You'll fall in love with Gina, Keith, Michael, Terence and Colleen. Coming Dec. 31, 2013
Two friends. Two brothers. Two weddings. Too many secrets.
Who will cross the line?
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Chapter One
“You
were easily the best dancer on the dance floor.”
Gina
Price’s body responded to the Barry White voice from behind. After an energetic
bout with the Cha-Cha slide, she’d sought respite at one of the now abandoned
guest tables. Her now crushed gold satin dress bore the after-effects of her
abandon, but she had no regrets. She’d just needed a brief power nap, and she’d
be ready for round two. It took some effort but she opened her eyes.
Starting
with his shoes, her eyes swept his tall frame. The dark-blue suit fit him like
a second skin. A jacket hung carelessly in one hand, while uncontrolled muscles
popped from under his light blue shirt. His tie had been savagely loosened and
now draped over his well-defined shoulders. At the end of her journey, she saw
his face.
Oh, my. He sounded like Barry White, but he looked like
Shemar Moore. Uhm, pretty boys spelled trouble.
Her voice oozed honey when she
uttered a low, “Thank you, but tell that to my aching feet. Gina swayed her
body to the up-tempo beat. “The deejay is doing his thing—‘cause this crowd is
pumped. I mean it’s almost midnight and nobody’s rushing home.”
Shemar Moore chuckled. “Yes, this was
some reception wasn’t it? Terence and Colleen obviously didn’t spare any
expense because this wedding was top of the line.”
“People
will talk about this wedding for years to come,” Gina agreed. With the ice
doves, to the still-glowing imported scented candles, orchid and lily
centerpieces and crystal one-of-a-kind chandeliers, her head spun. Such
opulence and grandeur made their wedding picture perfect from beginning to end.
Even the weather had cooperated.
Gina rubbed her bared shoulders and
eyed the other members of the wedding party who still held it down on the dance
floor. By the looks of it, it would be awhile before the festivities died down.
She snickered. There’d be some back pains and sore limbs come morning.
“Mind if I sit?” he asked.
She had propped her feet on one of
the empty chairs to rest them and admire the black, gold-encrusted,
three-inched heels. Yup, the shoes were worth it. Colleen had dubbed them
Men-fishing shoes.
Well, she’d reeled in a live one.
Gina moved her legs, and waved him into the
chair next to her. “Not at all.” She didn’t play coy.
“I’ve been admiring you all evening.
I couldn’t leave without at least introducing myself. I’m Michael Ward—friend
of the groom.” He extended his hand.
Long tapered fingers... Groomed
nails... She’d give him an eight. Gina realized he waited for a response. “I’m
sorry,” she blushed and took his outstretched hand. “I’m Gina Price, best
friend of the bride.”
“Gina. Nice name,” Michael replied.
“Thank you.” Okay, he bored her
already. Time to cut this brother loose until he got some game, or even a corny
pickup line. So far, he held as much appeal as a Twinkie without the filling.
Then she looked at him. Yup, he was worth a second try.
She tilted her chin towards Colleen
and Terence, and made small talk. “Look at them dancing like they’re the only
two people in the room. I mean I had tears in my eyes when they recited their
vows. And, doesn’t Colleen make a stunning bride?” Terence had hired a top of
the line makeup artist to do her face and hair, and the results were
spectacular. Colleen looked like she could be on the cover of Vogue magazine, and Terence would fit right in with the men
at GQ. He was handsome. Gina
had to give him that. Yeah,
a handsome devil.
“It was a beautiful ceremony,”
Michael intercepted her thoughts. He stood, “I’m going to get something to
drink. Can I get you something?”
“Just water.”
Gina
watched his long, confident strides and appreciated the view from behind.
Just then Terence and Colleen danced past her.
Gina smiled, and gave a small wave, though her smile didn’t quite reach her
eyes. She tapped her chin as she contemplated. Something about Terence didn’t
sit well with her. He seemed to genuinely love Colleen and at thirty-four, he’d
found success as an art designer for Cozy Homes magazine. He was religious and seemed to be for real about his love for God, not like some of those hypocrites
out there.
Still,
Gina felt doubtful about him. She had voiced those misgivings to Colleen,
calling him Shifty Eyes. Once, she could have sworn that he had been checking
her out, but she wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure. So, she’d had no choice but
to dismiss it. But mark her words. Terence
wasn’t all he appeared. He was like … like a sweet, delicious piece of candy
that was good to eat, but also gave you a vicious toothache.
Despite
Gina’s doubts, Colleen had fallen in love and after a mere four-month
courtship—here they were.
Michael
returned with two ice-cold glasses of water. When Gina reached for the glass
she felt an electric jolt zap through her spine when their hands connected. Did he feel that? She took a huge swig to drown her
reaction.
A slow jam came on. “Would you like
to dance?” Michael asked.
Gina hesitated. Her feet
ached...throbbed...but, his body... his voice... no, her feet hurt.
Then he smiled.
Wow.
That did it. She slid her feet off the chair, took his baseball-mitt sized
hand, and followed him to the dance floor.
“Well since I don’t know if you’ll
disappear at midnight, let me tell you about myself. I’m an architect and
self-employed. I met Terence at college and after we graduated we went our
separate ways. Then about a year ago, we bumped into each other, quite by
accident, when I was commissioned to design the layout for Terence’s magazine.
During our conversation, he invited me to his wedding.”
So
they were more acquaintances than friends, Gina thought. Good. He just went
from an eight to a nine. She liked his soothing voice and his arms made her
feel secure. “Colleen and I have been best friends since we were twelve and in
middle school. Since we didn’t have siblings, we clung to each other. Ever
since we’ve met, we’ve been joined at the hips like Siamese twins, especially
since we share the same birth month of June. We went to the same colleges for
our bachelor’s and masters, and now we both work at August Martin H.S. I teach
English Language Arts and Colleen teaches Social Studies—excuse me, used to
teach. I forgot she took a leave of absence. Terence doesn’t want her to work.”
“Oh.”
His monosyllabic response made Gina
wonder if she’d struck out with this one. Had she rambled too much? Please
don’t let him mention the weather. People only mentioned the weather when they
had nothing else to say.
“So, are you single? I didn’t see any rings on
your left finger, but you never know.”
Good, she was still in the game.
“Yes, I am.” She caught the huge, anticipatory smile.
Michael led her through an intimate
dance move that ended with a dip. “Are you seeing anybody right now?”
That voice of his mesmerized her.
“No,” Gina supplied, with a huge smile of her own. She held her breath, feeling
the magnetic pull, when Michael slowly lifted her and curved her body to his.
His voice deepened and he spoke right
into her ear. “Good, cause I’m single, too, and available—no kids, no ex-wives—just one brother and a mother, who’s retired and living in
Atlanta.”
Disbelieving, Gina couldn’t hold the
unladylike snort. “You expect me to believe that you’re available?”
But
Michael quickly schooled her. He took a few steps back, licked his lips, before
clarifying, “Okay, I am reformed and officially retired from the
heart breaking business. Any games I used to play ended with my retirement.”
Whatever
he was selling, she wasn’t buying. Well, it depends on how much, her inner self
countered. When a more suggestive melody filled the room, Michael drew her
closer to him. She inhaled. He smelled like ocean, outdoors, the rugged
outback—and pure unadulterated man. Her stubby legs liquefied and her insides
quivered. Engulfed in his arms she felt like a petite china doll.
Gina
snuck a glance up at Michael. His eyes held promise for some serious pleasure.
Whew! Hold it together, girl.
Gina Ward.
Yes, she liked
that. Too much. She’d known this man for what? Fifteen minutes. Ridiculous. All
too soon, the song ended and it was time to see the lovebirds off. Gina and
Michael lagged behind the well-wishers and blew bubbles at each other, before
he excused himself. Bereft, she looked for the other girls in her party, while
shivering in the night air.
She saw a black Range Rover pull over
to the curb. Curious, her eyes followed the tinted window’s slow descent to
reveal the driver. When she saw it was Michael, she edged closer.
“You need a ride?” he beckoned.
Did she ever. “Sure, thanks.” She
opened the door and put one leg in. Wait. What was she doing? Taking a ride
from a virtual stranger—a possible stalker.
“Gina!” one of the girls called out
from the limo that drove up behind Michael’s car.
She waved them off, feigning bravado.
“I’m good. I’ve got a ride.” Cautiously, she held onto the door and lowered her
body until she was halfway in. She chewed her lip, wondering if she should make
a speedy escape. The limo hadn’t pulled away yet, as the other girls were still
piling in.
Perceptive, Michael surmised her
dilemma. “You’re safe with me.”
Said the wolf to the lamb. Should she? Her heartbeat increased.
Then her inner imp egged her on. Whatever—you only live once. Heeding it, Gina
pushed the hesitation aside and decisively shut the door. “I’m good.” She
luxuriated in the feel of the leather beneath her, and chattered, “You just
saved me from having to crawl my way to the back of the limo with the other girls,
then enduring the winding taxi cab style ride.”
“It’s
my pleasure.”
In
mere minutes Michael pulled up to her home in Rosedale. He parallel parked
beside her blue Volkswagen.
“Thanks
for the ride.” Gina turned to look at him from under her lashes.
“Anytime,”
Michael returned, and patted her hand. “I hope this is not the last I hear from
you.”
Gina
rattled off her digits. He texted her so she could save his number in her
phone. Michael took a curious peek at her house, but remained in his car. He waited
until Gina got out the vehicle, and unlocked her front door. When she turned to
give a final wave, he vocalized, “Call me. Soon.” Gina nodded her assent,
before slipping inside.
Leaning
against her door, she heaved, “I can’t wait to get out of these shoes.” She
bent, wearily undid her shoes, wiggled out of her dress, and fell into bed.
Then
she thought about Michael. She appreciated that he hadn’t come on to her or
tried to kiss her. In fact he’d been the perfect gentleman. She’d wait a couple
of days to call him. Can’t appear too eager or desperate—a definite turn off.
So, Tuesday evening it is. No contact before then. Gina rolled over, looked at
the clock and moaned. Seventy-two hours.
Chapter Two
“I love
it here.” Colleen stretched, loving the
feel of the Egyptian cotton five-hundred-count sheets courtesy of the Sandals
resort in Montego Bay, Jamaica. She turned on her side to look at the view of
the ocean from their balcony, and exhaled. “The ocean is breath-taking.”
Terence’s large hands cupped her
waist and twisted her naked body towards his. He gave her an appreciative
smile. “It’s beautiful, but it’s nothing compared to you.”
“Aahhh,” Colleen cooed, “I could stay like
this forever.” She breathed in, taking in the crisp air and sharp blue waters.
Her eyes hurt from its brilliant shine. Like a siren the sea called to her,
prompting her to leave Terence’s warmth, slip on a chemise, and slide open the
glass door. She stepped out barefooted to get her fill.
She listened to the waves lapping
against the shores and basked in its beauty for almost fifteen minutes. The
cool breeze fluttered the laces lining the edge of her shimmery baby blue
chemise. The scripture really was true, she thought. “How can a person see this
and not believe in God? Impossible.” When she didn’t hear a forthcoming reply,
Colleen looked behind her and saw that Terence had drifted off to sleep.
“Figures.” She meandered her way through sandals and clothes tossed on the
floor as a result of their passion, and shook Terence’s shoulder.
His eyes slowly opened to focus on
her.
“Let’s go enjoy the water. We’ve been
cooped up in here for almost a week,” her champagne eyes pleaded.
Terence said nothing but held up the
duvet covers. His arm snaked out to drag her down next to him. Giving her a
light squeeze, Terence kissed her on the nose. “All right, we’ll go, although I
could stay right here under the A.C.”
“Yeah,
but I don’t want to spend my entire honeymoon in Jamaica in bed—as tempting as
it is.” Colleen slid from under the covers. Her long legs caught in the sheet,
and she ended up in a huge puddle on the floor. Unabashed, she held onto her
stomach as she laughed. Terence slid out of the bed alligator style and joined
her on the floor.
Disentangling
herself out of the sheets, Colleen bowed with a flourish while spreading her
arms. “And now, for my second act...”
She
ambled over to the chest. Pulling the drawer open, she tossed clothes this way,
and that, before triumphantly, saying, “Aha!” She grabbed the lime-green
two-piece, hid it behind her back and scurried into the bathroom to freshen up
and change.
When
she came out the bathroom, she expected Terence to salivate at her tantalizing
show.
But,
he didn’t look pleased. Perched on the bed, with one arm crooked under his
head, he coolly assessed the garment she displayed. “You’re going out like
that?” His peculiar facial expression and disgusted tone gave her slight pause.
“Yeah.” Quizzical, her smile collapsed. Now,
she felt uncomfortable. Did she look funny or fat or something? She appraised
herself in the mirror. Nope, no difference there.
“It’s revealing.” Terence shrugged in
a way that said more than his words. “I don’t want all those men’s eyes ogling
my baby. Why don’t you wear something else?”
Colleen bit her bottom lip.
Insecurity blossomed and took root. “Okay, I’ll change, although…” She shook
her head, deciding not to voice her objection. Personally, she thought the
two-piece harmless—especially compared to the skimpy thong suits that other
women were wearing. But it was her nature to please. “Well, I do have the black
one piece I packed on a whim. I’ll change.” She wanted her new husband’s
approval. It meant everything to her.
With unsure,
stilted steps, Colleen exchanged outfits. Though she felt dowdy now, she
dutifully turned to face Terence.
She remained silent but stoically
watched him swing his powerful legs and walk over to cradle her in his arms.
“My baby looks good.”
Colleen felt her spirits rise. He was
happy. Her husband was pleased and that was all that mattered. “Whoosh,” she
sighed. “If you keep that up we won’t make it out to the beach. I can’t go back
home without ever hitting the water.”
She felt the rumble of his chuckle,
and her body chilled when he stepped back. “Point well made my wife. Give me a
moment to put my trunks on, and then we’ll head out.”
Feeling cherished, Colleen nodded.
She waited while Terence grabbed his trunks and took his turn in the bathroom.
When he came out, her eyes popped open when she saw his barely there trunks.
She bit her tongue to keep from seeming catty about the whole bathing suit
thing. Resolute, she pushed it from her mind.
They
left their suite arm in arm. Colleen felt giddy. She swung her hips from side
to side. Inside she raved... I’m
not alone and bitter like my mother. I am Married and I got me a good man with
a job. I don’t even have to go back to work when school starts ‘cause my baby
got money.
Colleen and Terence frolicked in the
sun. Its’ rays viciously pelted into their skin leaving them well-tanned, but
thirsty. They bought lots of water and punch for sale at a shanty on the beach.
Colleen’s bladder protested. “I’m going up the room. I need a potty break.”
“I’ll bring us some more,” Terence
slurped, greedily.
“Yes, please do,” Colleen added, with
a brisk nod, addicted to the flavorful punch—a swirling colorful concoction of
ice, pineapple, passion fruit, and syrup—and, perfect cure for a parched, dry
mouth.
Colleen hauled her sun-beaten body up
to the hotel, dragging her towel in the sand. She tried to dust sand off her
body, but it was everywhere. Ugh! She wished she hadn’t caved when
Terence had insisted on burying her in the sand.
Colleen
entered the suite and stripped out of her clothes. She left a seductive trail
of clothes to entice Terence to join her for a shower and whatever else. She
grinned as she headed into the oversized stall to wash the gunk off her body
with vigor. Ten minutes later, wrinkled, and disappointed, Colleen stepped out of
the shower.
Clad
only in flip-flops and an oversized towel, she sunk into the nearest armchair.
“Where is he?” She wasn’t particularly concerned though. If she knew Terence,
he was probably chatting with the bartender or somebody about something. The man
sure loved to talk.
Adrift, Colleen sauntered to the
sliding door, which led to a private patio that overlooked the beach. Her eyes
scanned the masses trying in vain to spot her husband in those skimpy trunks.
Oh, and don’t think she didn’t notice the other single women checking him out
with their come-hither looks. Not that she’d minded of course, but what irked
her was how Terence had preened under those hot looks. Yet, he had serious
problems if another man just glanced her way.
Men and their crazy, infantile double
standards. Since Terence was nowhere in sight,
Colleen wandered back into the suite.
She thought about Gina back in New
York. It had only been a few days, but she missed her girl. They were used to
speaking pretty much everyday. Terrence was generous, but she didn’t need to
spend money on a phone call to the states from Jamaica. She’d wait until she
got home.
Colleen
could understand why the members of the Apostolic Church of God Seventh Day
were considering making him an associate pastor. When he spoke, he was
mesmerizing and dynamic. His golden tongue could swindle a dollar from a
beggar. Everybody liked him and flocked to him like bears after honey. He
worked a room like nobody’s business wherever they went.
Gina, however, didn’t buy the hype.
She remained leery—dubbing him Shifty Eyes. Colleen pooh-poohed her concerns.
Cynicism ran through Gina’s bones.
Or maybe jealousy?
Naw. Colleen dismissed that notion. Gorgeous, petite with
curves like Scarlett Johansen, Gina could aptly be described as a Man Magnet.
Wherever she went, admirers flocked who hung on her every word. She pointedly
ignored them, not caring for the spotlight.
Next
to Gina, Colleen felt gauche, and lingered in her friend’s shadow—or so it
seemed to her. She placed the blame on her height of five-ten—from that vantage
point, pickings were slim.
Until
Terence. He was six-four, and drawn to her. Best of all, she could wear heels
without worry.
She
dried herself and reached for one of her scented oils.
Once she finished oiling herself
down, Colleen chose a pink and white teddy with ruffles and a delicate trim.
Slipping into it, she thought about Terence and sizzled. She eased onto the bed
and practiced several seductive poses.
She heard the lock click.
Finally.
Quick, she struck her most
tantalizing pose. Her chest heaved with anticipation as she waited. He stopped
at the sight of her.
“Wow.”
“Come and get it, Big boy.”
Terence
hesitated for a split second before beginning to undress.
Not fast enough. Colleen flipped her
long, curly hair and beckoned him to her bedside. Terence complied. She held
her hands out for him to embrace her, but he paused.
Curious, Colleen asked. “What is it?”
“I feel grungy, you know, from all
that sand,” Terence explained.
“Oh.” Embarrassed by her brazenness,
she un-posed her body and stretched her legs as they had fallen asleep in that
awkward position.
“Let me take a shower. Wash all this
grime from me.” He was in the bathroom in seconds.
“Okay, what just happened here?”
Somehow that is not how that scene
always played out on the soap operas. However, she clamped her disappointment
because she knew how fastidious Terence was. Chilled, Colleen went under the
covers and closed her eyes. She’d rest because when he came back, she was going
to show him a thing or two. She had a creative mind, and now had the right to
use it.
She
felt something buzz against her leg, and jumped. It was Terence’s cell phone
vibrating. She curved her leg to move it upwards, and grabbed it. She peeked at
the number.
Why
was Francine calling Terence on their honeymoon? Colleen debated for a second
before she pressed the redial button. “Hi, Francine, is everything all right?”
“Isn’t
this Terence’s phone?”
Wasn’t
she Terence’s wife? “I—uhm—he’s in the shower—and I saw your number, so...” She
rushed to explain.
“That
doesn’t give you the right—just have him call me.”
With
that, Colleen heard the dial tone. Her brow furrowed.
Terence
came into the bedroom. He wore only a robe and used a hand-towel to vigorously
dry his hair.
“Why
is your mother calling you on your honeymoon?”
Terence
tensed. “My mother called?”
“Yes,
just now. What’s going on?”
“Why
didn’t you let it go to voicemail?” he asked instead. Without waiting for an answer,
Terence seized the phone from her hand. “Don’t answer my phone.”
Colleen
shivered at his harsh tone. “In my defense, I didn’t think it would be a
problem if I answered your phone. It could’ve been an emergency.”
Terence
repeated with emphasis, “Don’t touch my phone.”
Colleen
didn’t understand but she nodded her head. She turned away from him and moved
to the edge of the bed. She felt the bed sink under his weight. Hurt, Colleen
squeezed her eyes shut to hold the tears at bay. Who was this man?
Terence
knew Colleen felt rebuffed by his tone. He ached to comfort her, but he needed
this moment to gather his thoughts. He knew why his mother had called—but first
things first.
He
heard another sniffle and knew he had to set things right. Terence reached over
to touch Colleen’s arm. “Are you hungry?” No answer. Just an indrawn breath
followed by an even bigger sniffle. He moved closer so he could tilt his head
and see her face. His heart melted and he flicked away her tears. No one should
cry on their honeymoon, unless they were tears from passion.
“Wife,
do you want something to eat?”
She
adjusted herself so she could look at him. Her thick lashes spiked and dampened
hair stuck to her forehead. Gently, he moved them away from her face. He traced
a finger along the side of her arm and toyed with the frills on her teddy.
“What do we have here?”
Her
stomach muscles tightened, but Colleen remained silent. The ruffles in front
provided a thin covering. He pushed them aside and splayed his hand across her
abdomen. He could rip the flimsy material with just a shake of his wrist.
Terence wanted his wife, but knew he needed to return his mother’s call.
He
gave her a perfunctory pat, leaned in, and kissed her ear. Then he ordered,
“Call room service. Get me the salmon dinner. I’ll be right back.”
Expecting
her compliance, he slid from under the covers and picked up his cell phone that
had fallen to the floor. He took two steps before—Wham in the back. Terence
spun around. What the—
She’d
thrown a pillow at him!
Wham—another
hit him in the chest.
With
a low growl, he warned. “Colleen, cut that out. That is just childish and
frankly—
Wham.
This time the pillow smacked him across the face.
With
two huge steps, he took her flailing hands into his. She stopped resisting as
she accepted her puny strength wouldn’t prevail. In a controlled, firm voice,
he declared, “I’m going to talk to my mother, and then we will eat. We are not
going to fight on our honeymoon. I insist.”
Colleen
huffed, and stared him down for several seconds. Then, her shoulders relaxed
and she apologized. That’s better, Terence thought. He crooked his head towards
the menu by the phone and went to call his mother, whom he knew would be
peeved. Five minutes was her maxim for a return call. He’d kept her waiting
long enough.
Chapter Three
With a whistle, and a spring in his step,
Michael left his 5th Avenue Upper East Co-op located across from Central Park.
He enjoyed his daily jogs in the park, loving the smell and bustle of the city.
He
swiped his private access card to activate the elevator that would take him
from the penthouse, to the lobby. Once inside, he returned to his whimsy. Where
was he? Yes, Gina. Her curves and that body made her dangerous. Her
intelligence and quick wit kept him on his toes, but her eyes struck him like a
tidal wave—dark, chocolate pools that sparkled with mischief and devilish
humor.
After
Karen, Michael vowed to stop using women as playthings. He gave up the
marionette strings, choosing instead to treat them with respect. At thirty-two,
he was ready to settle down. No more games. No more drama. That’s why he was
moving slow with Gina—real slow. This time he was in to win it—to borrow the
mantra from Randy Jackson.
When
he exited the elevator, he greeted the front desk clerk and doorman by name.
“The Porsche please.” The clerk—Maureen—made the call.
Boy,
he was a smiling fool. His good mood could only be attributed to one person. Gina Price.
They’d
been all over New York City—on picnics; to the theater; on excursions through
Washington Square and the village—and, they’d watched movies at his place, but
they’d never spent the night. Gina wasn’t ready yet, and Michael wasn’t about
to rush the intimacy. He was more than willing to wait. As the weeks flew by,
his determination grew. In his business life, he pursued his goals using
tenacity and perspicacity. And within one minute of meeting Gina, he’d spotted
a keeper—a must have.
Gina
had grit. She had spunk.
Michael
grinned. He just loved a challenge. He pressed the voice activation on his car
phone and dictated, “Call Keith,” to secure a dinner invitation to his
brother’s house. Two months was long enough. It was time for Gina to meet his
brother.
Michael
watched Gina tug at her dress for the third time. The black spaghetti strap
dress fit her like a glove and featured a dip in the back that went on for
days. She carried a light jacket in her hand as the September air could get
crisp at night.
“You
look fabulous,” he felt the need to say again. He took her hands in his as they
entered Café Baci’s—an Italian restaurant in Westbury, Long Island. He’d chosen
here, because with it’s brick-faced floors, wraparound bar and wooden chairs;
the restaurant boasted ambience, superb service and impeccable cuisine.
“Now,
leave your dress alone before you rip it and cause a third world war in here,”
he teased.
She
smiled sheepishly. Her hands were back in her hair ensuring that it was still
tight. “I’ve no idea why I’m so nervous—well, I do know. Michael, you speak so
highly of your big brother, and you adore him. I just want him to like
me.”
“I understand, Gina. But, please don’t be
nervous,” Michael replied. He bent over to look her in the eyes. Tucking his
finger under her cheek, he said, “My brother’s cool, and you’re going to love
Eve. Trust me when I tell you that you have nothing to worry about.”
“I know, but I just want to make a
good impression.”
“Keith will love you,” Michael
predicted confidently. “You’re stunning! You’ve got it going on, girl!”
Gina took several deep breaths. Even
that simple natural act fascinated him. This woman was special and worth
waiting for. Boy, he sounded whipped, even to his own ears.
The hostess ushered them to Keith’s
table, but his brother wasn’t hard to miss. Keith did to women what gasoline
did to fire. Keith was exceptionally fit, and well dressed. To top it off, the
man was ridiculously handsome, and that was no exaggeration. He had piercing
dark brown eyes, dark chocolate skin and, a smile that could melt ice. Michael
always teased that Keith should have been a model for one of those romance
novels that women seemed to enjoy reading, but his brother scoffed at the idea,
stating he’d prefer to use his brain over his body any day.
Michael hadn’t been forthright with Gina.
Keith wasn’t so easy to please—probably a result of his uncanny penchant for
picking up undercover psychopaths. Ever the big brother, Keith deftly
identified several reasons why they weren’t suitable—er, stable. Michael hated
Keith’s prying. But, to his chagrin, Keith was usually right.
Well, not this time. Gina Price was the one. He was sure of it.
Michael
introduced Gina to Keith, and they took a seat. Within minutes, a waiter came
to take their appetizers and drink orders. Michael ordered zucchini fritti and
calzone bambini for them to share.
“Where’s Eve?” Michael asked, once their food had arrived.
“She couldn’t make it. She had a new
client. Eve’s in the real estate business,” Keith directed the last part of his
statement to Gina, before taking a huge gulp of his iced tea.
“Oh that sounds interesting,” Gina
said, still nervous. She gripped Michael’s hand under the table. He squeezed
her hands to encourage her.
“She’s also very pregnant with his
child,” Michael declared.
“Yes,” Keith confirmed. “She is...
very pregnant.”
“Well, that was a pregnant pause,”
Michael noted. He laughed at the obvious pun, and waited for Keith to provide
an acerbic response. But their waiter, Peter, returned to clear their appetizer
plates, and then took their dinner orders, so the moment passed.
Michael chose the salmone rosato;
Keith the chicken parmigiana; and Gina decided on the penne ricche. Michael
kept the dinner conversation lighthearted and humorous. Keith could get real
deep and philosophical as he went on, but he also made an extra effort to put
Gina at ease. Pretty soon the three of them were talking and laughing like old
friends.
Gina excused herself to freshen up;
Michael eyed Keith watching her. He was glad for the brief respite so that he
could get his brother’s opinion. He waited until Keith turned to face him.
Keith did not utter a word. He just looked at him and then gave him a big,
thumbs-up sign.
Michael
felt a smile lift from his heart and extend to his face. His grin became a
full-fledged laugh. Keith joined in and lifted his right hand for a high five.
***
Gina
entered her home that night, smiling. Standing against the door, she reveled in
the fact that for the past three hours, she had been entertained by two of the
most charming men that she had ever met!
Michael was so attentive and Keith, well, he was something else. She placed her hand over her chest. Michael
hadn’t prepared her adequately to meet him.
Keith was hotness to the tenth power.
On the drive to her house, Michael
had told her that Keith had given her a thumbs-up sign while she’d been in the
bathroom. Gina moved her head, from side to side, with attitude, and snapped
her fingers. “You know it.”
She slipped out of her stilettos and
headed for her living room. It was her favorite spot in the house. She had
decorated it with light yellows and browns, giving the room a real airy and
soothing effect. She chose to hang paintings that were relaxing, to give the
room more impact. After dealing with the rough kids of NYC, Gina needed
somewhere that would calm her nerves.
She
snapped her fingers. She’d almost forgotten the paperwork. She reached over to
pick up the large brown envelope hanging over the edge of her nightstand. She
undid the clasp and took out the contents. There was a request for a character
reference from the law firm of Bohlander & Associates on behalf of one of
her former coworkers, Payton Marshall.
Gina
would gladly comply with the request. Payton had been her mentor, and an
excellent teacher. Picturing her blond curls and soft blue eyes, she couldn’t picture
Payton as the murderer the press made her out to be. Payton had been convicted
of brutally slaughtering her husband due to the continuous abuse he had
inflicted upon her. Gina shook her head. Payton had covered her plight well,
because the entire school had been shocked.
Goes
to show that one just never knows what a battered wife looked like, because
Payton had been the epitome of poise and gentleness. She seemed like she had it
together, but she’d never said a word. Gathering her notepad and paper, Gina
composed a rough draft that she would edit and type to send to the law firm.
She hoped they would be able to help her friend.
Chapter Four
“Super
Sabbath? What’s that?”
“It’s
a big to-do where we invite family and friends to come out to church. It’s the
first weekend in October and we’re having a catered luncheon,” Colleen
explained. Clad in her silk camisole, she propped her feet on the bed to paint
her toes. Her neck cricked from holding the cordless phone between her shoulder
and ear, but she wanted to be ready when Terence came in. She’d found a bright
red shade that she wanted to test out.
“I’ll
try to make it, if I’m not going to see Payton,” Gina added.
Colleen
rolled her eyes. “Gina, Payton did the crime. She needs to do the time. Why
can’t you accept that?” This was a sore topic between them. At first, Colleen
supported Gina’s dogged efforts, but it was time to let that go.
“I
just know there’s more to it than that Collie. Her husband beat her and no
woman should endure that. She was battered and kudos to her for taking a
stand,” Gina interjected.
Colleen
huffed. “Yes, but she killed him—she didn’t tell anyone, she didn’t fight back.
She killed him.”
Gina
sideswiped the issue. “I’ll try to make it. I promise.”
“I
know you’re trying to change the subject, Gina, but I’m your friend. I just
don’t want you getting disappointed if things don’t work out.”
“Why
don’t you pray for her, Colleen? Isn’t that the Christian thing to do?”
Gina’s
mocking statement rankled. She knew Gina wasn’t preaching at her—the same Gina
who refused week-by-week to come to church. The Holy Spirit held her tongue.
“I’ll pray for her. But, there is such a thing as praying amiss.”
“Take
that color off your toes this instant!”
Startled,
Colleen almost dropped the tiny bottle of glitter red nail polish on the
carpet. Luckily, her quick reflexes kicked in and she saved the beige plush
carpet from a nasty stain. She did, however, drop the phone.
Ignoring
Terence, Colleen snatched up the phone. Terence now stood directly in front of
her. He shoved his hands in his grey sweat-suit pockets, eyed her toes, and
repeated, “I said take that devilish color off your toes.”
“Is
that Terence?” Gina’s voice pealed through the line.
Embarrassed,
Colleen whispered into the handset, “Gina, let me call you back.”
“Colleen,
what’s going on? Colleen—
She
disconnected the line. Of course, Gina redialed. Colleen ignored the shrill
ring and Terence an evil glare. He had some major explaining to do.
“Who
were you talking to?” Terence inquired.
“Just
Gina. I was inviting her to our Super Sabbath when you so rudely demanded I
clean the color off my toes.”
Terence
looked down at her toes with curled lips. He snarled, “That’s right. I don’t
want you wearing that.” Just as abruptly, he changed the subject and shrugged
out of his sweatpants. “I ran five miles today. You need to get on that
treadmill as well.”
Was
he calling her fat now? She fluctuated between sizes six and eight, and the
five pounds she’d gained on her honeymoon hadn’t done any damage. But, no, she
wouldn’t take the bait. She would be the better person. She scuttled after
Terence who had headed inside their master bath. “Forgive me if I’m more
concerned about Gina’s soul than some measly pounds.”
She
saw him wince at the barb. “Just be patient, Colleen. God has a path mapped out
and Gina has to find God on her own and in her own time.” Where was he going
now? Terence had wandered back into their bedroom. With a dogged sigh, she
followed him. She was getting her exercise now for sure.
Colleen
steered into a safer topic. “Well, He used you to bring me into the light, or
should I say, return to Him.”
Terence
smiled. He looked really handsome, so handsome that she was eager to help him
out of his shirt. She kissed his cheek and massaged his temples. The sandalwood
scent of the cologne he’d applied earlier in the day still held the warm,
masculine fragrance she’d come to appreciate on him. Her agile fingers worked
their magic and she felt his body tense. She lifted her eyes to his, and read
his unspoken request. Colleen pressed on his shoulders until he sat in the huge
chair in a corner of their room, and proceeded to give him a light massage.
“You
know just what I need.” Terence moaned in between words.
Colleen
smiled at the sheer pleasure on his face. She pressed harder knowing that his
muscles were taut with stress. Soon she felt them loosen under her
ministrations, and stilled her hands. She stepped away, intending to undress
and take it to another level.
“No,
wait, I have to talk to you.”
Terence
grasped her hand and gave her a light tug. Pliant, she curved her body
backwards until she sat on his lap. Terence rested his head on her back and
hugged her. Colleen’s body heated. Whirls of desire built and she pressed her
body closer to him. With a low moan, she reached behind her to rub his head.
“Remember
what we tried the other day? I want to do that again,” she purred. She trailed
her fingers down his arm and in a brash move flipped around to straddle him.
Colleen bent and blew tender kisses on his ear and neck. Her hands developed a
life of their own.
Terence
however had another idea. He stilled her movements. “I have a great suggestion
for Super Sabbath. I think that would be a good time for you to get re-baptized.”
“Re-baptized?” Of all the things she’d thought he would say that
was the furthest from her mind. Her ardor cooled. Colleen pulled out of his
arms and crisscrossed her arms in defiance. Terence ignored her and brought up
an inconsequential matter. “I’m out of body wash.”
“There’s
a spare bottle under the bathroom sink.” Colleen flailed her arms and stood.
Terence tore his t-shirt over his head and went to get the wash. She intended
to follow him yet again, but noticed the nail polish she’d left on the bed and
picked it up. She placed it on her night stand then confronted him though he’d
already started his shower.
“What do you mean re-baptized? I already
rededicated my life to the Lord, isn’t that enough?”
Five
minutes. She fumed in silence for five minutes, while she waited for him to get
out of the stall and walk into the closet.
“Yes,
but your re-baptism would leave no doubt about your renewed commitment to God.
Plus, it would put a stamp on my ministry as I led you back to Christ, so to
speak.” Terence addressed her, still inside the closet.
“Isn’t
it about my relationship with God? Isn’t it about God getting the glory?”
Terence
walked out, dressed in a crisp white undershirt and plaid pajama bottoms. He
made Colleen feel naked in her silk camisole and underwear, so she reached for
her robe and slid it on.
“I’m
not trying to steal God’s thunder,” Terence replied. “I’m trying to be
seriously considered for ministry. I think you should do it.”
Something
about his tone sent off a warning bell. Was he saying she had to do it? “Is
this because your mother suggested it, Terence? I am not going to do it. I did
the whole repentance thing already—you know—you were there.”
“Yes,
but the others do not know. The single women need to see you do it openly as an
example to them.”
Quizzical,
Colleen held up her hands. “You are not making sense.”
Terrence’s
voice took on a different quality. “Are you calling me stupid?”
“No,
but I think—”
“Seems
to me you’ve done enough thinking.” Terence rested his hands on his waist. “I’m
the head of this family and you will get re-baptized. End of discussion. I
don’t want to talk about this again.”
Colleen
knew that for him the subject matter was closed. Her heart raced and the hair
on her neck rose. She couldn’t believe he had just used the whole head of the
family line. God made man the head, but she was not the tail. She squeezed her
eyes shut, and willed herself to keep from making a fuss.
“It’ll
solve two problems.” Terrence approached her and pulled her body closer to him.
“I’ll get what I need for the ministry and Gina will surely come for an event
like that.”
His
last statement gave Colleen pause, but she said, “That’s true. I just don’t
think—”
“Don’t
think, baby. Just do. Do it for me.” Terence kissed her.
Colleen
melted under his touch. She should be doing it for God, not for him. But her
heart complied, because she loved her husband and wanted to please him. “Okay.”
That one word fell off her lips like a thousand pound boulder.
“You
don’t know how happy that makes me.” Relief peppered his words. “I can’t wait to tell my mother.” He released
her, climbed into bed and pulled back the blankets.
Her
hands flew to her hips. Had she just heard him right? “Your mother?”
“Yes,
she suggested it.”
Colleen
should have known. His mother was like a thorn in her side. When Terence had
purchased their home in Valley Stream, she’d been overjoyed until she realized
Francine lived seven minutes away. Francine was always showing up when she felt
like it, to point out something she wasn’t doing right.
Yup.
Colleen punched her pillows to release some tension. She had no doubt that the
entire re-baptism idea wasn’t altruistic, but it was a jab at her. She knew it,
but she couldn’t prove it. She got into her bed, with a heavy heart.
“What’s
the matter?” Terence asked.
You’re a Mama’s Boy, that’s what’s the
matter, she thought, but said, “Nothing.” God, give me strength.
“Well,
I am pleading for the pillows,” Terence joked.
Colleen
didn’t laugh. From her side of bed, a tear fell. She discreetly wiped it. She
wasn’t even sure why she felt the need to cry, but she knew a voice inside her
was asking, “Who’s going to plead for me?”
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