Recipe for Desire (18 page)

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Authors: Cheris Hodges

BOOK: Recipe for Desire
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He nodded. “We had decided to meet and talk, and I guess he fell ill on the plane. I got a call from the hospital.”
“I guess that was a pretty surprising call to receive. Are you OK?”
Devon shrugged. “I honestly started to ignore the call,” he said. “Then, I thought about something you said. I do have to make peace with my father and release the anger.”
“Are you ready to do that now?”
“I don’t know. It’s really hard to muster up enough emotions to care,” he said. “And I don’t understand why the nurse would call from his cell phone.”
Marie grimaced and wished she could say something that wouldn’t start another disagreement. Devon glanced at her and said, “I know this isn’t how you and your father get along or interact, but ...”
“It’s all right,” she said. “I’m glad you actually decided to see him. Maybe this is a step in the right direction for the two of you to come to peace before he dies.”
“I’m hoping that’s where we’re going,” he said quietly. But he honestly didn’t know where he and his father were going, and he couldn’t be sure that the relationship could be repaired. Did he even want to repair the explosive fault between them?
He’d give it a try, especially if this could be the last time he saw his father alive.
Once they arrived at the hospital, Marie squeezed his hand and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m here for you, no matter what.”
Devon leaned over the car seat and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”
They got out of the car and headed to the emergency room entrance. Nothing could’ve prepared Devon for what he saw when he walked in. His father, who he’d expected to find near death, was holding court with a group of nurses and orderlies. Momentarily, he studied his father, looking for any similarities between them. When he didn’t find any, Devon wondered if his dad hated his mother because their only son looked more like her than him. Anger filled his body as past hurt and pain came to mind.
“What in the hell is going on?” Devon demanded as he stalked over to his father. Marie thought he was going to slug him from the angry scowl that darkened his face like a thunder cloud.
“Son,” Devon Sr. said, throwing his hand up. “After our last conversation, I wasn’t sure that you would meet me. I had to do something.”
“So, you create this bullshit-ass story about you being near death, lure me to the hospital, and expect that we’re going to have a reunion, and I’d just forgive you for the hell that you put me and my mother through?” Devon’s voice boomed with years of anger, disgust, and pain.
“Do you really want to do this here?” Devon Sr. asked, looking at the shock on the faces of the people who’d been eating out of the palm of his hand moments earlier. Devon glanced around the room and smirked.
“What? You don’t want your adoring public to know you used to beat your wife and cheated on her with any and every groupie that showed you a little leg?”
Marie pulled on Devon’s arm, trying to urge him to stop his public rant. One thing she knew, it wouldn’t take long for someone to pull out a cell phone with a video camera or call the media so that this private fight would become a public headline. “Come on,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”
Devon Sr. looked at Marie and scowled. “Who brought a groupie to the hospital, Son? You want to hate me because you know we’re just alike. Only, I know what to do with a groupie after getting out of bed with her. You profess to love them.”
Marie felt Devon’s arm clench as if he was about to punch his father, and she wasn’t sure that she would stop him. Because that man did just call her a groupie! Didn’t he know who she was?
“Excuse me,” Marie exclaimed. “You obviously don’t know who I am, because if you did, you’d speak to me and not about me as if I’m not here.”
“This has nothing to do with you,” Devon Sr. said, barely giving Marie a second look. “This is between me and my son. Why don’t you run along?”
“Why don’t you go to hell?” Devon growled. “Nothing has changed about you. You’re still the same selfish, self-righteous son of a bitch you’ve been all of my life. I want nothing to do with you. And if you are dying, I hope it happens sooner rather than later. You stood by my mother’s death bed with a camera crew, hoping to cement your image as the perfect husband losing his first love when you and I knew you didn’t give a damn about my mother. You didn’t care about me once I decided to step out of your shadow, and now, here you are. Whatever you want, whatever wooden God fooled you to think I’d have anything more than disgust in my being for you, forget it. You’re dead to me. Make sure your assistant sends me an obituary.”
Devon stormed out of the emergency room with Marie on his heels. “Slow down,” she exclaimed as her ankle began to throb a bit. Devon turned around, slowing his gait and reaching for her hand. “I’m sorry you had to witness that,” he said in a quiet voice. “Maybe now you understand why I don’t want anything to do with that bastard.”
She nodded and took his hand. Devon enveloped Marie in a tight embrace and kissed her forehead. “You know what I need to do,” he said. “I need to get in the kitchen or I’m going to go in there and do something horrible to that man.”
“Do you want to be alone?” she asked.
“Actually,” he said, “I don’t. Do you think you can stand being around me?”
She smiled sweetly and nodded. “I could always be in jail,” she quipped.
He kissed her again and smiled. “That’s true,” he replied. “It has been a hell of a day.”
“That’s one way to put it. I guess that means we have a better night to look forward to.”
Devon smiled. “I can’t wait to see what a better night looks like.” The couple hopped in the car and headed to his loft in NoDa. As they drove along, passing through the quiet Myers Park neighborhood where Marie spent a pampered childhood, she thought about Bria’s and Devon’s upbringings and felt thankful, and everything her father had been saying about her wasting her talent trying to make a public spectacle of herself hit her like a ton of concrete.
I have been wasting my life,
she thought. Glancing at Devon’s clenched jaw and ashen knuckles, she knew that he would’ve appreciated what she’d always considered boring. Devon caught her gaze and smiled. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”
“I should be asking you that. You look pretty pissed,” she said.
“That’s the effect my father has on me and people who don’t keep their lips pressed to his ass. I’m sorry he disrespected you.”
Marie fanned her hand as if she was swatting away annoying gnats. “I don’t care what he thinks. Me, a groupie. That’s laughable. Have you two ever gotten along?”
Devon tried to remember a time when he didn’t think his father was a monster. His mind went back to a game of basketball he and Devon Sr. played when he was about eight years old. His father had taken the time to explain the rules of the game, had taught him how to finger roll and box out another player. After their game, Devon Sr. had taken his son to Baskin Robbins on Peachtree Street. However, the trip to the ice cream shop had been marred when a woman walked up to Devon Sr. and kissed him in a way Devon had only seen his mother and father embrace. Two days later, he and his mother had taken off on one of their adventure trips, heading to Nashville.
“No, never,” Devon said once he pulled into a parking spot at his loft.
“Wow,” she said in a near whisper.
“Don’t feel bad,” he said as they stepped out of the car. “He taught me everything I needed to know about how to be a real man.”
Marie furrowed her brows, totally confused by Devon’s statement. He laughed and stroked her forearm. “I just do the opposite of everything that loser did,” he said, then scooped her up in his arms and spun her around. “Let’s put this day behind us.”
He dashed up the stairs to his door with Marie in his arms, ignoring the vibrating phone in his pocket. He was sure it was his father, and the last thing he wanted to do was hear that man’s voice again. Devon set Marie down in front of the door as he unlocked it. Once they were inside, Marie’s phone rang. They sighed and decided if they answered their phones now, they could ignore them for the rest of the night.
While Marie talked to her father, letting him know that she was all right and hanging out with Devon, Devon called the restaurant back—happy that the missed called had been from Hometown Delights and not his father.
“What’s going on?” he asked when Alicia answered the phone.
“Your father just left here,” she said in an exasperated tone. “And he made a scene when Kandace and Solomon came in. I had to step in between your dad and Solomon because I thought they were going to come to blows. What in the hell is going on?”
“He’s supposed to be dying, but obviously that’s a lie. He concocted some story about being rushed to the hospital after flying in. I get to the hospital and he’s being his usual self. Charming those who don’t know him.”
“Wow,” Alicia said. “I’d never seen him in action until tonight. He called Kandace a fortune hunter and told Solomon that he’d come off better marrying a common street hooker.”
“And I imagine that’s when the altercation got started?” Devon said.
“You got it. Man, this is just what we need, more bad publicity,” Alicia said. “I’m looking forward to going to Atlanta for the Atlanta University Center reunion because this is getting to be too much.”
“Don’t worry about my father, I’ll take care of him. Just not tonight,” he said as he watched Marie walk into the kitchen with a sultry smile on her face.
“I guess Marie was the groupie your father had referred to. Tell her I said hello if you two decide to come up for air at some point,” Alicia teased.
“Good-bye, Alicia,” he said, then ended the call. Next, Devon shut his phone off and tossed it on the kitchen table. “Now, you have my undivided attention.”
“I like the sound of that,” she said. “Is everything all right at the restaurant?” Devon brought his finger to her supple lips and shook his head. “The problems will be there tomorrow. Right now, it’s all about me, you, and some dinner.”
She grinned, thinking that she was hungry, but the dish she wanted the most was standing in front of her. The energy between them sizzled like a skirt steak on an open flame. They needed the closeness as they reached out for each other. When their lips met, the kiss was more than passion; it was like a cool glass of wine washing away the pressure and stress they’d been dealing with all day. When Devon touched her, Marie felt comforted first, then her body heated up like smoldering fire. She melted against his broad chest and sighed as their lips parted. Marie stared into his eyes, seeing a mix of everything etched in his face—want, need, desire, and a bit of melancholy. She wanted to take the hurt away. Wanted to make Devon feel nothing but bliss. He brushed his finger across her cheek. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.
“I want you,” she intoned. “I need you.”
He didn’t respond with words. Instead, Devon lifted Marie up and sat her on the counter, kissing her with a hot need that made her quiver as his hands roamed her body, causing her desire to flow like a rushing river between her thighs. Devon slipped his hand inside her pants, savoring her liquid heat.
“Mmm, baby, you’re ready for me, huh?” he said in a near growl. Marie nodded, as she couldn’t speak with his hand stroking her mound of femininity back and forth. He slipped his index finger between her wet folds of flesh, seeking her throbbing pearl. When her breathing became shallow and her breasts heaved up and down, Devon knew he’d found it.
Marie’s knees quivered as Devon made small circles inside her, making her wetter, hotter, and even more ready to feel him inside her. She called out his name, her voice hoarse with want for him. “Need. You.”
“You got me,” he replied as he pulled her leggings off. Spreading her legs apart, Devon smiled at the flimsy lace panties she wore. Not only were they soaked with her desire, but they didn’t stand in the way of him getting to her essence as he brought his lips to her heat. With his tongue, he lapped and licked her thighs. Marie’s sweetness only made him want more of her.
Thank God for flimsy panties,
he thought as he pushed the lace crotch to the side and buried his lips inside her, his tongue dancing with her throbbing bud until she exploded, frosting his face with her juices. If Marie thought he was done because he stepped back and admired the sated look on her face, she was wrong.
Devon crossed over to the refrigerator and pulled out a can of whipped cream, a bowl of strawberries, and an unlabeled jar that looked as if it was filled with chocolate sauce. She shivered with anticipation as he set the ingredients on the edge of the counter. “What’s all of this?” she asked.
“You may not be hungry, but I always want dessert,” he said, then pulled her top off. The demi bra she wore barely contained her cleavage, and Devon was not even mad about it. In fact, he salivated at the thought of licking chocolate from her bosom. “Lay down,” he commanded softly. Marie glanced at the wide counter, then followed Devon’s command. He ran his hand down the center of her chest, then kissed her erect nipples, eliciting moans from her before he reached for a juicy strawberry. Devon brushed the fruit across her lips and then fed it to her. Juice dripped down her chin, and Devon kissed it away, savoring the sweetness of the berry and the saltiness of her skin. As his tongue glided down the column of her neck, Devon reached for another berry. He rubbed it slowly and methodically across her breasts as her body writhed underneath his touch. Devon brought the berry to his lips and bit into it, then he fed it to Marie. The strawberry painted her lips dark pink, making them look like luscious candy.

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