Yet tonight, he realized that the most intimate female interaction he’d had recently had been from a distance: through letters, e-mails, and text messages. By the time Chaz reached his home, he’d made a decision. It was time to get up close and personal. He unlocked his door, walked straight to his study, and picked up the prepaid cell.
24
Let’s meet.
Even though it was after eleven, the response came almost immediately. When? Where?
Chaz typed in the information, a boutique hotel he often used for intimate business dinners and off-site meetings. The owner was a personal friend; the staff, people he could trust. He remembered this as he typed his response:
I’ve covered all my bases. If you don’t show up alone, are working with anyone to make this a tabloid moment, or are trying to exploit me in any way, this meeting will NOT take place.
::Smiling:: Trust me, I want this meeting to be strictly between you and me. Though I must say . . . I didn’t take you for the paranoid type.
But you do realize that I am the don’t “f” with me type, right?
Of course. I have a request as well.
???
I want us to meet with the lights out until we′ve . . . you know . . . done it.
Why?
Contrary to what you may believe . . . I’m shy.
Ha! You’re right. I don’t believe you. Are you scarred, handicapped? Why continue the secrecy once we’ve met?
Just for the first time. After that I’ll . . . be more comfortable.
I’ll think about it.
I’m thinking of you and little else.
Will send instructions. From the time you receive them, the window of time to meet me will be narrow. Be ready.
Ready and waiting . . .
The next day, Chaz made a few calls to arrange the meeting. Explaining his visit to the hotel as “handling something of a sensitive legal nature,” the hotel manager assured him that the utmost discretion would be practiced. Chaz would come in through a private entrance, sweep the suite for audio or video blackmailing devices, and then text his “date” that everything was ready.
He’d tossed the idea back and forth all day, but in the end, he decided to let one person in on what was about to happen.
“Oh, I see,” Lois said softly, upon hearing the news. There was an unreadable look on her face.
“You disagree? Think that I shouldn’t meet . . . whoever this is?” Chaz’s decision to confide in Lois had been a calculated one. He closely monitored her reaction.
Lois fidgeted with a loose string on her blouse, a garment she’d had for years. She’d kept up the hairstyle and plucked eyebrows from the makeover, but when it came to her wardrobe, old habits died hard. She’d gone back to dressing the way she had before her big reveal two weeks ago. Today she wore a long-sleeved lavender blouse paired with a deep purple skirt that almost brushed the carpet.
Her heart hammered in her chest, and Lois worked to slow her breathing. “You should do it,” she said with obvious effort. Lois looked at Chaz with widened eyes before quickly ducking her head, the double entendre almost causing this black woman to blush. “Meet with her, I mean.”
A quick blink of his eyes was the only change in Chaz’s neutral expression. Why are you acting so strangely, Lois? Are you ashamed? Embarrassed? Eager? This last possibility gave Chaz pause. He thought back to a conversation he’d had with Taylor and suddenly wondered if Lois was a virgin. And if he honored his blind date’s request and allowed her anonymity until after they’d had sex, how would he feel to discover it was his secretary he’d bedded, that he’d taken her innocence and compromised an excellent working relationship?
After switching the subject to safer matters—clients, briefs, court dates, and the like—Chaz excused Lois from his office. He made a few phone calls, worked on a couple of legal briefs, and met with the junior partners of the firm. The day was another productive one, and Chaz felt great about the high-profile-type cases his firm was receiving, and especially about their 78-percent win rate. The success was heady, exhilarating; made him feel proud and powerful. By the end of the day, this excitement had turned into energy, energy that needed to be burned off. Chaz thought about putting a couple hours in at the gym, but knew that he was kidding himself with that idea. There was only one way Chaz wanted to release the pressure. It involved pumping, sweating, and using a piece of equipment that money couldn’t buy.
Lois looked at her image in the full-length mirror. She wore the heels that made her feet hurt for only the second time since purchasing them that “makeover” weekend. But she had to admit, they gave her legs a longer, more flattering appearance. The dress that the saleswoman had talked her into buying was one that Lois would not have picked out on her own. It was more fitted than those she usually wore, with a golden tone that complemented her skin. Its belted design helped define her waist, while the flared skirt hinted at more in the back than was actually there. She’d combed her hair back away from a face devoid of makeup, save for a coating of shimmering lip gloss that gave her lips a pouty appearance. Lois took one more look at her appearance
, picked up her purse, and headed to her car.
“No!” Delicia screamed, after hearing her son’s question for the third time. “I want to go to the movies by myself!”
She’d spent all day at the salon, getting a fresh weave, a mani/pedi, and a facial. Then she’d stopped by the mall and picked up a designer warm-up that was casual yet elegant at the same time. Made from a satiny, stretch, burgundy-colored fabric, the pants were tight, announcing her ample behind to the world, while the V-neck top, of the same material, highlighted her bountiful breasts. Delicia knew that the Nutrisystem program she’d always wanted to try but until now could not afford, was working. It had felt good to walk out of Ashley Stuart with a size fourteen.
Delicia clipped on her earrings and splashed on perfume. She walked into the living room and was glad to see that for once, instead of fighting, both her children were engrossed in the DVD she’d purchased. “Keep an eye on your brother,” she told her grown daughter. “Call if you need me.” Delicia walked over and kissed each child on the forehead.
“When you coming back?” her son asked without taking his eyes off the screen.
“When I get good and ready,” was her reply. “Y’all behave,” she commanded, and left.
“Honey, that’s great.” Taylor sat in the living room, idly flipping through an Essence magazine. She’d been waiting on her husband, who’d just called to say he was going to hang out with the boys. The car they’d had customized to handle James’s disability was one of the best investments they’d ever made. Now, he was beginning to make friends with some of the colleagues where he taught. He was getting his life back. Taylor was thrilled.
“So what are you going to do with yourself?” James asked. “Do you think you can handle an evening without me?”
Taylor smiled as she rose from the couch and headed to her bedroom to change clothes. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
On opposite sides of town, two women were doing the exact same thing. Elizabeth soaked in her oversized Jacuzzi tub in their home’s master suite, while Gina luxuriated in a unisex tub at the gym. Both women had spent the day hard at work. And now, both women closed their eyes and thought about one man.
Naomi smiled as she walked through the hustle and bustle that was O’Hare International Airport. She’d traveled light and was able to bypass the baggage area and head straight for the rental car agency. Within minutes, she was headed to her destination—Chaz.
25
A light tap sounded on the door to Chaz’s suite. His heartbeat quickened at the sound. Chaz Covington was a smart, sophisticated, ladies’ man. It took a lot to make him nervous. Later, Chaz would liken the feeling to those he had in high school, when he’d made the game-saving midcourt three-pointer, or asked the homecoming queen to be his date for the prom. Ms. Anonymous had been right: there was something to be said for mystery. It heightened expectations and that, along with his need for physical release, was why Chaz felt this meeting was unlike any encounter he’d ever had.
He put down the glass of wine and walked to the door. He peeked out and wasn’t at all surprised to see that the hole was covered to hide the identity of whomever was on the other side. It was okay. The hotel’s penthouse suite could only be accessed by a special access card, a card that the hotel manager had given to Chaz’s “client” personally after confirming a list of Chaz’s foolproof safeguards for this clandestine rendezvous—including that she was female and had arrived at the hotel utterly alone.
“Hello there,” he said, pressing his mouth against the door.
“You promised,” the person whispered from the other side.
Chaz swore he detected a smile in her voice. She’s as excited about this as I am. “Okay, I’m unlocking the door now, and then I’ll step away. The bedroom is directly ahead.”
Chaz unlocked the door and retreated into the L-shaped living room. Resisting the urge to peek, he instead picked up his glass of wine and walked to the large picture windows. Thousands of lights winked at him from all over Chicago. Nice, he thought—about both the stunning view and the exciting evening ahead. A rustling sound was heard as the front door opened and closed. The deeply piled carpet absorbed footsteps, so Chaz was left to wonder whether the woman had sauntered or scampered to the bedroom. He forced himself to relax, calmly sipping the Pinot Noir. He looked at his watch. Five minutes had passed. He was just about to head to the bedroom when he heard the shower turn on in the master bath. Chaz had showered upon arriving at the hotel. He continued to sip his drink, and a couple minutes after he’d drained his glass, he picked up a tray and headed to the bedroom.
“Is it okay to enter?” he asked from the other side.
“Just a minute.” Again, that whisper—sultry and a bit tentative. “Did you turn the lights out?” she asked after another moment.
“Yes.”
“Okay, come in.”
Chaz eased open the door and stepped inside the bedroom. His date had pulled the thick, silk curtains, which threw the room into utter darkness. Still, he could make out a silhouette lounging against the headrest in the center of the bed. Is she naked? Nervous? Chaz, what in the world are you doing?
“I brought some champagne,” Chaz said as he walked over to the nightstand. He strained to see into the darkness and, while he could see her outline more clearly from this angle, any details as to age or ethnicity were still a mystery. He lowered the tray onto the nightstand and poured two flutes. “You do drink, don’t you?”
“I’ll have some tonight,” was the whispered answer.
Chaz deduced that her low, breathy answers were delivered in such a way as to shield the actual sound of her voice and prolong the mystery. He found the sound sexy, and that, combined with the secretive feel of the moment, turned Chaz on.
“To what shall we toast?” he asked, after pouring their glasses.
“You.”
“That’s a bit one-sided, don’t you think? Let’s toast to the moment: to mysterious meetings and . . . whatever unfolds . . .”
They clinked glasses and then sipped in awkward silence.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” the woman finally said, still whispering.
“I can’t either. But your letters intrigued me. If this was your attempt at using a unique and clever way to get ‘one of the city’s most eligible bachelors’ in your clutches,” Chaz said, making air quotes, “you’ve succeeded.” There was silence, but Chaz imagined that the woman was smiling.
“I’m glad,” she finally said.
“Would you care for another?” he asked, after they’d finished the drink.
“I’d like something else.”
“What’s that?”
“Your clothes off.” When this statement was met with silence, the woman continued, “So that you can be naked, as I am.”
Chaz hardened. “Cutting right to the chase, I see. Don’t you think we should take some time to get to know each other, at least a little?”
A pause and then, “There are many ways to get to know one another. I’d like to use the one that requires no clothes.”
Whispered in the soft, sultry voice she’d used all evening, the words still came out as a blatant dare. Chaz waited a beat before standing up and shedding the charcoal gray Armani knit top that he wore, and the black, tailored slacks. He hesitated just another moment before ridding himself of his undershirt and briefs and was surprised at the vulnerability he felt standing naked before a stranger. But that’s what he did: just stood there.
There was movement in the room as the woman gently pushed back the covers and rose to her knees. She ambled over to the side of the bed where Chaz stood. And waited.
Chaz reached out and, as if by design, came in contact with a hard, erect nipple. A short hiss was heard as he tweaked it, as with his other hand he palmed the woman’s face. Soft. That was the first word that came to mind. Very little or no makeup, was the second thought. He moved his hand a bit to the left and felt silky strands bathing t
he shoulder. Long hair. He immediately thought of Gina. But it could be a weave. Chaz chose not to continue to the scalp to investigate further. His curiosity about the woman’s identity grew, along with his manhood. But his unease began to grow as well. While having anonymous sex was a titillating thought, the reality of it was more sobering. Sexing the wrong woman could have all kinds of repercussions. Chaz had spent his entire adult life carefully crafting a stellar reputation, both in and out of the courtroom. He’d be damned if one woman would bring it down. Who are you, my pretty mystery? And is sex all you want from me? Chaz knew that before he went too much further, her identity would have to be revealed, and both her short- and long-term intentions would have to be made known.
A set of nails lightly raked his chest, and interrupted his thoughts. Chaz stopped the hand before it could go any lower. He sat on the bed, and his lean, hard thigh brushed up against a soft one. A light, floral scent wafted past him, as the woman gently turned his face toward her. She brushed his lips with hers, wispy, teasing, her hand moving up and down his muscular arm. Chaz skimmed the woman’s lips with his tongue, noting that they were full. She immediately opened her mouth. And the dueling began.
Crush Page 17
