Only You (3 page)

Read Only You Online

Authors: Francis Ray

Tags: #Romance, #Erotica, #African American, #Contemporary, #Fiction

BOOK: Only You
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The teasing smile slid from her face. Her breathing accelerated. Awareness shimmered between them.
He wanted her, then, there, with a forgotten fierceness. And he always got what he wanted.
 
“
P
erhaps we should go in,” Sierra said, her voice undeniably husky, strained.
“Of course.” Taking her bare slender arm, Blade turned to lead her up the curved walkway lined with lights. Her skin was softer than velvet.
Sierra took a step and stopped abruptly. She had seen many beautiful homes, but none matched the magnificent buttery-colored stucco Mediterranean mansion before her with a clay barrel-tile roof. Like its owner, it was breathtaking. The three-story structure, surrounded by a garden paradise, stretched a good two hundred feet in front of her. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. Virtually every room opens to the outdoors.” He’d stopped caring years ago what other people thought, but he was somehow pleased that Sierra liked his home. “If you’d like, I can give you a tour after dinner.”
“I’d love that.”
Straight ahead at the entrance, a colonnade of Corinthian columns opened onto an airy courtyard. To her left a fifteenth-century Moroccan fountain sat in a dramatic apron of simulated coquina outlined with black Mexican stones. To her right a jungle of begonias, elephant’s ear, and Spanish shawl flourished beneath a birdbath.
A man in a white jacket with a shock of white hair and a ramrod-straight posture opened the massive front door. Overhead, orange bougainvillea dressed the bay window. “Good evening, Mr. Navarone. Miss. Martin said I was to bring you directly to the terrace when you arrived.”
“Hello, Jenkins. A bit put out, is he?” Blade said, not sounding the least bit disturbed.
The older man’s lips twitched. “There was quite a bit of banging in the kitchen and French that needed no translation.”
“That bad, huh?” Blade spoke to Sierra: “Can you cook?”
She smiled. “Sure, but whether you want to risk your life and eat it is another story.”
Blade’s black eyes widened as he ignored the muffled noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter from Jenkins. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I never joke about real estate or food.”
“Dinner is ready and has been for the past thirty minutes.”
Sierra glanced around to see a robust man with a chef’s hat and apron, his rounded face stern. His arms were crossed over his barrel chest in a combative stance.
“Martin—”
“I’m Sierra Grayson,” Sierra smoothly interrupted Blade, smiling at the obviously annoyed chef, and extended her hand. “There is never an excuse for being late to a superb meal. I hope you’ll accept an apology.”
The man’s arms slowly unfolded to take her hand, but a hint of suspicion lurked in his dark eyes. “Marcus Martin. How would you know the quality of the food?”
“Would Blade Navarone have anyone in his employ who wasn’t the best?” Sierra questioned, then lifted her face and sniffed delicately. “Something smells divine. Please tell me we’re not too late.” Without waiting for an answer, Sierra turned to Blade, who was standing just behind her. “I guess we could order pizza.”
“Pizza!” The chef spat the word. “Pizza, when I have prepared you the finest cuisine a mouth has ever tasted.”
Sierra didn’t have to fake her happiness. She hadn’t eaten that night at the auction, since she was scheduled to have dinner with the highest bidder. It had been a long time since the salmon for lunch. Now she was famished. “I
am
hungry.”
“Then you shall eat. Come.” Smiling, Martin took her arm and looked over his shoulder at Blade. The chef’s expression was one of mild displeasure. “It will be a pleasant change to have someone who appreciates my food.”
“Am I hallucinating, or did Martin smile?” Jenkins asked as Sierra and the chef left the room.
“If you are, then you’re not alone.” Blade followed them to the terrace with a view of the ocean and watched Martin seat Sierra in one of the cushioned chairs at the small wrought-iron glass table. Blade had chosen the terrace because he had the odd desire to see Sierra in moonlight, watch the play of candlelight against her delicate skin.
He shrugged away the mild annoyance at the hovering chef smiling at her, of her smiling back. Blade was possessive, but never when it came to women … at least not anymore.
Martin looked up at Blade. This time his smile stayed in place. “If you’ll pour Sierra a drink, I’ll bring out the first course.” He passed Blade as he hurried to the kitchen.
“On first-name basis already,” Blade stated mildly as he continued to the table.
“I don’t like formalities, especially with the person preparing my food.” Sierra placed her elbows on the padded arms of the chair and linked her slender fingers.
“You completely caught him off guard, then charmed him.” Blade leaned against the chair but made no move to take his seat.
Sierra wasn’t sure from Blade’s unsmiling face whether he had given her a compliment. She shrugged her bare shoulders. Blade didn’t appear the snobbish type. “Brandon is the same temperamental way. But since he’s such a great cook, we all tend to forgive him.”
“I seem to remember when I had dinner at his restaurant.” Blade went to a minibar and waved his hand toward several bottles. “Wine, sparkling cider, tonic water?”
“Sparkling cider, please.”
“Here is the first course. Shrimp scampi.” Martin set the plates on the table with a flourish. “Jumbo shrimp pan-seared in a delicious honey-nutmeg sauce and sprinkled with sesame seeds and toasted almonds.”
Leaning over, Sierra inhaled the whiffs of smoke curling upward. “Blade, please take a seat so I can say the blessing and we can eat.”
Blade and Martin traded surprised looks; then Blade took his seat. He hadn’t asked God for anything in a long time … not since he’d begged and pleaded to no avail.
Sierra speared a juicy shrimp, bit, savored, sighed. “I was right. Superb, Martin. Thank you.”
His chest expanded. “Wait until you taste the grilled lobster.”
“Don’t tell me any more or I might be tempted to rush, and this food is too heavenly to do that.”
A satisfied smile on his round face, Martin withdrew. Sierra speared another shrimp. “You’re not eating.”
“Martin can be temperamental, yet you have him in the palm of your hand.”
Sierra swallowed before she spoke. “Since I detest cooking, I can appreciate the time, skill, and patience required to prepare a good meal. The compliment was sincere or I wouldn’t have given it.” She lifted her empty glass. “Please.”
Blade filled their glasses. “I wonder if he would have been as forgiving if you weren’t beautiful.”
Sierra stilled, the glass in her hand mere inches from her lips. Other men had called her beautiful, but she’d quickly forgotten. With Blade, she felt the now familiar tingling sensation. Raising the glass to her lips, she sipped to ease her dry throat. “If he’s like Brandon, the main thing is the pleasure of the dinner.”
“On that we both agree. Pleasure is important.”
The odd timbre of Blade’s husky voice caused heat to lance through her. Dangerous, but she had never wanted to know a man more and unlock the secrets behind his undeniable sadness.
“Tell me more about your qualifications.” Blade picked up his fork.
Glad for a safe topic, Sierra did so as Martin served them dish after fabulous dish. She was working her way through the lobster—cooked to perfection—when she decided she had talked enough about herself. “Why Dallas? You usually build in heavy tourist sites favored by the wealthy.”
“I liked the challenge and the unprecedented opportunity to be a part of a unique concept. Victory Park near downtown Dallas will have hotels, shops, residential and office buildings. Navarone Place will offer resort-style amenities with the ultimate in luxury living, with twenty-four-hour doorman and concierge, extensive wine cellar, business center, valet parking, and limo service. Everything the discerning buyer wants will be available.”
Sierra polished off her lobster. “You’ll have competition from the newly opened Ritz and W, and several other luxury properties in Dallas. You’ll have to sell Navarone Place as distinctive and unique.”
“We’re the only one with a helipad,” he told her.
“For those who will never have use for a helipad you’ll need to sway them another way to plunk down the million-plus you’re asking.” She sipped her drink and said nothing further, simply waited for him to take the bait.
He eyed her for a few minutes, much longer than expected. “It’s a possibility my staff has already thought of what you’re thinking.”
She smiled over the rim of her glass.
Got you!
“Yes, but you won’t be able to stop thinking about it. You want the best for your clients. In that, you, Brandon, and Faith are alike.” A sudden thought struck. “Faith took Casa de Serenidad from three stars to five. All of your properties are superb, with five-star ratings. Did you help her?”
“Faith deserves the credit.”
Sierra understood. You could tell people something a thousand times, but that didn’t mean they would take your advice. “Implementation.”
He braced his arms on the table. “We have a world-class fitness center with a personal trainer option. A pool surrounded by landscaped foliage and private cabanas, dry saunas, an on-site masseur and masseuse, and private garages within the building’s secure garage.”
“Naturally,” she said, enjoying teasing him.
“We’re the first in Texas to offer outdoor gas fireplaces on the terraces. We have European kitchens, and custom floor plans to allow flexibility in designing the residences.”
Sierra mimicked a bored yawn and watched Blade’s brow knit in concentration. She really had him going.
“Dessert. Raspberry tart,” announced Martin.
“Martin, it looks too pretty to eat.” She grinned up at him as he handed her a dessert fork.
“Please force yourself.”
She took a hefty bite, closed her eyes, then slowly opened them. “Heavenly.”
He kissed her hand. “As I’ve said, it is a pleasure to prepare food for such a discerning palate. I hope I have the opportunity again.”
“I’m going home in the morning, but I won’t forget this wonderful meal,” she told him. There was nothing about this night she’d forget.
“And I won’t forget you. Bonjour.”
“Good-bye,” she said, sadness creeping into her voice.
“What time are you leaving?” Blade asked.
“Around eleven, I guess.” She picked at her dessert. “We’re going back on the private jet provided by the head of Sabra’s movie company. The movie is wrapped, but the head honcho is trying to talk her into doing another one even before the first one is shown.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Sabra is torn between returning to Broadway, leaving Pierce, and staying in Santa Fe and doing another movie.” She finally forked up another bite of tart. “Neither wants to be separated from the other, even if it wasn’t a family tradition to sleep under the same roof at night.”
Something twisted inside him. “Family is important.” Before the unbearable past could invade his thoughts further, he said, “I give up.”
The smile she wore was brilliant. She was much too pleased with herself and not shy about enjoying her victory. She should be. She had done what few others had accomplished, made him second-guess himself … again.
He might be worried if she weren’t leaving in the morning. Even as the thought formed, he wanted her to stay. Her unpredictability made life interesting. He found himself unexpectedly wanting to return her smile.
“You’ll have new home owners, but you’ll also have those who’ll make Navarone Place their second, third home or simply buy it for investment purposes. In all my years as a realtor, I’ve met few people who have looked forward to moving. They dread packing, then unpacking. Even if they have someone do most of it for them, they worry that certain irreplaceable items will be lost or damaged.” She folded her hands.
“What if they didn’t have to move one item? What if you offered units that came completely furnished with everything from the latest espresso machine to flatware and towels? Of course, once that item/pattern is chosen it would not be shown to another resident. Each estate would be customized, with nothing duplicated.”
Interest gleamed in his eyes. “Yes, go on.”
Sierra almost lost her train of thought. The man was incredibly gorgeous. “The personal decorator you have on-staff would be there to help those in need. They could arrive with only their toothbrush, but if they forgot, the concierge would simply supply one. Just as if they’re hungry at two A.M. and don’t want to go out, you can offer the residents a small menu of beautifully prepared delicious meals between ten P.M. and six A.M.”
“All the conveniences of a hotel in the comfort of your own home,” he mused aloud.
“Exactly.” She folded her hands. “I know there’s nothing like working late at home and finding the refrigerator empty. The wealthy love to be pampered, their needs met with the least inconvenience. You’ll give that to them and more.”

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