Doin' Me (7 page)

Strutting before the full-length mirror in her bedroom, Reyna admired her reflection. “Girl, you look good!” she exclaimed. The black lace–strapped dress was perfect. It showed just enough cleavage, without revealing too much, and flared just below the knee. She'd learned her lesson the hard way; it was possible to look sexy without impersonating a lady of the evening. If she spent the night with Peyton, he wouldn't feel obligated to leave money on the nightstand.

She and Peyton had spoken on the phone every day since their chance meeting five days ago. During those conversations, she learned Peyton had relocated to the Bay Area from Oregon less than a year ago. He had a business degree and ambitions to one day open his own brokerage company. The closest thing Peyton had to family in the Bay Area was an old college buddy. And although he claimed to have a close relationship with his parents, Peyton always changed the subject when questioned about them. That didn't bother Reyna; she didn't want to discuss Jewel or her runaway father, either.

It was Friday, and Peyton had promised to make it a night she'd never forget after she revealed she'd never been on a real date before. At first Peyton didn't believe her, but then she shared how she'd grown up in the church under strict supervision.

At 6:00
P.M
. sharp, the telephone rang. It was Peyton at the security gate, seeking access to the exclusive subdivision. After buzzing him in, Reyna rushed to the vanity and sprayed Mariah Carey's fragrance on her neck and pulse points. After the Chase disaster, she'd thrown out Halle Berry's fragrance. The doorbell chimed just as she slipped on the black stilettos. “This is my night,” Reyna declared, then raced to the front door.

“Hello. I . . .” she said after opening the door.

The red long-stemmed roses resting in the crook of Peyton's arm took her breath away. The cologne he was wearing didn't help, either. The black Versace suit must have been tailor-made to fit his chiseled torso so perfectly. His even skin appeared darker than when they first met. Either Peyton had a tanning salon membership or he spent countless hours lying in the sun. His beard had been trimmed, making his thin lips appear bigger and more attractive.

Using his free hand, Peyton took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Hello, my beautiful Reyna.”

She was no match for his cologne combined with his soft touch. Reyna exhaled and almost fell when she attempted to lean against a wall that wasn't there. Peyton caught her just in time.

“Are you all right?” he asked once he'd steadied her.

Reyna downplayed her embarrassment. “It must be these shoes. I lost my balance.” There was no way she'd let this man know he'd blown her mind in less than sixty seconds. She stepped to the side. “Please come in. It'll just take me a minute to grab my wrap.”

“Where would you like for me to put these?” he called after her.

Reyna stopped mid-stride. “He must think I'm a moron,” she mumbled to herself before turning around and offering him a smile. “Thank you. I'll put those in water first.”

“Why don't you let me do that?” he offered. “Just show me where you keep the vases.”

He followed Reyna into the kitchen. “Let me get that for you,” he said when Reyna reached into the top cabinet.

Her skin burned while his body pressed slightly against hers as he retrieved the crystal vase. Now she wished for long hair again so she couldn't feel his warm breath against her neck.
Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus
. . . She mentally recited the books of the Bible to calm her nerves. “Where the heck did that come from?” she scolded.

“What did you say?” Peyton asked.

Reyna cleared her throat and stepped away. “Nothing. Be back in two minutes.”

Inside her bedroom, Reyna decided Mariah Carey's fragrance yielded better results. Never in a million years did she think she'd be attracted to a white guy, but so far Peyton was the total package. He was attractive, attentive, and came with his own resources.

When Reyna returned from the third-level bedroom, the vase filled with roses rested beautifully on the granite countertop, but Peyton was nowhere to be found. Reyna retraced her steps into the living room. Still no Peyton.

“Peyton,” she called out.

“Down here.” The distant response came from the bottom level.

“What the heck is he doing roaming around my house? Even Mother taught me better than that,” she muttered on the way downstairs. “What are you doing down here?” she asked when she reached the landing.

Peyton either didn't detect her attitude or simply ignored it. “Just checking out the place and admiring your impeccable taste. The real estate market must be turning around.”

Reyna almost asked what he was talking about, until she realized Peyton thought the town house and the furnishings inside belonged to her and that maybe she was a broker. With those perfect teeth smiling at her, Reyna didn't find it necessary to correct him. Peyton didn't need to know the space had once served as Tyson's home office. The oak cabinets lining the walls had once contained law books. He'd left the matching desk and leather chair. Mounted on the wall was a forty-six-inch flat screen. The cabinet below housed a Bose sound system and a DVD player. Regal crown molding outlined the earth-tone walls, and the beige carpet would almost envelop your toes when walked on barefoot.

“I do my best,” she lied. “We should be going,” she said, reaching for the light switch.

“How long have you owned the place?” he asked, assisting her up the stairs.

She didn't know how to answer that. Besides her car, the only things she owned were the clothes on her back. Before she could think of an answer that wouldn't disclose that she'd just mailed the last payment on her five-year-old Camry two days ago, they reached the landing. She stepped aside and allowed him to open the front door.

“Thank you,” she said and stepped onto the walkway after locking the door. “I haven't lived here long,” she answered and then changed the subject. “Someone's having a special evening,” she stated in reference to the black limousine blocking her driveway.

Peyton placed his palm on the small of her back and nudged her forward. “I couldn't agree more. This will be an evening you'll never forget.”

Reyna was midway down the walkway when the chauffeur got out, walked around the vehicle, and held the door open. She ceased walking. “Wow,” she mouthed without sound. She'd never been in a limousine before, not even for the prom or a funeral.

“Don't look so surprised.” He leaned so close, his breath warmed the hairs on her neck. “You're worth it, beautiful.”

Reyna blushed but secretly agreed she was worth it. And she was beautiful. He urged her forward and helped her into the vehicle.

Once inside, Peyton filled two glasses of champagne before the limo left the subdivision.

Remembering the last time alcohol touched her lips, Reyna hesitated before accepting the golden bubbly liquid. Unlike before, the sip she took barely moistened her tongue. She casually held the crystal and admired the vehicle's interior. Every detail, from the butter-soft leather seat to the lighted floor and bar, was exquisite, the highlight being the mini flat-screen TV.

Any anxiety she had was relieved once the smooth jazz sounds floated through the speakers and relaxed her to the point where she closed her eyes and hummed the notes along with the alto saxophone.

“You like that, huh?”

She heard Peyton's words at the same time she felt his hand rest on her thigh. With more calmness than she felt, Reyna returned the glass to the bar and in the process removed Peyton's hand. Flowers and a limo ride didn't translate into free roaming.

“I didn't realize how beautiful jazz can be until recently,” she responded honestly, without going into details about her strict religious upbringing. “Now I can't get through the day without the soothing sounds.” When she turned and faced him, the lights from the bar illuminated Peyton's blue eyes, causing her to temporarily lose her train of thought. “What music helps you select the right investments for your clients?” she asked once she recovered.

Instead of answering the question asked, Peyton said, “Let's not ruin the evening with work talk. I don't want to think about anything but you.” He leaned back and rested his arm against the leather. “You are so beautiful, and I want you to enjoy the evening.”

Her mouth was dry, but she swallowed, anyway. This white boy was saying and doing all the right things.

“You still haven't told me where we're going,” she said.

He took a few sips of champagne before responding, “Don't worry. Stick with me, and I'll take you for a ride you won't forget.”

Reyna wanted to respond but couldn't think of a flirtatious comeback. She decided to sit back and enjoy the moment. Thirty minutes later, she stepped from the limo, awestruck. Peyton had taken her to a historical restaurant that stood on Ocean Beach in San Francisco. The city known for fog was uncharacteristically clear. The dark blue sky and the deep blue water ran together and met in a kiss. Slow waves with white-foam caps slammed against the rocks at the base of the structure. She inhaled, and the salt water tickled her nose.

“This is beautiful,” she said once they were seated. The glass window provided an unobstructed view of the Pacific Ocean. “Thank you for bringing me here,” she said, at the same time calculating how much money was in her checking account, just in case Peyton acted a fool, and she had to pay for her own meal.

“Order whatever you like,” he said after the waiter explained the specials for the evening and took their drink orders.

Reyna scanned the menu. She couldn't decide between the prime rib and the Dungeness crab cakes. Peyton settled the dilemma by ordering two of each.

“Now who's hungry?” she asked when the waiter left.

He rested an elbow on the table and closed the gap between them. Reyna leaned back against the window. Peyton was handsome, but his eloquence reminded her of the Claremont. Under no circumstances would tonight be a repeat performance.

“This is not your first time here, is it?” he asked.

She took a sip of water with lemon. “Actually it is,” Reyna admitted.

“Really?” Peyton appeared surprised. “Where do you normally take your high-end clients?”

Before Reyna could explain she wasn't a broker, the food arrived. Before tasting the food, she paused. Peyton picked up his fork and began eating. Tyson would have blessed the food, she thought, then scolded herself for thinking about Tyson. She was on a date with a handsome man who obviously had resources and respected her. She was not going to ruin the evening by thinking about a man she didn't want or need. She picked up the fork and dug into a crab cake.

During the meal, Peyton dominated the conversation with questions about the real estate market. Reyna evaded most questions and manufactured answers from conversations she'd overheard at the office.

“What happened to not ruining the evening with work?” she finally asked, putting an end to his questions.

He shrugged his shoulders. “You're right. I'm sorry. It's just hard to turn off at times. Excuse me. I'll be right back.” Peyton left the table and returned ten minutes later, wearing a radiant smile.

After dessert of hot lava cake and vanilla ice cream, they enjoyed a walk along the pier before heading back to the waiting limo. The door had barely closed when Reyna felt Peyton's breath against her cheek and hand on her thigh.

“Mind if I kiss you?”

His breath was hot, but a shiver ran down her spine, and not from passion. Before she completed the nod giving her consent, Peyton crushed his mouth against hers. Right when she started to pull away, his tongue pushed her lips apart and freely explored every crevice of her mouth. “Ouch,” she wanted to scream but didn't. When he finished, her hand covered her now aching lips.

Peyton must have thought she enjoyed it, because he said, “There's more where that came from,” with a satisfied grin.

“You can keep it right where it is,” was what she wanted to say but didn't. Instead, she turned and stared out the window for the remainder of the ride. Peyton took the opportunity to get acquainted with her body parts.

She wanted to stop him from touching her, but found the attention, although rough, refreshing.

“We're here,” she announced when the limo turned into the subdivision. She pushed him away and replaced the lace straps on her shoulders.

Peyton ran his index finger down her arm. “Aren't you going to invite me in? I have the perfect way to end a perfect evening.”

She found his smile sexy, and the attention he lavished on her appeared genuine. But after the last mistake, she needed more.

“Why would you want to spend the night with me?” she asked and waited for him to confirm what she assumed: Peyton wanted a return on the money he'd spent that evening.

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I enjoy being with you, Reyna. I know it hasn't been long, but I'm starting to care about you . . . a lot. I want to be with you.”

His answer sent shock waves through her. No one had told her anything similar to that before, except Tyson, but he didn't count. She stared at Peyton long and hard, debating if she was making the wrong decision. On the surface, Peyton was everything she wanted, but what did she really know about him? He could be serious, and her indecisiveness could ruin something special. Or he could be a dog like Chase. She decided there was only one way to find out.