Let's Get It On (9 page)

“Don't you dare change. You look beautiful. I mean, you've always been beautiful. Your clothes don't make you. You make them,” Maurice rambled.

Kenya rolled her eyes. “You can stop blowing smoke now.”

Maurice laughed and held the flowers and candy out to her. “It's not blowing smoke when it's the truth. Are orchids still your favorite?”

Kenya smiled as she gently ran her fingers across the flower petals. “I can't believe you remembered that.”

Maurice fought the urge to say the clichéd line that she was unforgettable, since he'd already been accused of blowing smoke. Instead, he smiled and offered his elbow to her, as a gentleman should. Kenya ignored him, set the candy on the edge of the dresser, and then closed the door, keeping the orchids with her.

“These are some beautiful flowers,” she said. “Thank you.”

Maurice dropped his arm, thinking that winning Kenya over was going to be harder than he'd initially thought. Many women that he'd been with would lose their minds over Godiva chocolate and orchids. But those women were groupies, and he couldn't compare those types of women to Kenya.

It wasn't as if he could blame her for being apprehensive about him. He counted himself lucky to even be in her company, because he wouldn't give Lauryn a second chance, no matter what she said or did. Already, Maurice knew he didn't deserve Kenya, because the pain he felt losing someone to another woman had probably hit her tenfold. They say you never get over your first love, and he'd never really gotten over Kenya. He'd settled for sex and lust, the only things that he and Lauryn had really shared. Since he'd been so focused on his NFL career, Maurice had thought his hot relationship with Lauryn wouldn't amount to anything. Then she'd convinced him that they should marry. Ignoring his family's warnings and the bells going off in his head, Maurice had proposed long before the Super Bowl. Somewhere along the way, Lauryn had gotten the idea to turn their relationship into a media circus. It had only taken a night of the most passionate and freaky sex for Maurice to agree to a public proposal. Lauryn had said that it would prove to his family how much she meant to him.
What a joke,
he thought as he and Kenya waited for a taxi in front of the hotel.

“You're quiet,” Kenya said. “Something on your mind?”

Maurice rubbed his throat but didn't reply immediately. He just watched Kenya as she nodded her head.

“Aw, I know that look,” she said. “You're either about to tell a lie or I'm going to hear something that I don't want to hear.”

“I have to be honest with you about something,” Maurice said. “There has been a lot of publicity about Lauryn and me breaking up, and I didn't deal with it well. For about three weeks after everything went down, I closed myself up in my penthouse and didn't talk to anyone, didn't go anywhere, and ignored everything. James said I went into hermit mode. This vacation was really supposed to be about me getting my life back on track. Finding you was an added bonus, which I'm thankful for.”

Kenya shifted her flowers from one arm to the other. “And you're telling me this because?”

“I just wanted to be honest with you,” he said. He regretted those words because he hadn't been totally honest. His pride wouldn't allow him to say, “Lauryn left me for another woman.”

“That's a new approach,” she said, then quickly bit her lip.

As the taxicab pulled up, Maurice just opened the door and didn't respond to her dig. He couldn't help but wonder if Kenya would ever let go of the past. Then again, he knew he was asking her to do something that he wasn't willing to do.

I'm just going to have to work that much harder,
he thought.

As they rode to the restaurant, an uncomfortable silence enveloped them, though Maurice wanted to ask Kenya a decade's worth of questions. What had her life been like in Atlanta? What did she do other than work, and how did she really feel about moving back to Charlotte?

Instead, he sat there, watching her, admiring how she'd changed from a cute girl to a beautiful woman. Her face was slimmer, her cheekbones were more defined, and the tropical sun had given her a brown tan, which made her beauty more exotic. She was a candy bar that he wanted to devour, a chocolate treat that he had to taste. She was his addiction, and he hadn't had a chance to feel her lush womanhood or taste the deepest crevices of her body. But he was going to, whether she liked it or not. She was going to love it, because he was going to love every inch of her.

“Do you have something you want to say to me?” she asked. “All of this staring isn't cute.”

Maurice's cheeks grew hot. “Can't help it. Are you still a football fan?”

“Yes,” she replied as she carefully set the flowers on the seat between them, creating a boundary that he couldn't cross. Maurice glanced down at the flowers and smiled.

“Favorite team?”

“Still Dallas, even when you were playing for them,” she replied. The hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

“Well, you have to support the home team now. I'll even give you my jersey,” he said.

Kenya laughed heartily. “I don't think so. I remember when I wore your ratty jersey in high school.” She stopped talking, as if the memory pained her. Her eyes went dark. Then she said, “Why did you tell ESPN that Lauryn was your high-school sweetheart? When I heard that, it made me feel some kind of way. I don't know why. I mean, I don't have any kind of feelings for you.”

Maurice ran his hand across his face and dropped his head. “I didn't tell anyone that,” he said. “Media folk like to say what sounds good and makes the story better. That's what I have to deal with, unfortunately.”

Kenya shrugged her shoulders and toyed with an orchid petal. “It doesn't matter. It just bothered me at that moment,” she said.

He placed his hand on top of hers. “Tell me something about you. What's life in Atlanta been like for you?”

Inching her hand from underneath his, Kenya turned toward the window. “My life has been and will continue to be work.”

“But all work and no play makes Kenya . . .”

“The youngest managing associate in the firm's history,” she said proudly.

Maurice studied her profile as she watched the colorful scenery they passed. “Impressive. But you still need a life, Kenya.”

“Unfortunately,” she snapped as she turned around and faced him, “my work doesn't mean playing a game. I don't get months and months off, like some people.”

“Football is hard work,” Maurice said. “My body gets pounded in practice, on the field, and people stay in my business.”

Kenya clucked her tongue against her teeth. “That sounds so hard to me. Talk to me when you work eighty hours a week just so someone else can take the credit for what you've worked hard to negotiate. That's work, not tossing a ball around.”

“Well, I stand corrected,” Maurice replied, not taking his eyes off her. “You take your job very seriously. But being a lawyer wasn't your dream. Why didn't you stick with public relations?”

“People change. Dreams shift,” she said. “I love what I do, and I don't think about what could've been.”

Maurice read the duality of her words. “I do,” he said. “I often think about what would have happened if I wasn't such a fool back then. What if we . . .”

“Mo,” Kenya said quietly. “The past is the past. Nothing we can say or do will change that.”

“What about the future?” Reaching up, he stroked her cheek. “Can we have a future? A second chance?”

“I don't know,” she said, melting against his touch, nearly crushing her orchids. Quickly, as if she'd touched a burning ember, Kenya pulled away from him and inched closer to the door. “I'm not going to let this go to my head. While we're here, with no cameras, no other women, and you nursing a broken heart, I'm what you want. But what happens when you get back to your reality, the groupies, and all of the women who throw themselves at you? You've never been able to turn a pretty girl down, have you?”

“I've changed,” he said. “I know it may take you a while to believe it, but I
have
changed.”

She rolled her eyes and picked up her flowers, holding them close to her face to cover up her frazzled senses. Being so close to Maurice and inhaling his scent made her remember things that she'd wanted to forget. Prom night. She'd given him her virginity, and he was so tender, gentle. With every thrust, he'd asked, “Are you okay?”

Those memories made it hard to look at him, especially when he looked so good. His arms looked ready to hold her, and as she glanced at his crotch, she thought of dark rooms with candles burning, massage oils, and ecstasy. That was why she had to look away from him when he spoke. Maybe he was trying to seduce her; maybe he wasn't. Whatever he was doing was working, because despite her misgivings about any relationship with him, she knew at the end of the night, he was going to end up in her bed.

Once they made it to the restaurant, Kenya was shaky on her feet, because she was filled with carnal desire for Maurice. How did she get to this place? she wondered as the host led them to a secluded table near a window in the back of the restaurant. The sun was just starting to set, creating a picturesque scene that naturally set the mood for romance.

Setting her flowers on the table, Kenya faced Maurice head-on.
Should I tell him what I'm feeling right now?
she thought.
Who am I fooling, though? If Maurice and I make love, there will be no way that I can walk away from him, because somehow, I still love him. After all of these years, I still carry a torch for this man. Am I pathetic?

“Everything all right?” Maurice asked. “Is the table okay?”

“It's beautiful. Then again, everything on this island is.” Kenya took a deep breath, deciding that it was now or never. “Maybe it's the island or the fact that we're here together, but I want to spend the night with you, in my suite.”

Maurice sat back in his chair, not expecting to hear Kenya say those words. “Whoa.”

“That way we can have some closure between the two of us, and we can move on with our lives. When we get to Charlotte, we're going to run in different circles, and we're not going to see each other. There will be no need for the two of us to ever speak again,” she said.

Another shocker,
he thought. “Is that what you really want? You want closure?”

“I didn't get it nine years ago. I want to be able to move on with my life, and I can't do that being stuck in the past,” she said. What she didn't tell him was that it had been nine years since she'd made love to a man. She wasn't going to tell him that he was the first and the last man to ever touch her or make her desire sex. That would be admitting that she'd given him power over her life.

“And that's all you want?” Disappointment peppered his tone. “We can't write a new chapter together? Kenya, you may not believe me, but I've never stopped loving you.”

She grinned sardonically, then leaned forward. “You don't have to say you love me. We're still going to have sex tonight.”

“Not with those strings attached.”

It was Kenya's turn to ease back in her chair. Now he wanted to be difficult. “Strings? The only strings attached to this offer is a G-string. Maurice, I'm sure you have women beating your door down. Why do you want to rekindle something that obviously didn't work before?”

Just as he was about to respond, a petite waitress, with a head full of small braids, walked over to take their orders.

“Can we have a few more minutes?” Maurice asked, ready to finish his conversation.

The waitress nodded and smiled. “Honeymoon?” she asked, with a thick accent.

“No,” Kenya said a little more forcefully than she should have. “We're not married.”

Maurice swallowed hard and smiled at the waitress. “Just a few moments,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I guess you want to make sure that everyone knows that we aren't together, huh?”

“It's the truth,” she said, fingering her hair nervously. “And you've already made it clear that you're not going to give me what I want.”

“Meaningless sex? Not my style.” He looked down at the menu so that he didn't have to look into Kenya's eyes.
Who is this woman?
he wondered. Back in the day, Kenya had rarely wanted to have sex. He'd had to tell her repeatedly how much he loved her; he'd had to assure her that he wouldn't have sex with her and leave her for another girl. Now, she was asking him for one night where they could have closure? Not in a million years, because when he made love to her, he wanted it to be the beginning and not the end.

Kenya reached across the table and pushed his menu down. “Tell me something, Maurice. When did you grow some morals? You're sitting here and pretending that you've never had meaningless sex before.”

Pushing his menu aside, Maurice stared intently into Kenya's eyes. “So, let's say I agree to what you want to do. Can you handle me walking away?”

Folding her arms across her chest, she raised an eyebrow. “You walked away before. I dealt with it. This time it's on my terms, and I can handle it just fine.”

What if I can't?
he thought. “Fine. Then let's do it. You want to skip dinner and just go at it?” Maurice asked coldly. “I mean, why should I spend money for dinner when I can get dessert for free?”

Kenya smiled. “Was that supposed to make me change my mind? If it will make you feel better, I'll pay for dinner.”

Maurice shook his head. “Sorry. I was out of line, because I don't know if I can handle walking away from you. Why can't we just try our love again?”

“Because I don't want to be hurt again,” she blurted out. “If it's not Lauryn, who will it be the next time?”

Maurice grabbed her hands and kissed them gently. “I would never hurt you again.”

Closing her eyes, Kenya slipped her hands out of his grasp. “I don't believe you, and I'm not willing to take the risk of having you prove me wrong.”

“So, this is it?” he asked. “All we have is one night together?”

“We could've had a lifetime,” she whispered, with a far-off look in her eyes. “Listen, if you're going to be weird about this, then maybe we shouldn't do it.”

“How many more days are you here?” Maurice asked.

“Three.”

“Then give me those three days. After that, we walk away,” he said. “Fair?”

Kenya nodded and picked up her menu. “I can handle it if you can,” she said.

He smiled only because in the next seventy-two hours, Maurice was going to make sure that she never wanted to walk away from him again.

After dinner, Kenya and Maurice headed down to the beach. The two glasses of wine that Kenya had with dinner had lowered her inhibitions, and she was ready to put her bold plan into action. She couldn't believe that she'd actually said those things to him at dinner. She didn't regret putting her desire for him out there, but was she going to be able to hold up her end of the agreement? When she got on the plane to head back to Charlotte, was she going to be able to forget whatever they were about to share?

“You're quiet,” Maurice said. “Changing your mind?”

“No, just thinking about seeing you naked later. I guess you work out a lot these days.” She ran her finger down his bicep, following the curve of his muscle.

“I'm not the only one who works out, I see,” he said, eyeing her supple body. “I can't wait to peel those clothes off you and see what I've been missing all of these years.”

“So, why are we walking around out here?” She wantonly slipped her hand inside his shorts. His pleasure was evident as soon as she touched him.

Breathlessly he said, “All right. Let's catch a cab and get back to the resort. My suite or yours?”

Kenya turned to face him and was about to lean in for a kiss when flash bulbs went off in their faces. “What in the . . .”

Maurice lunged at the photographer. “Get out of here!”

“Mo, is this your new woman?” the photographer asked, shoving a tape recorder in his face. “Have you gotten over—”

“Shut up,” Maurice bellowed as he balled up his fists and started to punch the man.

Kenya grabbed his shoulder. “Maurice, stop!” His violence was giving her pause. She understood why he'd pummeled Damon, but all they had to do was walk away from the paparazzo. “Let's just go.”

Shrugging her off, Maurice stomped away while the photographer continued to snap shots of him.

Kenya knew that with him in a foul mood like this, they wouldn't be having a romantic romp tonight. By the time she caught up with him at the taxi stand in front of the restaurant, she didn't have two kind words to say to him. So, she kept quiet.

Maurice turned to her; a melancholy smile touched his lips. “I'm sorry. I told you how the media work, and I don't handle it well. Now our private moment is going to be all over some damned tabloid in the morning.”

“And violence would've changed that how, Mo? You're lucky that you didn't go to jail earlier today for a fight, and now you get into another one?” Placing her hands on her hips, she shook her head from side to side. “What's with you? I mean, you know that you're famous. You certainly didn't have a problem being on the cover of magazines and on TV when you and Lauryn were together. So, I have to wonder, is it that you don't want to be seen with me?”