“Why don’t you guys stay?” She left her chair quickly, waving at the fruit, croissants and cheese on her plate. “And help yourselves—this hasn’t been touched.”
She was almost home free when Talib caught her wrist on her way past him.
“We’ll talk later, all right?” His thumb slipped beneath the cuff of her blouse to caress her bare skin.
“Not about…” She glanced back toward the table where the others were already making themselves comfortable. “Not about what I said.”
“Sure, but we’ll talk later, all right?” he insisted.
She had no choice but to nod.
“Very impressive, Mr. Hudson,” Misha raved when she saw Asher leaving the elevator.
At once Asher’s light stare was less serious and more playful. “Well, hey!” He approached his wife’s best friend with open arms and enveloped her in a tight hug.
“I hope I’m not interrupting. I just needed to see you for a second.”
“Stop talking silly.” Asher kissed her cheek, then moved back to frown into her face. “Is everything all right?”
The words weakened her resolve and Misha cursed her visible reaction. Asher took heed and ushered her someplace more private.
“Sorry,” Misha sobbed when they were behind the closed doors of Asher’s office. She curled up on a sofa in the corner. “Thanks.” She took a deep sip of the black coffee he provided.
“Stop apologizing and tell me what the problem is.”
“What’s Talib up to?” she asked the moment he joined her on the sofa. “Why’s he so hell-bent on us…being friends all of a sudden?”
Asher’s smile was slow and knowing. “I think you know he wants more than a friendship.”
She nodded. “So it’s about sex,” she said as though that possibility were easier to handle.
Asher’s chuckling filled the room. “It’s about love.”
“He doesn’t love me.”
“Now look. I’ve been friends with Talib for a while now. And even though he keeps mum as far as the two of you are concerned, I swear that he does. And what’s more I don’t think he’s ever stopped. But I’ve already said too much.” He took the cup she’d drained. “Y’all need to talk and stop avoiding it because you’re afraid of the past.”
“I can’t handle that. I don’t have the strength—not a second time.” She pushed her hair away from her face and cleared her throat. “He’ll see that…he’ll see once he’s done deluding himself that two people like us never had a chance.”
“Well, I can’t speak to whether he’s deluding himself, but I do know Talib Mason is a finisher. He doesn’t quit midstream.” Asher made a bridge with his fingers and shrugged. “This may not sit well with you, but I don’t know what will make him stop until he’s seen this through to the end.”
Misha arrived late to the daily budget meeting for The Stamper Court. The business crew always gave their input toward the end of the meeting. Staff writer Trenda Greene was giving her report when Misha got there.
“You okay?” Riley asked when Misha took the seat next to hers and nodded quickly.
“Is there anything else, folks?” Riley addressed the group when Trenda concluded her report. “Wendell?”
“We all know this subject’s taboo here at The New Chronicle.” Wendell Stevenson tapped a hand to the stack of papers he stood before. “But I feel it’s important to note that our competition has seen healthy revenue increases since they’ve added entertainment sections to their pubs.”
Everyone groaned. Some threw wadded balls of paper at The Stamper Court’s accountant. Overall, The New Chronicle family was pretty much in agreement that celebrity gossip wasn’t the sort of news they were interested in. Since one of their own ran in such circles, much of that agreement was in a show of support for Riley’s and Asher’s right to privacy. Besides, Cache Media, the Chronicle’s parent company, never complained of the money woes which had driven the competition to incorporate more sensational news into their publications.
“I just think it deserves to be mentioned!” Wendell smiled when the group silenced. What the accountant lacked in height, he made up for in strength of voice. “The brass at those pubs are already crediting their entertainment inserts with the revenue surge—more revenue means more readers. Readers who most likely aren’t reading our paper.”
“Thanks, Wendell.” Riley made a note to her agenda. “The Court, as you know, wouldn’t be able to accommodate such a section, but you’re welcome to carry your suggestion higher up the chain.”
“Yeah, Wendell, maybe you could write the first piece.” Frederick Mears’s comment roused a chuckle from the table. “I’ve heard rumors of a boxer who may be havin’ an affair with his sister.”
“All right, everybody. Meeting adjourned! Thanks, Wendell.” Riley smiled apologetically. She and Misha remained seated while the room cleared. “You look drained,” Riley said while swiveling her chair to and fro.
“I just saw your husband.”
“Ah.” Riley folded her arms across the gold cap-sleeved sweater she wore. “He does have that effect on women.” She tilted her head, hoping to rouse a smile from Misha.
It worked, but only for a moment. “He said Talib loved me—that he wouldn’t give up until he saw this thing through between us.”
“How do you feel about that?”
Misha only shook her head.
“You know whatever’s happening or about to happen is only gonna put you through more hell unless you step up and face him.”
“Humph.” Misha rested her head against the chair and smiled. “You’re right.”
“’Course I’m right.” Riley nudged Misha’s boot with the tip of her pump and believed she was seeing the first genuine smile her friend had produced in days. “Why are you giving him all this control over your emotions, anyway? Show him who you are, who you’ve become. Make him eat his words for requesting you on this story. Torture him a bit. The driver’s seat should be shared, right?”
Misha shook her head over Riley’s cunning. “You’ve definitely been hanging around me way too long.”
Chapter 4
Talib was tapping an envelope to the crease of his trousers when Asher walked into the office the next morning. Finding his partner perched on the edge of the desk and staring past the windows brought a slight sharpness to Asher’s expression. Then he noticed Talib scan the envelope and smiled.
“That what I think it is?”
“An invite to Jasper and Molly Faison’s couples’ weekend,” Talib explained.
“When they first mentioned it last year, I was sure it was just talk.” Asher grinned and went to shuffle through the folders his partner left for him to review. “Why’d you get an invite?”
Talib laughed shortly. “No bloody idea.”
“So whose day are you gonna make by asking?”
Talib studied the invite again. “There’s only one who that I’d want to take.”
“Misha.” Asher settled down in an armchair before the desk and crossed his legs at the ankle. “You know there’s a good chance she got one of those, too.”
A low sound rumbled in Talib’s throat and he tossed the dainty envelope to the desk. “Do you think she’d take someone else?”