In New York City, life went on as usual. Or at least, Reyna liked to think so. She went to work at the tattoo studio in Manhattan, took the train back and forth to her Brooklyn apartment, bought groceries and hung out with her friends when their schedules and needs permitted.
She did not think about Garrison Richards and what they had done together. She did not yearn for his touch in her lonely bed. She did not take out his business card, wishing that she was desperate enough to call him.
Days passed since the last time she saw him in that cramped dressing room. Then those days became a whole week. At the start of the second week, she ran his card through her shredder and took the papers to the recycling bin. As if she’d known exactly what Reyna had done, Louisa called to tease her about Garrison.
But she did not give in to the loneliness she felt.
Some nights she wished she had not opened that Pandora’s box of need. After having a lover for the first time in many, many months, her craving—for Garrison, in particular—was a physical thing. Like the jitters she sometimes got from drinking too much coffee.
After a long afternoon and a late night at work, she opened her door at almost 5:00 a.m. to the ringing sound of the telephone in her apartment. Reyna frowned as she reached for it. Only her parents called her on her landline. She actually only had it because of them. Her mother was convinced that if Reyna needed 911, her cell phone would be of no use to her, and she would be dead in her apartment for days before the police came. Her mother watched the news too much. But Reyna kept a phone for her apartment and had an extra bill just because of her mother’s paranoia.
Speaking of paranoia, she didn’t recognize the number on the display. It was a Manhattan area code.
“Hello?”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t answer.”
She lost her breath.
“Don’t hang up.” Garrison’s deep voice caressed her through the phone.
“I won’t.” Reyna’s legs were shaking too much for her to stand up. She sank to the floor and sat cross-legged with the phone’s base in her lap. “I’m surprised to hear from you.”
“Well, you never called me, so I figured it was up to me to make the first move or risk missing out.”
“What exactly would you be missing out on?”
“Your company.” His voice dropped even lower. “The chance to wake up next to you again.”
Reyna took a quiet breath, trying to ignore the memories his words conjured. That morning in the cabin. Sunlight. His mouth on her. The way he’d made her feel.
“This is real life,” she said. “We’re not on vacation anymore. You’re not obligated to reach out to me.”
“Who said anything about obligation? I want to see you.”
“I—”
“Let me take you out to dinner.” She heard the dim sound of papers rustling in the background. He was working. She wondered if he’d been awake for hours already, or like her, just had not gone to sleep.
“Why?”
“Because I want to.” He paused. “Because you want to.”
Her hand tightened around the phone, and she bit her lip. “You don’t know what I want, Garrison.”
“This, I do. I know what you want when my mouth is on your throat. I feel your pulse beating in your neck, your body’s way of telling me how much you want me to—”
“Fine. I’ll have dinner with you.”
“Good.” His deep voice resonated with satisfaction.
“But it’s just dinner. I—” She wanted to say that she had made a mistake coming to his cabin that night, that they shouldn’t have made love. But the words wouldn’t come.
“I’m listening, Reyna.”
“Nothing.” She shook her head, although obviously he couldn’t see her. “Pick me up on Saturday night at eight o’clock.” Normally, she wouldn’t have had the weekend free, especially since she just got back from three days in the mountains. But she had asked for time off to visit her parents. At the last minute, longtime friends of theirs had invited them to Mexico, leaving Reyna suddenly with a free weekend.
That sound of satisfaction came from him again. “I think I can handle that.”
“Good. I’ll see you then.” Despite telling herself that it didn’t matter whether or not she saw him, her heart thudded heavily, Saturday being only two short days away.
“Aren’t you going to tell me where you live?” he asked.
“I’m sure you can find out that information the same way you found my phone number.”
“You might have a point there.” His laughter, rumbling and unexpected, teased her through the phone. “I’ll see you then.”
Reyna hung up and drew a trembling breath. What the hell had just happened?
She had been thinking intently of Garrison all day. So intently that she apparently conjured him up. She sat on her floor with the sounds of her neighborhood flooding through her third-story window: the rumbling of the subway nearby, reggae music pumping from a passing car, loud laughter and conversation in Spanish and an answering curse in Jamaican patois.
Her life in New York was so very far from Garrison Richards and the escape to Halcyon she had with her friends once a year. She wondered what he would think of her apartment when he saw it, what he would think of her life.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said out loud.
Annoyed with herself, she jumped to her feet and left the living room. But her words didn’t stop the glad beating of her heart, or the humming song that left her throat as she showered in preparation for bed.
* * *
Later that morning, after waking much earlier than usual, she sat at her window seat, drinking her first cup of coffee. Snow was still on the ground, long ago turned to gray slush, but it was still beautiful. Far off, the buildings and streets of Brooklyn glowed with their winter magic. The cars bumped along the streets while the pedestrians wound past each other, heading to whatever was important to them at ten in the morning. Reyna loved it all.
Her phone rang, her landline again, pulling her from her window-seat musings.
“Is this Ms. Reyna Allen?”
“Yes, speaking.” She automatically straightened her spine and hardened her voice at the sound of the professional tone coming through the phone. Was this about her parents? Her heart thumped wildly at the thought.
“Excellent. This is Amanda from the advertising agency of Kellerman-Stark.”
Reyna frowned at the name of one of the biggest ad agencies in the city. “What can I do for you?”
The woman didn’t seem at all fazed by her coolness. “I’m calling because Garrison Richards recommended you to us. Do you have time to come into the office this week and take a look around to see if we are the right fit for you?”
Reyna blinked. She never sent an application to Kellerman-Stark. It was one of the best in New York, maybe even in the United States. It had never occurred to her to reach that high for her first graphic design job. And the woman, Amanda, didn’t sound as if she wanted to interview her; she seemed ready to offer Reyna her own office right then and there.
“Um. I’m sorry...Amanda. I really appreciate you calling, but I never applied for a job there.”
“I’m well aware of that, Ms. Allen. However, based on what Mr. Richards said about you, we think you’d do wonderfully here.”
Exactly what had Garrison said? That she was a good lay and frequently took initiative? Reyna’s face heated with anger and embarrassment. “Okay. Thank you. Um...unfortunately, I won’t be able to come in and check out your office. I’ll wait until you’ve had a chance to at least look at my portfolio.”
The silence on the other end of the line made Reyna check to see if they were still connected. They were. “Hello?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Allen. It’s just that you’ve surprised me.”
“It’s okay. I think I just surprised myself, too. Thank you for calling. I really appreciate you taking the time out of your day to get in touch with me.”
“Very well. My apologies for wasting your time.” There was wry amusement in the woman’s voice. “Have a great day. Maybe we’ll be hearing from you later on and perhaps even see a portfolio?”
“Maybe. Thank you, Amanda.”
“Thank you, Ms. Allen.”
She very gently put the phone back in its cradle, even though her blood pressure soared through the roof. Who the hell did Garrison think he was? With this ridiculous job offer, he practically told Amanda and everyone at Kellerman-Stark that they were sleeping together. He was clearly saying she didn’t have the talent to get the job herself.
Reyna grabbed the phone and quickly scrolled through her caller ID to get to Garrison’s number. Her hand hovered over the redial button.
No.
She should wait and tell him in person what she thought of his patronizing and high-handed behavior. She ignored the gleeful voice in her head that said at least she would get the chance to see him before she wrote him out of her life for good.
Reyna left the phone alone. On Saturday she would see him again. Then she would tell him exactly where he could shove that job offer.
* * *
On Saturday night at eight o’clock precisely, her house phone rang.
“Good evening.” Garrison’s voice was a shivering pleasure through the line. “I’m downstairs.”
Reyna, already dressed and ready for the past hour, peered in the small mirror near the door to double-check her lipstick. “Okay. I’ll be right there.” She hung up the phone and took a quick breath.
Her reflection said she looked fine. Her curls were glossy and thick. They framed her carefully made-up face, the expression that said “look but don’t touch.” A safe, cream dress hugged her figure from throat to knee. She had been going for feminine and reserved. But the few pounds she’d gained since the last time she wore the dress made the presentation a bit sexier than she’d have liked. It was the most date-ready dress she owned, so she was determined to make the best of it. Black shoes and a black clutch completed the outfit.
Downstairs, she closed the door to her building and turned in time to see Garrison standing on the curb next to a dark luxury sedan. He was mouthwatering in a long black coat that fit just so over his wide shoulders. A houndstooth scarf neatly tucked into the throat of the coat lent him a faintly European air. After two weeks, seeing him again made her choke on her own breath. Had he gotten even sexier in that time?
As she walked toward him with her coat unbuttoned to enjoy the brush of the night’s coolness on her skin, Reyna suppressed the desire to greet him with a kiss. To press her cheek to his and feel if he was as smooth shaven as he looked, or if his hidden beard would rasp against her skin, provoking goose bumps and impure thoughts. She tucked her purse under her arm and walked toward the car.
Garrison opened the door for her, his eyes appreciative on her figure and face. A touch of heat flared in his gaze.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
“Thanks, so do you.” She could have slapped herself for saying that. But she refused to stutter and correct herself. Men could look beautiful if they wanted to, dammit!
His eyes crinkled in amusement. “Thank you.”
She slid into the passenger side of the black two-door Jaguar lush with the scent of leather and a subtly spiced aftershave. Garrison got in the driver’s seat and put the car in gear. He glanced at her with another amused look.
“Thank you for coming out with me tonight.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You don’t know how the night will end.” She clasped her purse in her lap and glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
“That sounds ominous.” He pulled the car into traffic with practiced ease.
Reyna said nothing. During the drive, she felt his curious gaze on her, but he did not interrupt the comfortable silence.
Minutes later, the car pulled into the only remaining parking spot in front of a small restaurant Reyna had never heard of, The Beautiful Feast.
The exterior was classic Brooklyn brick, with wide glass windows facing the street and only a dozen or so tables inside. The interior was elegant and sparse, the walls decorated with chic black-and-white photographs of celebrities from the early twentieth century. Dorothy Dandridge. Sydney Poitier. Eartha Kitt. Nina Simone.
A chandelier spun with hundreds of tiny crystals hung from the ceiling, scattering pieces of light into every corner of the restaurant. The hidden speakers played a haunting, old-fashioned song that Reyna didn’t recognize. It was a beautiful place. Dimly lit and perfect for a date.
Reyna could easily imagine sliding her shoes off under the table and resting her feet on top of Garrison’s while they shared their meal. But she quickly came back to reality and shook herself out of it. Dinner probably wasn’t going to turn out that well.
A hostess, slim and gray-haired and with a welcoming smile, greeted them at the door. She seemed as if she could be anywhere from forty to sixty-five, a charming woman who exuded the same elegance and poise as the restaurant.
“Mr. Richards, it’s good to see you again.” She turned her smile and another warm greeting to Reyna.
“Your delicious food will always have me coming back, Ms. Taylor.” Garrison took off Reyna’s coat and then his and hung them on the coat rack near the door.
With the coat gone, Reyna saw that he was wearing a charcoal-gray three-piece suit, slim fitted, with a gray paisley tie. Could the man get any more delicious? She distracted herself from his body with a pointless rummage through her purse.
But the hostess was openly enjoying Garrison enough for both of them. “Please,” she said with a brilliant smile. “I told you to call me Vivian!”
“Only if you call me Garrison.” A genuine smile lit his eyes, and Reyna was almost jealous of the woman. But she kept her misguided poison to herself.
Vivian laughed and pulled two menus from behind the small hosting station by the door. “All right, Garrison. Follow me. We have your table ready for you, as requested.”
She took them to a table in a far corner of the restaurant already set for two with wineglasses and tableware. A sprinkling of dark red rose petals lay on the white tablecloth, surrounding a trio of unlit votive candles.
Vivian took a lighter from her pocket and put a quick flame to the candles. “Enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you.”
Once Vivian left, Garrison pulled out Reyna’s chair for her before claiming his own.
“This place is beautiful. Is this where you take all your women friends?” So much for not showing her jealousy.
The corner of Garrison’s mouth lifted. He was laughing at her. “My mother has had dinner here with me. Also a friend or two. Otherwise, it’s just my place to relax and get away from it all.”
He did seem relaxed, despite the incredibly sexy suit that fit his body as if it was tailor-made, which it probably was. She could easily imagine him in an office, cloistered away from the rest of the world while he delved into the seedy underbelly of dissolved marriages, bitter separations and love gone wrong. Reyna took a deep breath to dismiss that thought from her mind. It wouldn’t serve either of them very well.
A waitress came to their table. Small and quick, she was absolutely professional, treating them well but without the intimacy that Vivian had shown. She left them with glasses of water, Perrier for him and tap for her, and went to put in their order.
The restaurant was a fusion of African-American, West African and Caribbean cuisine. On the menu, fou fou and collard greens sat next to oxtails and stewed chicken. Fried chicken and waffles were served as a main course, with fried plantains as appetizers. The scent of Jollof rice and peanut soup wove like incense through the air.
“So.” The wooden chair squeaked faintly as Garrison leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. “What’s on your mind so heavily today?”
The sleeve of his jacket slid down to reveal platinum cuff links. The letter G. Reyna’s eyes dropped to his thick wrist, unable to look away from them and his long hands, the veins raised and prominent. What did a lawyer like him do to get hands like that? She swallowed and forced herself to look away.
She’d always had a thing for veins. And with him it wasn’t just his veins. She remembered every inch of him revealed in the firelight that night as he’d touched her and brought her to the very heights of pleasure. Every inch of him was perfection.
She sat back in her own chair, deliberately keeping her eyes off his hands. She cleared her throat. “I don’t need a sugar daddy.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Where’s that coming from?”
“I got a call from Kellerman-Stark on Thursday. They offered me a job, even though I hadn’t applied.” Faint traces of the anger she’d felt during that phone call snaked through her. “You can’t buy me with a job, Garrison.”
“That’s far from what I was trying to do.”
“Then what were you thinking? You don’t know anything about my work. You’ve never seen my portfolio. For all you know, I can only draw stick figures and smiley faces.” She tightened her jaw. “I resent you trying to manage my life like that, especially since we only spent one night together.”
Across the table, his face grew tight. “What if I told you I want more than one night with you in my bed?”
She blushed, the thoughts exploding in her mind faster than she could control them. Him, naked in bed. Her, naked with him. His kisses. His slim hips pressing down into hers. “No.”
“No?”
“Don’t try to sidetrack me. I’m pissed that you’re trying to handle my life. That’s what I want to talk about, not how good things are between us in bed.”
“Ah, so you do want to revisit what we shared in the mountains.”
“I...” She pressed her lips together, censoring herself. “I enjoyed the time we spent together at Halcyon, but I was frankly surprised that you called.”
He clasped his hands and watched her with the intensity of a hawk. “Wasn’t the good time we had enough of a reason?”
“No. Good sex is as common as air—”
“Not in my experience,” he muttered.
Not in hers, either, but she was trying to make a point. “Don’t,” she said. “Just don’t.” At his mock-innocent look, she drew a frustrated breath. “Don’t dismiss what I’m trying to tell you like it doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter, Reyna. That’s why I’m apologizing. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I was willing to trade a job for more amazing sex with you. I’ll take away all the jobs in the world if you’d just come home with me again.” His mouth tilted up, but his eyes were completely serious.
Something fluttered in her belly, but she didn’t relent. “It doesn’t work like that.”
“Reyna.” Her name rolled off his tongue like a soul-deep caress. She shivered in reaction and clenched her back teeth against the pleasure of it. Garrison unclasped his hands to tap a forefinger very lightly on the table. “I enjoy your company. Very much. Please forgive me if I’ve seemed dismissive or like I wanted to buy you. It’s not either of those things.”
His tap against the table brought her eyes back to his hands. Reyna swallowed and forced her gaze back to his. Another bad idea. His gaze was a warm trap, the long-lashed brown eyes watching her with interest, admiration and more than a little desire.
“If this will convince you, I’ll keep all the jobs to myself. I’ll even stop begging you to sleep with me.”
Don’t be so hasty. But she clenched her teeth before those words could escape. “So what does that leave us with?”
“Each other’s company,” he said. “And a beautiful night to enjoy it.”
“Garrison, I’m serious about this.”
“I know.”
Just then the waitress arrived at their table, her large silver tray heavy with the dishes they had ordered.
“Perfect timing.” Garrison adjusted the glasses on the table to give her room to put the food.
He thanked the waitress with a truly pleased smile. “This looks delicious.”
“Enjoy,” she said. “And let me know if you need anything else.” Then she turned and left them to their meal.
Before Reyna could say anything, Garrison held up a hand. His platinum cuff links flashed in the candlelight. “Truce. I don’t want anything to spoil this beautiful meal. Okay?”
She had to agree. “Okay.”
The food was beautifully tempting and ready to eat. Vegetable stew with Jollof rice. Chicken roti. Peanut butter and fish soup. Fried ripe plantains. Reyna spread her napkin over her lap and turned to the business of enjoying their meal.
She and Garrison ate and spoke of other things. His mother, who loved her life in Tampa. Her parents, who still lived in their first house in Trenton. Her job at the tattoo parlor.
“What would you do if I walked in and asked you for a tattoo?”
Reyna laughed, surprised. “I’d ask if you were in the right place.”
The question had her eyes moving irresistibly over him. His flesh was smooth, brown and hard everywhere. Unmarked. It would be a shame to touch ink to it and spoil his perfection. She told him as much.
“But your tattoo is beautiful,” he said with a smoldering look at her, as if he could see beneath the fabric of her dress to the skin he spoke so lovingly of. “It adds to the symmetry and beauty of your body. It gives me an excuse to kiss every inch of your arm, shoulder and back.”
He had done just that in the dark hours of the night when they lay in his bed. With satisfaction lying low and sweet in her belly, she had felt him press delicate kisses over every part of her tattoo, down to her wrist and her fingers, then back up again. She blushed at the memory of it.
The candlelight flickering between them on the table reminded her of the cabin at Halcyon, the way the light moved over his hands, over his face.
“Thank you,” she said in response to his compliment, her skin warming with a blush.
The faintest of smiles drifted over his lips. “You’re a beautiful woman, and I’m privileged to get this second chance to know you.”
He sounded so sincere, so gentlemanly, that all she could do was nod her head to accept his compliment. Again. The restaurant was filling up, the diners who’d been there before they arrived leaving to make room for the night owls.
As she shared the last of her fried plantains with Garrison and told him about her parents’ love story, she became vaguely aware of a low-key buzz in the restaurant, the other diners turning from their meal to face the door. She frowned at Garrison, getting ready to ask what was going on, but his attention was completely focused on her. She stumbled into his intent gaze, the words falling back from her lips.
“Finish what you were saying,” he said. “I’m listening.”
His voice rumbled low and deep, sending a sensual thrill through her body. She forgot what she was talking about. The plantains were sweet on her tongue, her lips slick from the light oil they had been fried in. But despite every reservation she had about Garrison, it was his taste she wanted in her mouth, his essence wetting her lips. She drew a ragged breath.
This was ridiculous. Why couldn’t she keep a single coherent thought in her head? It was different, she decided, being with him in the mountains, hating him, then making love with him. It all seemed like such an anomaly, something outside her normal life and experience. Something she could safely indulge in without repercussions. But now, with him in her city, at a restaurant near her apartment, things didn’t seem so safe anymore.
“Garrison Richards?”
She blinked when he tore his eyes away from hers to glance at the person who had just spoken. Reyna blinked in surprise. It was her ex-husband.
Ian looked the same as when she had seen him last time on the television screen, his white teeth bared in a polished grin, hair freshly cut and perfectly accentuating his chiseled face. Handsome. With the money he’d made from his successful TV show, he dressed well in a pair of thousand-dollar jeans, what seemed like an equally expensive shirt and a dark blazer. His terra-cotta skin glowed as if he had just come from the spa.
Ian stood near their table staring at Garrison then at her, at the flickering candlelight between them, the nearly empty wineglasses. She could see him assessing the facts of what was before him.
Reyna nodded once to acknowledge Ian then took a sip of her wine and looked away. From the corner of her eye, she saw the flex of muscle in his jaw. He hated to be ignored, but she didn’t have anything to say to him. And she couldn’t imagine that he had anything to say to her.
Garrison stood up, and the two men shook hands. Vivian waited just ahead of Ian and the party of four—two women and two men—with him. Like him, the men were good-looking, square-jawed types, while the two women were both extraordinarily beautiful. Each held on to one of Ian’s arms, even when he had reached over to shake Garrison’s hand.
“I didn’t know my ex-wife was looking for advice on another divorce so soon,” Ian said.
Reyna carefully put her wineglass on the table and went back to her meal, waiting for him to leave. Still standing, Garrison put one hand in his pocket and the other on the table. “She’s still single and unencumbered, as far as I know,” he said.
“Ah,” Ian said, as if just understanding what was going on between his ex-wife and ex-lawyer. “You’re screwing her.”
Reyna never understood why someone so convincing behind the camera was as transparent as glass in real life.
“That’s not a very polite thing to say.” Garrison’s voice dropped its cordial tone and became tempered steel.
“Polite?” Ian said with a sneer anyone close by could hear. “What’s not polite is going through your list of former clients’ ex-wives to find your next date.”
Reyna drew in a swift breath. The plantain she’d put in her mouth abruptly lost all its flavor.
“Your table is ready, Mr. Barbieri.” Vivian drifted toward Ian, looking uncomfortable. With subtle gestures, she was trying to get his party to their table and out of the way. Already, Ian’s presence in the restaurant made nearly everyone starstruck. Now he was making another kind of scene.
“What the hell did you just say to me?” Garrison growled the question, the palm he’d rested on the table now tightened into a fist.
Reyna could feel the coiled energy in him, the unfamiliar anger. She wiped her hands on her napkin and glanced at her ex-husband, keeping her voice intentionally mild. “I think it’s time you went on your way, Ian. Your lady friends look hungry.”
Ian grinned as if he had scored high points in a game. “Don’t think you’re special, Reynie. He likes them nice and used. You should check out the other ones he’s been with. It’s all on the internet for you to find.”
Reyna winced. She always hated it when Ian called her that, and he knew it.
“Leave now before I make you walk away, Barbieri.” Garrison’s voice rumbled in a dangerous register.
Nervousness flared briefly in Ian’s face, then he looked around him, apparently feeling safe that he was in a crowded restaurant with witnesses and maybe even friends who could back him up. “See you around, Richards. I’m sure it’ll be with another used-up ex-wife.”
Garrison growled low in his throat, surging toward Ian. Reyna gasped and jumped between them just in time. Around her, she heard the gasps of other patrons, the rushing conversation as more and more people wondered out loud what was going on. Camera phones pointed at them. She grabbed Garrison’s arm and pressed herself against him, showing Ian her back. “Don’t. He’s not worth it.”
“Yes, Richards. It’s not worth the lawsuit.” Then Ian turned and walked away, following Vivian to a table on the other side of the restaurant.
Reyna could feel the anger vibrating just beneath Garrison’s skin. He rarely smiled, rarely laughed. This temper, too, was rare. She instinctively knew that they shouldn’t stay in the restaurant any longer. Not as long as Ian was there. “We should go,” she said.
“No. He’s not going to drive us away from our meal.”
She glanced down at the scattered remnants of their dinner, two empty plates, the half-finished bowl of plantains, the bottle of wine that still had plenty left in it. Before Ian arrived, they had been sipping their wine, snacking on the last of the plantains and allowing the conversation to begin the slow process of digestion. It was nothing they could go back to.
Reyna squeezed his forearm. It was a steel rod beneath her fingers, firm and cold. She’d never imagined the cool and calm lawyer could even get this angry.
“We should go,” she said again.
Garrison watched her for a moment. Before her eyes, his face slowly settled into its usual impassive lines. He drew a breath. “All right.”
After he paid the check, Reyna slipped out of the restaurant at his side with the curious stares of the other restaurant patrons at their backs. In the cold evening, he took another deep breath. The steam from his sigh smoked the air.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she said. “It’ll clear your head.”
“My head is clear enough,” Garrison said gruffly, his voice not quite back to normal. But instead of heading to the car, he tucked her arm in the crook of his elbow and started down the busy sidewalk.
They walked in silence, footsteps ringing against the pavement, strolling past banks of dirty snow, brightly lit storefronts, men loitering on the cold street corners.
“I should apologize,” he finally said. “I don’t usually let people get to me like that.”
“Yes, I can see how that could be a hazard at the negotiation table.”
Reyna was trying to ignore her own unease. Garrison had gotten upset out of proportion to what Ian said. Was that because her ex’s accusations were true? Whatever the case, now didn’t seem the best time to ask about it.
Their slow footsteps took them into a less-populated part of the neighborhood, fewer people, closed stores, a more residential area with the wash of lights from apartment buildings falling down on them from both sides of the street. The sound of a television came from a nearby window.
“Do you believe I’ve done what he said?”
She pressed her lips together. “It’s not for me to believe—”
“Yes, it is. Your opinion matters to me. If you think I’d do something so...low and desperate, then that’s a conversation we need to have.” He cursed, an unexpected and filthy exhalation in the cool night. “That’s not even a conversation, that’s—” He cursed again and turned to her. “I feel a bit out of my mind right now, and I don’t even know why.”
She felt the strength in him, the trembling anger that simmered beneath the seemingly rational words. “Garrison.” She touched his chest through the thick wool coat. He pressed his gloved hand over hers.
“Reyna.” His voice grated with emotion.
He looked up at the skies as if to find guidance from some higher power, but in the silence of the evening, it was just the two of them, the streets empty of everything except their shadows. He put his arms around her and said her name again. “I don’t want you to believe the worst of me.”
But I don’t know you. Not really. The words hovered on the tip of her tongue, but he kissed her and swallowed them. It was a hard and desperate kiss. A kiss that spoke of a deeper hunger than the flesh. Reyna gasped into his mouth, kissed him back, sparked by the desperation in his touch. He repeated her name as he kissed her. Sweetness. Heat. Desire. Then they weren’t on the sidewalk anymore. An alley’s wall was at her back, and he was pressing heated kisses to her throat, loosening the button at the top of her coat.
His lust frightened her. But she couldn’t deny the spark of arousal between her thighs, the quickening of her breath that responded to the need in him. Her pulse swam desperately in her throat. He gripped her hips and moved against her, a hard and frantic heat. Even through their clothes, she could feel the thick proof of his desire. But she wanted more. Beyond shame, Reyna quickly unbuttoned his coat, touched him through his slacks. He groaned into her throat, pulled her hips into his, breath gasping. His gloved hands slid up her thighs, lifted her.
“Reyna...”
She was slick and hot for him, pulse thundering, her reason gone. He yanked a glove off with his teeth, slid a hand between her thighs, shoving her dress up and out of his way. She swallowed a gasp and whimpered when his long fingers stroked her, tested her readiness for him. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and clung to his shoulders. Her heart thundered as he adjusted his clothes, then hers. He plunged deep into her.
“Oh!”
He was still for a moment, breath gasping into her throat as they both got used to the hot fit of their bodies together. Then he began to move. Garrison was steadily building speed and heat, the perfect hammer of lust. She threw her head back against the wall as he claimed her, the long wings of his coat protecting her flesh from anyone’s sight but his own.
He grunted softly with each movement of his body. She bit her lips together to stifle her moans, though the firm stroke of him inside her made her want to scream at the moon, howl at the stars.
The pleasure crawled up inside Reyna, twisting savagely in her belly. She clawed at his back through the coat, moving with him, as desperate for satisfaction as he was. He groaned as he achieved his peak, shuddering and whispering her name. Garrison threw his head back, panting breaths misting the air. She squirmed, her pleasure still unfulfilled. Reyna whimpered with loss when Garrison pulled his body from hers. But he put a hand between them, sliding his fingers over the firm seed of her passion, into her wetness. His fingers teased, circled, blazing up her banked fires.
Her palms slapped the wall. Her hips moved, blindly seeking. Her breath grew labored.
“Oh, God!”
Cold air washed over her stockinged legs, between her thighs where his fingers were merciless, twisting the pleasure inside her. She writhed against the wall, caught between the cold brick and the relentless press and caress of his fingers, the wet pleasure of it. His face was intent and hard, a fierce beauty blazing in him as he plunged between her legs again and again with his fingers. She exploded with bliss.
Reyna flung her back off the wall, crying out his name and panting into the night. She gasped and sagged into him, desperately clutching him as the last tremors took her body. He held her to him, his hot breath searing her throat.
“I’m sorry.” He panted. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
But what held more weight was the fulfilled promise of his desire for her, the satisfaction that was warm and pulsing at the top of her thighs and low in her belly. It felt sinful and wild. She’d never done anything like this before, made love in public, abandoned caution and allowed her body’s wants to rule her. She couldn’t quite obey her common sense that told her to pull away, pull her skirt down and go home.
Slowly, he released her to the ground on unsteady feet. He pulled her close, still not speaking. Which was fine with her because she had no idea what to say. His anger was gone. In its place was a resolute silence that oddly comforted her. At his car, he opened the door for her, then he got in. They drove out of the small neighborhood. She didn’t realize until a long while later that they were traveling across the Brooklyn Bridge toward Manhattan.
“Where are we going?”
“Back to my place. I hope you don’t mind. I thought it would be better instead of just dropping you off at home, after...” He didn’t need to say after what.
Reyna blushed and turned from him to look out the window. She was still tingling, still deliciously aware of everything she’d done with him. And she didn’t have a single regret.
Garrison lived in an apartment near Central Park. They swept past a doorman who greeted them with a respectful nod before going back to his business with the weekend newspaper. An elevator carried them swiftly to the twenty-second floor.
Inside, the curtains were pulled open to let in the lights of the city and a view of the park, covered in darkness. Garrison pressed a button, and the recessed lighting flickered on, emphasizing the large living room’s intimate darkness rather than pushing it away.
The apartment was massive and high-ceilinged, affording a corner view of the city and park through wide floor-to-ceiling windows. Bookshelves lined the walls, and heavy wooden furniture sat in an inviting arrangement. The overall effect was very masculine, very refined. Somber. But nothing she didn’t expect.
Garrison took Reyna’s coat and tucked it along with his own in the hall closet. He jerked off his tie and flung it over a nearby chair then gestured for her to have a seat on the leather couch. After a slight hesitation, he shed his suit jacket, too.
“Would you like a drink?”
She sank down into the dark brown couch that smelled pleasantly of leather and oak, the fabric pressing into her skin with a momentary coolness then a full-body comfort, a sumptuous invitation to release any tension and worry. It was very much like Garrison’s embrace. “Red wine, if you have it.”
“I do.”
He poured her a glass of something full-bodied and expensive then presented the wine to her with a sort of bow, but did not sit with her on the couch. Instead, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and walked to the window. Garrison stared out into the night while he drank from the glass, obviously distracted.
Reyna took those seconds to admire him, the way the dress shirt and vest fit his wide shoulders and showed off his trim waist, the slim fit of the slacks over his rear—here, she lingered for an indecently long time—his muscular thighs and the oddly erotic bend of his knee. The night sky beyond the window framed him like a work of art. A work of art she wanted to drag to bed.
Two weeks before, she’d found him sexy and thought there was nothing beautiful about him except for his naked body. But she realized now that all of him was beautiful; his was an austere splendor that caught the viewer unawares, made them, made her, lose her breath, even as a hunger grew to see more of him.
She gripped the stem of her wineglass as she realized what that meant.
Well, damn.
As if he’d read her thoughts, Garrison stirred by the window. His face was actually calmer, as if he’d made peace with part of himself, even made some sort of decision while staring out at the city. “Things didn’t quite work out the way I planned, Reyna.”
“What had you planned, exactly?” She put her wineglass on the table, unwilling to look too closely at the realization that just slapped her neatly in the face.
He turned to her, the whiskey glass held loosely in his hand. “I had romance in mind for our date, not...not what actually happened. This date was to prove to you that we can have more than great sex together.” The corner of his mouth tilted up in a humorless smile. “Can we start the night over?”
Start over? She didn’t think there was anything to start over from. They had a great time in the mountains, and now he wanted to bring that magic into the real world. It wouldn’t work; it could only be that animalistic craving they had shared in the alley, a different kind of magic. Raw and so intense that it hurt.
It didn’t matter that she now found him beautiful, and a piece of her heart was no longer hers.
To make time to gather her thoughts, Reyna twirled the red wine in her glass and watched the legs drip down the sides of the expensive crystal. She pursed her lips.
“Let’s not pretend this is more than it is.” She couldn’t look at him. “The sex is great, but there’s no way this can end well. We should just cut this short now. That way, nobody will get hurt.” Or I won’t get hurt.
She heard the faint tap of crystal on wood and looked up to see that he had put his glass on the bar and now walked to her with a purposeful glint in his eyes. He took the glass from her hand and tugged her to her feet.
“It’s not fair of you to kill this before it even gets a chance to start.” His hands were warm and big around hers. “I want to get to know more than just how you sound when we’re making love. I know you want me. Give it a chance for there to be even more between us.”
His breath, spiced from the whiskey, brushed her cheek. A shiver of lust shook her belly. This is not the time, she told herself. But his closeness was playing havoc with her senses. She wanted to move closer to him. The kisses they’d already shared haunted her. She was very aware that all she had to do was step a few inches closer, and those kisses would be hers again. Her eyes flickered over his shoulder, glancing toward the darkened hallway and where she assumed his bedroom was. Damn. Reyna stepped back.
“I think I’m way over my head here,” she said.
He released her hands but stayed within touching distance. “Swim through it,” he murmured, his sweepingly long lashes and ascetic face kissed with sensual decadence. “It’s not so overwhelming once you allow yourself to enjoy it.”
He was clearly over whatever crisis of conscience had overtaken him after their lustful encounter in the alley. She wondered at that, how it was possible to process something so quickly and get past it. Her issues had a much stronger grip.
“Garrison, things aren’t that—”
Just then a cell phone rang, an urgent chiming that was too loud to ignore. Garrison gave her a look of apology and pulled the phone from his pocket. He frowned at the display. “Damn. I’ve got to take this. I’ll be right back. If you need to freshen up, the guest bedroom and bath are down that hallway.” He pointed where she had glanced before then headed toward the hallway on the other side of the living room, lifting the phone to his ear. His voice switched from the intimate tones she was used to, became harder and businesslike. “Tell me something I want to hear,” he said.
His deep voice rumbled, gradually becoming indecipherable sounds as he disappeared down the hallway and through a nearby door.
Damn. What was she doing? Hours ago, she was determined never to see him again, but now all she wanted was to get naked and rub herself all over him through that gorgeous suit. She wasn’t thinking with her brain.
He was like no man she had ever even thought of becoming involved with. He was no artist, no sensitive and passionate soul. Instead, he was a businessman with a cool and rational mind that sometimes chilled her with its precision. If there was a problem, he often had a solution—not a nice one, but one that was workable.
At the restaurant, even in the midst of his anger, she had seen him calculate the benefits and drawbacks of beating the hell out of Ian in front of everyone. She was sure that if she hadn’t stopped him, he would have stopped himself. She didn’t know him completely, but she liked to think she was beginning to.
Reyna left her wine on the coffee table to find the bathroom. When Garrison mentioned freshening up, she realized she still felt sticky from their encounter in the alley.
When she finished, Garrison was still on the phone. To occupy herself, she wandered around the large living room.
Now that she didn’t have Garrison’s hypnotic presence to distract her, she noticed that his apartment reminded her of Bridget’s place on the other side of the park. It was smaller than her friend’s multimillion-dollar, two-story penthouse, but the view was just as dizzying, the furnishings more impeccable and with an international flair.
A pair of African birthing chairs took up queenly space near the large and neatly arranged bookshelves. A Turkish rug lay underfoot, and a heavy, wooden screen with Adinkra symbols carved into it separated the reading area from the rest of the room.
Reyna stood near the screen to read the symbols, trying to remember what she learned from the class on West African culture and language she took her junior year. As she stretched to examine the images carved into the screen, her hip nudged a folder sitting on top of a nearby table. She hissed as the folder fell, scattering papers onto the floor.
With a curse, she bent to pick them up, gathering them quickly in some semblance of order to slide them back into the manila folder. A name on top of one of the documents caught her eye. She blinked. No, it couldn’t be. Before she caught herself, she was tugging the document free of the folder again to look at it properly.
The breath left her throat in a shocked rush. Reyna felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach.
At the top of the heavy white sheet of paper, clean and freshly printed, was Marceline’s name, and the husband she was filing divorce from. Garrison was the lawyer representing Marceline’s husband. She dropped the paper as if it burned. And in some ways, it did. A hot, scorching thing sat in the center of her chest, eating away at the soft feelings she had for Garrison. She felt betrayed.
Had his appearance at Halcyon simply been a ploy to get close to Marceline and find out anything that her husband could use against her? Had he been gathering information on her friend that entire time? A fluttering noise jerked Reyna from her thoughts, the manila folder falling again to her feet. She stared at the innocuous-looking folder then picked it up, shoved the papers back inside and put it back on the desk.
Her fingers shook, and cold horror settled in the pit of her belly. This wasn’t possible. But she couldn’t ignore the damning evidence in front of her face. Reyna grabbed her purse and coat. She yanked open the front door.
“My apologies. That took much longer than I thought it would.”
Garrison came back into the living room, slipping the phone back into his pocket. He stopped short when he saw her at the door wearing her coat. “You’re leaving?”
“You bastard!” Reyna spat. “How could you do this to me? To her?”
“What are you talking about?” He walked toward her, hands held up in a posture of surrender. “Come sit down so we can talk about whatever is bothering you.”
She struggled to button her coat, the anger making her fingers slip. “No more games, Garrison! I will not give you the chance to snowball me again.”
“I’m really in the dark here. Reyna, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t you dare say my name. Not like that.” She cursed the trembling weakness in her voice and backed away from him as he moved cautiously closer. “Did you know that Marceline was your client’s wife the whole time, or did you find out and decide to use it to your advantage later on?”
An eyebrow rose. “Marceline? Your friend?”
“Yes!” Her voice rose in a scream. “You are her husband’s lawyer. Daniel Keller. How convenient for you to forget to tell me.”
“Keller’s wife is not Marceline. It’s Brigitte.”
Reyna stared at him coldly, trying to control her temper as someone passing by the open door stopped to look at her before rushing past to the elevator. “Brigitte M. Keller. She uses her middle name with us because we already have a Bridget.”
Garrison stopped. An emotion moved quickly across his face, too fast for Reyna to see. He stood in the wide hallway, maddeningly cool in his suit despite the discarded jacket and tie. A frown creased his brow.
“I didn’t know any of that,” he said. “Keller always referred to his wife as Brigitte.”
“And you expect me to believe someone like you isn’t thorough enough to know that simple damn fact?” She blinked back tears of anger. “If you lie so easily about this, you could have damn well lied to me about sleeping with other ex-wives of your old clients.”
Garrison stiffened. Whatever emotion she had sensed in him before drained away. He watched her with a coldness that made her want to gather her coat more closely around her. “Do you really believe that?” he asked.
She swallowed, glancing back toward the papers with her friend’s name. “Right now I don’t know what to believe.” Reyna walked out of the apartment and closed the door behind her.
The elevator came quickly, and in just a few minutes she was downstairs in the cold and slush, rushing toward the subway station in her impractical heels. She felt chilled and could not get warm enough, but it had nothing to do with the weather. She trembled the entire way home.