Playing For Keeps (6 page)

“I'm glad you could make it,” Malcolm said, his eyes still locked with hers.

Cilla's head bobbed a second time. “I told you I planned to check out your establishment.”

He chuckled. “And I thought you were just here to see me.”

Cilla tossed a quick glance over her shoulder. “Had I known I was going to cause all this commotion I might not have come all.”

Malcolm leaned back in his seat. He looked toward the bar and around the room. Romeo, Odetta, Sharon, and Leslie were huddled together in front of the bar, each of them stealing glances in their direction. He blew a deep sigh, his brow furrowed. Before he could comment Bianca cleared her throat, pretending to cough to draw their attention.

Cilla shook her head as she gestured in the woman's direction. “Malcolm, this is my friend Bianca. Bianca, this is my friend Malcolm.”

“It's very nice to meet you,” Bianca said, extending her hand toward him. Her smile was bright and just shy of comedic.

He shook the appendage, noting her firm grip and soft hand. “It's very nice to meet you, too.”

“I've heard a lot about you.”

“Please, don't hold it against me. You can't believe everything you might have been told.”

Bianca smiled. “I'll keep that in mind. So, my friend here was telling me that you . . .”

Cilla suddenly held up her hand to stall her friend's comment. “We are not going to do this. You are not going to interrogate Malcolm with your twenty questions.”

Malcolm chuckled warmly.

“I was just trying to get to know your boyfriend,” Bianca quipped.

Cilla shook her head. “You don't need to know him.” She stood up abruptly and stretched her hand out to Malcolm. “I would really like to dance,” she said, her eyes wide.

With a full smile Malcolm nodded and moved onto his feet. Amusement flickered across his face as he tossed Bianca a look and shrugged his broad shoulders. He entwined his fingers between Cilla's and allowed her to guide him to the hardwood floors that surrounded the stage. Bianca made a face at them both as she gestured for their waitress and another drink.

Norah Jones was singing “Come Away with Me.” The song was soft and seductive, the musical intonation absolutely irresistible. Only a handful of couples were on the floor, bodies pulled so tightly that in the dimly lit room it was almost difficult to see where one began and the other ended. Around the room others shuffled and shimmied in their seats.

They would have been better able to take the attention off them in a crowd than standing alone in the center of the floor with only three other couples, but neither seemed to notice. Cilla spun herself against Malcolm's body, looping her thin arms around his neck as she tucked her forehead beneath his chin. As she did he wrapped his arms around her torso and pulled her even closer. One large hand pressed hot against the curve of her lower back, his fingers grazing the round of her backside. The other hand snaked around her body to that spot between her shoulder blades. Everything about their connection was heated as they began to glide against each other.

Across the way Odetta dropped down into the seat Cilla had vacated. She and Bianca exchanged a look with each other. Odetta smiled.

“My boy Malcolm's a good guy. A
really
good guy. She
bet'
not break his heart.”

Bianca nodded. “Cilla's my sister and she's probably
too
good for him. So if he hurts her, I will hurt him.”

Odetta winked an eye at the woman. “Glad we could come to an understanding.”

Bianca laughed. Her stare drifted back to the dance floor. “Looks like them two might work out all right.”

“We might have to intervene every now and again but I think so. I think they look good together.”

“Me, too,” Bianca said in agreement. “Almost too good they're so cute.”

Odetta chuckled. “Boss man said your drinks are on the house. Can I get you another?”

Bianca's eyes widened. “I usually stick to a two-drink maximum but since the boss is insisting, I don't want to be rude. I think one more wouldn't hurt. I don't think it'll hurt at all.”

Odetta laughed again. “And by the way, the brother in the pinstriped suit at the bar has been eyeing you all night but between us, I hear he's lacking in the
meat
department, if you get my drift.”

Bianca turned to give the man a stare. He lifted his head, nodding in her direction. “That's a damn shame,” Bianca said, blowing a heavy gust of air past her lips. “'Cause he's not bad on the eyes. Not bad at all!”

Odetta nodded in agreement. “Yeah, girl! But you and I both know a few extra inches on the end of a shovel when you're digging for gold sure does help!”

Bianca laughed heartily. “Well, I'm really not looking. I'm off the market myself,” she said, waving her ring finger in the air. “Got me a man already.”

Odetta laughed. “Girl, just because you on a diet, don't mean you can't look at the menu!”

Bianca grinned. “I like that! I like that a lot.”

Odetta winked her eye. “And a little taste every now and then won't hurt you either!”

 

 

When Michael Bublé began his rendition of Stevie Wonder's 1972 hit “You and I,” Malcolm was still holding on to Cilla, unwilling to let her go. She felt good in his arms, like that was where she belonged. Every square inch of her body fit nicely against his. He had to admit that he liked having her there.

The music seemed to billow around them, pulling them to a place that was going to be difficult to come back from. Malcolm knew the playlist had undergone a change or two, someone spinning one love song after another but he didn't mind, knowing that eventually it would have to end way too soon. He blew a heavy sigh.

Cilla lifted her chin to stare up at him. Her smile was sugary sweet and sheer happiness gleamed from her dark eyes.

His mouth lifted, an even sweeter bend to his lips as he smiled back. “I apologize for my friends,” he said softly.

She shook her head. “No apology necessary. They care about you. That's what family does.”

He nodded. “They are my family. We look out for each other. I know that Romeo and the girls have my back if I ever need them.”

“Trust me, Bianca's not much better! I'm going to hate it for you when she gets the opportunity to corner you alone!”

“Now I'm scared,” Malcolm said, a deep laugh blowing past his full lips.

“I'm sure we're all going to get along just fine,” Cilla said. She brushed the tips of her fingers against the back of his neck, teasing his hairline.

“I hope so. I'd hate for them not to like you. That would make it hard for me to be your boyfriend.”

Cilla laughed, tossing her head back against her neck. “Who says you're my boyfriend?”

“You did.”

“I did not!”

“Yes, you did. Your girl said she was trying to get to know your boyfriend and you said she didn't need to. You said it just before you pulled me onto the dance floor to seduce me.”

“So now I'm seducing you, too?”

“Hell, yeah! Don't you know that at this very moment you could take full advantage of me and I'd be putty in your hands?”

Cilla giggled. “I think a lack of oxygen is beginning to go to your head.”

He grinned. “Might be but that's what happens when you take a man's breath away!” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and hugged her warmly.

Closing her eyes Cilla savored the moment, enjoying the embrace. Leaning on him was easy and comfortable and she knew that it would take very little for her to get used to such a thing. She felt him press his cheek to hers, the warmth of his breath blowing gently against her earlobe and teasing her neck. She opened her eyes and met the look he was giving her. His stare was intoxicating, drawing her headfirst into the wealth of it.

“So, do you want to be my boyfriend?” she whispered, a wave of nervousness passing over her expression.

Malcolm smiled. “Woman, I thought you would never ask,” he whispered back.

His large fingers cupped her chin, tilting her face to his. Cilla met his lips as he captured her mouth beneath his own. His kiss was eager and searching until his lips settled contentedly against hers. Both fell into the moment, the connection like nothing either had ever experienced before. Malcolm tightened the hold he had on her, his mouth like silk gliding against hers.

Cilla struggled to stay focused, to remember where she was and what she was doing. But her mind was mush, not one coherent thought to be found. She had no words for their first kiss. Nor could she explain the wealth of emotion that suddenly consumed her. She had wholeheartedly enjoyed their banter, being as quick with the quips and jokes as he had been. The laughter that always followed never felt forced or contrived, it being as natural as the two of them breathing.

But now, in Malcolm's arms, sharing such an intimate moment with a roomful of people watching, she was speechless, unable to articulate what she was feeling about his touch and the nearness of him. Because in that moment Malcolm Cobb felt too good to be true. Everything about the man seemed unreal, as if he were an apparition who might disappear if she ever woke from the dream she imagined she had fallen into. Her heart was suddenly racing and she felt her body trembling uncontrollably. Right then and there Cilla knew she never wanted to kiss anyone else again.

The moment was interrupted when Odessa abruptly bumped against Malcolm's back. “Excuse me,” she said as the two parted, both eyeing each other anxiously. Malcolm took a deep breath and held it as Cilla panted softly.

“Y'all might want to get a room for all that,” Odessa exclaimed as she brushed past them toward a back table.

Malcolm shook his head as Cilla's face flushed with color, her cheeks deepening to a deep red. “What were you saying about family?” he jibed.

Cilla grinned. She grabbed both his hands and reached up to press her lips to his one last time. “Why don't you introduce me to the rest of your friends,” she said.

Chapter Five

“You're never home anymore!” Cleo exclaimed, her expression showing her displeasure with her father.

“I'm home all the time,” Malcolm responded. “Just because I have a date tonight doesn't mean I'm never home.”

“Who is she?” Claudia questioned.

Malcolm blew a low sigh. The twins sat in the center of his king-size bed, both eyeing him curiously. His personal life had suddenly become a point of discussion when he'd announced he had a date and wouldn't be able to join them at the community pool for an afternoon swim. The news had not gone over well and then the questions had come.

“I told you already. She's someone I met recently, that I'm getting to know. She invited me to join her at an art event this afternoon that one of her friends is hosting and I told her I would go.”

“Is this the same woman you had dinner with two nights ago and coffee with the other day?” Claudia asked.

He nodded, annoyance suddenly pulling at his expression. “She is. Is there something wrong with that?” He looked from one to the other.

“You two have been spending a lot of time together to only be friends,” Cleo snapped.

Malcolm hesitated as he met the stare his daughter was giving him. He and Cilla had been spending a lot of time together. As much as both could manage without neglecting their many responsibilities. They'd been meeting for coffee on the regular, sneaking away for lunch a time or two, and had even managed a few late-night excursions at the club. Spending as much time with Cilla as he could had become one of his priorities behind his family and his businesses.

He took a deep breath. “First, you better watch your tone, young lady. Now, I said we were only friends and I meant that. How much time we spend together won't change that one way or the other.”

“Can we meet her?” Claudia asked. She pulled her legs beneath her, sitting Indian-style as she eyed him curiously.

He blew another low sigh. Malcolm had never before introduced his daughters to anyone he'd ever dated. Knowing those relationships would never go but so far, he didn't think it right for him to shuffle women into and out of their lives. Lately though, with him and Cilla growing closer, he'd been giving some serious thought to her being the first to meet his girls. He looked from one to the other.

“You always insist on meeting all of our friends,” Cleo retorted. “So I don't see why we can't meet yours.”

He took another deep breath. “I'll make the decision when I think it's appropriate for you two to meet my friends, not you.”

“You suck!” Cleo exclaimed as she jumped up abruptly, her eyes rolling toward the ceiling.

“Excuse me?” Malcolm snapped. “Watch your mouth, young lady!”

“You don't even follow your own rules,” his daughter snapped back. “Why should we follow them?”

“You'll follow them because I said so,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “I'm the parent and you're the child and you don't have to like my rules but as long as you're under my roof you're going to follow them. Now this conversation is done and finished. If you're going to the pool you need to go get ready before your grandmother changes her mind.”

“You're such an asshole,” Cleo muttered under her breath as she stomped out and down the hall, the door to her own bedroom slamming harshly.

For a brief moment Malcolm stood stunned, shocked by his daughter's mouth. He met Claudia's stare, the young woman watching him intently. Her eyes were wide, something like fear across her face as she paused, waiting to see if her father was going to follow behind her twin to discipline her for the profanity. When another few minutes passed without him moving from where he stood she lifted her slight frame from the mattress and moved to her father's side, throwing her arms around his waist.

“We just miss you, Daddy,” she said as she hugged him. “Cleo didn't mean that.”

Malcolm took a deep breath as he hugged her back. He leaned to kiss the top of her head. “Why don't you and your sister plan a daddy-daughter day for us this coming Sunday. Whatever you want to do. Within reason, of course. And I promise you'll both have me all to yourselves.”

“The whole day?”

“From sunup to sundown.”

“You promise?”

Malcolm nodded. “Cross my heart and swear.”

Claudia smiled brightly. “I'll go tell Cleo. That will make her happy.”

He pressed a hand to her cheek. “Thank you.”

“Have fun on your date,” Claudia said as she skipped toward the door, turning to give him one last wave of her hand.

As she disappeared from view, her footsteps echoing toward her own room, he blew out the breath he'd been holding, something telling him that Cleo's teenage angst was just the beginning to the tribulations his beloved daughters were going to put him through.

 

 

Cleo stood staring out her bedroom window as Malcolm left the house. When he pulled his SUV out of the driveway and into the cul de sac, Claudia entered her sister's room through their shared Jack and Jill bathroom. She moved to Cleo's side and stood with her as they watched their father until he was out of sight.

“You really need to stop being so mean toward Daddy,” Claudia said, cutting an eye in her twin's direction. “You just need to tell him what happened so he can fix it,” she said.

“I'm not telling him,” Cleo replied. “I can't.”

“Then I will.”

“No, you won't! You promised,” Cleo said sharply, her head snapping as she turned to look at her sister. Saline suddenly burned hot behind her eyelids. “You swore, Claudia! Please, you can't tell anyone,” she said as she struggled not to let the tears spill past her lashes.

Claudia shook her head. She wrapped her arms around her sister's neck and hugged her tightly. “But Daddy can make it right and you know he can. Then you two won't be fighting all the time, Cleo!”

Cleo shook her head. “He'll hate me if he ever finds out. Please, Claudia, you promised you wouldn't tell,” she begged. “You promised me!”

Claudia hugged her sister tighter. “Okay,” she finally whispered, “but only if you promise not to be so angry all the time. You're no fun anymore.”

Cleo nodded her head. “I promise. I won't talk back or make Grandma or Daddy mad or anything. I swear, just please, please, please, don't tell,” she pleaded.

“What are you two up to?” Miss Claudette suddenly questioned, throwing open the bedroom door. She looked from one girl to the other, not missing the tears that misted Cleo's large, round eyes. The matriarch moved into the room, her arms crossed in front of her robust chest. “Cleo, what's wrong? Why are you crying?”

Cleo shook her head, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Daddy yelled at me,” she said. She cut her eyes at her sister, the look she gave Claudia begging her to confirm the little white lie.

“She said some bad words,” Claudia confirmed, her head bobbing against her thin shoulders.

Miss Claudette took a deep breath. She looked from one girl to the other, sensing that she was only being told half the truth. “Your daddy wouldn't have to yell if you would just do what you're told when he tells you without a whole lot of lip. It's not hard.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Cleo said.

Miss Claudette was still staring, her gaze sweeping over one and then the other and back again. She finally turned, heading back out the door. “If you still want to go to the pool then you better get ready. Maybe we'll go to Olive Garden for dinner afterward.”

Both girls answered in unison. “Yes, ma'am!”

Claudia headed back to her own space, moving back through the shared bathroom.

Cleo called after her. “Thank you, sissy.”

Claudia nodded, then disappeared through the door.

With no one eyeing her Cleo finally cried, her tears shadowing a wealth of hurt that she was holding too close to her heart. She would have given anything to go back to that time before the bad thing had happened and she suddenly had secrets from her father. When she could have told him anything, nothing and no one able to keep him from loving her. Now she didn't trust anything and was scared to death that if he ever discovered what she'd done, her daddy wouldn't love her anymore.

Cleo sobbed, her mournful weeping echoing through the door. Hearing her sister cry, Claudia struggled not to let her own tears fall. Despite her promises, Claudia couldn't help but think her sister's secret wasn't going to be a good thing for any of them.

 

 

Cilla was laughing warmly. “They're teenagers!” she exclaimed. “Don't you remember what it was like when you were a teenager?”

“I never called my mother or my father an asshole,” Malcolm said. “I liked having teeth and I wanted to live.”

She and Malcolm were walking the exhibits at Gallery C, the art gallery housed in the historic Russ-Edwards House at the corner of Blount and Peace Streets. They stood in front of a lithograph by Romare Bearden, eyeing the image intently as they talked.

Cilla shook her head as she continued the conversation. “I'm sure you called them something at some time or another. You might not have done it to their face but you did it. It's part of growing up, thinking your parents don't know anything and hating the rules they set down for you. At that age you know everything, remember?”

“I'm sure there was a lot I didn't like but I wasn't crazy enough to disrespect either of them. My almost fourteen-year-old daughter told me I sucked and then she called me an asshole. It took everything I had not to seriously adjust her attitude.”

He took a deep breath, still haunted by the exchange between him and Cleo. The girls had always been a challenge, but only because they were both so bright. Keeping them intellectually stimulated continued to keep him on his toes. Finding the school they currently attended had been a help, allowing them to progress with their education without compromising the innocence of their childhood.

Technically they were high school freshman but nothing and no one pushed them to be anything other than the sweet kids they were. He knew peer pressure would eventually become a problem but to the best of his knowledge, it wasn't an issue yet. But Malcolm knew that something wasn't right with his little girl and hadn't been for weeks. For the life of him though he didn't have a clue what was bothering her. He just knew enough to know that it wasn't typical teenage anguish.

“So what kind of things bothered you at thirteen?” he asked.

“Boys.”

Malcolm's eyes spun toward the ceiling. He shook his head.

“I'm serious. Boys. It's just that age. They've got puberty going on, hormones are raging, cliques are forming, and being a girl is suddenly pure hell.”

“It's not that bad.”

“You were a boy. You wouldn't know.”

“Boys have issues too.”

“Y'all like to think you do,” Cilla said teasingly. She gave him a look as she laughed.

Malcolm laughed with her. “Well, I need to figure out what's going on with her before I have to hurt her. She's getting out of control and I plan to nip that attitude in the butt before it gets any more out of hand.”

“Don't you mean
the bud?”

“Nope! I meant her
butt
because I will tear that ass up if she doesn't get herself straight. And I mean it.”

“I can already see we're going to have a problem raising our sons together. I don't believe in beating children so there will be no spanking our boys.”

Malcolm eyed her, amusement dancing in his eyes as he connected with the look she was giving him. “So, we're having sons together?”

“Did I say that?”

“You said that.”

“I was talking hypothetically.
If
we were ever to have children together,” Cilla said, her eyebrows lifting in jest.

Malcolm moved in front of her, nudging her back until she hit the wall, her body pressed tight against the cream-colored structure. They were surrounded by a collection of paintings by Haitian artists, the artwork color-filled and whimsical. Malcolm tossed an anxious glance over one shoulder and then the other. He stepped in closer to her as he leaned one hand against the wall and snaked the other hand across her abdomen and around her waist.

Leaning forward Malcolm coveted her mouth, holding her hostage to the desire that had risen with a vengeance between them. His kiss was possessive and urgent and Cilla could feel herself beginning to melt beneath his touch. When he finally broke the connection, both coming up for air, she pressed both of her palms against his chest to steady herself, her knees quivering like jelly.

“You keep doing that, Mr. Cobb, and our making a baby might be more than hypothetical!” she gasped, fighting to catch her breath.

Malcolm chuckled softly. “Well, I'm sure we'd both enjoy the practice to make that baby,” he said as he eyed her intently.

His stare was intoxicating. It took her breath away and Cilla suddenly realized that she'd been holding the oxygen in her lungs. She exhaled and then took another deep breath. She suddenly broke out into a sweat, perspiration beading across her brow as she imagined what that practice might entail. She shook her head, fighting back the emotion that was suddenly overwhelming her. She took a step to the side, easing herself from his grasp.

“I'm sure we would,” she muttered as she spun herself in the other direction.

Behind her, Malcolm laughed, the wealth of it coming from deep in his midsection. Cilla tossed him a look over her shoulder, a faint smile pulling at her mouth. “You're not funny, Malcolm.”