More Than He Can Handle (14 page)

“Well, it was a long Mardi Gras and I needed a break,” she said through a plastic smile.

“Oh,” Margaret said, “you two met in New Orleans.”

Cleveland cast his eyes toward the ceiling. “No, we met at Lillian's wedding. Where's Jill?”

“Right here,” she called out from the top of the stairs. Cleveland couldn't believe this was the same woman his brother had married. He'd never seen Jill without makeup or her hair styled perfectly. But tonight, she was dressed in a sweat suit with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She almost looked sixteen.

Cleveland dashed over to the staircase and kissed his sister-in-law on the cheek. “How are you, little mama?”

She smiled and he could tell she was blissfully happy. “I could use a little more sleep, but other than that I'm fine.”

“She's beautiful and thank God she looks like you and not your ugly husband,” Cleveland said, then looked over his shoulder for his brother. Jill slapped him on the shoulder.

“Kayla looks just like her father and she's gorgeous.” Jill walked over to her mother-in-law and lifted her daughter from her arms. The baby cooed and gurgled as her mother cradled her in her arms.

“I never thought I'd see the day,” Cleveland said. “Jill Alexander holding something in her arms other than a laptop.”

Everyone erupted in laughter as Jill sat down. Darren walked into the sitting room. “All right,” he said. “Leave my wife alone.”

“Where's the food?” Cleveland asked.

“In the kitchen.”

Lillian grabbed Freddie's arm. “We'll get it,” she said as she ushered her friend into the kitchen.

Cleveland saw the pained look in Freddie's eyes as Lillian dragged her away. He and Louis exchanged knowing looks.

“The kitchen is about to get hot,” Louis muttered to Cleveland.

 

 

When Freddie and Lillian were alone in the kitchen, food was the last thing that they talked about.

“What the hell, Fred?” Lillian said.

“You know, I'd rather you call me Winnie than Fred.”

“How about I call you Winfred or are you a clone? What are you doing with him?”

“Enjoying myself.”

Lillian sighed. “You know, Cleveland isn't the kind of man that . . .”

“I'm not trying to marry him, Lillian. I'm single and he's fun.”

“Fun? You don't do fun. I know you and how you try to make a man fit your idea of . . .”

“I know what I'm doing and I'd appreciate it if you'd just let me do it without your judgments.”

“Don't come crying to me when he breaks your heart.”

“My heart has nothing to do with what Cleveland and I are doing,” she said, but the words were hollow. She knew she cared about him more than she wanted to admit and it scared her more than anything.

“Famous last words. You always fall for the wrong man and I'm tired of watching you get your heart broken.”

Freddie rolled her eyes. “Last time I checked, I was a grown woman and capable of making my own decisions.”

“Fine, but don't come crying to me when he tires of you and trades you in for another woman.”

“Where's the food?” Freddie said, pushing past Lillian.

“On the stove,” she said, leaning against the island and watching her friend in disbelief. “Do you remember what you told me at my wedding?”

Freddie spooned chicken and rice on a paper plate. “No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me.”

“Stupid women. That's what you called every woman in the bridal party that threw herself at Cleveland and now look at you. I guess the rumor is true, you did sleep with him after the reception.”

Before Freddie could answer, Cleveland walked into the kitchen. “I just came to see if you needed some help with the plates.”

Lillian rolled her eyes at him and headed back into the sitting room. He crossed over to Freddie and kissed her on the cheek. “That didn't look like much fun,” he said.

“It wasn't,” Freddie said as she handed Cleveland the plate she'd fixed.

“Pleasure trip,” he said.

“I know. But I'm going to have to find something to do while you're at work.”

Setting his plate on the island, he pulled Freddie into his arms and brushed his lips against hers. “Let's think about that later. We can eat and run, y'know.”

She smacked him on the shoulder. “You're so bad.”

Winking at her, he said, “I'll show you bad as soon as we get back to my place.”

After they ate dinner and spent a few more moments with the baby, Freddie and Cleveland headed to his town house in Lithonia, a suburb of Atlanta.

“Nice neighborhood,” she said as they pulled into the driveway. “It kind of reminds me of the way things used to be at home.”

Cleveland nodded. “I can't imagine what you're going through,” he said as they exited the car.

“I'm lucky, I had some place to go without leaving the city. But I have to tell you, I miss my house.”

“Have you started rebuilding?”

She shook her head. “Still fighting it out with the insurance companies. But this is a pleasure trip, so let's change the subject.”

“All right,” he said. “I have an idea. Since we had to deal with the only dish my brother can cook, why don't we have dessert?”

“What do you have in mind?” she asked as Cleveland unlocked the front door.

“Go upstairs and make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back.”

Before Freddie could ask him what was going on, he had dashed out the door. Looking around his place, she was pleasantly surprised that he didn't live in a stereotypical bachelor pad. The place was spotless, decorated in deep browns and earth tones. He was a collector of fine art with two oil paintings by Celina Hart and Synthia SAINT JAMES hanging on the walls of his living room. Freddie smiled, wondering if those paintings were gifts or if Cleveland picked the sensual artwork himself. She knew he was a sensual man. It still amazed her how they'd connected in bed. Cleveland had awakened a sexual side of her that she hadn't known existed. But this was a feeling she knew couldn't last. She was rebuilding a life in New Orleans that she wasn't sure she wanted. She was trying to process the tall tale of her father and then there was the hotel.

Freddie didn't like running that place, her mother even called it the family curse. The hotel was profitable, but it reminded her of the day her father left. The police had burst into the hotel and tore the place apart looking for Jacques. Freddie, who had been ten years old at the time, was scared to death. That's one of the reasons why she remodeled the place when her mother finally turned over the reins.

It was a decision that didn't sit well with Loraine until Freddie showed her how billing themselves as a boutique hotel would make them stand out among the other hotels in the French Quarter. Had it not been for Hurricane Katrina, the hotel would've turned a profit and Freddie would've felt better about leaving New Orleans and starting over some place where she didn't have a past. Some place where the shadow of her father didn't linger over her.

She still couldn't believe that he tried to blame her mother for whatever happened. Freddie still had no idea what the true story of Jacques Babineaux was.

Pleasure trip, this is a pleasure trip. Standing here and going over and over this stuff in my head isn't going to help me at all,
she thought as she headed upstairs to search for Cleveland's bedroom. If he was planning to surprise her, she was going to make sure she had one waiting for him. When she opened the door to his bedroom, Freddie quickly disrobed and stretched out in the middle of the bed.

 

 

Cleveland had never been in such a hurry to check out at the supermarket. But as he stood in line at Kroger's, he realized that old women with coupon books needed their own separate line. The woman standing in front of him had to have a coupon for every item in her basket and then some. Part of him just wanted to pay for her groceries and push her out of the way.

He had a can of whipped cream, giant strawberries, chocolate sauce, and the desire to lick Freddie from head to toe. Grandma needed to buy her rations and go. When the woman finally went through her coupons and paid for her items, Cleveland wanted to dance a jig.

As the cashier rang him up, he smiled and hummed an old Stevie Wonder tune.

“Somebody's happy tonight,” the clerk said as she placed his items in a plastic bag.

“I guess that's one way to describe it,” he said as he handed her the cash. “You have a good night.” Cleveland practically skipped out of the store. When he reached his car, his cell phone rang.

“Yeah,” he sang.

“Cleveland Alexander, I know you didn't think you were going to slip out of my house without telling me everything about that Cajun beauty?” Darren asked.

“That's Freddie.”

“I guess you were right. She's fine.”

“This coming from a married man.”

Darren laughed. “I'm married, not blind. What I can't believe is that you're with someone for more than five minutes. The way you were looking at her, I know there's something between you two.”

“Freddie and I are just enjoying each other,” Cleveland said. “While I was in New Orleans, she was dealing with some heavy stuff, so I suggested she come up for a week to relax.”

“What hotel is she staying in?” Darren asked as Cleveland started his car.

“My house.”

“I'm sorry, can you repeat that? Because I know you didn't just say she was staying at Casa De Cleveland.”

“Don't start,” he said.

“I'm not starting anything, but little brother, I know that look.”

“What in the blue hell are you talking about?”

“The way you looked at her, it wasn't about ripping her clothes off and having your way with her. You're falling in love. Been there, done that, and now I have the daughter to prove it,” Darren said.

“There you go again trying to marry off the single population,” Cleveland said. “Freddie isn't like any other woman that I've known. She's not like some of these sisters in Atlanta. She doesn't want my bank records and Beacon score. Believe it or not, she reminds me a lot of Jill.”

“She must be a hell of a woman, then,” Darren said.

“Well, that hell of a woman is at my house waiting for me, so let's talk about this later.”

“Don't mess around and fall in love,” Darren jokingly said, then hung up the phone.

By the time Cleveland made it home, he couldn't help but think about the bug his brother had dropped in his ear. Could he be falling in love with Freddie? Did he look at her with a longing in his eyes that everyone could see?
This is so crazy,
he thought as he pulled into the driveway.
Freddie and I are just enjoying each other's company and there's nothing serious happening here.

Cleveland walked into the house, half expecting to see Freddie waiting for him downstairs. “Freddie?” he called out.

“Upstairs,” she cooed.

“I'll be up in a second,” he said as he dashed into the kitchen. Cleveland washed the strawberries and sliced them. Then he placed the fruit on a plate. Next he grabbed the whipped cream and chocolate sauce and headed upstairs. Walking into the bedroom, Cleveland almost dropped his treats when he saw Freddie lying provocatively on his king-sized bed.

“Damn,” he mumbled as she sat up and smiled at him.

“Pleasure trip, remember? Come over here and pleasure me.”

Cleveland walked over to the bed, set the strawberries, whipped cream and chocolate sauce on his oak night stand, then dove onto the bed and between Freddie's thighs. She reached over and grabbed a berry while Cleveland licked her inner thigh, making his way to her heated core of sexuality.

When his tongue touched her throbbing bud, it felt as if electricity flowed through her body. She pressed her hips into his kiss, wanting and needing more. Cleveland read her body language like a book and deepened his kiss. Freddie gripped the cotton sheets and called his name out like a mantra as he brought her close to an orgasm. As Cleveland inched up her body, kissing her flat belly, breasts and collarbone, Freddie popped the strawberry in her mouth, offering it to him as he kissed her lips.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and gyrated against his swollen member. The heat from their bodies could've caused an explosion and Cleveland had to pull back from her. Though he wanted to bury himself inside her wetness, he had other plans.

“Remember, we're supposed to be having dessert,” he said in a voice that was nearly a growl. Cleveland reached for the whipped cream and circled her nipples with the cool cream. Before Freddie could say anything about the coolness, Cleveland's hot mouth covered her nipple. Closing her eyes, Freddie stroked his neck as he licked each nipple until the mounds of cream were gone.

“Tastes good,” he said when he looked into her eyes. Freddie smiled and reached for the chocolate sauce.

“Now I want to taste you,” she said. Cleveland nodded and rolled over on his back. Freddie climbed on top of him, rubbing her hands down his chest. Next, she opened the chocolate and drew a line down the center of his chest. Freddie dipped her finger in the syrup and sucked it off seductively. Watching her made Cleveland even harder than he'd been before. Dipping down, Freddie glided down his body, navigating his muscular frame with her tongue, licking away the chocolate. Then she took his manhood into her hand, stroking his hardness. When her lips covered the tip of his hardness, Cleveland nearly lost it. Her mouth was hot and moist and she captured all of him.

“Oh,” he cried as she bobbed her head up and down. Cleveland buried his hands in her hair, relishing in the sensual sensations Freddie was causing. His blood was hot as lava as Freddie pulled back from him and poured chocolate over his rigid penis and licked it off. It took every ounce of self control in him to keep from climaxing.

“Sweet,” she said as he reached for a condom and handed it to her. Freddie opened the package and rolled it into place. Then she mounted him and slowly ground herself against his body. Cleveland matched her stroke for stroke, pressing his pelvis into hers. Freddie's breasts jutted upward as they increased the pace of their lovemaking. The movements were fluid and sensual. Sweat covered their bodies as they rocked on, riding the waves of ecstasy until they collapsed in each other's arms.

Cleveland held Freddie tightly, burying his face in her hair. “You feel so good,” he whispered.

“So do you,” she replied, tightening her grip on him. “I could almost get used to this.”

“Why almost?”

“This is only temporary, let's not kid ourselves.”

“It doesn't have to be,” he said.

Freddie rolled off him and got out of the bed. “Please, Cleveland. Not again.”

Cleveland rose from the bed and crossed over to her. “We could make this work. We're only eight hours apart and . . .”

“You're insane if you think a long distance relationship will work. You're a hot-blooded man with needs and if you think that something real is developing here, I'll go home right now.”

Stepping back from her, Cleveland nodded. “Wow,” he said. “You really don't trust yourself to be happy do you? Always looking in the shadows for something bad to happen. That has to make your life boring as hell. What do you really want, Freddie?”

She picked up her clothes from the chair next to the bed and started to get dressed. Cleveland started to stop her, but didn't. Instead, he folded his arms and shook his head. “Do your feet get tired? All this running that you do.”

Freddie whirled around and looked at him. “What?”

“Everytime we get out of bed, you dash off like a sprinter in a hundred-yard dash. You just don't want to be happy, do you?”

“Here we go with your dime store analysis. You don't know anything about me, you don't know what these last few years have been like for me. Jumping into a relationship with a man like you isn't on my agenda.”

Cleveland shrugged his shoulders and masked his disappointment by saying, “Your loss, sweetheart.”

“You ass! It's all about you, isn't it? Why did I think you were different? Why did I think you actually had a soul? You're just like every other man, just like my father.” Freddie snatched the rest of her clothes and jetted down the stairs.

It took him about two seconds to follow after her. She was at the front door when he reached her.

“Don't leave,” he said. “Look, I won't bring it up ever again. We can't be together because you said so. I'll accept that, but this trip was supposed to be about having fun and . . .”

“You know what?” she said in a low voice, her hand on the door knob. “In a perfect world, you and I would be together. We'd have a lot of fun and a relationship would work. But the world isn't perfect. My father is a notorious criminal. I have to keep a hotel afloat that I wish Katrina would have destroyed, and I can't get my house rebuilt. So, I'm sorry if you think I'm a runner, but I call it surviving.”

He placed his hand on the small of her back. “Come here,” he said.

She dropped her hand from the door knob and turned to him. He opened his arms to her and hugged her tightly. “Things are going to get better, but you have to stop living in the past.”

Freddie looked up at Cleveland. Was she living in the past? Trying to recreate the childhood that she'd missed out on? Did she think she and her father could build the relationship that she never had with him as a child and somehow her life would be better?

“Cleveland, I'm sorry,” she said contritely. “I'm tired and I shouldn't be so rude to you.”

“No, you shouldn't. I know you're stressed out, but I need you to recognize that I'm on your side.”

She looked into his gray eyes and her heart skipped a beat. Having a man on her side was something that she wasn't used to. Maybe she should stop fighting it and allow Cleveland to help her in everyway. First, she was going to have to stop getting in her own way.