I Heard A Rumor (4 page)

Why did he feel the need to chase this woman? Because her kiss had heated him up like the sun, and because she had no idea what kind of baggage he had with his ex-wife.

Part of him said just let it go and keep doing his thing. He'd come to Charleston to rest and relax. But the other part of him wanted to have her legs and arms wrapped around him while she screamed his name. Yes, he was going to deliver her dinner, and hopefully she would be a lot calmer when he knocked on her door.

 

 

Chante turned on her cell phone with the intention of calling Liza. She had to tell somebody about that kiss. But a flood of messages caused her phone to explode with dings, beeps, and vibrations. She tossed it on the bed and groaned. Falling back on the soft mattress, she closed her eyes and licked her lips.

Zachary Harrington flashed in her mind like an erotic memory. That tender yet hot kiss triggered a desire inside Chante that scared and excited her at the same time.

She closed her eyes and allowed her mind to take her into Zachary's arms. His lips pressed against hers as his hands stroked her in the most neglected spot between her thighs. When her fingers brushed across her wetness, Chante opened her eyes and bolted upright in the bed. “What in the hell am I doing?”

A knock at the door shook her. Had the media found her? She started to ignore it, but the knocking persisted. “Damn it,” she muttered as she padded over to the door. “Who is it?”

“Room service,” a male voice said.

“I didn't order room service.”

“It's complementary, ma'am.”

Chante sucked her teeth and opened the door. When she saw the man holding the dish from the hotel's restaurant, she wanted to slam the door. “How—how did you find me?”

“When I put my mind to something, I can do anything.”

“This is very stalker-like,” she said.

“Actually, this is my apology. I wanted to bring you dinner, since you didn't get to eat. Notice, I didn't bring you any grits—just in case you decided to throw that too.”

Chante wanted to ignore the food, but the enticing aroma made her stomach rumble. Even if she wanted to deny she was hungry, her body had just given her up. “Thanks for dinner. But that still doesn't . . .”

“You must be a lawyer,” he said. “You have an argument for everything. Damn, woman, can't a man be nice to a pretty lady?”

“Not when said man kissed that woman as if he had a right to,” Chante snapped. “If you want to be nice, give me the food, leave, and move on.”

He held the covered dish out to her. “Yep, probably a district attorney. Bet you've never lost a case.”

“I'm a corporate lawyer, and I never lose.”

Zachary smiled, and Chante's heart thumped so loudly she knew he'd heard it. That man was finer than frog's hair and he knew it. She wondered how many women he'd blinded with that smile and those dimples. Weak. She was weak and wanted nothing more than to kiss him again.

Be cool, just be cool,
she thought as she stared into his eyes. When he leaned in to her, the cool went away. She expected another kiss, but he brought his lips to her ear. “Breakfast?”

Chante's knees knocked from the heat of his breath on her earlobe. She nearly dropped her dinner, but quickly regained her senses. “I don't think so.”

“Come on, Miss Attorney, you're going to have to give me a better reason than that.”

“Here's the reason: I don't want to. Good night, Zachary,” Chante said and slammed the door in his face. Leaning against the door, she took a deep breath. Why hadn't she said yes? Clearly, because this man was a temptation she couldn't resist.

Zach smiled even though if he had had his way, breakfast with Chante would've been in bed. Standing outside Chante's door, he thought about just cutting his losses and moving on. This was too much work for a vacation fling. But there was something about her, something intriguing. And it didn't hurt that she was stunning. Especially when those full lips trembled.

It had taken everything in him not to kiss her again. Knowing that she wanted it just as much as he did made him hold back. She gave him just what he needed when he saw her lip quiver. That was so sexy and made him harder than a year-old fruitcake.

Then she wanted to act like the air between them wasn't charged with sexual energy. Whatever. She was just as attracted to him as he was to her.

Her scent seeped inside him, and now he wouldn't stop without getting a taste of her. Yeah, he wasn't going to give up on Chante Britt. As a matter of fact, she wasn't going to know what hit her. Zach headed for the elevator and hyped himself up for the seduction of Chante Britt.

 

 

She moaned as he sucked her throbbing bud. Her thighs clenched as she screamed, “Zachary!”

When Chante heard her own scream, she bolted straight up in the bed. She was sweaty, but alone. “What the hell?” she whispered as she climbed out of bed. Padding over to the refrigerator in the corner of her suite, Chante grabbed a bottle of water and drank it in two gulps. The coolness did little to quell the heat between her thighs. Zachary Harrington.

How had that man invaded her dreams? She didn't even like him. He was arrogant but sexy as hell. Her grandmother's words taunted her.
Flirt with a stranger.

“This is insane,” she whispered as she opened another bottle of water. This time she sipped it slowly. What did she really have to lose? She was only going to be in Charleston for a short time, and she wanted to see if he could back up that kiss.

Besides, it had been so long since she'd had an orgasm. Hell, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd dreamed about having an orgasm. But one kiss from Zachary had changed all of that. That was scary and exciting.

“Why not have breakfast with him?” Chante took another sip of water. How was she going to find him? Crossing over to the phone, she dialed the front desk.

“Good evening. How may I help you?” the front desk clerk asked when she answered.

“Could you please ring Zachary Harrington's room?”

“Hold please.”

Zachary's groggy voice rang in her ear. “Yeah?”

“I thought about your breakfast offer.”

“Chante?”

“Just how many women in Charleston have you invited to breakfast?”

He chuckled, and she felt her insides throb. “And you decided this at two in the morning?”

“Are you complaining?” she quipped. “I could've just stuck with no.”

“You're funny, Chante.”

She wanted him to stop saying her name, because it did something to her—made her thighs vibrate. “Does eight work for you?”

“It would have, had you not walked out of my dreams and woken me up.”

“See you at nine, then,” she said, then hung up the phone. Chante was tempted, very tempted to ask him if he wanted breakfast in bed. She had no idea where this all came from. Everything about that call was so unlike her. But what had being herself gotten her these days? Nothing she wanted. She did what she was supposed to do at work and still ended up suspended. Her dreams of being a partner at Myrick, Lawson and Walker were basically a pile of ash.

Then there was Robert. That slimy bastard was still causing havoc in her life so that he could make his better. She deserved to have some fun, and that's what she was going to do with Zachary Harrington. Fun with no strings. She wasn't looking at him as a man she might marry. He was simply a man who she hoped would give her a good time and allow her to let go of a pent-up wall of sexual frustration.

 

 

Smiling, Zach flipped on his back and stared at the ceiling.
Well played, Chante,
he thought. The only thing better than the phone call would've been her showing up at his door dressed like she'd been in his dream. Silk bathrobe with nothing underneath. Just thinking about it made his mouth water and his body tingle with anticipation.

Part of him wondered why Chante had had a sudden change of heart. She'd said no and slammed the door in his face. It didn't matter. She'd said yes—at two in the morning. That gave him six hours to get ready to see her again, and hopefully she wouldn't throw coffee.

Drifting off to sleep, Zach's dreams were about Chante in different states of undress. Maybe he was on his way to making his dream come true.

 

 

Sitting in the restaurant, Chante glanced at her watch. It was nine forty-five. “I don't believe this,” she muttered as she rose from her seat. “I've been stood up.” She looked at her watch again. Nine forty-six. She returned to her seat, feeling foolish. She'd had her fill of coffee and was tired of waiting. Obviously, Zachary wasn't coming. She looked down at her plate, half filled with grits and salmon, but her appetite was gone. Maybe this had been a reminder. She wasn't this girl, the one making late-night calls and demanding that he meet her. This was the wake-up call she'd needed. There was nothing wrong with the way she'd been living her life.

“Excuse me, beautiful, can a late man get some breakfast?”

She looked up and locked eyes with Zachary. Oh, he had as much nerve as he had sex appeal. Standing there with a smug—at least in her opinion—smile on his face showing off those dimples. Those dimples had been the only things that kept her from tossing her unfinished breakfast in his face.

Those damned dimples made her weak. He made her weak. “I've already had my breakfast. You can sit anywhere you please.” And as much as she wanted to rise from her seat and stalk out of the restaurant, she stayed planted in place because she couldn't take her eyes off him. He was dressed in a pair of khaki shorts, a baby-blue tank top, and a pair of brown leather sandals. To the naked eye, he looked ready for a day on the beach.

The old Chante would've been out the door more than half an hour ago. But if she was honest with herself, she'd waited for him because she wanted to see him. Needed to see him. She wasn't disappointed at all, even if she had to pretend she wasn't impressed.

Zach sat across from her and stared into her eyes—or was it her soul? He didn't make her uncomfortable as he drank her image in, but she wasn't going to let him know that.
Be cool,
she chanted silently.

“I'm sorry I kept you waiting. Of all the days to oversleep. And to think, I almost missed out on seeing your beautiful scowl.”

Chante rolled her eyes. “Some apology.”

He winked. “I was hoping I could steal a smile.” Zach folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in the chair. “So what's good here?”

This time she did smile. “Why don't you look at the menu and ask a waiter?”

“I knew it was beautiful. A bit sassy, but beautiful,” he said.

“What?”

“Your smile.”

Chante didn't roll her eyes; she just continued smiling. Her tough girl act either wasn't working or Zach didn't care.

“All right, Miss Advocate,” Zach said. “What's your story?”

She raised her right eyebrow as she felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her body. “My story?”

He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “Yes, what's going on behind those beautiful brown eyes?”

Glancing down at his hand, she had a flash of that hand between her thighs, those fingers touching her most intimate spots. “I'm running from my real life,” she blurted out.

“So he pissed you off really badly, huh?”

“You could say that. Got me suspended from work and almost ruined my relationship with my best friend. But I don't want to talk about that.” She brought her coffee cup to her lips, then realized it was empty.

“Were you two married?”

She shook her head as she set her cup on the table. “Thankfully, that wedding never happened.”

“Well, congratulations to you. I married the wrong person and spent a lot of time and money trying to get her to go away.”

Chante wondered if he was going to say more about his ex. When he didn't, she asked, “So what did you do to her?”

Zach shook his head; his smile faded, and those dimples went away. “Why do women always assume . . . ?”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I'm not saying that I'm bitter, but my judgment has been clouded.”

“My ex-wife was the cause of our divorce, and if I'd let her, she'd have destroyed everything that I've worked for.”

“Sounds like we fell for the same person, only in different forms.”

“Maybe that's why we want each other, to see what it's like to be with the right one.” He winked again, and Chante's heart pounded like a bass drum.

“Getting ahead of yourself, huh? We're just here for a short time.”

“And we should have fun, not pay any more attention to the ones who tried to take us down.”

She smiled again. “I can get behind that, Zachary.”

“Please, call me Zach. All my friends do, and you're about to be my best friend.”

“All right, best friend. Why don't you order your breakfast, and then I can show you one of my favorite places in Charleston.”

“You know a lot about this city, huh?” he said as he picked up his menu.

Chante leaned back in her seat, realizing that Zach was still holding her hand, and nodded. Sliding her hand from underneath his, she still felt the heat from his touch. “I grew up here. And Charleston is a magical city.”

“Really? Where's your geechie accent, then?”

Chante laughed, remembering how her mother had forced her to speak proper English from the moment she'd started talking. There had been diction lessons and the whole nine.

“My mother frowned on that,” Chante replied. “Even though my grandmother proudly has that accent. There are certain times when I will reveal it. Usually when I'm really pissed off about something and I'm trying not to curse.”

“Let me guess: your mom is a true southern belle.”

She rolled her eyes. “I thought we were going to have fun? Talking about my mother is not my idea of a good time.”

“Ouch. Sorry.”

“Don't be. Anyway, if I'm honest with myself, my mother's ways helped me in my career. Even if she thinks that my main goal should've been finding a husband while I was in college.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. And that's all I'm going to say about that,” she said as a waitress approached the table.

“Good morning, again,” she said as she glanced at Chante, then focused her attention on Zach. “Would you like to order, sir?”

“Yes. I'll have what the lady had. And coffee. Lots of coffee.”

She nodded, then turned to Chante. “Miss, would you like a refill on your coffee?”

“Please.”

Once they were alone, Chante quietly studied Zach. Dark chocolate with a small hint of milk chocolate mixed in. And those eyes. They sparkled in the sunlight with flecks of gold dancing in them.

“You're staring,” he said. “I got chewed out for doing that last night.”

“Well, it's a new dawn, a new day . . .”

“And you're feeling good. Got to love a woman who can quote the goddess Nina.”

“You're going to sit here and pretend you know more than one Nina Simone song?”

Zach put his hand to his chest as if he'd been shot. “Woman, you wound me. Music was a big part of growing up Harrington. Good music played in our house every day. Nina Simone was always on the play list.”

“And what part of New York did you grow up in, because you have an accent.”

“The Bronx.”

“You still live there?”

He shook his head. “I live on the Upper East Side, at least that's where my mail goes. I had a great house on Long Island.”

“Lost it in the divorce?”

“You could say that,” he said. What Zach didn't say was the feds had taken his home because of his ex-wife's illegal activities.

“Well, that sucks,” Chante said.

“I know, but this isn't fun,” he said.

“True. I've always enjoyed visiting New York. I second-chaired a patent case there once.”

“How many states are you licensed in?”

“Five and D.C. Why? Do you need a lawyer?”

Did he need a lawyer? No, he needed Chante Britt's lips against his. Leaning forward, he locked eyes with Chante. “You know what I need.”

“What?” she breathed.

“This.” He brought his mouth on top of hers and kissed her with a slow passion that made her shiver and tremble. Moaning as his tongue mated with hers, Chante wanted to strip out of her clothes and allow him to feast on her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

That tongue was magical, amazing, delicious, and becoming addictive. It wasn't until the waitress cleared her throat that they broke the kiss. “Honeymoon?” she asked as she set Zach's plate of salmon and grits in front of him.

Never taking his eyes off Chante, Zach said, “A new beginning.”

“How sweet,” she said as Chante smiled. “How long have you been married?”

“Umm,” Chante stammered. “We're not married.”

The waitress's lips formed the shape of an O as she poured coffee in their empty mugs.