Frowning, Nicco shot a glance over his shoulder, curious to see who was responsible for the loud, angry outburst. Seated directly behind him, a woman with short black hair and dressed in pink workout gear spoke on her cell phone. Nicco couldn’t see her face, but there was no mistaking her frustration, or the contempt in her voice for the person on the line.
“Please, you wouldn’t know the truth if it walked up and slapped you!”
Nicco cracked up. But when he saw the puzzled expressions on the faces of the patrons seated nearby, he killed his laughter and pretended to read the menu card propped up against the napkin holder.
“Sorry about that.” Claudia took her seat and rested her cell phone on the table. “My husband was calling to give me an update on his schedule. He’ll be in Miami within the hour.”
“Then don’t let me keep you,” Nicco said. “We’re finished, so go meet your husband.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
Up on her feet, her eyes twinkling like diamonds, she collected her things and flashed a friendly wave. “Take care of yourself, Nicco. I’ll be in touch.”
The second Claudia rushed out the café doors, Nicco searched the room for the woman in the pink workout gear. He found her standing in line, typing furiously on her cell phone, wearing a cheeky grin. Nicco stood in the middle of the café, staring at her. Her facial features were perfect, and so was her taut derriere. Last night, at the grand reopening of Dolce Vita, he’d met scores of women, but they all looked the same—long, silky hair, coats of thick makeup, wearing tiny dresses that left nothing to the imagination. But the woman in front of him now with the killer curves and big brown eyes instantly seized his attention. She’s a stunner, nothing short of magnificent, the most striking woman on the face of the earth.
Nicco moved forward, toward her. Couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop himself. His hands itched to touch her, to squeeze, to caress and stroke her delectable, hourglass shape. Her tank top showed off toned arms, her leggings fit her body like a second skin, and her neon-pink sneakers drew his gaze down the length of her long, sculptured legs.
God bless the man who invented spandex! The woman had a body that made him salivate. Her looks were jaw-dropping, clear off the Richter scale, and Nicco found it impossible to turn away from her. He more than liked what he saw—her dimpled cheeks, the beauty mark above her mouth and most importantly her fine, feminine figure. His thoughts were all over the place, jumping from one illicit image to the next. Battling the needs of his flesh, he stood transfixed, unable to move.
The woman glanced up from her cell phone and caught his eye. Nicco’s heart rate sped up, beating at a wild, fanatic pace. For a moment, all he could do was stare helplessly at the beauty standing across the room. That’s it. Breathing required every single drop of energy he had left.
Her glossy, pink lips slowly curled into a smile, one that hit him straight in the heart. And when his eyes zeroed in on her moist, lush mouth, Nicco imagined himself planting one on her. A long, sensuous kiss that would turn her on.
Nicco watched the woman pay her bill, and when she headed in his direction, he surfaced from his sexual haze. Clearing his throat, he racked his brain for the right pick-up line, one that would capture her attention and buy him a few precious minutes of her time.
“How was your workout?” Nicco winced when he heard the question slide past his lips.
How was your workout? mocked his inner voice. Surely you can do better than that. Quit staring at her cleavage, man, and get your head in the game!
Her feet slowed and a frown bruised her lips. “My workout?” she repeated, regarding him closely. “Were you in my Bootie Camp class this morning?”
Nicco chuckled. “No, unfortunately I missed it. Where do you teach?”
“Why? Are you looking to drop a few pounds?”
“Do I need to?” Raising an eyebrow, he cocked his head to the right. Nicco wanted her to get a good look at him, so he stood tall and squared his shoulders. He saw her eyelashes widen and flutter, and heard her quick intake of breath. She darted a glance down at his shoes and a sly grin claimed his mouth. That’s right, baby. I wear a size twelve shoe. How you like me now?
“Since you’re a fitness instructor, I’d love your expert opinion.” Nicco rested his hands on his waist and displayed a bold, in-your-face stance. “Am I in good shape or not?”
Rolling her eyes, an exasperated expression marring her features, she heaved her gym bag over her shoulder and stepped past him as if he hadn’t just asked her a question.
Nicco didn’t know what possessed him to touch her, but when his hands connected with her flesh he felt a rush, a charge so powerful his knees buckled. They stood in the middle of the café, staring at each other. His desire for her so strong, his mind went blank. “Please don’t go. We’re not finished talking.”
Leaning forward, he read the name printed on the top hand corner of her tank top. Jariah Brooks. Nicco tried it on for size, allowing the syllables to stroke the length of his tongue, before deciding that her name was as striking as her dark, creamy complexion. “I’d love to take you out sometime, Jariah. Can I get your phone number?”
“I’m busy.”
“Every night?”
“Look,” she snapped, “I’m having a really bad day, and I’m not in the mood to hear any of your slick lines, so go hit on someone else.”
“Let’s sit down and talk.”
“Let’s not and say we did.”
“Do you know who I am?”
Jariah sputtered a laugh. “No, should I?”
“I think so.” Bragging was usually beneath him, but to impress the saucy fitness instructor, he was willing to use every trick in the book. “I’m well-known around these parts. My picture is always in the newspapers and on TV.”
She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to place his face, then fervently nodded her head. “Oh, wow,” she gushed, pointing a finger at him. “I thought you looked familiar.”
A grin overwhelmed Nicco’s mouth. Finally. Now that Jariah recognized him—and knew that he was one of the most successful restaurateurs in the nation—they could skip the preamble and head straight to the penthouse suite at his favorite, luxury hotel. He had plans for Jariah, plans that involved whip cream, Cristal, and a box of Magnum condoms, and the sooner they got to his suite at the Hilton Bentley the better.
“You were on last night’s episode of Cheaters, weren’t you?”
Hanging his head, Nicco clutched his shirt, as if wounded by the dig, but deep down he was amused. Aroused actually. He loved their playful banter. Much like her stunning looks, Jariah’s cheeky wit was a turn-on. But what Nicco liked most about the mocha-brown was her mouth. Her lips were thick, moist and plump, and looked incredibly inviting.
“Sorry, but I’m not interested.”
“Not interested?” Nicco chuckled a laugh. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” she said in a sing-song voice.
“Are you married?”
“Why?” she quipped. “Are you looking for your one true love?”
Nicco choked on his tongue. Hell, no! he thought, sliding his hands into the back pocket of his blue Levi’s jeans. I’m only thirty-four and besides I’m far too smart to ever do something as stupid as tying the knot! Nicco caught himself, just as he felt a tidal wave of guilt. Not everyone who fell in love and got married was foolish. His kid brother, Demetri, had found love with news reporter Angela Kelly—and he’d never seen a happier, more loving couple. Since popping the question