Jamar swallowed. “You’re not going to let that stop us, are you?”
She shook her head. “No.” And pressed her open mouth to his. He capitulated with a matching ardor, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as he gripped her hips.
Her mouth was hot and sweet, an intoxicating combination of cinnamon and honey and everything else that was delicious in this world. Unlike that first kiss, this was the opposite of slow and gentle. It was hard and noisy and hot and addicting as fuck.
Thunder cracked overhead seconds before the sky opened and a deluge rained down on them. Jamar ignored it, refusing to let anything deter him. He hooked his arms underneath her legs and lifted her, her legs bracketing his waist.
He’d wanted her from the very first time he saw her on that video, and nothing he’d tried had been able to abate his unrelenting need to consume her. He ran his hands up and down her back, wishing he could pull the wet shirt off so that he could feel her skin against him.
As the cold rain pelted them, Jamar drove his tongue deep, over and over again, plunging with a fervor that had them both breathless within seconds. He left her mouth long enough to trail his tongue along her neck, lapping at her rain-slicked skin, imagining the other places he wanted to explore. Holding her steady with one hand, he skimmed the other along her side, then up to her breast.
She was sheer perfection in his palm. He massaged her nipple through her damp shirt, caressing it into a point.
In the back of his mind, he knew he needed to pump the brakes. They were already so close to crossing the line between real and pretend. But how was he supposed to say no to this? How was he supposed to pull away from a mouth that occupied his every waking thought?
He would deal with the consequences later. Right now, he wanted—he needed—to enjoy every second of her kiss. His fingers clutched her ass, pulling her against his hardening body. The compulsion to go further, to demand more, was so strong he ached with it. If they were at his home gym, he would drop to his knees and beg her to let him strip these clothes off her.
But they were in a public park where anyone could come upon them. They wanted people to think they were a couple, but this wasn’t the kind of notoriety either of them needed.
“Taylor,” Jamar breathed against her lips. The soft mewl she emitted shot directly to his groin. “Taylor, let’s get out of here. We need to at least wait until we’re in the car.”
He felt her body go rigid a second before her head jerked back, her eyes wide, shocked and disoriented.
He started to make a joke, but something in her expression stopped him. She looked spooked as hell.
“Taylor? Taylor, please don’t freak out on me. It’s okay.”
“No.” Her voice shook. “No, it isn’t.” She unwound her legs and slid down his body. “I can’t do this with my clients. I never do this with clients.”
“Shit,” he breathed. She was totally freaking out. Her hands shook as she pulled her braids free from the band that held them at the base of her head and then tied them up again.
Jamar leaned his head back against the tree, letting the rain that had eased into a light drizzle pepper his face.
“We have to remember the playbook,” she said. “Public displays of affection should only occur when performing for the public.”
“Do you really still think that way?” he asked, his voice hoarse with the need still crashing through him.
One would think he’d asked if her mother had five heads and a tail.
“Yes, of course. The whole point is to convince people that we’re a couple.” She stretched her arms out. “Do you see any people here?”
She ran her palms down her face and growled. “I knew this would happen. Even though I promised myself this would not happen.”
“What wouldn’t happen? The two of us kissing? That’s part of your playbook.”
“Don’t get cute with me, Twenty-Three. You know what I’m talking about. Look, you’re hot, okay? You are so fucking hot, and if you were not my client, I would be climbing you like one of these fucking trees. But you are my client, and I can’t go there with you.”
He pushed away from the tree. “There’s nothing wrong with the two of us—”
“No!” She cut him off. “Just stop, Jamar. I can’t. We can’t.” She broke eye contact for a second before looking at him again, her eyes imploring him to understand. “The only way this will work is if we stick to our original game plan. None of this is real. It’s all a charade, a way to cover up the lie I told that reporter, okay?”
The trembling plea in her voice caused a sharp pang to twist through his gut. It was so fucking unfair. Why insist on sticking to this fake relationship story when they both wanted it to be more?
Jamar ached to ask her this very thing; instead he said, “Yeah, okay. You’re right. It isn’t real.”
They were both telling a lie.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Taylor reached over and lifted a sambusa from the compostable takeout container on Samiah’s coffee table. The spicy lentil-stuffed puffed pastry was by far her favorite of the half-dozen dishes they’d ordered, although everything she’d eaten tonight had surpassed her expectations. Kudos to London. Taylor doubted she would have ever tried Ethiopian cuisine had her friend not suggested it.
Loud, popping sounds rang out from Taylor’s phone.
“What the hell was that?” London screeched.
“Sorry.” Taylor laughed. “My niece is sending me a text. She’s a firecracker, thus, the ringtone.” She opened Fredericka’s text message and felt her stomach twist. “Oh, shit,” Taylor groused.
“Something wrong?” This from Samiah.
Taylor turned her cell phone so they could both see the screen.
“My niece just sent a video of me and Jamar huddled up together on a bench downtown Saturday night.” She flipped the phone back and looked at the screen. “You gotta admit, we’re a cute couple.”
Another text message came through.
Auntie Jesamyn wants to know what’s going on.
“Oh, of course they would use the fifteen-year-old to dig up dirt,” Taylor said. She looked up from her phone and explained, “My entire family knows that Freddie can ask me for anything and I’ll never deny her, so my sister has recruited my brother Darwin’s daughter to get the details. They’re so transparent.”
Taylor sent Freddie a quick text, letting her know that she’d explain later, then set the phone facedown on the coffee table. “I should have been better prepared. I knew I couldn’t keep this thing between me and Jamar from my family for long.”
“Were you trying to keep it from them?” London asked.
“Not really. I just…I don’t know…thought if I didn’t mention it, they possibly wouldn’t find out? I know, I know,” she admitted before either could say anything. “I should know better after that whole viral video thing with Craig.” Taylor hunched her shoulders. “I’m not good when it comes to lying to my family, okay? Especially when it comes to my mom and dad. Back when I was a teenager, I used to tell them beforehand that I was going to sneak out of the house, because I knew they would find out anyway.”
Samiah and London burst out laughing.
“It’s true,” Taylor said. “Most of the time they stopped me, but after a while they just told me to be careful and lock my window when I snuck back in.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure Dad would be so understanding about me willfully deceiving the public. He’s like…frighteningly honest. Like, if McDonald’s puts an extra McNugget in his six-piece, he’ll drive back and give them fifty cents to cover the cost.”
“Damn, that’s hard-core.” London chuckled as she tore off a piece of the spongy flatbread and used it to soak up some curry. “Do you think Jamar would have a problem with you telling your family the truth?” she asked before popping the food in her mouth.
“It wouldn’t be fair of me to even ask,” Taylor said. “I’m the reason we have to go through with this whole fake dati
ng nonsense in the first place. The fewer people who know this thing between us isn’t real, the better.”
Maybe she should remind herself of that every once in a while. Maybe then she wouldn’t allow him to feel her up in the rain while kissing the ever living fuck out of her.
Taylor seesawed between being completely vexed with her raging horniness and being upset that she’d put an end to their kiss. She should have followed his lead—no, screw that! She should have been the one leading him. She should have dragged him to the car and finally satisfied her curiosity about how those powerful thighs of his felt against her hands. And against other parts of her.
Kissing him had been a monumental lapse in judgment, but if she was going to feel this guilty, she should have at least gotten an orgasm or five for her trouble. Instead, she’d stayed awake nearly all night stressing about what would happen when she walked into his home gym this morning.
In the end, nothing had happened.
After a brief awkwardness Taylor had plowed ahead with their workout, deciding it was best to ignore what happened up on Mount Bonnell. Jamar’s barely concealed frustration signaled that he wasn’t fully on board with her plan to forget it, but he kept his objections to himself.
Taylor picked up her phone again and put it on silent. Then she placed it facedown so that she wouldn’t be tempted to answer any further texts from her niece. “I’ll figure out what to do about my folks,” she said. “I’ve taken enough of our time tonight. What’s going on with you two? Is Daniel still out of town?” she asked Samiah.
“He was home for one day before flying off again. Thankfully he’ll be in Virginia only a few days, and when he gets back, he’ll work out of the San Antonio office for the next six months. At least that’s what we’re hoping.” She picked at the himbasha, the Ethiopian sweet flatbread they’d ordered for dessert. “It’s true what they say—absence really does make the sex so much better. I may send Daniel away every now and then just so we can have return-home sex.”
“I can’t stand you right now,” London said.
Samiah laughed, but Taylor wasn’t so certain London was joking.
“What’s the deal with the hospital?” Samiah asked her.
“Yeah,” Taylor said. “You never finished telling us about the drama happening there. Why are you ready to strangle everyone in the administration office?”
London rolled her eyes. “Wait.” She reached for the pinot noir. She refilled her wineglass, then took a healthy sip before continuing. “I need fortification before talking about it.”
“Damn, is it that bad?”
“It’s that bad.” She nodded. “The hospital is being sold.”
Taylor was openly dumbfounded. “I…I didn’t know someone could buy a hospital. Is it like buying a house?”
“Believe it or not, there isn’t much difference. And the problem with privately owned hospitals is that all too often the priority shifts to shareholder profits instead of patient care.”
“That’s gross,” Samiah said. She brought her own glass to her lips. “Don’t get me wrong, capitalism is my jam. It’s the reason I’m able to afford this condo. But no one should profit off sick people. Especially sick children.”
“Yeah, that’s some comic book villain–level shit right there,” Taylor said.
“I’m willing to fight for my patients,” London said. “Literally. I will bitch-slap the first slick-tongued, suit-wearing asshole who comes into my operating room and tries to spew bullshit about cost-cutting measures.” She took another gulp of wine before gazing out the floor-to-ceiling windows. When she spoke again, her voice was tight with anger. “Hedge fund managers and shareholders don’t have to look a parent in the eyes and tell them that their eight-year-old’s brain tumor is inoperable. Until one of them has to go through that particular hell, they can’t tell me a damn thing.”
London’s distress was palpable, unlike anything Taylor had ever witnessed from her. It was a stark reminder of the burden her friend shouldered. Sure, Taylor had her own troubles—she had been days away from possibly having to sleep in her car at one point—but it was nothing compared to the pressures London had to contend with. Sick kids trumped everything.
“If anyone can win this fight, it’s you.” Samiah leaned over and clinked London’s wineglass with her own. “Give them hell, my friend. Based on everything you’ve told us, they deserve it.”
“Yeah, lady. Give ’em hell.”
Taylor wouldn’t badger London about her boyfriend project anymore. She recognized that her friend needed an outlet to vent her frustrations more than she needed a hobby these days.
“Oh!” London exclaimed, jumping up from the sofa. “Before I forget. Someone left these in the break room at the hospital.” She unsnapped her mustard-yellow Tory Burch clutch and pulled out a business card. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but based on past conversations, I thought maybe you’d want to give it a try.” She handed Taylor the card.
“Who is the Debt Defeater?”
“Someone who helps you defeat debt,” London said. The duh was silent. “I checked out the website. Apparently, they help you negotiate down your debt. It couldn’t hurt.”
Taylor was tempted. She was so tempted. But she could hear the Colonel in her head, scolding her about shirking her obligations and not holding herself accountable. If there was one thing that had been drilled in her head from birth, it was that you took responsibility for your actions.
“As much as I would love someone to just wipe away my debt, it wouldn’t be right,” she said. “I accumulated those bills fair and square, and I made some shitty business decisions along the way.” She shrugged. “I have to deal with the consequences. At least the money I’m making with Jamar will pay off most of it.”
“Sixteen thousand will only pay off most of it? So you weren’t joking before when you said you were twenty thousand in debt?” London asked. She held up her hands. “Not that I’m judging.”
“It kinda sounds like you’re judging,” Samiah said.
“It’s okay.” Taylor laughed. She could do that more easily now that she had a clear path to digging her way out of this hole she’d been in for the past few years.
“I already told you guys about signing up for that coupon site. Well, because my rates were so reduced, I started putting things on credit cards. Then I bought all that merch to give away as ‘free’ advertising, but I didn’t get nearly the number of clients I thought I would.”
“Well, what about the money from YouTube?” Samiah asked. “I thought you said going viral over that mess with Craig sent a bunch of people to your YouTube channel? Don’t you make money based on the number of views you get?”
“Yeah, about that…Did you know when you’re self-employed you have to pay your income taxes every three months?”
“It’s called estimated taxes,” London said.
“I wish someone had clued me in. I didn’t even know I had to pay taxes on the money I made from YouTube.”
“Girl, you don’t play around when it comes to the IRS,” Samiah said.
“I know that now, but only after meeting my archenemies: penalties and interest.”
“Shit, Taylor,” London said. “No wonder you’ve been stressed. Maybe you should try hooking up with your fake boyfriend after all. You know, for medicinal purposes.”
“As if I need an excuse to hook up with him,” she said.
“Wait a minute now,” Samiah said, sitting up straight. “What are you not telling us?”
“Nothing,” Taylor lied. But what was the point in not telling them? In about three seconds it would look as though she were storing maraschino cherries in her cheeks. Stupid blush.
“Fine, okay. Maybe something happened,” she admitted.
“Did you already sleep with him?” London asked.
“No!” Taylor screeched. “May I remind you both that I am a professional? I cannot sleep with a client, no matter how much I want to.”
“So
you admit you want to,” London said, as if she’d uncovered some big secret.
“Have you seen her client?” Samiah asked.
“Exactly! Have you seen him?” Taylor said. “Of course I want him. I want to screw him until his dick falls off. Then I want to put his dick back on and screw him again. But I can’t, because I’m a fucking professional.”
She picked up the wine and took a swig straight from the bottle.
“Honey, did you buy that vibrator like I told you to?” London asked.
“Yes, I bought a new vibrator,” Taylor said. “And to answer your question, no I did not sleep with my client. But I did kiss him. And it wasn’t a fake kiss to go along with our fake relationship. It was a real kiss. With tongue. And my legs around his waist. And I can’t stop thinking about it.” She slapped her palm to her forehead. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“So why did things stop at a kiss?” Samiah asked.
Taylor threw her hands up in the air. “Didn’t I just explain this? He’s a client!”
“You know,” London drawled, swirling the wine that remained in her glass. “This has been a really enlightening conversation. I’m learning things about myself that I never considered. For example, I never saw myself as an amoral person. I mean, come on, I save the lives of children for a living. But, I have to admit, you’re a better person than I am, Taylor Powell. I would be fucking that man every chance I got. Screw being a professional.”
Taylor covered her face with her hands. Peeking through her fingers, she looked to Samiah and asked, “Are you going to be the voice of reason here?”
Samiah lifted her shoulders in an apologetic shrug. “I’m totally dick-whipped, so my advice would be the same. Screw being a professional.”
Taylor growled. “You two are absolutely no help,” she said, pushing herself up from the floor. “But thanks for the Ethiopian food, I guess.”
“You’re leaving? It’s only— Oh, shit, it’s almost ten,” London said, looking at her phone. “I need to get out of here too. I have two consultations scheduled before nine tomorrow morning.”
The Dating Playbook Page 13
