Owner of a Broken Heart

by Cheris Hodges

  “Sir,” Clinton began. “I would never intentionally hurt Nina. I think she’s a great person and we have fun together.”

  Sheldon held up his hand. “I don’t need the details. Just make sure that you are what and who you say you are or you’re not going to like the consequences.” Sheldon rose to his feet and left the office with his warning lingering in the air.

  Clinton didn’t blame Sheldon one bit for looking out for his daughter, though he wondered how Nina would feel about it. Rising to his feet, he made a mental list of the things he needed to put together a special low-country meal. He planned to make shrimp and grits along with a corn soufflé. If his breakfast had impressed her, then this dinner would knock her off her feet.

  As he was about to leave for the day, Alex entered his office and dropped a thick file folder on his desk. “I need you to contact these companies and tell them about our holiday promotion.”

  Clinton raised his eyebrow in aggravation. “You didn’t tell me about a holiday promotion.”

  “It’s your job to come up with one. I need your report and proposal Monday morning.”

  Instead of arguing with Alex, Clinton simply nodded. “Anything else?”

  Alex pivoted out of the office without saying another word.

  Now leaving early wasn’t an option as he had to come up with a holiday promotion and write a report for Alex. It was after six before he emerged from his office and ran into Nina as he crossed the lobby.

  “Where’s the fire?” she asked, touching his arm to slow him down.

  “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Clinton leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “I also didn’t expect to work this late, but something came up.”

  Nina smiled. “Let me guess, Alex dumped work on you at the last minute?”

  He nodded and returned her smile. “How ever did you figure that out?”

  “I know my sister. She can’t stand the idea of someone having fun. Why don’t we just order takeout?”

  “What time is your game over?”

  Nina shrugged. “Barring overtime, I should be out of there by nine thirty,” she said. “I just came to say hello to my daddy.”

  “All right, I’m going to see if I can pull together dinner for you so I don’t have to subject you to takeout. If you liked my eggs, you’ll love my dinner.”

  Nina grinned at him. “You don’t have to go through all of that trouble for me.”

  Clinton stroked her cheek gently. “I like to cook, so it’s no trouble. Trust me, you’re never going to want to eat in a restaurant again after you taste this meal.” He waved good-bye to Nina and dashed to his car. Hopefully, her game would go into overtime and he’d have time to prepare a special meal.

  Chapter 12

  Nina prayed as she sat on the sidelines that the game would end soon. Her prayers went unanswered. The referees seemed to see fouls that weren’t there and sent players to the free throw line every fifteen seconds. Now the game was tied up with less than a minute to go. All she wanted was a miracle from one of the teams. She didn’t care who won. Nina wanted to get out of the small gymnasium and head to Summerville.

  There was something about knowing that Clinton was sitting at home waiting for her instead of the other way around. He made her feel so special and she couldn’t wait to see him again. For all Nina cared, he could’ve made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with apple slices and she would’ve been satisfied. It was nice to feel appreciated instead of used. Now that she had a chance to reflect on what she and Lamar had, she realized she had been used and tossed out like a rumpled tissue.

  Clinton was different and she needed something like him right now in her life. The sound of the buzzer broke into her thoughts and she smiled as the home team scored the winning basket. Overtime was not in her future. She raced to the center of the floor to grab the head coach and the star players from the winning team so that she could do her postgame interviews and get out of there.

  For once, when she didn’t want to, she found a coach who was extremely talkative, along with players who didn’t know when to shut up either. Nina spent over an hour interviewing the winners and she still had about a thirty-minute ride to Clinton’s place in Summerville. When her interviews were finally over, she hopped into her car and headed back to the bed-and-breakfast to change her clothes. She had hoped to sneak in without running into Alex. Clearly, tonight wasn’t her lucky night.

  “Where are you off to?” Alex asked when she appeared in Nina’s doorway.

  Alex was already prepared for bed with her hair in rollers, a scarf wrapped around her head and a plush terry cloth robe covering her pajamas.

  Nina had just slipped into a short-sleeve black dress that skimmed the tops of her knees, and she was looking through her bag for a pair of pumps. “What makes you think I’m going somewhere?”

  “Those don’t look like pajamas to me. Please don’t tell me it’s another coach.”

  Nina sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at her sister. “If you must know, I’m going out with Clinton.”

  “What? I really wished that you wouldn’t jump into something with this guy. I don’t trust him, Nina.”

  “What’s he done to you to make you not trust him?” Nina pulled her shoes from her bag and slipped them on her feet. “From what Daddy has said, he’s doing a great job.”

  Alex tugged on her scarf, causing one of her rollers to slip from underneath it. “I’m not going to be fooled by this guy. He has an agenda, working with our family, trying to date you . . .”

  “First of all, Clinton and I aren’t dating. We’re friends. I had a good time with him at the football game and he offered to cook me dinner tonight.” Nina ran her fingers through her hair and turned to her sister. “You’re way too suspicious.”

  “Sometimes I forget how young you really are,” Alex said flippantly.

  Nina reached for her purse and pushed past her sister. “On that note, I’m leaving.”

  Alex grabbed Nina’s arm. “Please be careful. You don’t know this guy and with your track record you need to exercise caution.”

  She pulled away from her sister. “Good night and don’t wait up. I plan to come home very late, if at all.” Nina hated how Alex made her feel like a silly child about to run into oncoming traffic. There was nothing wrong with her spending time with Clinton and there was no reason for anyone to mistrust him. As long as her father thought he was a good person, she didn’t give a damn what Alexandria Richardson thought.

  * * *

  Clinton was on pins and needles waiting for Nina to arrive. He’d struggled with whether he should set the table with or without candles. This wasn’t a night of seduction. He decided to dim the lights and keep the wine chilling until she showed up. He hoped that she didn’t have trouble finding the place, since his home sat about a mile off the main road. Just as he was about to look out the window again, the doorbell rang.

  When Clinton opened the door and saw Nina standing there, he was speechless. There was something about the black dress, her new hair color, and the glow of her skin that made him want to forget his promise to himself to take things slow with her. “You look amazing.”

  “Thanks,” she said as she walked in. “I rarely get to dress like this.”

  Clinton looked down at his faded jeans and Rolling Stones T-shirt and felt incredibly underdressed. “I can change and we can go out if you want.”

  Nina shook her head as she slowly walked into the living room, drinking in the rich brown and maroon colors of the walls and the paintings he had decorating them. “No, I don’t want to go anywhere. You have good taste. I like the art.” She pointed to a bright blue painting of a man holding a woman emerging from a lake. “Is that a Celina Hart?”

  He nodded. “Her work brightens my little hideaway.”

  “What do you have to hide from?” Nina placed her hand on her hip and smiled slyly at him.

  “Alex, for one, and I like to get away from the city and the noi
se as much as possible. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I am, but not for dinner, right yet. I want to know more about you. It seems like since the moment we met I’ve been spilling my guts to you and I don’t know anything about Clinton Jefferson,” she said before sitting on the sofa and crossing her legs.

  Inhaling sharply, Clinton smiled and sat beside her, trying to tell himself not to look at her shapely legs but into her beautiful eyes. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything. Does your family still live in Charleston? What made you decide to work at the B&B after you tried to get my dad to sell? How many other women come here on a weekly basis?”

  He chuckled softly, wondering what he should tell her. “Well, I don’t bring a lot of women here. Like I said, this is my hideaway, my fortress of solitude. As you can tell, I was a comic book nerd and Superman is still my favorite. My father lives in North Charleston but we don’t talk much. My mother died two years ago and my dad and I ran out of things to talk about. Asking your father to sell his bed-and-breakfast was the hardest thing I had ever done at that time.”

  “At the time?” She raised her right eyebrow. “What was harder?”

  Clinton shrugged, then looked away. There was no way he would tell her that the hardest thing he’d ever done was to not join her in the shower a few nights ago.

  Noting his silence, Nina sucked her teeth. “So, you’re not going to tell me?”

  “Nope.”

  Nina inched closer to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Not going to give me one little clue?”

  “You’re good, but no. I’ll tell you something else, though. Your father inspired me even before I met him.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “That’s how I ended up in hospitality. I remember reading an article about your father. I must have been a sophomore in high school and I knew what I wanted to do when I grew up.”

  Nina laughed softly. “I’m still trying to figure out why my sister thinks you’re some kind of spy.”

  Maybe it was the lighting or maybe it was the way her lips glistened that made him want to kiss her. Clinton cleared his throat. “I’m not a spy. I don’t want to do anything but my job and learn more about the business so that I can run my own hotel one day.”

  Nina smiled and he couldn’t resist stroking her cheek. “You know,” she said, “I think you’d do very well with your own property.”

  “Have I told you enough about me now?” he asked.

  Nina shook her head and folded her arms across her firm bosom. Clinton had to look away. “So, Clinton, why in the world are you single?”

  “You’re a hell of a reporter, aren’t you?”

  “What do you mean?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

  “You ask tough questions. But that answer is, I haven’t met her yet.”

  Nina smiled. “And how will you know? What if you met her at the supermarket and just let her pass you by?”

  “Here’s what I know: It’s time to eat.”

  When she licked her lips, Clinton prayed she wouldn’t notice how she affected him as he stood up. He led her to the dining room. He pulled her chair out, glad the high-back chair blocked his crotch.

  “Thanks,” she replied.

  “You’re welcome. I hope you enjoy this meal,” he said before heading into the kitchen to get the main course. If Clinton had his druthers, he’d feast on Nina all night long. But this wasn’t the plan.

  He took the shrimp dish out of the oven and headed for the dining room. “Dinner is served,” Clinton said as he set the food in the middle of the table.

  “It smells wonderful. What is it?”

  “A secret family recipe. I wanted to make something a little more special, but I got a late start.” Clinton spooned a bit of the casserole on Nina’s plate. “I’ll be right back with the salad.” He headed back to the kitchen and returned with a wooden bowl filled with a fresh tossed salad in a balsamic dressing.

  “Let me find out that you’re an undercover chef.” She watched him intently as he scooped salad on her plate.

  “Now you know my secret. I want to beat Bobby Flay one day.” He winked at her, then took his seat next to her.

  She took a bite of the food. Closing her eyes, she moaned in pleasure. “This is good. I could get used to this, Mr. Jefferson. Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

  “I’m not that guy. I believe in marathons. So, get used to this.”

  “Be careful what you ask for. You might see me at your dinner table once a week.”

  Clinton filled his plate with salad and casserole. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

  Nina spooned more food in her mouth and Clinton was transfixed by her lips. Then she moaned again and he was hard as dry concrete. Let it simmer, he thought as he turned away from her and focused on his own meal. But what he wanted to taste was underneath the table.

  A tense silence fell over the room as they ate. Need and want filled the air.

  “I wish I could cook like this,” Nina said after eating her fill and leaning back in the chair.

  “It’s really easy. And I’m willing to teach you, if you want to learn,” Clinton said as he inched his chair closer to hers.

  “I might not be a good student,” she said. “I don’t have the patience to wait for dough to rise and whatnot.”

  “Maybe that’s why you can’t cook, you’re too impatient. There’s a lot to be said for taking things slowly.”

  Nina raised her eyebrow as she studied his face. “Are we still talking about cooking?”

  He took her face into his hands. “You just have to let things marinate sometimes.”

  “Clinton.”

  “Just for the record, I didn’t ask you to come here tonight to take you to bed.”

  “I know.” She offered him a sly smile. “Maybe that’s why I came to you.” Nina leaned forward and brushed her lips across his.

  Damn taking it slow. He swiftly brought his lips down on top of hers, kissing her until she was breathless.

  Clinton hadn’t expected Nina’s response to be as passionate as it was. When he felt her fingers dance on the back of his neck, he was done for. Nina’s kiss set his soul ablaze. There was something different about this kiss. Hotter. Wetter. Filled with a burning passion. Sanity told him to live by the words he’d said to her. Take it slow.

  Going slow was so damned overrated. He mustered up every ounce of self-control he had inside him and pulled back from her.

  “Nina. This isn’t why I invited you to dinner.”

  She ran her tongue across his bottom lip. “We’re adults and no one is being forced into anything.”

  Clinton groaned. “Tonight, I just need to taste you.” His voice was like a panther growl as he lifted her up on the table. Clinton pushed her dress up and smiled at the barely there lace thong. Placing his hot hands between her thighs, he stroked her wetness until she purred. Her wetness covered his fingers like honey as he pressed each digit deeper inside her. One. Two.

  Nina gasped as she tightened herself around his fingers. “This. Is. Torture.”

  “Relax.” Clinton dove between her thighs, pulling her thong to the side, then capturing her most sensitive spot with his mouth. He felt her shiver, felt her get wetter. He lapped her sweetness, sucked her throbbing clit, and licked circles inside her.

  Nina breathlessly called out his name as she trembled. He pulled her closer, licking and sucking until she exploded. Clinton didn’t stop. He couldn’t because she was so sweet and delicious. A treat that he knew he’d never get enough of anytime soon. When his tongue lashed her pearl, Nina came like a raging river. Tearing his mouth away from her, Clinton drank in the sated look on her face.

  “Now that I’ve had my dessert, what can I get you?”

  * * *

  Nina was breathless, satisfied and thankful that she and Clinton had stayed in.

  “Water. I need some water.” Sliding into the chair, she focused on Clinton’
s magical lips.

  “Come here,” he said, then lifted her from the chair. “You relax on the sofa and I’ll bring you water.” He carried her into the living room with ease. The heat of Clinton’s body made her throb. He gently deposited her on the butter-soft leather sofa. “Be right back.”

  Sitting in the stillness, Nina closed her eyes, reliving every luscious moment on that table. Clinton proved he wasn’t a selfish lover, making sure her needs were met and exceeded. Nina’s body was still trembling—especially her thighs.

  “Are you all right?” Clinton’s voice was melodic and soothing.

  “Mmm, I’m good. Really good.” Nina took the glass of water from his outstretched hand. Clinton sat down beside her and stroked her arm.

  “Want to watch a movie or . . .”

  She tilted her head to the side and studied his face. She wanted more of his lips and his touch. “What kind of movie do you have in mind?”

  “Not a sports one,” he quipped. Clinton turned the smart TV on and clicked on a movie-streaming icon. “I have a thing for old-school seventies movies.”

  Nina’s eyes lit up. “Like Shaft or Cleopatra Jones?”

  “I’m impressed. What do you know about blax-plotation movies?”

  Nina fanned her hand. “Please, my dad has the biggest crush on Pam Grier. We used to watch those movies all the time, once he thought I was old enough. That’s where I learned my driving skills from, according to my sisters.”

  Clinton laughed. “So, The Mack or Foxy Brown?”

  “Umm, why not Coffy?”

  He pressed the search button on the remote. Nina smiled as the title came up on the screen.

  “This is the only Pam Grier movie that Dad wouldn’t let me watch back in the day. One of the first DVDs I bought in college was this one. Became one of my favorites.”