by Beth Rhodes
“It’s good to hear you laugh. Been awhile, you know.” She looked relaxed, standing there, holding her hands in front of her.
He approached, holding any hope in reserve. “Hasn’t been much to laugh about; maybe that’s about to change. Maybe. How are you doing?”
He hadn’t made it to Sunday dinner in a few weeks. As usual, around his dead brother’s birthdate, he found it easier to stay away.
“I’m fine. Andrea misses seeing you.” She followed as he turned the corner onto the cobblestone street and made his way to his basement apartment under the newest trendy restaurant off Blount Street.
He stopped at the stairwell, and turned so she could go down first. “I’ll give her a call.”
She stumbled a little on the first step and grabbed the wrought iron railing to steady her feet. His head tilted and silently, he sighed, grinding his teeth for good measure. What had it been this time? A stop at Yankee’s bar? Or maybe she’d started keeping a store of her favorites at home again.
“You should come over for dinner on Sunday.”
He should, especially now, seeing how maybe she wasn’t as far along on the road to recovery as he thought. He made a mental note to check in with Andrea—no delays. “I’ll think about it. I have a new client I’m looking after…” He didn’t quite finish the thought. Didn’t talk business with his family. He disengaged his lock system and opened the door. “If things are okay there, I’ll come over.”
“Good. She already lost one brother. She doesn’t need to lose another.”
He bit back the sigh this time. “I need to get ready to go. Can I get you anything?”
“You still have that bottle of Grey Goose?”
“No,” he answered, feeling the rush of disappointment crowd his heart. The awkwardness smothered him. “Water?”
His mother shrugged. “I should go, anyway. I just wanted to check on you.”
She might stay if he had a drink. He didn’t deny the truth. “You been to a meeting lately?”
“Been awhile.”
“Maybe you should find one. Call Tammy.”
“Not that bitch,” she said, and a passionate fire lit in her eyes like used to happen when they were still all together as a family. The same fire that fueled the goodness in her fueled her hatred as well. “No-good know-it-all. Self-righteous bitch.”
“You mean she wanted you to come clean?”
“Don’t sass me, boy.”
Tan tossed his jacket onto the back of the recliner in his living room. “Maybe you should go.”
“Fine.” His mom sniffed. “Don’t forget Sunday.”
“I won’t forget.” But only because of Andrea.
She left in a whirlwind, taking his damned good mood with her—as usual.
Changing quickly first, and with the reminder of his mother’s chaotic world—and how much he hated it, he did a short perusal and clean-up of his place. He put the dishes in the dishwasher and started it, picked up the few pieces of clothing, which hadn’t quite made it to the hamper in the hallway, and then vacuumed over the rugs covering his hardwood floor.
Setting the little machine back in the closet, he left.
Time to get back to work, to put the pain of his personal life aside for a few hours.
***
Tan was ready for her this time, and after an hour of sparring, he was still impressed.
She’d come prepared for wrestling, and he took her through some of the combative training. Hand-to-hand couldn’t hurt, even though he was getting the idea Gabriel wasn’t going to be an issue for the Whitney family. The intel proved he’d already moved out of state to be near his aging father up in the D.C. area.
If he was an asshole now, there didn’t seem to be any connection to Liz. But, having been part of a dysfunctional family his entire life, he was well-aware looks could be deceiving. He had no problem doing his job.
“You’re quiet today.”
He glanced her way. “Sorry. I’m distracted.”
“Everything okay?”
He rolled his shoulders. “Yeah. You’re doing great, by the way.”
“I know.”
He chuckled, rubbing the shammy over the back of his neck and shook his head. His eyes closed on a roll, and he admitted to himself…he was avoiding her gaze. The visit with his mother had really soured his day.
His mom was part of the reason he stayed close to home and the entire reason he would kill to leave. Duty—even to family—was strongly ingrained in the fabric of his existence. It came from years of depending on them and years of being depended on by them. It wasn’t only his immediate family, either. All his life, he’d been surrounded by cousins, second cousins, and riffraff…and moochers. He sighed. The people he loved because they’d been there when he scraped his knee or lost his bike. His aunt had always had a bag of popsicles—every summer, and he’d go down the street with his brother and sit on a stupid broken log in the front yard.
He loved the whole irritating bunch of them. Fuck.
But that had been before his brother died. Then everything changed.
“We can quit for the day,” he suggested as he stepped off the mat and walked around to where the rags were, and he grabbed one and took it over to the mats. Wiping it down first, he then folded it up and lifted one to lean it against the wall. Liz stacked the second one right next to his. “Thanks,” he said.
“Any time.” She hesitated, though, before heading to the locker rooms. “You sure you’re okay? I didn’t hurt your feelings last time, did I?”
Her brow was lifted when he glanced her way, and his smile came unbidden. “Maybe a little.”
Shake it off, asshole. She doesn’t need to be a part of your shit. She was business. He didn’t mix business with his personal life, which meant not moping around like some brooding dumb ass.
“Aw.”
“I’ll be fine. Been through lots worse.” And then she was smiling at him, and they were smiling at each other. She turned away, and the moment was gone. “I’m sure your dad will be very pleased with you today, Elizabeth Whitney.”
That stopped her, made her laugh, like throw her head back kind of laughing.
And for the first time in years, he wished he could ask her to dinner or a movie. He wanted to know what made her tick, wanted to know what it would feel like to hold her hand.
Fool. He didn’t have time for dating, especially not one of his clients. Not one of his rich, young, princess clients.
His stomach twisted. He scowled in disgust as she disappeared into the locker room. He’d never let the fact he was a black man stop him from getting what he wanted before. He definitely wasn’t going to do so now, either.
Nope. He was going to totally blame it on the fact that she was a client, and he didn’t need her kind of trouble.
And she was definitely trouble.
***
Somehow, she’d offended him.
The entire lesson he’d been so quiet, not a bit of the spark from the first lesson. No witty banter. No sexy smiles. Liz thought back on the last hour and then back through the week and into the last lesson.
Had she said something offensive? Taking him down notwithstanding, she couldn’t remember anything she might have done to piss him off…
Except exist.
She did exist.
And he did think of her as a spoiled rich girl; otherwise he wouldn’t keep calling her princess in a veiled sarcastic tone. He wasn’t fooling her, though. He was a reverse snob! Well, he could just be that way.
Stuffing her sweaty workout clothes into her backpack, she slung the corded straps over her shoulders and slammed the locker door shut.
“You okay, sister?”
Liz jumped, gasping, as she turned to the woman behind her. The pounding of her heart thundered through her ears. “You scared me.”
“Sorry. I thought you’d heard me.”
Liz shook off the trembling. “No. My fault. I was…thinking.”
The
woman grinned. “You’re the new client, aren’t you?”
“Oh, um.” She glanced at the door and then back to the short, dark-haired woman. Liz could take her if she had to.
“I work for Hawk Elite.” She held out a hand. “I’m Marie.”
Liz frowned. “I didn’t know—” she cut herself off. “Wow. I guess I’m sexist. I just—I didn’t know they had women on staff here.”
Marie opened the locker next to her and stepped out of her long skirt. She had leggings or stockings on and warmers on her calves. Apparently, she had no reservations. “There are a few of us. Not enough if you ask me.”
Liz nodded but the nervousness still jangled through her. “Well, um, okay. It was nice meeting you…Marie?”
“Yeah. Nice meeting you too.” And then the woman lifted her tank top over her head, and holy cow, she wasn’t even wearing a bra.
At the eyeful of size A, Liz whirled around and hurried out. “Bye!” she said, hoping the woman didn’t get offended. Her laughter suggested maybe not.
The door banged sharply behind her, and she stopped short.
The music, which had been playing when she went into the locker room was off and there was a circle of guys standing by the boxing ring. They all turned to look at her. Her gaze searched a moment before finding Tan and setting her racing heart at ease.
What the freak was wrong with her?
Besides the fact she didn’t have any sisters and had never had girlfriends, she should be able to be in a locker room with an undressing woman without completely losing her mind.
“You okay?” Tan was approaching her.
She blew out a breath. “Yes. Fine. Just…” When he was right in front of her, she leaned in. “Does everyone know who I am?” For some reason, she assumed this was between her and Tan. That the gym was more like a cover, not the…the…the base of operations. Weren’t there any normal, off-the-street people who utilized the gym?
Tan glanced behind him and then back to her. “Probably,” he answered slowly. “When we take on a client, everyone gets briefed. Then if something happens, no one’s in the dark. And people can step up and do what needs to be done.”
“Oh.” Her throat tightened a little. What did he mean by ‘something happens’?
“Nothing’s going to happen.”
The reassuring thought didn’t reassure her at all.
Her phone rang, muffled by the clothes in her bag, and she dug it out. “I need to take this. I should go.” Her eyes found the guys, but they had taken their attention to other matters—working out, mostly—so she looked back at Tan. “Thank you, again. For today. Will you call me about our next session?”
“Sure.” He didn’t seem upset now, or offended, or even a little distracted. As a matter of fact, he was staring as she walked out, his intensity hitting her square in the back as she answered her cell. “Hello, Whitney Creations. Liz speaking.”
The first session, she’d been too fired up to be aware of any awkwardness.
This time, she could have cut through the vibe with a freaking knife.
~ 4 ~
“Hi. I’m calling about the job opening.”
Liz threw her bag into the back seat of her car and settled in the front. “Oh, my goodness. Thank you for calling. Look. I’m in my car, but I’m on my way back to my store. Would you do me a huge favor and email me your resume? Include a cover letter, and as soon as I get there, I’ll sit down with it.”
Silence came over the line. “Sure. Sounds good.”
“I’ll call you, if not tonight, then first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Okay—”
“Oh wait. I’m sorry. What did you say your name was?” God, she needed to get her head on straight! This person was going to think she was an idiot.
“This is Janice Masterson.”
“Janice, Janice.” The name stopped her. “Well, holy crap. Janice? Janice—speedy—Masterson? Holy crap.”
The woman on the phone laughed nervously. “That’s me. Haven’t heard that nickname in a long time.”
“I’m sorry. You’ve blown my mind after a week of past-life mind-blowing, so I’m thrilled…and shocked. And wow. Janice.” When she shut up there was a weird silence. “You think I’m crazy. I promise I’m not.”
Liz was about to drive off when she saw Tan in her side view mirror, walking toward her. “Let me go over your stuff, and I’ll call you first thing tomorrow. Actually, we should meet. Can you come to my shop in the morning?”
“I’d love to,” Janice had warmed up and Liz could hear the smile in her old friend’s words.
“Awesome. See you around ten.”
“Ten is perfect. Thanks!” Janice hung up, and Liz waited as Tan approached then rolled down her window when he stopped and leaned over her little car. “Hi.”
“Everything okay?”
“Oh, yes. A phone call came in. I figured I’d get it before I started driving…” She stopped, let her voice fade. God, he had broad shoulders and big arms, too. Clearing her throat, she put the car into drive. “So…”
“How about Monday morning?”
“What?”
“For your next session.” He had a very direct way of looking at her, and right now, it was making her want to squirm.
“Oh. I have a client coming. I won’t be available until later in the day, closer to four?”
“You meet with a client all day?”
“No. I like to get first impressions down by taking notes and then start a few designs while the meet is still fresh in my head. Those will go to the client the next day, and they’ll let me know what they think. And then it’s back to the drawing board to tweak it. Until…voila! Everyone is happy.”
He narrowed one eye. “I bet it’s not as simple as you say. Has anyone ever refused your designs?”
“Not yet.” She shrugged, giving a little roll of her shoulder. “But I’m sure someone will. Remember? I was one of them once.”
“Tough business?”
“You have no idea,” she answered drily. Even the thought of the upcoming Expo and going up against so many other good—no, incredible—designers was enough to send her into a tizzy.
He leaned over her window; her neck craned to see into his eyes. The sun moved behind him and the flash of it—lowering in the sky—caught in her peripheral vision. She lifted a hand to shade, and without a word, he moved to block the sun.
Hell, it was…sweet, gentlemanly. “Thank you.”
He nodded, a grin slowly taking over his mouth. Her gaze fell to his lips—involuntarily. Even as she shut down those burgeoning feelings of attraction, she reveled in them, too. Long time since she’d felt so alive—nerves over the expo, fear over Gabriel’s release, and now this…
Obviously, he recognized the look, and straightening, pulled away from her—literally and figuratively. “So, Monday at four?”
“Yup.” She said with a shake of her head and a sigh. “See ya then.”
He tapped the hood of her car, and she started to pull away, closing her window at the same time.
“Oh, hey, wait,” he said and walked to her now partially open window. “Here. In case you need anything.” He held out a card to her with the logo of Hawk Elite on the front and his name, email, and a phone number underneath it.
“Thanks.” She gave a little wave with the small piece of cardboard and took off.
Was he covering his bases? Did he normally give his card to his clients?
Of course, he did, you ninny.
First you’re shocked by a woman undressing in front of you, and now you’re second guessing Tan. Second guessing him and acting like a school girl. “What century are you from?” she muttered.
From the one where she could take her dreams and live them.
And that’s exactly what she planned to do from here on out.
***
Tancredo stopped on the way home from work and picked up dinner from the deli. When he got to his place, he found Malcolm si
tting on the steps down to his door. “Hey, man.”
Malcolm stood, slowly. He’d been shot in the chest last year. He still wasn’t quite one hundred percent. He’d never had the muscular build Tan did, and in the ring, he’d relied mostly on his speed and agility. But lately, Tan had noticed him filling out a bit. He’d lowered his cardiac workout and increased his body-building, a common occurrence among those in rehab.
“Hungry?” he asked, lifting the bag which held the sandwiches and salads. “Almost homemade.”
Malcolm nodded, subdued, even for his quiet nature.
Tan keyed open the door and let his teammate through. “How you feeling?”
“Good.” Malcolm went for the living room and sat on the big, black leather couch.
His sigh wasn’t quite silent enough so Tan grabbed a beer and brought it to him. “Here. What’s up?”
“Honestly?”
“Yup,” he confirmed.
“I’m bored out of my effing mind. Hawk won’t let me train. It’s been six months.”
Tan thought before answering and tipped back his own beer. “How’s the physical therapy going?”
“Fine. Everything’s fine. I’m running circles around Tristan.”
“When’s your next appointment with the doctor?”
“Next week.”
“You think you’ll get the all clear?”
Malcolm didn’t say anything.
“What?”
“I’ve blacked out a few times. Randomly.” Malcolm stood, moving away until he was under the window, facing the street. “Funny how light it is in here, even though you’re underground.”
“Open floor plan and a hill, so the back door and windows are off the patio in the back. Let’s a lot of light in.”
“Don’t you ever feel claustrophobic, though?”
“Nah. I like the small space, and I like that it’s mine.”
“Let me bump up your security.”
“You’re bored.” Tan deduced. “And my security is fine.”
“I need something to do!” Malcolm ran a hand through his hair. “Please. I won’t even charge you—”
Tan lifted his brow.
