| |
Someone knocked on Hugh’s office door.
“Come in,” Hugh said.
Warner walked in, checking out Hugh and Jamal. “Hey.”
“Warner.” Hugh smiled. “What can I do for you, buddy? You remember Jamal?”
“Course I remember Jamal.” Warner took Jamal’s hand into a hearty shake. “Nice to see you again.”
“You too.”
“I need to talk to you, Hugh,” Warner pulled up his pants. “It’s about Gabrielle.”
“Mm.” He licked his lips. “That’s a subject I’m always interested in. Will you excuse us, J?”
He left.
Hugh reclined in his chair with his hands behind his head. “What’s up?”
“I saw Sierra crying in the parking lot just now. Is everything okay?”
“It’s nothing. What’s this about Gabrielle?”
“Leave her alone.” The muscles in Warner’s face constricted. “We clear?”
Hugh yanked his feet off the desk and sat erect. “Say what now?”
“Gabrielle’s my friend, and I told you last night I’m not letting you hurt her.”
“Since when is Gabrielle’s love life your business?”
“It sure as hell isn’t yours.”
“We’ve known each other a long time.” Hugh rose from the desk. “I’d expect you to be straight with me. Is there something going on here?”
The veins in Warner’s neck throbbed. “Like what?”
“You tell me.”
“I swore I’d always be there for her, and I meant it.” He stepped back. “Don’t make me prove it.”
Hugh leaned back with his hands in his pockets. “Correct me if I’m wrong but I thought you were my friend too.”
“You got a woman,” Warner muttered. “Gabrielle doesn’t belong to you.”
“Yet.” Hugh walked from behind the desk. “She will.”
“Not as long as I’m around.”
“I knew it.” Hugh pressed his lips together. “You want her for yourself.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not stupid.” Hugh charged him. “Course you want her. What man wouldn’t? But, at least you can be honest and save me this bullshit about you looking out for a friend when you want to get Gabrielle into bed as much as I do.”
“You’re wrong.” Warner swung toward him. “Unlike you I see Gabrielle as more than some sex object or a victim to add to my list.”
“I care about her too.” Hugh pounded his chest. “You were right last night. I am in love with her.”
“If that’s true then you’d respect her wishes and leave her alone.”
“I can’t do that.” Hugh shook off the suggestion. “I don’t control this attraction. It’s bigger than Gabrielle and I.”
“Enough, Hugh.” Warner balled fists. “It stops today. Don’t call her. Don’t send her any more gifts. Don’t go near her. You hear me?”
“If I do then what?”
Warner tensed up as if fighting to regain his composure. “Then not only will we no longer be friends, but I’ll become your biggest nightmare.”
****
“Miss Sierra?” Yuricema’s Cuban accent interrupted the sounds of the calm ocean breeze that caressed Sierra’s eardrums.
With her legs folded under her, she jerked the earphones from her ears and clicked off the iPad. “I’m off limits when I meditate, remember?”
“I’m sorry, Ma’am.” Yuricema took delicate steps onto the backyard patio of Sierra’s European-style mansion. “Forgive me but you have a guest.”
“I’m not expecting anyone.” She checked her watch. “Who shows up unannounced at someone’s home at six in the evening?”
Yuricema’s dark skin always made her hazel eyes pop. “Mr. Phillips.”
“Phillips?” Sierra uncrossed her legs. “Dash Phillips?”
“Yes.” Yuricema giggled. “Every time I see him, he gets more handsome. I was asking him about the new movie. Did you know Mr. Macintosh didn’t have a lead actress yet?”
“Yeah,” Sierra murmured. “Tell Dash he can go jump in the lake.” She got back into meditating position.
“He’s bearing gifts.” Yuricema moved in front of Sierra. “A raspberry white chocolate cheesecake.”
“Don’t just stand there.” Sierra snatched the earphones off again. “Let the man in.”
Yuricema grinned, rushing through the glass double doors.
A second later, Dash stood on the limestone deck with his shades perched on his head and a mischievous smile. “I knew the cheesecake would win you over.”
Sierra’s mouth eased into a cautious smile. “Bring it over here.”
Dash approached the white, tuxedo table and chairs, holding the box as if it were a bomb.
“Set the cheesecake down slowly.” Sierra held out her hands as she moved from the, 15-piece sectional. “And back away from the table.”
Dash smirked, set the box on the table and backed away.
Sierra yanked the lid off the box. “Oh.” She melted at the aroma of cream cheese, raspberry sauce, and chocolate.
“Wait, a minute.” Dash whipped plastic ware from his jean pocket. “Here you go.”
“You’re a god.” She snatched the utensils.
“You want Yuricema to bring a plate?”
“Fuck a plate.” Sierra dug her fork under the sliced cake and lay a piece right on the table.
“Um, that’s kinda gross.”
She plunged the dessert in her mouth, feeling that painful tingle in her jaw from the tartness that turned into heaven. “Am I supposed to believe you just happened to be in Beverly Hills with my favorite cheesecake?” She chomped, not giving a damn how unattractive she might look. “What are you up to, Dash?”
“People always have to have an angle with you, huh?” He walked to the unlit fire table in the center of the deck and glanced into it. “People don’t always have an angle, Sierra.”
“Men do.”
“I get your favorite dessert, and I get an inquisition?”
“What did you expect?” She licked raspberry sauce from her lips.
He leaned beside her, his mouth leveled with hers. “A kiss perhaps.”
“You must’ve hit your head on the way over here.” She chuckled with a mouthful of chocolate and graham cracker crumbs. “This could be made with diamonds and you wouldn’t get a kiss.” She pushed him away.
He held that mysterious, sexy smile. “Someone told me they saw you at the studio balling like someone had killed your favorite pet. Being the sensitive man I am I got you something to cheer you up.”
“Hm.” Sierra pushed crumbs from between her teeth with her tongue. “So this isn’t seduction?”
He rubbed his hands together. “That’s going to be up to you.” He sat in the chair beside her, his gaze sending electric shocks through her body.
She dropped eye contact, his eyes reminding her of the past she longed for, yet fought against for her own good.
He leaned forward, wrapping his long fingers around her trembling thigh.
“Don’t.” She moved her leg. “You don’t have permission to touch me anymore.”
“How do I get permission?” He watched her with a longing, hungry gaze. “Because, I want to so badly. What can I do?”
She moved her fork across the top of the cheesecake slice. “There’s nothing you can do. We can’t go back to before.”
He sat back, shaking his head. “Why were you crying at the studio?”
“The story of my life.” She propped her foot in her chair, looking into the dim sun. “Daddy Dearest hates me as usual.”
“Ian doesn’t hate you.”
“That’s news to me.” She licked the fork. “I didn’t know there wasn’t a lead actress for the film.”
“Yeah, Olympia pulled out. Hugh didn’t tell you?”
She scratched her foot. “He had specific orders from my father not to let me anywhere near the movie.”
“What?”
“Don’t act so surprised, Dash. If Dad could erase me out his life, I’m sure he would.”