Pleasure in His Kiss

by Pamela Yaye

  “I’d gone shopping for the first time since having my twin boys, and...and...and...” Sniffing, she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands. “Nothing fit right. Everything I tried on was tight and uncomfortable, and I left the mall empty-handed.”

  Sympathizing with the young mother, Morrison nodded in understanding. His mind transported him back to the afternoon he’d gone shopping with Emmanuelle and one-year-old Reagan. An hour after arriving at the Chanel boutique, his sister had burst into tears and fled the store. Catching up to her in the parking lot, he’d learned that none of the dresses Emmanuelle liked fit her new, voluptuous, post-baby shape. To cheer her up, he’d treated her to ice cream, and promised to help her lose the baby weight. And, they did, one Zumba class at a time. “I’ll reduce your ticket to fifty dollars, but I don’t want to see you in my court again, Ms. Nguyen,” he said, in a stern voice. “Speeding is the leading cause of all traffic accidents, and your twins need their mother, so please be more careful out on the roads.”

  Her face lit up. Clasping her hands, she bowed her head in gratitude. “Thank you, Your Honor. Thank you so very much.”

  Embarrassed by her effusive praise, Morrison struck his gavel against the desk to call for silence and to signal the end of the day’s session. “Court adjourned.”

  Entering his chambers seconds later, Morrison took off his robe, hung it in the closet and dropped into one of the leather armchairs in front of his desk. He took his cell out of the drawer and checked for missed calls and texts. He didn’t have any.

  Sunshine filled the office. It was warm and sunny outside, the perfect weather for swimming or having a picnic, and as he gazed at the windows Morrison wished he was at the beach with Karma.

  His thoughts returned to Sunday night, and Morrison winced. One minute they were flirting and laughing at their table; the next minute they were bickering and fighting like an old married couple. He owed Karma an apology, but he couldn’t bring himself to call her. Couldn’t make his mouth form the words. His father had taught him that real men don’t apologize, and Morrison didn’t know if he could swallow his pride, and admit that he was wrong. He shouldn’t have insulted her or raised his voice and knew it would take a huge gesture to make up for what he’d done. That’s why he’d sent several edible arrangements to Beauty by Karma that morning. He’d expected to hear from Karma hours ago, but still no phone call.

  Morrison rubbed his neck, trying to relieve the soreness in his muscles. He was starving, but he didn’t want to eat until he spoke to Karma. Had to make things right with her, before the chasm between them grew and he lost the opportunity to take her out on a second date.

  Wanting to hear her voice, Morrison punched in his password, then dialed Karma’s cell phone number. He was sweating like an ax murderer on the witness stand, but he blew out a deep breath and put his cell to his ear, hoping he hadn’t blown his chance with the most vivacious woman he had ever met.

  * * *

  Karma spotted an empty space directly in front of Beauty by Karma and cheered. This day just keeps getting better! she thought, punching the gas pedal with her peep-toe sandals. Flicking on her right-turn signal, she switched lanes and parked her pink PT Cruiser behind the luxury SUV with the out-of-state license plates. Karma closed the sunroof, grabbed her things from the passenger seat and activated the alarm.

  Carrying her bags and boxes of gourmet cookies in her arms, Karma heard her cell phone ringing inside her purse and decided to let the call go to voice mail. It was probably a client wanting to make an appointment, but Karma needed a moment to catch her breath. All morning, she’d been running from one appointment to the next, and if she wanted to have the energy to work in the afternoon she had to eat something of sustenance, and junk food wasn’t it. Once she dropped off the treats for her staff, and checked in with Jazz, she’d suggest they have lunch at the vegan restaurant across the street. Things had been strained between them ever since Karma’s birthday, but she was ready to put the past behind them and move on. She wanted the expansion project to go smoothly, and needed Jazz’s support and keen business sense to make it happen. They were a dynamic duo who were destined for greatness in the stylist world, and Karma wasn’t going to let anything come between them.

  “You look like you could use a hand. Let me help you,” said a male voice.

  Before Karma could protest, the man in the striped dress shirt and navy pants took the boxes from her hands and followed her into the salon. The waiting area was empty, but every chair in the salon was filled. The air held a tantalizing scent, pop music was playing on the stereo system, and the atmosphere was loud and lively.

  “Great, you’re here!” the colorist said with a sigh of relief. “Do you mind covering the front desk? Abigail’s on lunch, and I have to clean the sinks before my next client arrives.”

  “No problem, Eve. I’ll hold down the fort until Abigail gets back, but take the cookies into the salon and make sure all of the customers have one.”

  Marching around the front desk, the colorist took the boxes from the stranger’s outstretched hands and traipsed off, shaking her broad hips to the beat of the music.

  “Thank you for your help. That was very kind of you,” Karma said with a polite smile.

  “It was my pleasure. I’m Tiago Van den Berg of Van den Berg Realty and you are?”

  “Karma Sullivan. Welcome to my salon, Beauty by Karma.”

  “Impressive.” Nodding, he slid his hands in his pockets and slowly glanced around the shop. “I’ve been looking for a new barber. Maybe I should book an appointment.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll get one of our talented male stylists to come speak to you.”

  Eager to get to her office to touch base with Jazz, Karma waved goodbye and spun around.

  The stranger touched her arm, stopping her in her tracks. “Can I have your number?” he asked. “I’d love to take you out sometime.”

  Average height, with tanned skin and a slim build, Karma guessed Tiago was in his forties, and checked his left hand for a wedding ring. He wasn’t wearing one, but she paused to consider his request. Normally, Karma didn’t give her cell number to strange men, but the Van den Berg family were real estate giants, and she wanted to pick his brain about the housing market. The lease on her East Hampton condo was up at the end of the year, and Karma was ready to buy her first home. Furthermore, the more successful, influential people she knew in the Hamptons the better. Karma plucked a pink business card out of one of the decorative card holders on the counter and handed it to him. “Here’s my card.”

  “Awesome. I’ll call you tonight.”

  “I look forward to hearing from you, Tiago, and thanks again for your help.”

  Watching him exit the salon, Karma had second thoughts about giving him her number. He was attractive, in a scholarly way, but he didn’t light her fire. Didn’t excite her. Not the way Morrison did. Karma caught herself, told herself to stop thinking about him. It didn’t work. Remembering the things they’d done in his suite made her pulse thunder in her ears. What’s the matter with me? Why am I fantasizing about Morrison? Why can’t I get him out of my mind?

  “Look at you!” shrieked the nail technician, sashaying into the waiting area with a hand stuck to her hip. “First, a romantic night in the city with Morrison Drake, and now a date with that blue-eyed, pretty boy, Tiago Van den Berg. Guuurrrl, this is your week!”

  Karma ignored the comment, knew if she responded the nail technician, Poppy Castelo, would grill her about her night with Morrison, and she didn’t want to talk about it. She’d planned to keep it a secret, but one of the couples they’d had brunch with at the Four Seasons Hotel had blabbed to one of the stylists, and now everyone knew she’d spent the weekend with Morrison. “Where’s Jazz?” she asked, sliding behind the counter to double-check the afternoon schedule.

  “No idea. She hasn’t been in all day, but I
overheard one of the stylists say she’s sick.”

  Again! But she called in sick yesterday. Karma wasn’t buying it; didn’t believe for a second her best friend was ill. She knew from checking Jazz’s social media pages that her bestie had tickets to the Shakira concert that evening, and Karma would bet every dollar in her bank account that Jazz was living it up in the city. She didn’t get it. Didn’t understand why her best friend was screwing her over. Flaking on their clients and staff.

  Looking through the mail, one of the envelopes stuck out from the pile. It was handwritten, but Karma didn’t recognize the penmanship. She ripped it open and scanned the paper. Her eyes widened. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening. How did Feisal find me!

  Panic seized her heart, and the paper fell from her hands. The room swam around her, but Karma picked up the letter, ripped it to pieces and dropped it in the garbage bin under the reception desk.

  Karma took a moment to gather herself. To collect her thoughts. She hadn’t seen or heard from Feisal in years, and wondered how he’d found her. Had her grandparents told him? Had they given him her address? No, that was impossible. They hated Feisal more than she did, and would never give him her contact information. It didn’t matter. He was in jail, where he belonged, and she wasn’t responding to his letter. Not today, not ever—

  “Can I have some of this? I’m starving, and I love exotic fruit.”

  Snapping out of her thoughts, Karma followed Poppy’s gaze. Noticing, for the first time, the colorful fruit baskets sitting on the glass coffee table, she smiled. There were cupcake-shaped pineapples, chocolate-dipped mango, heart-shaped papaya, guava covered in sprinkles, and marshmallows. “They’re so cute! Who sent them?”

  “Beats me,” she said, popping a caramel-coated strawberry into her mouth. “I wasn’t here when they were delivered, but there should be a card around here somewhere.”

  Fear consumed her, made Karma quiver and sweat. Were the edible arrangements from Feisal? Had he ordered them from prison? If he did, she was dumping them in the trash. As she spotted the note taped to the side of the yellow basket dread filled her stomach.

  “I’ll be right back.” Poppy picked up a basket and left.

  Glad she was alone in the reception area, Karma read the short, typed message, hoping against all hope it wasn’t from Feisal—a man she despised.

  To the sexiest woman in the Hamptons. You’re more beautiful than any flower, and I hope the fruit bouquet satisfies your sweet tooth until our next date.

  From, Morrison,

  Your birthday bae

  Laughing out loud, Karma dropped the note inside her purse and retrieved her cell phone. She had dozens of text messages from customers, but she decided to return Morrison’s call first. Wanted to thank him for the generous, unexpected gift. Karma considered going to her office so she could have some privacy, but remembered Jazz was a no-show and she had to cover the front desk while Abigail was taking her lunch break.

  “The chocolate-dipped mango is addictive, and totally worth the calories!” Poppy said with a laugh. Returning to the waiting area, she picked up two more bouquets and returned to the salon floor. Happy her clients and staff were eating the edible arrangements, Karma flashed a thumbs-up at Poppy.

  Morrison answered his cell phone on the first ring, and the sound of his deep, masculine voice made her skin tingle. “Hi, Morrison. It’s me, Karma,” she said, wishing she didn’t sound nervous and breathless. “I’m calling to thank you for the fruit bouquets. They’re beautiful, and delicious, and everyone in the salon is enjoying them.”

  “You’re welcome. It’s a peace offering and—”

  “A peace offering?” Karma repeated, wrinkling her nose. “Are we at war?”

  “We argued on Sunday and I didn’t want there to be any hard feelings between us. I had a great time with you last weekend, and I want to see you again.”

  Karma hardened her heart. Had to. Safeguarding her feelings against Morrison was paramount. Not because she was scared of him hurting her, but because she was scared of hurting him. There were things about her he didn’t know, things she’d never confided in anyone, not even her closest friends, and she could never tell Morrison the truth about her past. It was too painful, and Karma didn’t want anyone to know her shameful family secret.

  “Morrison, I’m fine. Like you said, I don’t have any children and should mind my own business, and from now on that’s what I’m going to do. You don’t have to worry about me giving Reagan advice or cramming my opinions down your throat, either.”

  “Karma, I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to. You made it perfectly clear that you don’t need or want my help with Reagan.” He couldn’t see her, but she fervently shook her head. “And I have to respect your feelings. You’re her legal guardian, and you know what’s best for her, not me.”

  “Let’s talk tonight over dinner. What time should I pick you up?”

  “Sorry, Morrison. I have to work.”

  “But the salon closes at eight o’clock. That’s plenty of time for us to grab a bite to eat.”

  “My celebrity clients prefer having their hair and makeup done in the comfort of their own home, rather than coming down to the salon, so after I close up the shop, I do home consultations until ten or eleven o’clock.”

  He whistled. “I thought I worked long hours, but I’m a slacker compared to you!”

  Karma laughed at his joke. “I’ve been working eighty hours a week for years, but I have no complaints. I love my life, my salon and my clients, and I’ll do anything to succeed.”

  “Do you still want to see the new Oceans movie? Last weekend, you mentioned being a huge fan of the franchise, and I have tickets for the advance screening on Saturday,” he said. “The movie doesn’t start until ten, so we can have dinner at Arbor Restaurant first...”

  Staring down at her cell phone, Karma wondered if she’d heard him correctly. The salon was loud, but his strong voice cut through the noise. No, she wasn’t hearing things. He’d asked her out again—the second time in minutes.

  Tasting a piece of guava, Karma chewed slowly. It was sweet, just like the man who’d sent them. She was careful with her words, didn’t want to say anything to offend him, especially after everything he’d done to make her birthday special, but Karma had to speak the truth. “Morrison, I like you, and I think you’re a great guy, but I don’t think we should date. We had our fun at the Four Seasons, but that’s all it was. One, incredible weekend.”

  “What if I want more?”

  Then, you should find a quiet, docile woman to date, because that’s not me! Out of her peripheral vision, she noticed Abigail headed toward her, and knew it was time to end the call. “Morrison, I have to go, but thanks again for the fruit bouquets.”

  Karma pressed the end button, grabbed her bags off the floor and made a beeline for her office before her gossip-hungry receptionist questioned her about the edible arrangements. If her staff knew Morrison had sent them, they’d hound her relentlessly.

  Karma threw open the office door. With a heavy heart, she sat down behind her office desk, kicked off her shoes and touched the Picture app on her cell phone. Photos from her birthday—at the botanical garden with Morrison, posing in front of the Museum of Sex, smiling in her cushy theater seat, dancing in the limousine—filled the screen. Thoughts of Morrison came to mind, but she pushed them aside, refused to think about the handsome, intelligent man she’d spent the weekend with. He wasn’t happy unless he was calling the shots, and although he’d rocked her world between the sheets she’d rather be alone than with someone who didn’t respect her opinion.

  If that’s true, her inner voice challenged, then why do you regret turning down his dinner invitation? Why do you wish he was here with you now?

  Stumped, Karma realized she didn’t have an answer, or any hope of ever forg
etting Morrison, and her sadness was so profound her heart throbbed in pain.

  Chapter 10

  “Guys, sorry I’m late.” Roderick’s footsteps and his loud, booming voice cut through the eerie silence at the Westlake Marina on Sunday morning. “Toya got back late from her spin class, and I didn’t want to leave until I spoke to her about my plans for the day.”

  Duane and Morrison exchanged a look, then shook their heads in disbelief.

  “That’s why you’re an hour late for our fishing trip? Because you had to get permission from your fiancée to spend the day with us? Roderick, are you effing kidding me?”

  “It’s not like that. We got into another argument about the wedding last night, and I wanted to make sure we were cool before I left to go fishing,” he explained, shrugging a shoulder. “Duane, you’re married. You know how it is.”

  “No, I don’t. Erikah and I have a great relationship, and I don’t need her permission to go fishing with you guys, or anything else for that matter. She’s my wife, not my parole officer.”

  Morrison gripped the wheel of the boat, and steered it away from the dock. Sunrise was the best time to fish, but because of Roderick they were an hour behind schedule. They’d be lucky if they caught anything for lunch, but Morrison kept his thoughts to himself, didn’t want to make his brother feel worse than he already did. He looked remorseful, but Morrison wasn’t ready to let him off the hook. “You should have called. We were worried about you.”

  Roderick scoffed. “Mo, relax, I’m fine. You worry too much...”

  Tuning his brother out, Morrison took in his surroundings. The air was thick, and the sky was hazy, but it didn’t detract from the beauty around him. Home to some of the most beautiful views and sunsets in the country, the Hamptons was one of the prettiest places Morrison had ever seen, and he loved living there. Though, when he was appointed to the Supreme Court he’d gladly pack his bags and relocate to Washington.

  “Mo, slow down,” Roderick said, gesturing to the water with a flap of his hand. “This is the perfect spot. This is where I caught that ten-pound trout last summer.”