Playing the Hand You're Dealt (10 page)

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Authors: Trice Hickman

BOOK: Playing the Hand You're Dealt
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I pressed my back against the soft fabric of the chair, listening, as I heard the soles of Ed's expensive leather shoes click against the hardwood floors down the hall. He was surprised to see me when he entered the kitchen. “Ah, the early riser is back.” He smiled, placing the newspaper on the table. He walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Good morning,” I said. I watched him as he reached over and pushed the button on the toaster, allowing the bagel to slide into place. He leaned against the counter and adjusted his silver cuff links, but he didn't move when the two round discs popped up. By that time he could see that I was staring at him . . . intently. Before I could stop myself, the question that had been on my mind since Monday suddenly slipped out. “Do you eat the same thing every morning? Coffee and a bagel?”
“Yes, I do.” Ed smiled, sliding into the chair across from me.
“Every morning?”
He raised his brow as he spread a generous amount of cream cheese over the warmly toasted dough. “Every morning.”
“Oh . . .”
“Why? Is there something wrong with what I eat?” he asked, taking a bite of his bagel.
“No, I was just curious. I mean, why have a bagel when Ms. Gerti's around? Obviously you haven't had her omelets or Belgian waffles.” It was an attempt to make a joke.
Why had I opened my big mouth? If I noticed things about him, I was supposed to keep them to myself. Asking questions would only lead to awkward moments like this, revealing my desire to know all I could about the man I loved.This was exhausting and frustrating, which brought me to the reason why I needed to talk to him this morning. I had to get out of this house. So before Ed could ask the question that was poised on the tip of his tongue, I interrupted him. “I have a favor to ask you.”
He paused and leaned forward in his chair. “Sure, what is it?”
I explained that Emmanuel had been MIA and that Ruben and I were supposed to meet at my house at noon to see if any new work had been done. “I've asked Emmanuel to be there, too, but it's very doubtful that he'll show. However, I think a call from an attorney might spur him into action.”
“No problem. Just give me his number and I'll be happy to contact him. Do you have a copy of your contract handy?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Fax it to my office.You can use the machine in my study.”
I finally found the courage to look directly into Ed's beautiful brown eyes. “Thank you, I really appreciate this.”
“You don't have to thank me.” He leaned back in his chair, and with the lightning-quick memory that was his nature, he asked the question that I'd interrupted. “Do you think it's odd that I eat the same thing every morning?”
Just as I was about to try to explain my way out of the situation I'd created, Ms. Gerti came through the back door. She managed to always save the day.
“Morning.” She smiled, scooping up Ed's coffee cup and empty plate. “What's got you looking so puzzled?” she asked, staring at him with curious eyes.
“Well, Emily thinks I'm a boring old man who's stuck in his ways.”
“She catches on quick.” Ms. Gerti chuckled.
Ed laughed, too, but I didn't. I wanted to correct my error. “I didn't mean it that way,” I spoke up.
He smiled. “She's referring to my obligatory coffee and bagel.”
Ms. Gerti thought for a moment. “Shoot, that's been the routine for what, thirty years now?” She placed the dishes in the sink, then turned around and faced us. “I guess when you get used to certain things over the years it's hard to break away from them,” she said, peering at Ed. “Even if you do want to try something new,” she added, this time looking directly at me.
I felt hot and nervous, like I'd been exposed. I wanted to leave the room. Ed looked away from Ms. Gerti and down to the unread newspaper in front of him. He stood, reached for his briefcase and gym bag, and headed toward the door. “Emily, don't forget to fax over your contract this morning. The office fax number is on the business card at the edge of my desk.” He opened the door, then smiled at Ms. Gerti before saying good-bye.
After Ruben and I finished our inspection, it was apparent that no work had been done since we'd been here last Monday. I was so upset I wanted to scream. I needed to move in as quickly as possible. This morning's breakfast conversation was proof of that. I sighed and looked around my living room at the dried putty on the Sheetrock. “Ruben, I can't believe this.”
“I know you're frustrated, but just think, things could be worse.”
“I need to move in now. I'm tempted to get a hammer and start working myself.”
“Sweetie,” Ruben said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “You're much too beautiful to be covered in paint and sawdust. Let's just wait for Emmanuel to get here.”
“That's just it, I don't think he's going to show up.”
No sooner had I spoken than the doorbell rang. When I opened it, I was shocked to see Ed standing in front of me. He was talking on his BlackBerry and holding a large folder under his arm. “Very good, I'll see you shortly,” he said to the person on the other end before disconnecting the call. “May I come in?” he asked with a smile.
I moved aside to let him enter, taking secret pleasure in the feel of his suit coat as he brushed against my bare arm. He looked around and I could see that he was impressed with the work that had been done. When he spotted Ruben he walked over and introduced himself, extending his hand. “I'm Ed Baldwin.You must be Ruben. Emily has spoken very highly of you.”
“Thank you, and I've heard wonderful things about your family.”
Ruben glanced at me and raised a perfectly arched brow. I had told him about Samantha and her parents, and that I was staying with the Baldwins until my place was ready. He was obviously taken by Ed's good looks, evidenced in his broad smile.
“What brings you by?” I asked Ed.
“I'm here to serve as your legal counsel for your meeting with Mr. Santiago. I just got off the phone with him. He should be here any minute.”
As if on cue, Emmanuel rang the doorbell. After I ushered him inside, the four of us stood in the middle of my living room. Emmanuel started with a sob story about why the work had not been completed. As he continued with a litany of lame excuses, Ed opened his folder and handed him a document.
“Noted are the portions of the contract under which you are legally obligated, and because Ms. Snow,” Ed nodded toward me, “has honored her obligations under the contract by meeting the financial responsibilities as stated, you, Mr. Santiago, are in breach of said contract.” He went on to tell Emmanuel that because of the hardship he'd caused me by not being able to move into my house on time, he had one of two options. He could work out an appropriate form of compensation with me that included home improvement upgrades, or he could see me in court. “If you choose the latter, I'll make sure a processor serves you with the appropriate papers before the close of business,” Ed spoke with finality.
Listening to Ed take control, telling this man what he needed to do to make things right for me, made me tingle. His power and cool command stirred my entire body. He was taking care of me, and it made me want him even more.
Emmanuel didn't have to think long on the proposal. He gladly, and smartly, chose the first option. Before he stepped out of the door he agreed to meet with me first thing Monday morning to work out a plan that would make me happy and have me in my house within the next few weeks. I was already thinking about the upgrades I planned to have him install.
“Sweetie, I've got to get going,” Ruben said as he looked at his pink leather watch with its large, diamond-studded face. “I'm running late and I have a bitchy client who's in dire need of some color and a trim. I'll call you later, okay?” He gave me an air-kiss and a curious smile, then shook Ed's hand before he floated out the door.
I knew that Ed wanted to say something about Ruben's black cropped pants and bejeweled three-inch thong sandals, but his good manners prevented him. He was very diplomatic in that way, and that was one of the reasons I loved him so. He was a good man, and I couldn't believe what he'd just done for me. “Ed, thank you so much.”
“I told you, it's no problem,” he said.
“Well, I know it's an inconvenience of your time. Samantha told me that you're very busy, working on a big case.”
“Emily, really, it's nothing.”
“I don't know how I can repay you.” I wanted to hug him, draw him close to me and feel his body next to mine, but instead I looked down at the floor and kicked at the sawdust lying in a small pile near my foot.
He smiled at me with a tender expression. “No need for that.”
We stood alone, facing each other for a slightly uncomfortable moment before he said he had to get back to his office.We stepped out together into the bright afternoon sun, and being the gentleman he is, he walked me to my car, which was parked in front of his shiny Range Rover. I slid my key into the lock of my old standby, and opened Hazel's door.
Ed paused, looking at me with a serious stare. “On second thought, there is a way you can repay me.”
“How?” I held my breath.
He leaned slightly against my door. “I'll take my payment in the form of a large, thirty-two-teeth-revealing smile.”
“A smile?”
“Yeah, you know, when you curl your lips upward like this.” He demonstrated, letting a silly grin slide across his face.
I broke into a big smile, followed by a burst of laughter. He joined me and we both enjoyed the moment. “Thank you, Ed. I needed that.”
“Me too,” he said in a soft whisper. “Maybe I'll see you later tonight?”
I rubbed my hand across my collarbone, trying to sweep away the heated sensation that the suggestion in his words left upon my skin. I looked down at the shiny band of gold on his ring finger and cleared my throat. “Maybe.”
I climbed into Hazel and drove away, watching Ed in my rearview mirror as he headed off in a different direction. I thought about the laugh we'd just shared, and I couldn't shake the feeling that Ed liked me, and not just in a friendly way. I thought this because of the way he looked at me, the way his voice softened when he spoke to me, and the complicated chemistry that swarmed around us. His comment about seeing me tonight sounded like an invitation.
But wait. That would be absolutely crazy! Ed wouldn't come on to me.What was I thinking? I was letting his smile and his kindness go to my head. “Maybe I do need to seek professional help,” I whispered to myself as I headed across town.
Chapter 8
Samantha . . .
 
 
 
 
Excitement, Not Complications
 
I
t was the middle of the week and I was sitting on my couch in my apartment, looking at more than a dozen empty boxes scattered across the floor. I didn't know where to begin. I had approximately two weeks before I was supposed to move and I hadn't thrown out, organized, or packed a thing.
Even though the moving company would do all the heavy work for me, I still needed to take care of my valuables and personal items that I didn't want them to touch. I knew I had to get started so I walked over to my entertainment center, grabbed a handful of CDs, and began packing them into a box. I wished Emily was here to help me because she was the queen of having-your-shit-together. She could pack up my entire apartment in one day. She was moving into her new house next weekend and she already had everything lined up.
I had just taped up the box of CDs when my cell phone rang. It was Carl, again! It had been three weeks since our incident at the restaurant, and I'd been avoiding his calls. He had left several messages, apologizing for the way he showed out that night. It startled me because that was very uncharacteristic of him—to apologize, that is. Normally after we had a run-in, he'd just buy me an expensive piece of jewelry or send me a nice chunk of money as a peace offering. But ever since he showed his ass at the café, I was completely through with him and he knew it. Threatening me was the final straw. But he kept calling, and right now with everything I had going on in my life, he was one headache I didn't need. Even though I didn't want to, I picked up the phone.
“I'm outside your building, buzz me up,” Carl said.
I never popped up on people, and I didn't like it when people did it to me. This was the second time he'd done this shit. It was times like this that I wondered why my fancy building didn't have a doorman. Thank goodness I was moving soon. “Why are you showing up at my door like this?” I asked.
“ 'Cause you won't call me back.”
“I don't want to see you, Carl.”
“Look, we need to talk . . . about me, you, and CJ.”
I shook my head. “There's nothing to talk about. Don't you get it?”
Carl said he wasn't going away until I let him in. I knew he would do it, too, and he'd probably bang on the access door and cause another scene if I didn't buzz him up and let him in. See, that was the thing about Carl, once he seared something into his mind, he wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted.
Damn!
I thought to myself. I felt like I had no other choice but to let him up.Yeah, I could've called the police, but that would open up another can of messy worms that I wanted to keep closed. “Come on up,” I said.
We sat on my couch and he apologized, again, for losing his head at the café. He said he'd been in a bad mood because one of his boys, Big Johnny, had been shot earlier that afternoon. I wanted to roll my eyes. Not because a sister was insensitive or anything, but because his boys were always getting shot, jacked, or stabbed. Hell, Carl had taken four bullets himself. So I listened with my arms folded, trying to figure out what the hell Big Johnny gettin' shot had to do with Carl's sudden desire to spend more time with CJ and me.
“Sam, I'm tellin' you,” he sighed, “shit like that make a brothah put things in perspective, nahmean? I gots ta handle my business, and you and CJ . . . y'all my heart.”
“Carl, I'm sorry about Big Johnny, really I am. And you're right, there are things that help us put life into perspective, like the way you threatened me. It made me realize once and for all that we both need to move on. I mean it this time.” I got up and walked toward the door. I was ready for him to go.
“Hol' up. I just got here, and now you gonna put me out and make me drive all the way back to DC? It's almost midnight.”
I let out a deep breath. “Carl, most of your activities are done after dark, driving late at night should be a piece of cake.”
He stood up and walked over to me, planting himself only inches away from my face. When he put his arm around my waist and drew me into him, I tried to pull back but my attempt was weak, and he sensed it. I hated to admit it, but Carl's strong, forceful grip felt good. Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed me, whispering tantalizing words into my ear. He told me how much he wanted me and all the ways he'd please me if I let him spend the night.
Okay, I'm not even gonna lie. He turned me on like a fluorescent lightbulb. The next thing I knew I was letting him rub his rock-hard erection into me while he slipped his hand down my shorts. He kissed me on my lips and then on my neck. I threw my head back as he slid down to his knees and knelt in front of me, pulling my shorts and panties to the floor. “Spread yo legs,” he said in a forceful tone.
I like a man who takes charge! I assumed the familiar position that I'd enjoyed countless times, ready to be licked like an ice cream cone. I held on to the back of his head and tried not to lose my balance as I felt Carl's hungry mouth between my thighs. His long, warm tongue worked its magic in a circular motion that made me moan. He held one hand around my waist as he rubbed my behind with the other, all the while continuing to eat me like a meal.When he finally came up for air I was ready to do anything he wanted.
We walked through the maze of clutter and boxes and made our way to my bedroom. I undressed him in less than twenty seconds and laid him across my bed. Carl had one of those Mandingo stud bodies that could drive you wild. I looked at his sculpted thighs, chiseled abs, and strong biceps, which distracted from the dark round marks that decorated his upper body, compliments of a rival's trigger finger. I took in his chocolate perfection as I reached into my nightstand for a condom.
“We ain't gotta use that,” he breathed heavily.
I stopped cold and looked him in the eye. “If you want some of this,” I motioned, pointing to my goodies, “you gotta cover that up.” I glared, staring at his large, pulsating dick.
Carl let out a big sigh like he was trying to stress, but when he saw me shrug like I didn't care and then lean back like I was getting ready to rise from his lap, he snatched the condom out of my hand and quickly suited up. Once he got it on he held me by my hips, eased me down on top of him, and slid into me using just the right amount of force. We both moaned as we bucked frantically against each other, enjoying what we did best together.
Carl fucked me like he was on a mission. He wanted to win me back and he was prepared to do what it took to make that happen. We did it every way you can imagine: cowgirl, missionary, doggy, reverse piggy-back, spooning, kneeling, lotus, T–square. You name it, we were on it. We dozed off around two in the morning, after eating some left over Chinese from my fridge.
When I awoke this morning I felt like I was hungover. My head throbbed and my stomach felt uneasy. I sat up in bed and looked at the faint, three inch scar on the left side of Carl's cheek. He looked so calm and peaceful as he slept—a huge contrast to who he was in his waking hours. The more I studied him, the more I realized what another big mistake I'd made. I eased out of bed and went to my bathroom. I looked in the mirror and wanted to scream, but instead I reached for my shower cap, turned on the hot water, and attempted to wash last night down the drain.
I was dressed when Carl finally awoke. I told him that I still wanted to end our relationship. “Last night was a mistake,” I said.
Carl sat up in bed and swung his bare legs around to the edge. “You wasn't sayin' that when I was hittin' it.” He grinned.
I shook my head and tossed him his shirt. “All we've got is what's between our legs and under those sheets.” I sighed. “At this point in my life I need more than that.”
“You always trippin',” he grunted in a dismissive tone.
After twenty minutes of going back and forth about a topic that was dead in my mind, I ushered Carl out of my apartment so fast he barely had time to put on his shoes. After he was gone, I started gathering my things because I was running late for a morning meeting.
As I headed to the subway, I thought about the mixed blessing that moving back home would bring. I was excited about returning to the city I had always loved, but I knew that Carl was going to try to stir up some shit. I had to be strong and put my foot down. He needed to know that I was serious and that there would be no more backsliding like last night. As a matter of fact, I was going back home in two days, and I had plans to have lunch with Tyme when I arrived.
Tyme was an interesting man. We had been talking on the phone several times a week since we met, and last Saturday he took the train to New York to spend the day with me. He was a good guy and a perfect gentleman; however, there was something about him that still made me a little hesitant. But in comparison to Carl, he definitely won hands down, so I'd just have to jump in and take my chances.
I should've been enjoying my delicious lunch, but I wasn't. I was at one of my favorite restaurants in DC, Lauriol Plaza, with a fine man, Tyme Alexander. And to top it off I looked fly in my tan Calvin Klein business suit. Tyme had picked me up from Union Station when my train arrived an hour ago, then we headed to the restaurant for a quick lunch before my afternoon sales call to one of my new customers. But instead of feeling great, all I could think was damn, men will take you there if you let them!
The worst part about the shitty feeling that rested at the bottom of my stomach was the fact that I had no one to blame but myself. The bottom line was that I knew better than to sleep with Carl. I know, I know, you don't even have to say it, I fucked up . . . again. The last forty-eight hours had been hell. I'd been working double duty, trying to confirm dates with the moving company and trying to avoid Carl's repeated phone calls. But I knew I had to stop myself from thinking about him and what we did the other night because at the moment, Tyme was sitting across from me, staring into my eyes.
Tyme had called me the very next day after we met. I was a little surprised, but not overly so because I sensed from our brief interaction that he was the kind of person who followed through with what he said he'd do. He asked me out to dinner that night, but I declined. “I need to spend time with my best friend who just came to town,” I told him. He was understanding, but persistent, so we agreed to meet for lunch the next day. Besides, how could a girl turn down a meal at Café Milano? His expensive wallet apparently wasn't just for show.
Throughout our meal I was surprised by how easy it was to talk to him. He asked me lots of questions. He wasn't nosy or intrusive, just inquisitive. He acted like he was genuinely interested in getting to know me, as opposed to just getting with me.
During our conversation I learned that Tyme was a doctor, excuse me, a surgeon. And let me tell you, there was a difference. Doctors are highly respected, but surgeons, baby, they're rock stars! As I stared at him, I realized that Tyme's calm, laid-back demeanor was more in line with that of a social worker rather than someone who had the power to reach inside another person's body and wield life or death with his hands. I knew a few surgeons, and most of them were arrogant assholes with inflated egos and unapproachable attitudes. But Tyme was different.
Back in the present, I was trying to maintain a happy exterior even though I didn't feel cheerful. My cell phone rang, and against my better judgment I pulled it out. I cringed when I saw Carl's number appear across the screen, and I could feel my mood begin to slip down the rabbit hole.
“Everything okay?”Tyme asked with concern. “You look a little upset.”
It was hard to hide my frustration. This was the third time today that Carl had called. I was pissed that I had allowed him to take advantage of my weakness. He knew my vulnerability when it came to our sexual chemistry—and he preyed upon it. He was so damn cunning; when he smelled blood he stalked the vein like a vampire. I looked at my phone again before switching it to vibrate and dropping it down into my bag. “I'm okay,” I replied as I smiled at Tyme.

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