Looking For Trouble (15 page)

“So I'm going to speak what's in my heart, and Lord knows I hope I get what I desire, but, more important, what I need.”

Alexandria took another deep, cleansing breath, releasing the last of her fears. “I know exactly what I desire,” she said, and then paused. “I want to experience real love. The kind of love I don't have to question. The kind I can believe and trust in. The kind that'll have my back when the chips are down and support me when I need it most. The kind of love that'll catch me if I fall, and then help me stand up tall again. And I want the kind of love that'll make me cry out in sweet ecstasy when he's making love to me. How many of y'all out there want that kind of love?” she asked the audience.

Nearly everyone in the room, men and women alike, threw their hands in the air and waved their arms, too.

Alexandria smiled. “All right, so tonight I'm going to talk about how it's supposed to feel when you experience that kind of love. Here goes.” She closed her eyes and held the microphone close to her lips:

“Making love is all five senses at once.

“It's one of the most natural, organic, and intimate ways of showing affection for another person.

“It's powerful.

“It's captivating.

“It's all-consuming.

“Making love is one of the few acts you can enter into with another person that allows you to engage all five senses at once.

“You touch them—the delicate feel of their warm skin as you run your fingers along the length of their soft body, caressing them gently.

“You hear them—their lust-filled cries and moans as they pant their pleasure, beat for beat, into your ear.

“You taste them—their salty-sweet skin on the tip of your tongue as you devour them, inch by inch.

“You see them—the contours of their naked flesh pressed against your own as rhythmic thrusts create ecstasy.

“And you smell them—the undeniably, intoxicatingly hypnotic scent that only raw, uninhibited sex can create.

“When you make love, make it count. Making love is a magnificent and wondrous act.

“It nourishes.

“It awakens.

“It strengthens.

“It lets you know you are alive.

“Making love allows you to embrace all your senses, free your emotions, and touch life with your whole hand.

“Tap into your senses. Embrace your partner. Taste them slowly, touch them gently, look upon them lovingly, hear them fully, and breathe in the sweet fragrance of their scent.

“Make love, and make it count.

“Thank you,” Alexandria said in a quiet whisper.

She took a small bow; and when she lifted her head, she heard the dizzying sound of clapping hands and the sight of several people standing to their feet.

She left the stage just as quietly as she'd come out, with the crowd still cheering her on. The Dead Poet bowed to her, and Kyle walked over, arms extended. “See what you've done,” he said. “Now I've got to find Connie so I can make it count.”

Alexandria laughed. “I'm sure she'll appreciate that.”

“I betta make sure she bloody well does,” Kyle said with a mischievous grin.

Alexandria felt as though she was floating on a cloud. Performing tonight had been the boost her spirit needed, and she thanked Grandma Allene for guiding her toward what she needed to do.

An hour later, Alexandria was on her way out of the club when she spotted a tall man standing in the distance. He was leaning casually, with one shoulder pressed against the wall, right outside the exit door, which had been propped open to accommodate the in-and-out flow of tonight's unusually large crowd.

Even in the distance, she could see that the man's physique was that of someone who spent time in the gym, as was evidenced by his bulging biceps, which outlined the light blue shirt he wore. Alexandria could also see that his faded jeans hung well on his frame, and that his body language screamed of masculine confidence. Even in the distance, the one thing she knew for sure was that whoever this man was, he was definitely fine!

The closer she got, she could see that his eyes were focused on her; and when she returned his stare, she saw his lips curve to form a smile. Any other time, if she'd seen a shadowy figure—handsome or not—who appeared to be hanging around waiting for her after a performance, she would have been ready to call club security. She'd come to learn that there were a lot of lunatics running around Atlanta's night scene masquerading as sane people. But for some reason, she wasn't the least bit afraid of this man.

As Alexandria drew even closer, her body felt the same type of warmth she'd experienced earlier when she had looked up into the night sky just before entering the club.

She was only a few feet away when the mystery man came into full view under the overhead lighting. He was indeed handsome—beautiful, in fact. Looking at him, Alexandria was so stunned that she was at a temporary loss for words. He was familiar to her in so many ways. She knew this man, but she couldn't put her finger on how or from where.

“Alexandria Thornton,” the handsome man said. His voice was deep, rich, and full. The sexy familiarity of his tone made Alexandria smile, despite trying not to do so.

“Yes, that's me,” she replied, managing to keep her composure intact.

“Do you remember me?”

Alexandria slowly walked to within an arm's length of the six-three Adonis, looked into his eyes, and smiled as if she'd just won a prize. She could barely believe it, and she blinked twice to make sure he was real.

He was her playmate when they'd been children in Jack and Jill. He was the best friend she tagged along with on the playground during recess. He was the little boy who'd grinned happily beside her in the picture she'd seen this afternoon. And now, over twenty years later, he was standing before her in front of the Lazy Day, looking fine enough to devour.

Alexandria's heart raced a mile a minute. “PJ, is that you?”

“Yes, Ali. It's me.”

Chapter 19

J
ohn quietly counted to ten, finally slowing his pulse to a manageable rhythm. It was an exercise he rarely had to practice, save for the few occasions when he stood in jeopardy of losing his cool composure—and this time was one of them. Madeline had managed to test his gentlemanly principles, grinding his nerves down to a tiny nub. And now, as he headed toward the crowded bar of the Blue Room, it looked as though Maxx's antics were about to finish the job.

Maxx was downing another glass of potent brown liquid, inviting trouble with each sip of his drink. He leaned forward, making sure his suggestive smile landed squarely between the plunging cleavage of the pretty young woman sitting on the barstool beside him. John could see from their body language that Maxx and his companion were just a few moves shy of full-on body groping and a heated lip-lock.

The sight made John uneasy because he knew that if Josie or Thelma saw Maxx kissing another woman, they would both come out of their corners, swinging.

I have to stop him before things get out of hand,
John thought as he walked slowly toward the side of the bar where Maxx was courting danger.

As John maneuvered his way through the tightly packed crowd, women smiled, flirted, and made not-so-accidental body contact with him. All were offering a hint of something more than genteel Southern hospitality in their gestures. But John wasn't interested in their advances. After having dealt with a neurotic girlfriend all day, meeting new, untested women was the last thing on his mind. His only focus was aimed on his best friend and the trouble brewing just a few feet away.

“How're you holding up?” John asked Maxx when he finally reached the bar. He looked at his friend; then he gave the scantily dressed young woman beside him a friendly nod.

“Man, I'm havin' a ball!” Maxx said, slurring his words.

“Yes, I can see that.”

“John, I want you to meet the most beautiful woman in this whole club,” Maxx yelled out above the loud, thumping music. He leaned in toward the pretty woman at his side. “This sexy lady right here is Ginger. Ain't that right, baby?”

The seductress tossed back her head full of freshly pressed curls and smiled. “Actually, my name's not Ginger. It's Jennifer. But, honey, you can call me ‘baby' anytime you want, 'cause I like the sound of that.”

A mischievous grin slid across Maxx's face. “Oh, so you like that, huh?”

“Um-hmm,” the woman purred. “I like it a lot.”

“Well, baby, I got somethin' else I think you gonna like even better.”

Just as Maxx was about to make his next move, John interrupted. “Jennifer, please excuse Maxx for just one moment.” John didn't wait for Maxx to object or for Jennifer to react. He took Maxx by the arm and led him to the back of the bar, near the employee entrance.

“Man, why'd you pull me away?” Maxx asked. “I was just about to—”

“Start some shit and cause some trouble,” John told him in a calm voice.

“Man, I'm just enjoyin' myself. Hell, it's my birthday. I'm entitled to have some fun.”

John spoke in an even and deliberate tone. “Fun, yes, you're entitled. But to cause a scene and start some shit? Hell no, you're not. Slim nearly pissed his pants just thinking about what might happen if your women get out of control in here. His ass is on the line with his boss, and yours is on the line with those women.” John nodded toward Josie and then to the other side of the room at Thelma. “Just be cool, you dig?”

“Man, I know what the hell I'm doin', do
you dig?
”

John shook his head, still maintaining a calm, even voice as he spoke. “You can't possibly understand what you're doing, otherwise you'd walk away from that woman at the bar.”

“Brothah, there ain't a cat in this club who'd walk away from some good stuff like that.”

“You're right. A cat wouldn't, but a grown-ass man would. You're too old for this shit, my friend.”

Maxx opened his mouth, poised with a comeback, but then he fell silent. Even in his inebriated state, he had enough clarity to see that John was sincere and that he meant business. His best friend's no-nonsense glare spoke volumes for what his cool exterior did not.

“There's a right way and a wrong way to do everything,” John cautioned. “And right now, you're headed in the wrong direction. Don't turn a celebration into a disaster, man. You've got two women in here who won't think twice about making a scene. They've done it before, and they'll do it again,” he said, referring to the incident last summer when Josie and Thelma cursed out Maxx and then each other at the county fair. “Just drink, have some fun, and keep your hands to yourself until you leave this club.”

Just as John was about to drive his final point home, an impossibly soft-spoken voice managed to float above the noise and made him pause. At first, he could barely make out what the woman was saying; but as he strained to pay attention, her words became clear.

“You should listen to your friend, Maxx. He's giving you some good advice.”

John turned around to find a woman standing in front of him whose beauty was so stunning his mind couldn't process the feeling that instantly resonated within him—a feeling that rendered him speechless, which wasn't an easy thing to do.

Her smile was wide and inviting; her eyes were clear and bright. He took in every inch of the petite beauty. Her milky, fawn-colored skin was so smooth that it looked like raw silk. Her rosy pink lips were full and ripe, like succulent fruit, and her high cheekbones and regal nose beckoned that attention must be paid to her prominent features. He could see that his obvious stare had made the beautiful woman blush, as was evidenced by the demure smile she gave him when their eyes met.

John was intrigued by everything about her and by every small movement she made. He watched her closely as she lifted her delicate hand toward her face and pulled her hair back, exposing her high-sweeping forehead. He smiled as she blushed again and tugged on her slim-fitting miniskirt, pulling it against her shapely leg.

Her beauty was unlike any he had ever seen; it was an intriguing combination of traditional meets exotic. The light complexion of her skin, the fine, straight texture of her hair, and the sharpness of her nose and cheeks called out the European blood that obviously flowed through her veins. But her sumptuously full lips, high forehead, thick thighs, and curvaceous hips all led to a trail that went back to the motherland of her African roots.

He didn't know how he knew it, but in that instant, John was sure that the five-two blushing beauty in front of him was the feeling he'd awoken to this morning—the feeling that something great was about to happen. She was what his grandmother had told him would enter his life when he least expected it. And she was a force that continued to hold him speechless until Maxx interrupted his thoughts.

“Lizzy! I can't believe you came!” Maxx said with new excitement.

If Maxx had not called the young woman by “Lizzy,” the nickname he'd given his sister when she was five years old, John wouldn't have known that the gorgeous creature in front of him was none other than Elizabeth Sanders, the youngest child of the Sanders clan, and Maxx's baby sister.
This can't be little Lizzy?
John thought.

Elizabeth was ten years younger than John and Maxx, which, for John, had put her out of sight and mind until this very moment. He hadn't seen her in years, and now he marveled at the beautiful woman she had become.

Elizabeth walked up to her brother and gave him a tight hug. “I wasn't about to miss your birthday party, Maxx.”

“Thanks, sis.” Maxx grinned as he received his sister's affectionate embrace. “I didn't know if you'd make it. The club scene ain't really your thing.”

“No, it's not. But you know I wouldn't miss your party,” she said with a smile.

After Maxx and Elizabeth's warm greeting, John was still silent, but he realized he had to say something. “Wow, Lizzy, it's good to see you.” He immediately wanted to bite his tongue. He couldn't believe he had actually greeted a woman by saying “wow.” The only thing cornier would have been “golly.” He felt like a tongue-tied, lovesick schoolboy, and he knew he had to pull himself together. “How long has it been?”

Elizabeth smiled, blinking through thick, dark lashes. “About ten years.”

“I can see that the last decade has served you well.”

“Likewise.”

“Damn, time flies,” Maxx said, looking at John. “You haven't seen my baby sis since she was in pigtails. And now look at her, tryin' to hang with us grown folks.”

“Maxx!” Elizabeth said with embarrassment.

“Lizzy, why you actin' all shy and embarrassed? It's just John.”

“Yeah, Lizzy.” John smiled, looking into her eyes. “It's just me.”

 

John, Maxx, and Elizabeth returned to Maxx's spot at the bar. John breathed a sigh of relief when he looked over and saw Thelma leaving the club. He knew she was angry because of the scowl she wore on her face when she stormed out the door, but at least she was gone, removing the threat of a catfight. Less than a minute later, Josie sauntered up and gave the “evil eye” to the woman whom Maxx had been talking to; then Josie leaned over and planted a birthday kiss on Maxx's lips that was so salacious it could've made a sinner blush. She'd staked her claim, prompting the scantily dressed woman to look elsewhere for her night's pleasure.

Now Maxx and Josie were holding court at the bar like the king and queen of Nedine, laughing, drinking, and accepting birthday wishes from the room full of partygoers.

“My brother is something else,” Elizabeth said to John as they looked on at Maxx.

“That's an understatement.”

“Thanks for helping him. I'm glad Maxx can always count on you.”

“He's my brother, too,” John said. “And please pardon my manners, can I get you a drink?”

“Um, yes, thank you. A Coca-Cola would be real nice.” She smiled, straining her soft voice so she could be heard over the sounds of the music thumping in the background.

John smiled back, not surprised that the woman who looked and sounded like an angel wouldn't touch alcohol. He walked down to the other end of the bar and returned with two Coca-Cola bottles in hand, deciding against his preference of vodka and juice.

“Thank you kindly.” Elizabeth nodded, taking the soft drink, which John handed her. She raised her bottle and lightly tapped it against his. “Cheers.”

Her simple Southern charm felt like the warm sun against his skin.He'd been living up north since his college days and had become accustomed to, and in many ways fond of, the direct nature of northern-bred women. Their sassy boldness and confident air was a turn-on for a powerful young business executive like himself. But as he watched Elizabeth, taking in as much of her as he could without being too obvious, he noticed something that startled him. Her easy way and unassuming sweetness reminded him of his mother. They both possessed the same type of tender gentleness and quiet strength that only Southern women could—the type of women his father referred to as marriage material.

He thought about the fact that he'd been toying with the proposition of getting married someday, but deep down he'd wondered if he would ever find a woman whom he truly loved enough to make his wife. He wanted to be like his father—happily married with children. Isaiah was one of the most blessed men John knew.

Not only was Isaiah a good son, father, and husband, he was loved by many and respected by everyone in his community. He possessed material and personal wealth beyond what most men could ever dream of. And John knew that a large part of his father's considerable success could be attributed to Henrietta Small. “Son, listen to me and listen good,” Isaiah had once told him. “There ain't nothin' you can't accomplish if you got a good woman standin' by your side. Your mama is livin' proof of that. I was already doin' good before I married her—but once I made her my wife, she made me a better man.”

John had never forgotten his father's words, and he thought about them now as he and Elizabeth stood beside each other, sipping their sodas in silence, surrounded by a room full of noise.

They exchanged a few wordless glances before John finally gathered himself and cleared his throat. “So what have you been up to?” he asked. He had to bend down to talk to Elizabeth. Even though she was wearing high heels, he still towered above her.

Elizabeth moved closer to John, rising up on the tip of her toes so he could hear her. But when the DJ blasted James Brown through the speakers, her soft voice was no competition for the get-down sound.

“You want to step outside where it's a little less noisy?” John asked.

Elizabeth smiled. “Yes, I'd like that.”