NiceGirlsDo (7 page)

She sighed and tugged at her hand. “This isn't the time or place. I want to have fun ... not talk about some ... knucklehead who is dealing.”

“Dealing? Drugs?”

She lowered her gaze to the table.

Damn. Just what he needed -- to have to worry about keeping a drug dealer away from her.

She raised her gaze to his. “I didn't know what he was into when we started dating.”

He nodded. One of her most endearing qualities was her innate honesty. “And when you found out?”

“I freaked. He tried to tell me it wasn't a big deal, because it was just some occasional weed, but ...” She shook her head. “Drugs are drugs.”

“Is he likely to be dangerous?” 

“Dangerous? Paul? No! He's very gentle, Clay.”

“A gentle drug dealer? How likely is that, Amber?”

“Don’t make him sound like some big time drug lord. It really was just a little weed. He's not dangerous, Clay.”

He sure as hell hoped not. “Did he know you were coming to the States?”

She shook her head after a noticeable pause. “No.”

So he did know. “Does he know it's over? Is he likely to come looking for you?”

She shrugged. “He ... has a thing for me, Clay so I don't know. I know this is a pain for you and Damien, but ...” She trailed off, her lips trembling.

He smiled and recaptured her hand. “It's okay, honey. We'll deal with whatever we have to.”

She squeezed his hand. “I ... don't want him hurt, Clay ... I love him.”

Great. This night kept getting better every second. He swallowed the urge to tell her it was easy to imagine one's self in love at eighteen. With her eyes glistening with tears, he suspected she wasn't in the mood for a lecture on the difference between infatuation and love.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “We'll work things out, honey. Okay?”

She nodded and wiped at her face.

“Can we leave now?”

“No.” She tugged at his hand. “Dance with me?”

He glanced onto the dance floor with people half his age danced with carefree abandonment. “I don't think so.”

“Oh, come on, Clay. I want to show you off.”

“Show me off? Everyone in here is likely to think I'm a dirty old man trying to sleep with a sweet young thing.”

She shook her head. “All the girls will be jealous because I'm with a hot old white guy who actually has enough soul to be able to dance like a black man.” She flashed a smile at him. “So come on. Let's dance.”

He arched a brow. “After you call me a hot old white guy, how can I refuse?”

She laughed and bolted to her feet.

Casting his eyes towards the ceiling, he rose and followed her onto the dance floor.

* * *

Darbi took off her robe and slipped into her hotel bed. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 12:05 a.m. She hadn't planned to spend so much time with Damien Frazier. He was charming and somehow, the hours had slipped by as they laughed and talked about everything but their competing businesses. And Clayton.

She hadn't even had much time to think about the older Frazier brother until lying in the same bed where he'd made such sweet love to her the night before. Although tired, her thoughts of Clayton didn't bode well for a restful night's sleep. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against her pillow.

With a determined effort, she dismissed thoughts of him and the passion they had shared and slowly drifted to sleep. She woke several times during the night with thoughts of Clay taunting her.

She glanced at the clock and groaned when the number flashed at her. 2:15. Damn him. Why had he run away from her after making love to her and making forgetting him such a difficult undertaking? She doubted she’d be sleeping well until she saw him again.

She woke the next morning, tired, irritable, and determined to seek Clay out and force him to tell her to her face he didn’t want to see her again.

Damien called as she dressed. She smiled at the sound of his voice. “Hello.”

“’Morning. How about we meet for breakfast before the fair starts?”

She sat on the side of her bed. “Sure. I'll meet you in Ally's Café in half an hour.”

“See you then.”

She put the phone down and rose. Walking over to the dresser, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. What was she doing and why? Sleeping with one brother and then hanging out with the other? Clay had bedded her and then made his lack of interest in her clear. Did she take the hint? No. She was plotting his downfall instead. And going out with his brother.

Damien had showed no genuine interest in her and yet seemed to enjoy her company. Although she enjoyed him, she didn't need the added complication of trying to cultivate a friendship with Damien any more than she'd needed a sexual relationship with Clayton. Nevertheless, she knew if Clayton hadn't left, she'd have slept with him again -- even after learning who he was. And she was about to see Damien again.

She shook her head and turned away from her reflection. “When you get back to Philly, you'd better get it together, girl. Instead of seeking him out, you’re going to pretend he doesn’t exist and stay as far away from him as possible.”

* * *

A week later, Clay sat in his office, thinking of Darbi and staring out the window when his secretary buzzed him. He turned and pushed his intercom. “Yes, Jill?”

“There's a Miss Raymond from Calder Technologies here to see you.”

He tensed. “Raymond?”

“Ms. Darbi Raymond.”

“She's here? Now?”

“Yes. I explained to her that you're very busy and might not be able to find the time to --”

“Ask her to come in.” He straightened his tie, and rose as a tap sounded on his office door. “Come in.” He moved around his desk and stopped in the middle of his office.

The door opened and Darbi, wearing a dark blue slacks suit, walked into his office. Her thick, long, dark hair lay around her shoulders in a soft cloud. A light, soft fragrance filled the air.

The sight of her rekindled memories of making love to her. He swallowed and struggled to keep his cock from stirring. He smiled and extended a hand. “Hello, Darbi.”

“Clayton.”

“This is a surprise.”

She closed the door and leaned back against it, ignoring his hand. “I'm sure it is.”

Noting her unsmiling face and narrowed gaze, he shook his head. “It’s a pleasant surprise.”

“Is it?”

Clearly she was feeling combative. Great. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her until they were both breathless and she appeared to want a fight. Women.

He gestured to the leather sofa along one wall. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Juice?”

She moved away from the door to sit on the sofa. She crossed one leg over the other and gave him a cool stare. “No, but you can tell me why you didn't give me the courtesy of telling me you were leaving.”

He hesitated before sinking onto the other end of the sofa. “I should have been honest with you, but our sleeping together was a bad idea.”

“Why? Neither of us are married or committed to other people.”

“No, but you work for the competition.”

“So did Sharde, but that didn't stop your trying to get her into bed.”

Her reference to Sharde annoyed him. He was sick to death of everyone tossing Sharde's name at him as if she'd been the love of his life. He rose and moved across the room to sit behind his desk. “For your information, I never slept with her.”

“It wasn't from a lack of trying.”

He tightened his lips. “If we had slept together, it would have been just as much a mistake as you and I were.”

She flashed a cool smile. “So I was a mistake?”

He raked a hand through his hair, but remained silent.

“Sharde was wrong about you. She said you were --”

Sharde again? That did it. He leaned forward, catching and holding her hostile gaze. “At the risk of appearing rude, I frankly don't care what she might have said about me.”

“Why? Is talking about her too painful?”

The frequency with which Darbi had occupied his thoughts for the past week was a clear indicator that he had not been in love with Sharde. “I have no desire to continue this conversation. Can I get the door for you?” He stood up and strolled across his office. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned to face her.

“Aren't you the charming gentleman?”

He clenched his left hand into a fist.

She rose, a hint of red staining her cheeks. “Thanks for your hospitality.”

He stepped back from the door at her approach.

When she reached for the doorknob, he placed a palm against the panel. “Why did you come here?”

She shrugged, not quite meeting his gaze. “Does it matter?”

Maybe it shouldn't, but it did. “Did Calder send you?”

She sucked in a breath and stared at him, an angry look in her eyes. “Did you send your brother to fraternize with me after you ran out on me?”

The thought of her and Damien together angered him. “I didn’t run out on you!”

“What would you call what you did? Why did you leave like that? The least you could have done was leave me a message.”

He swallowed hard. “I did write one.”

Her dark eyes lit up. “You did? What did it say? Where did you leave it? I never found it.”

“I wrote it, but I didn’t actually leave it.”

“What? Why not?”

He shook his head. “Never mind that.”

“Never mind? You expect me to believe you wrote a message and then did what? Took it with you?”

He supposed it did sound implausible. “What difference does that make now? Tell me what happened between you and Damien. Did he ... did you allow him to ...”

“What did or didn't happen between us is none of your business.” She pulled the door open.

He pushed it closed and leaned against it. “Did you sleep with him?”

“You think I sleep with every man I meet?”

“I don't know. Do you?”

Her eyes blazed at him and for a moment, he half expected her to slap him. “How would that be any of your concern?”

“Why the hell did you come here if Calder didn't send you?”

She lifted her chin and stared into his eyes. “He didn't send me! I came because -- because ...”

“Because what?”

“Because I was foolish enough to want to see you again.”

He ignored the warm feeling her admission generated in him. “Why?”

She shrugged. “My batteries ran out and I thought maybe ...”

“When did they run out? Did you sleep with Damien?”

“If I said yes?”

He stepped away from the door and jerked it open. “Thanks for stopping by.”

She pressed her lips together, cast a quick look towards the ceiling, sighed, and then pushed the door closed. “I didn't sleep with him.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes, because I have no need or reason to lie to you.”

“Unless you thought it was necessary to get what you want.”

She laughed and shook her head. “You think you're so ... hot I'd lie to get to see you again?”

“Would you?”

She moistened her lips. “I do want to sleep with you again, but I'm not lying. What makes you think I’d even be interested in sleeping with your brother?”

“Because he’s a younger version of me. If you found me attractive, why wouldn’t you find him even more so?”

“Is that what this is about?” She placed a hand on his chest. “Granted, he’s gorgeous -- like you. And that’s the problem, Clay. He looks like you ... he sounds almost like you ... but he's not you.”

He swallowed and stared at her in silence. Why did he want to pursue a relationship with her when common sense urged otherwise?

“Am I wasting my time as well as embarrassing myself here, Clay?”

He lifted her left hand from his chest and brushed his lips against her fingertips. “There's no reason to be embarrassed.”

“Isn't there? Are you that used to women tracking you down and coming onto you?”

He shrugged. “It's happened once or twice.”

“I'll bet it has.” She sighed. “This is getting more embarrassing by the second.” She tugged at the hand he still held. “I'd better go before I really say or do something to --”

He retained her hand. “Before you do, I think you should know that I'm flattered that you did come.”

“But it was a waste of time. Wasn't it? I should have taken the hint when you ran out on me in the middle of the night.”

He opened her hand and pressed his cheek against her palm. “For the last time, I did not run out on you in the middle of the night.”

She stroked his cheek. “Yes, you did. When you left, you knew perfectly well that I was expecting to see you in the morning.”

He sighed. “Okay, I admit I knew that.”

She withdrew her hand from his face. “Then why didn't you tell me you wouldn't be there?”

“I didn't decide to leave until after you fell asleep.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Are you serious? Had I awakened you, it wouldn’t have been to tell you I wouldn’t be there when you woke up again. It would have been to fuck you until you couldn’t walk.”

So. No more games or pretending he’d wanted to make love to her. “If that’s the case, why did you decide to leave?”

“You are a beautiful, sexy woman.”

“But?”

“But I'm not looking for a relationship at the moment. If I were, I'm sure I'd be very interested in one with you.”

She sighed. “She hurt you, didn't she?”

“Who?”

“Sharde.”

“For the love of God, Darbi, not her again!”

“Isn't she part of the reason you left? You really wanted her, didn't you? Did you just want her or were you -- are you in love with her?”

“Whatever I might have felt for her has no bearing on this conversation or why I left L.A.”

She reached for his hand and linked her fingers through his. “So what we shared didn't mean anything to you?”

“What we shared? We spent a few hours together when we shouldn't have.” 

She withdrew her hand from his. “Is that all it felt like to you? You said it was incredible.”

He hesitated. “Look, Darbi, I didn’t say anything to you that I didn’t mean. Nevertheless, it's not as if we had ...” He allowed his voice to trail off, unable to try to trivialize something that had touched him so deeply he was still carrying around the letter he’d written to her.