Passionate Game (Kimani Hotties) (13 page)

* * *

Grant saw the subtle shift in Tamara’s posture as she slid back in the chair. Her gaze shifted from him to Stevenson, clearly giving him the go-ahead to proceed.

“Mr. Stevenson, first, let me say thank you for allowing the guys to participate in this program. I wasn’t a keen supporter when Tamara came to me.”

“I had to get creative to get him to listen,” Tamara interjected.

They all shared a short laugh.

Grant proceeded. “But I did change my mind. And I’m glad that I did.”

“Mr. Benson, let me stop you for a second.” Stevenson held up his hand. “I am in charge of kids with a wide range of social dysfunctions. I can’t have a facility where rules cover one child and not another.”

“But what you do with this out-program is also unique and has been running well for almost a year. It’s a learning process for all of us, especially the kids,” Tamara piped in.

Grant took the relay baton, and added, “I can vouch for the change that I’ve seen in this group. Within weeks, they have shown a level of maturity and responsibility that makes me proud.”

He observed the firm set of Stevenson’s mouth. But he also sensed Tamara’s panic beginning to grow. She looked at him, silently passing on her message for him to do something.

“Let’s not go back and forth. May I see them?” Grant asked.

Stevenson looked surprised. Good. Grant had no idea what he was going to say or do. It was important to stay one step ahead of the director so he couldn’t anticipate their argument.

Grant felt his heart pounding as he followed the director down a hallway that opened to several rooms, including larger conference rooms. He was still operating from gut instinct. He hoped that his inner voice continued leading him in the right direction.

He would do whatever was necessary to talk to them, get through to them, in order for them to regain the trust of the director. How far would he go? However far he needed to get them back.

He felt Tamara at his shoulder. A part of him wanted to pull away from her before she could pull away from him again. But that would be an issue for later.

The guys walked into the room, single file and solemn. They stood close together, ten strong. They glanced at him, but no one held eye contact for long. He sensed that Tamara was ready to fidget at his side. He hoped she’d read his body language to stay calm.

Grant took a deep breath. Time to channel his father from back in the days of his own youthful rebellion. He’d see that vein pop in the middle of his father’s forehead and know that he was in deep, deep trouble. He hoped the director would let him scare the boys straight.

Every group had a leader, whether they picked one or one naturally emerged. Frederick, the tallest and eldest, had that honor. Each group also had the “baby” of the group, the one who brought out the protective nature of the alphas. Graham was this group’s “baby” since he had a tiny stature and was known for being mouthy.

“What happened?” Grant barked out the question. Just to be sure that they understood, he pinned Frederick with a hard, cold look.

The young man stepped forward. His mouth was tight, chin jutted forward. No remorse was visible.

“Cut the attitude, kid,” Stevenson warned.

Youthful rebellion was in full swing, as Frederick didn’t change his attitude one bit.

Grant snapped his fingers to get back his attention. “I’m waiting. What happened?”

“Since we started at Benson Technologies, guys in here at the home have been giving us grief. We expected that. No biggie.” He emphasized with a flick of his hand. “Then this newbie comes in and tries to get respect from everyone else by messing with us. Plus he’s one of them rich boys gone bad. He thinks that he should have been picked for the internship.”

Grant didn’t need a crystal ball to know this scenario was a powder keg.

“Every day, he pecked like a hen at us. Then he started jostling, bumping shoulders.”

“Did you tell anyone?” Tamara asked, with a hopeful lilt.

But Grant knew that answer, too.

Sure enough, Frederick shook his head.

“Why?” Tamara’s voice raised a pitch.

Grant wanted to probe further, but he held back, allowing her the floor. She’d brought him in to help, not to take over.

Frederick responded, thumping his chest. “In here, we take care of each other.”

“No, I do that,” Mr. Stevenson corrected.

Their collective response to the director’s declaration was clear. They hunched their shoulders and tuned out.

Tamara grumbled, removing herself to one side.

Grant motioned with his hand to continue.

“We can handle it.” Frederick swung around and the arc of his arm encompassed most of the guys, except the last three. “But rich boy and his boys did a divide-and-conquer move that night on those three—the youngest. Some guys came and told the rest of us what happened. We had to take care of business, that night or some other night.”

“Busted noses, cracked ribs, black eyes.” The director listed the injuries.

Grant eyed the three who were expelled. A few black-and-blue marks, but otherwise they seemed to have come out of the fight to the advantage.

“Didn’t you realize that once you threw a punch, you were done with the program?” Tamara asked the question to which they all knew the answer.

Frederick nodded. “We live here. Going to work is like a breath of fresh air. It’s what we hope we can do when we’re on our own and out of the system without the curfew and rules. Until then, at the end of the day, we’re here. Night after night, we get tested by those who don’t care about your program.” He pointed to Tamara. “Don’t care about the rules.” He pointed to Stevenson. “Don’t care if someone wants to give a second chance.” He looked straight at Grant. “Some days I can brush it off. I’m the oldest. I made my mistakes and yet, Miss Tamara didn’t think that I was too old to save.” He tilted his head toward Grant. “And you told us about your demons and how you came through. So, we are listening.”

If Tamara’s gaze could touch him, Grant imagined it would burn right through him. Maybe it was best that everything had come out on the table. Another milestone to be experienced with Tamara.

“Mr. Stevenson, is there any way that if I vouch for them and the work they’ve done for the company that we can make an exception?” Grant refused to surrender to the director’s decision.

“I will vouch for them, too,” Tamara spoke softly.

“We have a committee who makes these rules. They are not policies that have no meaning. These are the same kids that the schools, the community, the public want punished.”

“I understand, Director.” Grant dragged his hand over his head. He struggled to keep his frustration under wraps. “I’m not saying that rules shouldn’t be upheld. I can’t justify what they did. I can only tell you that, as someone who was once standing where they stand, I would want someone to fight on my behalf and to keep on fighting.”

The silence hovered, heavy, poignant and full of questions.

“I had everything but still wanted more. I wanted respect. Computer nerd wasn’t a label that I embraced, even if it matched me exactly. So I joined up with a street gang.”

Grant heard Tamara’s soft
no
of disbelief.

“The group didn’t operate overtly like a gang. Instead, they just seemed like some guys who were all about leadership activities and mentoring. It was a regular band of brothers.

“First we hung out, going to movies, hanging out at parties, playing video games. Then some older guys got involved and took over. Suddenly we were doing what they suggested, and they were calling all the shots.

“It started small with petty crimes. Then they introduced some of the willing guys to stealing cars. One day I was picked up at my house by one of the guys. We were going over to another guy’s house for a party. Don’t know what triggered the cops to check the car, but we got pulled over.

“Instead of pulling over, the driver hit the gas and we took off. I can’t begin to tell you what I felt for fifteen minutes of a high-speed chase. Then we clipped a car and went flipping over and over. The driver was thrown from the car. I was anchored in by my seat belt, but I injured my neck and lost feeling in my legs for months.

“Short story—the car was stolen. Drugs in the trunk. My father was this close to letting me suffer through jail and take my chances.” He held up his thumb and index finger to emphasize the slim chance.

“My mother stepped up and got a good lawyer. Proved that I had no intention to do anything because I expected to be back within minutes. I had a scheduled tutoring session, which was the only thing that saved my butt with the law...but not with my father.”

His angel, an elderly woman with a kind face and gentle voice whom he’d never seen before, had arrived on the scene that horrendous night. She’d stooped low to the wreckage of the car and stayed at his side, holding his bloody hand, comforting him until the ambulance and police had arrived. He’d asked about her when the paramedics came, but they said no one had been there. Plus, they’d had to pry open the door, so no one could have been at his side, much less holding his hand. But he didn’t care what they’d said. He knew what he’d heard and seen. From that day on, he’d turned around his life.

“Guys, do you want to continue?” Grant asked.

“Yes.” Their voices echoed in a chorus.

“Can you swear that you will allow the administration to intervene before you make a move against another kid?” The boys all nodded. Grant turned to the director. He wanted to gauge if there was any change, any softening up, that could work in his favor with Stevenson.

Tamara stepped closer to him. Her arm brushed against his and then came to rest on it. He resisted every urge not to seek the warmth of her hand. He wanted to slip his palm against hers and intertwine their fingers.

It meant so much to him that she hadn’t shunned him after his revelation.

“Boys, Mr. Benson, Miss Wendell, I will request of the committee that they reverse the decision...this time. I hope that I don’t come to regret this.”

Chapter 13

“P
izza is served.” Grant brought a large pie covered with colorful vegetables and pepperoni onto his backyard deck.

“Smells delicious.” Tamara held out her plate as he served her two slices. “You’re spoiling me.” She waited until he was seated next to her with his slice of pizza. “You know, this view is marvelous.”

“As if the view from your penthouse isn’t,” Grant teased. “Plus I think the company is better than the view.”

“Maybe.” She made a face at him. “With Becky back in town and a bit sad that she didn’t run off with her hip hop star, I’m homeless for the night. Wanted to give her some space to mourn. I’m not her favorite BFF at the moment.”

Grant softly rubbed her cheek. “Not too many things worse than a heartbreak.”

“Depends. I’ve got regrets that hurt as badly as a heartbreak.”

Grant observed the sadness on Tamara’s face that always seemed to be just below the surface.

“You’ve got a great bunch of kids. And you’ve got me.”

“You’ve got your company. You’ve got me,” she responded.

“So we
are
on the same page.” Grant offered the reminder more for himself than her. These quiet moments where they sat together, enjoying beer and pizza, had a domestic feel to them. He’d never pictured himself as one to settle down, especially after his engagement to Vanessa. But spending time with Tamara and chatting about their future raised his hope.

Tamara saluted him. “Yes, General Benson. You’re building an empire. I’m just trying to raise a few more empire builders.” She turned toward him. Their lounge chairs sat side by side. “I’m still on the same page. We’re still no strings attached.”

The statement nestled in the foundation of their relationship. Despite the rules, he found that he wanted to kick the stipulation out of view. But Tamara had been adamant. He’d tried to convince himself that he could play along, that he could be as pragmatic as her.

Grant nuzzled her cheek before giving her a peck.

“You know I don’t want you for your money, babe,” Tamara said.

“What about my trade secrets?”

“Nope. Not that either.”

Grant played with her fingers, intertwining his with hers so they were clasped together.

“It’s what you do with your hands.” She kissed the back of his hand. “It’s what you do with your mouth.” She leaned over and planted a kiss on his mouth. “And the rest...I’ll let you know later.” She leaned back in the chair and surveyed him with a small smile.

They finished the pizza, enjoying the comfortable temperature as twilight settled around them. Fireflies zipped around the backyard. Soft strains of a piano being played over the outdoor sound system drifted through the evening. Grant sighed, relaxing into the chair.

“Earlier, you opened up about your teenage years,” Tamara said.

He closed his eyes. Waiting. Dreading.

“I appreciated what you said. I know it must’ve been tough, maybe not with the kids, but with Stevenson and me. Just want to say that I’m proud of you.”

Grant opened his eyes. The dread evaporated and blew away. He’d never cared what another woman thought of him until Tamara came with her killer golf swing into his life. Now a sense of relief washed over him.

He offered, “I hadn’t planned on unveiling my past. But I’d sacrifice my privacy for those guys anytime. They are at the critical place that I once was.”

Grant gently cupped Tamara’s face between his hands, kissing her softly, willing her not to ever change her feelings toward him. “Let’s head upstairs.”

* * *

Tamara followed Grant to his bedroom. Just watching him climb the stairs was a turn-on. By the time they entered his room, she couldn’t wait to get her hands on him. He also had the same idea, as he playfully groped her body.

She didn’t need a man with exotic eyes of hazel or green to capture her interest. Not at all. Grant’s solid, dark brown eyes framed with thick black lashes could be just as heart fluttering.

As for his mouth, small or wide didn’t matter. She loved his lips that had a luscious softness and fullness, with the perfect Cupid’s bow shape that framed his beautiful smile. After all, lips weren’t meant only to be watched and admired. They deserved to be sampled and tested for their power. As she pulled him closer, the pair of full lips she’d been watching partially opened with a slight upward curve and a delicious inviting quality. She locked lips with him, starting their dance of passion.

She slid her hands up his back. Her fingers splayed over the ripples of the muscles along his shoulder blades. His heart beat heavily against her ear.

“Do you trust me?” she asked, her voice muffled as her lips brushed his chest. “Do you trust me?” she repeated.

“Yes,” he hissed.

“I want to be your girlfriend.”

“Okay.” His wariness seemed to drag the word beyond its two syllables.

She didn’t want to go back to the way things were. Yet, the next level had a scary thrill that made her want to proceed with caution.

She pointed to his chest. “One day, I want in. I’ll wait.”

Before he could respond, she kissed him. She didn’t want to hear his response at that moment.

She stood on her tiptoes to meet his mouth again. Grant picked her up and carried her to the bed. Her arms locked around his neck; her body pressed against his chest. She kissed his jaw, loving the straight line and strong angle of his profile. Another kiss touched the corner of his mouth. His mouth twitched and a sigh escaped.

Tamara closed her eyes. Inside his arms, the world seemed far away. Nothing to intrude on their moment.

He lifted her chin with the crook of his finger. “Show me those beautiful eyes.”

When she complied, he continued, “I may not be the most open person about my heart. But I speak from in here.” He pointed to his chest. “Tamara, I love you, have loved you, and will always love you. What we have is special and unique, as it should be between soul mates.”

Tamara bit her lip to keep the tears away. His romantic declaration meant the world to her, erasing the mounting doubt that had been overwhelming her.

His gaze consumed her, sweeping her up into a fiery blaze. Then he looked down at her mouth and kissed her ever so gently. She closed her eyes, letting her other senses take over.

His mouth closed in, hovered, his ragged breaths soothing her. His firm lips pressed gently and she opened up. He slid his tongue in, and her moans sounded so far away.

Her mouth laid out the welcome mat, inviting and coaxing him deeper in. Her hands staked their claim to his chest. He cradled the back of her head, his fingers intertwined with her hair.

Their bodies pressed together, sending their sexual thermometer through the roof. She felt his arousal, hard and at full length, against her pelvis. Sheer pleasure and delicious, sinful thrill shot through her entire being.

“Let’s not land. Let’s not ever come down,” she whispered.

“Suspended animation—a bit unreal.” He chuckled near her ear.

“All of this is unreal.”

“Then let’s do something that is real and leaves no doubt what this is.” He undressed her, tossing her clothing to the side. Every time his fingers touched her skin, she shivered in delight.

She rubbed his shaft, sliding her hands down his aroused length. “Let me play with you, baby. Give me all the time I need to touch you here and here and here.” Her thumb slid over his head. He had to grab her wrist a couple of times to slow or stop completely. From the veins along his neck, she was sure that his self-control couldn’t be guaranteed.

Grant protected with a condom. His legs shook as her hands slid up along his inner thighs. His stroke started hard and fast. She loved the intensity, urging him with her pelvis to keep that pace. Hard and fast worked. Hard and rough satisfied. “Are we going to do this all night long?” Her words hitched every time he drove in.

“Yep. All night long.”

“Music to my ears.”

* * *

As the launch date approached, Grant had to cancel on coming to several home-cooked dinners. His mood was dark and brooding and his mind easily distracted over the latest glitch in the game. Tamara tried to take it all in stride. After all, they were a couple in love.

Now, three weeks without seeing Grant had put Tamara in a foul mood. The academy used to be on her mind every waking hour, until she’d met Grant. She’d carved out time to spend with him to the point that it was now part of her routine. She couldn’t believe how dependent she had become on seeing him. After the latest cancellation, however, she had agreed to come home early from work to eat a concoction that Becky had cooked, and she hoped it would take her mind off Grant.

She entered the apartment and almost ran back into the hallway. “What the heck is that smell?”

Becky popped her head out of the kitchen. With a big smile, she said, “
Annyeonghaseyo.”
Then she bowed and headed back to the kitchen “It’s Korean cuisine tonight.”

“And we’re eating whatever is smelling up the entire house?”

“That’s
kimchi—
pickled cabbage.”

“That’s our dinner?” Tamara headed for the refrigerator door. “Where’s the number for pizza?”

“Oh, stop being a brat.” Becky pushed her away from the fridge. “Go wash up and then come back. The rice is almost done. I’ll barbecue strips of beef in a few.”

Tamara complied but had to ask as she headed into her room, “Why are we eating Korean food? Why are you dressed up and wearing makeup?” Becky did have a history of coming up with good recipes. In a pinch, she always had a quick, tasty meal tucked in that crazy brain. This, however, was not her usual M.O.

“I want to send a video to G-Dragon of what I’ve done. You never know, it could be the selling point between me and another homegirl.”

“That’s the craziest thing I’ve heard from you. Since I know you’re not kidding, let me be clear. You’re not filming me.” Tamara undressed and changed into her sweats and a T-shirt. She’d wait to take a shower until after she’d eaten the strongly scented meal. Despite her misgivings, though, her stomach growled as other enticing smells suffused the air.

The intercom buzzed, signaling a visitor.

“Oh, by the way, I invited a few folks.”

“Really?” Tamara groaned. She didn’t feel up to company. Becky had such an assortment of friends she collected that Tamara wasn’t sure who would be walking through the door.

Since the guests started to arrive, Tamara headed back to her bedroom. She was going quite casual, but changed into jeans and a blouse.

“Tamara, what’s taking you so long?” Becky stood in her doorway, motioning her to come.

“What’s the rush? This is your gig.”

“People brought friends. It’s kind of crowded.” Becky wrung her hands. The perky, easygoing Becky had fled.

Tamara hurried with her dressing and headed out. She stopped short at her bedroom door, and then she decided to pull it closed. When she’d left to get dressed, two guests had been there. Now the room had about fifteen people, and the whole party looked like a poster for the United Nations. As she surveyed the room, she realized she didn’t know anyone. Nothing new. Becky, the social beacon, had attracted the usual partygoers.

Becky clapped her hands. “Hey, could you not put your feet on my couch?”

Tamara had a feeling this dinner party was going to be short-lived. “Light up that cigarette in here and I will shove it down your throat,” she said to the man standing next to her.

The offender hurriedly slipped the cigarette back in his pocket and avoided eye contact.

Tamara continued into the kitchen, where it looked as if a bomb had exploded. “Where’s the food?” Tamara opened the oven and then the refrigerator.

“I kind of lost my appetite to cook after I saw all those people. I’d only bought enough ingredients for a small dinner party. People asked if they could bring a friend—one friend. This is like feeding a village,” Becky complained.

Tamara heard the buzzer announcing another visitor’s arrival. “So what are we eating?” Her stomach grumbled, a perfect match with her mood.

“I ordered the Korean food, instead. This might be the delivery guy.”

Sure enough, the delivery guy arrived with a wide array of Korean cuisine. Tamara pulled out various platters for the food setup. She was willing to do that much. Once the food had been laid out on the dining table, the crowd moved in like locusts and demolished it with an energy and efficiency that was frightening.

“Who are some of these people?”

“Some are from the language class that I take in the evening. Some are from my aerobics class.” Becky pointed to a few heads.

“From the looks of things, that weight management plan might need to be rechecked.”

Becky elbowed her to hush. “A few are from the academy. Contacts that I’ve made. Figured it was important to keep them in the loop.”

“Cool idea, but maybe they didn’t need to meet under
our
roof.”

“Hey, Becky,” said a woman who was walking in their direction. “I heard that you’re working with Grant Benson. Lucky you. Heard you said he was fantastic and gorgeous. Care to share?”

Tamara’s eyebrows perked as she awaited Becky’s response. A smile tugged at her mouth as she enjoyed her roommate’s embarrassment.

“Think you could get me a job?” the woman said. She stood in front of them, looking like a million dollars. Her dark hair shone with healthy vibrancy. Her features had an exotic appeal, as if she was a blend of many ethnicities. She was beautiful and she knew it.

“I—I—I don’t have those connections.” Tamara’s glare caused Becky to stammer.

“Oh, I bet you do. You and your roommate.”

She stopped and crossed her arms. “What I want to know is, what is the mastermind working on? Word is that there’s a new game system that’s supposed to kick the other game systems to the curb.”

“What do you want?” Becky asked, bristling.

“Information.” The woman smiled. A million dollar smile. “I can make it worth your while.”

“Who are you?” Tamara didn’t care if this was Becky’s friend or associate.

“Isabelle Vandusen, a reporter.”