Fiona Love (25 page)

******

She called Daney as soon as she left Natty’s place. “I told him.”

“Come over.”

Fiona caught a cab to Daney’s hotel. He’d gone there to pack his things. She atomized her face, neck and hands quickly and chewed hard on several Altoids to cover Natty’s taste. She sniffed her hand sadly, rubbing her nose gently against it, then sprayed perfume to cover his scent. She wondered if she should have stopped and got something to drink. But they were here, and it was too late, so she paid the cabby and strode past the reception desk to the hotel elevators.

She rode up, shifting from foot to foot, twisting her hands. “I’m so nervous,” she cried when Daney open
ed the door and pulled her in.

“You’re scared,” he said, shocked as he looked down into her fr
ightened eyes.

“Of you,” she whispered.

“Don’t be,” he told her, and they kissed.

Fiona held him so tight her arms hurt. Daney grunted, but
he clutched her just as hard.

“Was it bad?” he
asked, taking off her clothes.

“No,” she whispered, rushing with the ease of long practice through his shirt buttons. “No,” she said again, as they began t
o make love. “He made it easy.”

“You feel bad.”

She nodded, sniveling as tears fell. “He’s a good man,” she said quietly. “It hurts me to hurt him.”

“I don’t like it either,” he admitted, and it was true. He knew how much he loved Fiona, how much it hurt him while they were estranged. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone else, even a rival. “But he can’t have you,” he said flatly, clutching her possessively close. “You’re mine,” he whispered against her lips.

Chapter fifteen

Fiona and Daney spent a week in each other’s arms. They could hardly stand to be apart for the studio sessions and rehearsals she had to attend, the conference calls and meetings he couldn’t get out of. His hand never failed to tighten when he felt her moving out of reach. He’d look, and she’d smile and point to the bathroom or the kitchen or her wrap across the room. She’d rub her arms and shiver, and he’d still grab her close, pull her down and part her legs with a hairy knee. He’d sniff and snuggle his way around her ears and neck. Then he’d rub her down with big warm hands and slide in.

The girls
got used to seeing Daney in the house again, making arrangements to get Daney from the airport or pick up something from the store for him. But they tiptoed around the reunited couple. The future was not as easy to forecast as the past had been.

Fiona
felt it too. Something was off.

Weeks went by. They were back in the tabloids. Fiona had to chill on the studio as shooting began on her movie. She managed to sneak in and clean up the last few tracks on the album and put down a collabo with a hot young
male R&B singer. Daney spent some time in the studio with her on that one. She knew he wanted to go when she worked with Natty too, but he never said so, and in the spirit of avoiding trouble, she never offered.

Natty had reverted to the way he treated her before they slept together, more or less
. The casual touches that were a part of their relationship pre-sex had been circumspectly removed. Fiona assumed that was out of respect, but she was only part right.

Natty wanted to touch her, but he
couldn’t stand to now that he couldn’t touch her the way he wanted to. He knew too much, and wanted too much. Not to mention the fact that touching her brought the man who was really touching her to mind, and that he absolutely couldn’t stand.

Daney was back and forth between Chicago and wherever he was working, but when they were together thing
s were smoke-free comfortable and fun. He managed to drag Fiona sightseeing, and she managed to be in bed before 11 every night even when they were traveling.

When in Chicago they shopped together, hung out with Flora, and rented movies. They went on outings with Cleo and the girls. When in New York, Daney was often too busy to entertain her, so she let Andrea have her way and made radio and TV appearances. She also adapted scheduling for things like her album photo shoot so that she could stay in town longer. She even did an impromptu show at a friend’s club. There was no promotion, but the spot got so hot, the NYPD had to
escort her and Daney out.

“I don’t want you to go to work tomorrow,” Daney said
the next day. He’d just got off the phone with Paul. The machine behind the Clinique gig was churning into motion, and he was pissed he couldn’t come back to Chicago with her.

“How long you need?”

“Two more days. Then we can leave for at least a week.”

“I’ll send everybody home, and stay here with you. But only for two days. I gotta work in LA for at least two weeks. C
an you come with me out there?”

“Yes.” He would whether
his schedule allowed it or not.

He didn’t just kiss her goodbye at the door in the morning. She went along to fittings and read magazines in restaurants with one hand in his lap while he had meetings. They spent entire car rides kissing. He ate at her mouth, pulling her between his legs and grinding against her until she was a wreck, clothes wrinkled and gaping, lips swollen, pant
ing like there was no air left.

When she would have met the girls out or gone home to sleep, he’d beg her to wait in the car while he went in somewhere. She always teased him before she agreed. Sometimes with her hands, o
thers with her lips and tongue.

“A half
hour,” he promised, moaning softly as he tightened his grip on her hair. Her face was in his lap. “Fiona, please.”

She ignored him, hollowing her cheeks then relaxing just a bit to let the crown of his dick slide easily to the back of her throat. She didn’t want to speak. She wanted to listen to the noises he made. He always sounded so vulnerable when she had him like this. His breat
h would catch adorably, and sometimes he’d bite his own hand to keep from crying out. She smiled against his salty flesh, and swirled her tongue so fast he couldn’t help but groan, his attempts to stifle his pleasure forgotten just that quick.

“In you,” he rasped, tugging her reluctantly but firm
ly away. “I want in you, Feef.” And they made love in the back of the car.

Fiona helped tidy him, spritzing him with her atomizer, and finger combing his hair. She kissed fruit scente
d gloss from her lips onto his.

“Wait for me,” he ordered. He looked into her eyes until she nodded,
then kissed her hard and left.

And Fiona
sat there. For almost an hour she sat right where he left her and barely moved. She could still taste him. Her lids drooped, and her head fell back against the seat. Her fingers drifted to stroke between her legs. Then she reached for a joint and lit it. She cracked both windows and the sun roof. She thought of the pleasure, the near perfect moments in his arms when the world’s noise disappeared like a seed in the brisk Chicago wind, but that strange feeling wouldn’t leave her.

At first it was just a whiff of unease, the slight compression of a cat whisper
ing around your ankles. But as they made love everywhere between Chicago and New York, LA and one fabulous trip to his home in Miami, Fiona increasingly felt like something was about to blow up in her face.

“What’s up with you?” she asked h
im one night. He was fresh out of the shower, standing at the end of the bed drying his head with a towel. She licked her lips over his beauty, as she always did, and resisted the urge to reach for a joint. Between filming and the studio, she’d all but quit, again.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you waiting to see if I’m gonna cheat on you?”

He threw the towel in the hamper with more force than was necessary. He stood naked to pat on beard cream Fiona had bought to soften his whiskers overnight and make it ea
sier to shave. It worked great.

“No.”

“Then what?”

He glared at her through the vanity
mirror. “I don’t fuckin’ know!”

Fiona gave up the struggl
e and reached for her bud tray.

“Don’t you do it.”

She subsided, watching him.

“Just talk. Don’t smoke.”

“Fine,” she said softly. “Talk. Tell me what’s goin’ through your fuckin’ head, ‘cause I don’t have a clue.” Her voice broke slightly. “And I used to.” Her eyes wandered sadly over him, and despite himself, Daney felt his cock stir. “I knew everything about you. Now?” She shook her head. “I feel like I’m waitin’ for some fuckin’ axe to fall, ‘cause you’re on some ole’ crazy game torture shit that you won’t tell me about.”

“Calm down,” he said
, not wanting her to build up a good head of steam. He’d seen it before.

Fiona’s eyes narrowed, and he remembered too late how much she hated being told that. If she heard anything resembling ‘you need to relax’ she shut down fast
er than Fort Knox on code red.

“I want you to leave.”

“What?”

“Get dressed, gather your things, an
d go home.”

“I live in New York.”

“Downtown’s fulla hotels. You got money for a room ‘til you can hit the airport.”

“Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” She cocked her head and smiled. It was both beautiful and scary. “Who you think you are?” she asked, in such a normal tone of voice, his eyes got wide. “Better question. Who you think I am?”

“You want me to leave.”

“Cleo! Netty!”

They stared at each other.

A minute later Netty poked her head in the door. A few seconds later Cleo appeared.

“Daney’s leaving. Help him with his things, please. See that he gets a ride to wherever he needs to go.” And she went into th
e bathroom and closed the door.

They stared at him. He stared at the door, flabbergasted. W
hat the hell had just happened?

“You want me to call you a cab, or can I dro
p you somewhere?” Netty asked.

She liked Daney, but there was no way she was taking his side over
Fiona’s. Neither was Cleo.

He dressed while they packed his things. He did not, however, leave. He had a little talk with the girls, and sent them off to their rooms though he knew they’d stay in the kitchen to eavesdrop.

He kept his packed bags in plain sight. When Fiona came in she’d see them and know that he would abide by her wishes, but first he’d have his say. His little songbird was warbling out of control right now, but he knew just how to clip her wings, at least for a while.

Daney wasn’t stupid. He knew things weren’t right between them. He knew he was acting out of character, jealous
and stiff, but he couldn’t help himself. He was suspicious when she was in the company of other men. He had to hold back questions he’d never thought to ask before. Sometimes he woke in the middle of the night with her sleeping peacefully in his arms, and he’d clutch her close, wanting simultaneously to squeeze her into his body and to push her off the bed.

He’d repeat the
affirmations he’d learned years ago to quiet his mind and bring his thoughts back to the source. It usually worked, but doubts had a way of creeping back. They wound themselves around the coils of his heart so slow and stealthy they were hard to notice until he couldn’t catch his breath.

He got hot sitting there in a jacket, so he took it off and laid it over his suitcases. Exactly an hour after Fiona had shut the
bathroom door, she opened it.

She’d showered. She looked plump
and shiny in a sheer white gown and smelled of spiced fruit. She froze when she saw him. Her eyes ran over the luggage. She sauntered closer.

“Cabs used to be bet
ter in this town,” she rasped.

She’d been smoking.

“Netty said she’d give me a ride, but I wanted to give you this.” He pulled a black velvet ring box from his pocket.

He patted the bed beside him. She sat, and he fought not to smile as she caught her breath. The ring box had hypnotiz
ed her. She knew what it meant.

Daney wasn’t silly enough to believe his diamond had brought on this type of reaction. Fiona had some of the most fabulous jewels money could buy. He clearly remembered reading an interview where the journalist commented on some trinket
she was wearing and she said –

“I subscribe to the Marilyn Monroe school of thought when it comes to jewelry. Diamonds are an investment, and the more solid inv
estments you make, the better.”

A diamond ring had been the first purchase she’d made with her first big check. She’d told him the story when he complimented the ring on her finger. She’d done a three-day video shoot, and after she paid her rent and put most of her bills at zero balance, she’d gone straight to her favorite jewelry store on Wabash and bought 3 carats of VVS quality goodness so bright she stuck it out the cab window on the way home just so she
could watch it catch the light.

“That sucker had
me struck,” she’d laughed.

Now he opened his
box.

Fiona’s eyes got big, but she dropped her head so he couldn’t see. She didn’t even allow herself
to move.

He wanted to crow and dance around the room. She couldn’t take her eyes off it! This was better than sex, word of God. Okay, blatant lie, but this was pretty damn good. He cleared
his throat to mask a chuckle.

“Fiona,” he sai
d.

She didn’t respond.

“Fiona,” he said, louder.

“Hunh?”

“Will you marry me?”

“Hunh?” she said again.

“Will you marry me?”

She s
wallowed. “You wanna marry me?”

He nodded and held out the box.

She stared at the ring.

He reached for her hand and was surprised to find he had to pull it. When he’d finally wrestled it forward and put the ring on, he could no longer restrain
his laughter. “Is that a yes?”

She nodded.

“Answer me, please.”

She nodded aga
in, still staring at the ring.

“Fiona!”

“Yeah!” Her eyes flew to his. She grinned. “Yes, baby?”

He laughed and snatched her close, tumbled them on to their sides on t
he bed. “Yes or no, right now.”

“Yes and no,” she answered.

“What?” He yelled, grabbing the placatory hand she laid on his chest.

“I won’t marry you unless you make me believe that you’ve forgiven me,” she told him calmly. “I keep tellin’ you I didn’t do anything, but I know you think I did.”