The Best Thing He Never Knew He Needed (15 page)

“
Come have a seat,” he
told her.

Walking closer to the
table, she sat in the chair to his left then opened her notebook.
Ready to get started, she looked up at him only to find his eyes
drowning inside of hers again. She quickly returned her attention
to the empty page of her notebook while twirling the yellow diamond
he’d put on her ring finger.

Desmond smiled. He’d
always thought she was a beautiful woman no matter how tough she
tried to be. And there was something about her having his last name
that made him want her even more. Made him want to
know
her more. But how
would he get to know her if she was always jittery around him? So
nervous and uneasy? It would be a hindrance to progress, true
enough, but he liked her shyness. He fed off of it. He loved the
thought of being able to rattle her. And, now, he was glad she was
staying in the studio apartment because, had she been on the same
floor as him, he’d be tempted to finish the kiss they shared when
they exchanged vows. Or better yet, the deep, toe-curling kiss they
partook in at Dante’s house. A sneaky smile grew on his face. If he
had his way, before everything was said and done, he would do a lot
more than kiss her.

It was happening already.
Sherita knew it when she felt her temperature rise. Why was she so
nervous around him? And why was he smiling? Figuring she’d get down
to business, she asked, “So, what kind of questions do you think
Mr. Westwood will ask us?”

He placed the stylus next
to his tablet. “Normal relationship dialogue I’d
imagine.”

“
Such as?”

Eyebrows raised, he said,
“You tell me. I wouldn’t have the slightest clue. I’m not the
relationship type, remember?”

“
Right.” She took a
breath. “Well, Dante said to tell Mr. Westwood that we’ve been
together for two years. So I think we should…umm…” It was hard for
her to focus with his eyes bouncing back and forth from her lips to
her mouth.

“
You think we should do
what, Sherita?” Desmond asked, not particularly interested in her
answer more than he was in seeing her lips move again.

“
We should get to know
simple and
true
things about each other. Like your favorite color for
instance.”

Desmond grinned. “Are you
kidding me? The only color Victor’s interested in is
green.”

Sherita sighed. “Well, I’m
just trying to start from scratch here. If you have any
suggestions, feel free to chime in.”

“
Okay. I’ll chime in,” he
said. He took a sip of coffee while he thought of a question.
“Where did we marry?”

“
At the courthouse,” she
answered quickly.

Desmond laughed. “Yes, we
married at the courthouse, but we’re not going to tell Victor that.
We’re making up our lives as we go along.”

“
Right,” Sherita said,
looking down. “How about we say we married in the
Bahamas?”

Desmond shrugged. “Okay.
Fine with me.”

“
And we honeymooned there
too,” Sherita said, scribbling a note.

“
For how long?” Desmond
inquired.

“
Let’s say two weeks,”
Sherita answered. She wrote that down, too.

“
How many times did we
make love?” Desmond asked softly, folding his bottom lip underneath
a perfect row of white teeth.

Sherita felt dizzy for a
second and the butterflies playing in her stomach needed to go away
and fast. “I’m sure that topic won’t come up in a sophisticated,
fifty-million dollar conversation.”

“
Well, let’s say it did.
How many?”

Sherita had no clue what to
say to him. The man was a mystery to her thus far. He admitted to
avoiding her. Then he said he wanted her. He kissed her, then
despised her. Now, he was looking at her like she was something he
wanted to possess – something he wanted as a permanent part of his
memory.

After a full minute of
uncomfortable silence, in addition to his blazing eyes on her, she
finally said, “I don’t know, Desmond, but for the sake of moving on
let’s just say three.”

He chuckled. “Three? That’s
funny.”

“
Why’s that
funny?”

“
Because it wouldn’t be
three. We’d probably lose count. No, we
would
lose count.”

Her expression hardened.
“What’s wrong with you?”

“
Nothing,” he said, then
laughed more.

“
Don’t you need to be
taking notes?” she asked.

“
No. It’s all up here,
Sherita,” he said, pointing to his temple at which time Sherita
noticed the ring on his finger.

“
You’re still wearing the
wedding band?”

He stretched out his left
arm and said, “Yes. Apparently, I’m married now.”

Sherita rolled her
eyes.

“
I’m being facetious,
Sherita.”

“
I know that. I just…I…I’m
amazed you’re still wearing a band. I really didn’t think you would
wear it while—”

“
Why wouldn’t I? I told
you we had to make this look real.”

“
You didn’t let me finish,
Desmond.” She watched him open his hand, gesturing for her to
continue so she said, “I was saying I didn’t think you would wear
it while you’re home.”

Desmond slid the ring from
his finger and placed it on the table. “Is that better?” he asked,
mildly amused.

Sherita narrowed her eyes,
feeling her nervousness being replaced by frustration. “I’m trying
to be serious here, Desmond. Your brothers are counting on us to
pull this off.”

“
How about you
pull
that
barrette
off
and
let your hair hang loose? I don’t like to see all that beautiful
hair of yours jammed up in a ponytail. It’s not fair to me, and
it’s not fair to your hair.”

She watched him suppress
laughter while taking his ring from the table and sliding it back
onto his finger. Deciding that ignoring his foolishness was the
best option at this point, she said, “We need to come up with a
story on how we met.”

“
I’m still waiting for the
barrette to come off, princess.”

“
Des!” Sherita snapped.
She could be sleeping right now instead of playing his silly games.
“You’re being difficult.”

His arrogant grin widened.
“Yes, I
am
being
difficult, but I’m going to let you slide this time. You just
called me by my nickname. No, actually you screamed it. That’ll
suffice for now.”

Sherita dropped her pen.
With her elbows resting on the table, she massaged her temples with
the palm of her hands.

“
As for where we met, we
can tell him we met at a coffee shop,” Desmond said. “You were
sitting alone, and I asked you out. You said yes, of course, and we
hit it off from there. We can sell it like some love at first
sight, serendipitous-type fatuity.”

Sherita picked up the pen
and wrote it down. Then she said, “Dante said Mr. Westwood thinks
Ezra and Grace are our kids. So should we pretend they’re our
twins?”

“
If that’s what you want
to do,” he responded.

“
Yes, that’s what I want
to do,” she said. “We’ll tell him they’re six-months
old.”

“
Agreed.”

Sherita was steadily
writing.

Desmond was willfully
staring. At her. “Don’t rely on those notes, Sherita. You’re going
to need to act natural.”

“
I will act natural when
the time comes.”

Desmond lifted his left
hand from the table, then ran his index finger down her face,
watching her frown and duck away from his touch. “See…that’s what
I’m talking about. That reaction is not natural from a woman who’s
supposed to be in love with her husband.”

“
Of course not. You’re
trying to touch my face like you know me like that.”

“
I don’t recall my
touching your face being a problem when I kissed you for the first
time, but all of a sudden it is now. You have to get over your
nervousness if we’re going to pull this thing off,
Sherita.”

“
I’m not
nervous—”

“
You are. When you kissed
me at the courthouse yesterday, that wasn’t natural. It was weird
and phlegmatic. When we’re at dinner tomorrow night, and I reach
over to touch you or lean in for a kiss, I need you to just go with
it.”

“
Fine. I’ll go with it,”
she said short of rolling her eyes.

“
You will?” he asked
skeptically.

Sherita nodded. “Yes. I
will.”

“
Then let’s
practice.”

Sherita instantly felt her
muscles tense. “Desmond, can we just get through the more difficult
things first…things I need to take notes about and—”

Before she could finish,
Desmond reached out and touched her face again.

The sensation of his warm
finger made her close her eyes and exhale deeply as she fought the
urge to duck away. This was a test, and she’d planned on passing
it.

“
That’s better,” Desmond
said softly.

She opened her eyes and
smiled, just barely. Glancing at her notes, she asked, “Anything
else we need to go over?”

“
Yes. Kissing.”

“
That won’t be an issue,”
Sherita quickly interjected.

“
It will if you give me
one of those stale kisses you gave me at the
courthouse.”

“
Stale? You leaned forward
and kissed me. So if it was
stale
, it’s all your
fault.”

He smirked. “Takes two
people to kiss, Sherita. I leaned in for the kiss, true enough, but
your mouth was closed so tight, all I could do was give you a dry
peck on the lips.

Sherita sighed and dropped
her pen. “Okay, enough. Nobody is going to be sitting at our table
kissing, Desmond. If you want to use a kiss to signify how much in
love we supposedly are, then a small peck on the cheek should be
sufficient.”

Hardly.
“Okay,” he responded, leaning closer to her,
taking his time to smell her scent. She smelled good – sweet like
candy and fruit. He was tempted to leave a kiss on her neck, but
instead, he pushed his lips against her face. “Like
that?”

Sherita glared at
him.
Why is he so annoying?
“Yep…okay…think we’re done.”

He laughed. “We’re not
done. I need to brief you on the business plan.”

She crossed her arms under
her breasts. “Why do I need to know anything about the business
plan?”

“
So you know what’s going
on. Victor is going to be discussing some of this new project of
his at dinner, and while you don’t have to be well-versed in the
plan or in any business jargon, I think you should know enough to
stay interested in the conversation.” When he heard the doorbell,
he stood up and said, “Breakfast is here. Be right
back.”

Sherita got up from the
table, searched the cabinets for a coffee mug and when she found
one, she filled it with coffee. Returning to the table, she began
paging through the business plan Desmond had been
reading.

“
Here you are,” Desmond
said, placing a white, Styrofoam container in front of her. “Didn’t
know what you wanted so I made an educated guess.” He sat down and
began on his breakfast.

Sherita opened her tray to
find eggs, bacon, toast and hash browns. She looked up at Desmond
to thank him but was sidetracked when she saw the way he was eating
his waffle. He didn’t eat it like most people would – with a knife
and fork. After slathering it with butter and syrup, he folded the
thing in half like a taco and took a huge bite out of
it.

When he caught her staring,
he asked, “Want a bite?”

“
No, thanks.”

“
You were staring at it
like you wanted to take a bite. Here,” he said, extending his arm
so that the waffle was a half inch away from her mouth. “Take a
bite.”

“
No, thanks, and I wasn’t
staring.” Sherita bit into a slice of bacon.

“
You were,” Desmond
quipped, taking another bite of the waffle.

“
The only reason I looked
up at you is to thank you for buying the food, so thank
you.”

“
Oh, so you
do
have manners.
Interesting.”

“
Excuse me?” Sherita
asked, frowning.

“
When I bought coffee for
you last week, you rolled your eyes at me,” he said smiling,
showing the boyish dimple in his unshaven cheek. He loved pushing
her buttons. Each and every single time, she’d feed right into
it.

“
I didn’t roll my eyes.”
Sherita smiled, knowing there was a possibility she did roll her
eyes. “And if I did, it was merely a reflex. After all, you did
take it upon yourself to jump ahead of me and order my coffee. I
didn’t ask you to.”

“
And therefore, a
simple
thank you
would’ve been proper.” He tossed a sausage link inside of his
mouth. The whole link. “You know how many women wish I paid them as
much attention as I pay to you?”