Taste of Lacey (4 page)

He was overwhelming and overbearing at times. He was intense. He was attentive and inventive, and he made her pussy extremely happy.

So there.

Monica’s foolishness didn’t bother her in the least. Okay, that was a lie. But she and Rye would continue to get together whenever they could, and she was happy, damn it. “Monica, you’re going to have to let me handle this.”

“Don’t think I’m going to forget about it,” Monica returned with a huff.

“You might as well, because I’m not plugging into you again.”

“I’m just trying to help. And I noticed you didn’t give me any details about Rye in the sack.”

Lacey laughed and shook her head. Monica never changed. Thank goodness. “There’s nothing to tell. He hasn’t been home in two weeks. Satisfied?”

“No, and you probably aren’t either. Are you going to stay your tired behind home tonight as usual, or do you want to get a drink with us at Heaven’s?”

Frowning, Lacey loaded the last tray of appetizers onto the cart. “Who is ‘us’?” she asked. “You know I don’t like your gold-digging hoochie friends.”

Monica laughed. “It’s just Shelley and Zoe. You know I only give the others the time of day to get my paintings sold.”

“In that case, I’ll go. What time?”

Monica’s shock was obvious. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious,” Lacey confirmed, covering her ears when Monica screeched.

“I can’t believe it! You haven’t been out since you started giving Rye your kitty-kat. I thought you were on permanent lockdown.”

Lacey rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m not. You gonna tell me what time or not?”

“Ten o’clock, and wear something sexy.”

Chapter Three

Lacey arrived at Heaven’s at nine fifty. Since her cousin was the only person in the building sporting a Mohawk, it didn’t take long to find Monica and her friends. She shook her head and smiled. Typical Monica. The more outrageous, the better.

“Hi, Lacey,” Monica shouted over the music before removing her bag from the seat beside her. “I didn’t think you’d actually show, but I’m glad you’re here. Now I just have to make sure you don’t obsess over your cell all night.”

“I left it in the car,” Lacey shot back. After fourteen days, she was so anxious to see Rye neither Monica nor an evening out would stand a chance if he called. Hence her decision to leave her phone outside. For her own sanity, she had to stop being available every time he beckoned.

“You look great, by the way,” Monica said.

“Thanks.” In her little black dress, which happened to be purple, Lacey felt good too. The fitted sheath stopped midthigh, and stilettos made her legs look endless. She’d recently had the thick layers of her hair cut into a stacked bob with longer tendrils just below her jawline. Now it was no big deal to blow-dry or wrap her hair after a marathon lovemaking session with Rye.

“I called Ally and invited her out, but one of her patients went into early labor,” Monica said, referring to their mutual friend who was a gynecologist. “I haven’t heard from Lisa either. I sent her a text and left a voice mail.”

“My sister is on a whole different wavelength. Knowing her, she’ll show up when we’re getting ready to leave.” Lacey laughed. “Have you danced yet?”

“Yes, indeed. Tonight is Windy City night, so they’re playing all Chicago stepping music. There are a lot of fine brothers here, but they move on as soon as they figure out they’re not going to get any play.”

Last year on her twenty-eighth birthday, Monica had declared she wasn’t “giving up the coochie” anymore until she was wearing an engagement ring. She was tired of the same old dating cycle: guy meets girl, girl falls for guy, girl gives it up, and guy announces “it’s not you, it’s me,” guy is busted with other girlfriend/wife/significant other, girl becomes a sucker for the next guy. Monica was convinced sex clouded her ability to be a good judge of character for all the losers who’d wasted her time. She stopped cold turkey. Her exotic looks and her outrageous personality attracted men like bees to honey. However, the same spirited nature also ran them off before the marriage proposal came.

“How many guys have you already turned down tonight?” Lacey asked Monica, grinning.

“Two or three at the most.”

“Make that five,” Monica’s friend Shelley piped in, and they all laughed.

To Lacey’s surprise, Lisa strutted in, as usual, looking like she was fresh from a runway, stunning in an emerald-green halter dress. The semipermanent scowl she wore on her smooth brown face would be unattractive on another woman, but Lisa wore it like a beauty mark. Her expression softened when she smiled in greeting as she sat down. It was hard not to cringe under her sister’s scrutiny as Lisa took inventory of Lacey from head to toe.

“I like,” Lisa said, not cracking a smile.

Lacey tried not to laugh out loud at Lisa’s deadpan expression, but a garbled noise escaped anyway. “I’m so glad. It would’ve kept me up tonight had I not chosen something to meet your approval.”

“I figured as much, that’s why I took you out of your misery,” Lisa returned. “And Mama said she’s been trying to call you, but you haven’t answered your phone.”

Lacey grimaced at the reprimand from their mother channeled through Lisa. “I left it in the car. Did you even attempt to let her know where I am so she wouldn’t be worried?”

“Not my job to be telling Mama your business. I figured if you wanted her to know, you would have told her instead of having her blow up my phone.”

Lacey rolled her eyes. Lisa would not be Lisa if no attitude was involved. “Never mind. I’ll call her in the morning.”

“Sure. Leave her hanging all night wondering what the hell is going on with you. Or make her wonder if you’re laid up somewhere with a man.” Lisa snickered as if the possibility was absurd.

Lacey almost choked. Monica shot her a look like she dared Lacey to put Lisa in her place, but Lacey held her tongue. If Rye was home, she would indeed be in bed with him doing all kinds of nasty things. But now wasn’t the time or place to reveal that tidbit of information.

“Fine. I’ll use your phone and call her from the ladies’ room. Is that okay with you?”

“Whatever.” Lisa handed the small handset to Lacey. “All she’s going to ask is whether you’re bringing anyone with you to lunch Sunday. She’s trying to make her shopping list. I told her no already.”

“How do you know I’m not bringing anybody? I thought you weren’t trying to get in my business.”

Lisa turned in her chair until she faced Lacey head-on. “Are you bringing a date to Mama’s Sunday?”

Lacey exhaled long and hard. “No.”

“I rest my case.” Laughing along with everybody else, Lacey accepted the taunt, knowing her secret would blow little Miss Lisa’s triumph to smithereens. Lacey took the phone and then headed to the restroom to call home.

She returned a few minutes later, having satisfied their mother for the time being. Lacey was surprisingly calm after being told she was not making herself available to love, how some nice young man would probably be interested but Lacey was too abrasive. The sermon escalated from there, but Lacey refused to be pushed. No sooner than Lacey arrived back at the table, Lisa retrieved her phone, said her good-byes, and left as abruptly as she had arrived.

Lacey and Monica looked at each other and shook their heads. The server came with their drinks and informed them their tab for the rest of the night was compliments of the man at the bar. Everyone except Shelley, the designated driver, toasted the generous gentleman.

“Yes, indeed,” Zoe muttered when a handsome brown-skinned man dressed in a nice suit, no tie, lifted his glass in acknowledgment of their thanks.

“He is extra fine,” Monica agreed. “Okay, let’s take a bet. Baby-mama drama? A straight-up ho? Likes men more than I do? What’s his issue?”

“I say baby-mama drama,” Shelley chimed in. “It’s what you get these days. If he’s not gay, then he definitely has a baby mama.”

“See, that’s exactly why I’m keeping my legs closed. Some man would have the nerve to try to make me a baby mama, and I’m not having it,” Monica declared. “Anybody with me?”

Lacey looked at Monica like she had grown three heads. Instead of answering, Lacey laughed at the idiotic offer. Since experiencing sex the way it should be done, there was no way she’d forgo having Rye between her legs.

“Good evening, ladies,” their drink benefactor said, his voice smooth. He extended his hand toward Lacey. “Will you take a turn with me?”

Uncertainty kept her seated at first. Then she decided it would be nice. In fact, she loved to dance, but she hadn’t done much of it since she and Rye got together. She stood and followed him to the floor.

In no time, she got in the groove. Between sets, she found out Malik was part owner of Heaven’s, and he seemed nice and down-to-earth. She wasn’t surprised when he asked for her phone number. The surprise came when she gave it to him.

At three in the morning, she lay with eyes wide open, staring at the dizzying motion of the ceiling fan. She missed Rye, ached for his smile, his commanding nature, and the calming effect of his presence. Despite knowing him forever, she hadn’t noticed him as a man until the night of the mayor’s fund-raiser. Of course she’d admired his tall, lean physique, but she could appreciate that attribute in a number of men. Those electric-blue eyes added to his striking good looks, yet they hadn’t entranced her. Even overhearing her brother’s boisterous stories about panties dropping whenever Rye was around never made her inclined to add hers to the pile. Well, not anymore. Now she couldn’t get enough of him, and these days, she hardly bothered with panties.

Cooking was her passion, but lately it paled in comparison to her need for Rye. His hands, mouth, and cock coaxed a desire from her with no limit, and the things he did with his tongue should be bottled and sold. She recalled many times waking up from a deep slumber to find his head between her legs and him lapping at her clit like a tiger with the sweetest cream. The need to see him, to touch him was almost overwhelming, but as she’d learned today, he was two thousand miles away in California. His assistant, Paula, had called with an update on his whereabouts since he could only be reached by satellite radio.

At least an effort was being made.

But it wasn’t enough.

She didn’t like being on pins and needles waiting on a call that sometimes never came. If they were a normal couple, she wouldn’t think twice about asking more questions about his itinerary. How ironic. She had no qualms about opening her legs to him, but she didn’t feel she had enough of a claim to make him accountable to her.

She was a hypocrite. The ingredients of a relationship she hadn’t wanted at first were the very things she craved. Commitment. Communication. Plans. Their families and the whole world should know their relationship was different now. She longed to snuggle next to him while they rocked in the swing on her mother’s back porch. The next time he came home after being gone for weeks, she wanted more than a cordial smile and peck on the cheek. She should be the recipient of a loving, tongue-filled kiss, even if his parents were watching.

Hell, if she was going to fantasize, she might as well have the Easter Bunny drive their horse and carriage to their castle, right? Disgusted, Lacey sighed and shifted in the bed.

How had she gotten to this place? She was complete before this “thing” with Rye; now, each time he went away, he took a piece of her heart. Miracle of all miracles, when he returned, not only did he make her heart whole again, but he made it expand.

* * * *

Saturday night, Lacey was seated at a downtown restaurant waiting for Malik to arrive. Her
date
, Malik. Her heart wasn’t in it, but a little experimenting would do her good right now. If she spent one more night jumping every time the phone rang, disappointed when it wasn’t Rye, she’d go crazy. A date would also give her a chance to figure out if another man appealed to her in a romantic sense. Her intense attraction to Rye might just be a fluke, a simple case of convenience. Maybe their first connection was so explosive because he happened to be the only one around when she’d experienced the highest point in her life.

Getting and closing the mayor’s fund-raiser dinner had been a tremendous feat for her start-up company. The check ensured a 100 percent gross margin when 20 percent was the norm. Pure profit was enough to make her cream her panties, but Rye had been there too. It wasn’t her style to be an easy lay, so maybe any virile, good-looking man would have sufficed. She needed to make sure, because Rye was now the most important thing in her world, and it blew her mind.

“Hello, Lacey,” Malik greeted her as he pulled out a chair at their reserved table. “It’s great to see you again.”

They ordered dinner. She actually enjoyed his company as well as the quality French cuisine.

“Why hasn’t some man convinced you to let him be the only one you break bread with?”

Lacey’s face heated. Malik’s observation caught her completely off guard.

“Ouch,” he said, grimacing. “Now we’re getting to the nitty-gritty, as my grandmother would say. There is a lucky brother somewhere, I take it?”

She shrugged and fought to keep her expression neutral. He didn’t need to know the “brother” in question was white and sexy as hell. “I have been seeing someone, but we aren’t exclusive.”

“Couldn’t be me. There is no way I’d let you even look at another man if you were mine.”

Lacey twirled the delicate stem of her glass with her fingers. “It’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. They were supposed to be getting to know each other, enjoying the meal and the service, not talking about her issues. But what the hell. He might as well know the score. It was an awful cliché, but she could see him as nothing more than a friend.

Monica’s thorough investigation had revealed Malik was as solid as they come. Heterosexual. No baby, no baby mama. Handsome with an outgoing personality. He owned several diverse business interests, including majority ownership of Heaven’s. Lacey had even hoped because Malik was black, it would spur some interest on her part, but nothing happened. It didn’t take long to figure out race was not a factor. Now she was sure her feelings for Rye weren’t by default or coincidence but because he ignited a fire in her no one else could.