What Love Tastes Like (23 page)

“Nick,” she whispered, “I don't know what to say. I came here to cook. I had no idea…”

“I know,” Nick answered. Again, he was interrupted, this time by a slight tap on the window before the door opened.

“Sorry to disturb you, buddy, but the other players are here.” Bastion peered into the limousine and smiled slightly at Tiffany before turning back to Nick. “The meeting should begin in about twenty minutes.”

“Thanks, Bastion. I'm coming.” After the limo door closed, Nick reached into his pocket. “The limo is at your disposal, to take you anywhere you want to go. Here's a little something for you to get something to eat, maybe do a little shopping, a little gambling if you'd like. I'm not sure how long the meeting will last, but I hope we can finish this conversation later tonight.”

Tiffany's eyes widened once again as Nick handed her a large stack of cash. “Nick! I can't take this money from you. It's too much.”

Nick opened the car door and placed a foot on the pavement. “Woman, that's just today's allowance. There's more where that came from. So stop tripping, being stubborn and independent, and have a good time.” He quickly leaned over and kissed her temple. “I love you.”

Before she could counter his argument or react to his declaration, Nick was gone.
I love you?
“He loves me?” Tiffany whispered. She sat in the backseat of the compact limo, bewildered.
What do I do now?
Tiffany had no idea. But she knew who would. “How do I put your window up?” she asked the driver, with less knowledge than she needed and more bravado than she felt.

“It's the top button on the console next to you. But first, where to, miss?” the driver replied.

“I don't know. Where is a good place for shopping?”

“There are several designer shops in hotels on the strip.”

“Then take me there.” The driver pushed the button to close the partition as Tiffany pushed the speed dial on her phone.

“He did what?” Tiffany's news made Joy throw down Deidre Berry's latest release, jump from the couch, and begin pacing the room.

Tiffany recounted the unexpected chain of events that began shortly after she'd landed in Vegas. “I don't know what to do,” Tiffany finished. “Nick's in a meeting, and I'm sitting in this big car with money that I can't spend!”

“Can't sp—girl, what are you talking about? Are all the shops closed? Did somebody break your legs so that you can't walk? Are you locked inside the limo? Because unless your answer to one of these questions is yes, I don't understand why you're on this phone instead of at a blackjack table or in a store's dressing room! How much did he give you?”

“I don't know.”

“Oh my God,” Joy whispered.
This child wants me to leave my children home alone and board a plane just to smack some sense into her!
Joy stopped pacing and spoke as if she were speaking to Randall Junior when he was two. “Count the money, Tiffany.”

“Why? I'm not going to—”

“Count the damn money before I lose my mind up in here!” Joy's words came out in a rush, with no room for breath in between.

Tiffany unwrapped the stack of bills, all bearing the face of Benjamin Franklin. She counted them quickly. “Ten thousand dollars,” she said when done.

Ten thousand…
Joy took a breath to calm down, and continued. “Where are you now?”

“Hold on a second.” Tiffany found the button that controlled the window between her and the driver and pressed it. Once the glass slid down she asked where they were. “Aria,” she repeated to Joy.

“Isn't that next to Crystal, the luxury shopping center?”

Tiffany asked and found out that it was.

“Perfect. Tell the driver to wait for you.”

“Why? So I can feel like a kept woman, like somebody is buying my love, again? This is the same shit Daddy pulled when he couldn't be there in person. He'd throw money at me, or a car or a trip, and think that replaced the feel of his arms around me. It doesn't, Joy, not even close. Money can't keep you warm at night—”

“Then buy a cashmere blanket, fool!”

Tiffany was waffling between anger and self-pity, and anger was winning. The last thing she wanted to do was say something to her best friend that she didn't mean and would have to take back later. “Look, Joy—”

“No, you look, Tiffany! God keeps sending you blessings and you are determined to block them. So you had an absentee father, so what. You wish your childhood had been different. Well, join the club, sistah. Keith gave you money instead of love. Well, at least he gave you something! At least he's in your life now. For all the time that I've known you, which is most of your life, you've invited me to your deadbeat daddy pity party and I've accepted the invitation, drank the champagne, and ate your appetizers. Well, no more. You keep living the present based on stuff in your past, and it's fucking up your future. You can't see the forest for the trees, so your friend is getting ready to remove a big branch for you. It's a major news flash, so listen up. Nick is not your father! Nick is the man trying to give you the love that your daddy didn't provide!”

Joy paused, took a breath, and lowered her voice to a calmer level. “You're living the life that most women could only dream about, and you're sitting on stubborn and stuck on stupid, letting a chance at happiness pass you by!”

The air fairly crackled as these words settled like an electric blanket around Tiffany's shoulders. A part of her wanted to slam her phone shut and throw it
and
her decade plus relationship with one Mrs. Joy Parsons out the window. But the other part had heard her best friend's words, and was starting to let them sink in. Nick was a good man, and he said he loved her. Tiffany hadn't even allowed herself to examine how those three words made her feel, nor did she acknowledge that she loved him too. She was too scared to go there, too afraid that to acknowledge those feelings would be to act on them. “I have no idea what to do with this money,” she said at last, wiping away an errant tear that had escaped from her eyelid. “What should I buy?”

“Whew, thank you, Jesus!” Joy collapsed onto her sofa. “Now you're talking like a woman who's learned a thing or two from hanging around me, proving that all this novel reading I've been doing is not in vain. What are you going to buy? You're going to buy the kind of stuff that will make that brothah turn over his paycheck with a smile!”

Two and a half hours later, Tiffany entered the palatial mansion the company had rented. Joy had stayed on the phone with her almost the entire time, until she had spent all but fifteen dollars of the money Nick had given her. She was greeted by a housekeeper who showed her to the room she'd be occupying. Nick's clothes weren't in there, which meant he hadn't been presumptive in knowing she'd sleep with him.
He did that because he knows how I am,
Tiffany thought. He knew, and he'd been considerate of it.

After making sure the door was closed and locked, Tiffany pulled items from her many shopping bags and laid them out on the four-poster mahogany bed. Even long distance, Joy had been the perfect shopping companion in helping her pick out just the right garments. In addition to a casual outfit from Carolina Herrera and a Versace dress, Tiffany had purchased a handbag, matching shoes, and underwear from Roberto Cavalli; two pairs of sunglasses from Ilori (one pair as a surprise gift to Joy); and her first strand of pearls—rather, a three-pearl drop pendant—from Mikimoto. “To show those bitches you have class,” Joy had so “classily” explained. Lastly, she'd gone into Tiffany and purchased Nick a set of silver cufflinks. “Never forget your man when you're spending his money,” Joy had advised. “And make sure you're wearing some of that money the next time he sees you.”

It was almost nine o'clock when the same housekeeper who'd brought an excellently prepared seafood salad to Tiffany's room for dinner returned with a summons from Nick. “He's in the library,” the housekeeper said before turning to lead the way. Tiffany appreciated the elegance of the mansion as they walked down carpeted corridors lined with gilded glass and rich marble. They descended a flight of stairs and walked to a set of double doors. The housekeeper turned to Tiffany, nodded, and left.

Tiffany put a hand on the crystal doorknob. Her heart was racing.
Will he like the outfit I'm wearing? Was it presumptuous of me to buy him a gift? What does Joy know about these kinds of men? And to think…I spent all of his money! Ten thousand dollars!
Tiffany opened the door abruptly, before fear forced her to flee back to her room.

“Hey, Nick.” Tiffany tried to find calm as she walked into the well-appointed library. To the left was a sitting area—a cozy love seat, two wing-backed chairs, and antique end tables. Tiffany, further unnerved by the way Nick stared at her, walked to the first chair and sat down. “How did your meeting go?”

Nick could barely remember there'd been a meeting, or his name, for that matter. He knew the woman in front of him had no idea what she did to him, or that she was a sight so lovely it could cause a blind man to see. He continued to drink her in as he joined her in the sitting area. Hers was a look of casual elegance—a pair of dark gray slim-legged pants and a light gray shell that hugged her breasts and waist, with a V-neck that showed off a black pearl pendant to perfection. He rarely saw Tiffany's hair down and liked how the big, loose curls framed her face and teased her shoulders. She wore little makeup, and needed none. She was naturally stunning. He wanted to ravish her then and there. But the look in her eyes warned him to proceed with caution.

“You look lovely,” he said at last. “The black pearls are a nice touch. Where'd you get them?”

Tiffany told him. She almost blurted out that everything she wore, and everything she'd purchased, had been Joy's idea.

But then Nick spoke again. “So I take it you enjoyed shopping on the strip?”

Tiffany nodded, too nervous to speak. She imagined the yelling match that would happen once Nick asked for the rest of his money back and she gave him a ten and a five. “Would you like to see what all I bought?” she asked, hoping to delay the ugly moment.

“I think I prefer to see it on you, the way I'm seeing your outfit right now. You've got great taste, baby. But I don't want you to feel limited in the amount you spend. I'll call ahead to your favorite shops and set up an account so you can buy what you want,
everything
that you want.”

“Nick, that's very generous of you, but—”

“No buts—”

“I really don't need…”

Nick narrowed his eyes and looked at Tiffany thoughtfully. “Did you spend all of what I gave you?”

Tiffany swallowed, hard.

“Well, did you?”

“Yes.” Her eyes were downcast as she waited for the fallout.

“Good girl.”

Good girl? Did he just compliment me for spending ten thousand dollars in less than three hours?
Tiffany raised her eyes to see that Nick had got up from the couch and was over by a minibar. “Red or white?” he asked.

“Whatever you're having,” Tiffany replied, still digesting how casually Nick took the news of her spending what was almost a third of her annual salary in a single shopping spree, and that he was pleased that she'd done it. “I bought you something,” she continued when Nick rejoined her in the sitting area. She placed the Tiffany bag on the table between them.

Nick looked genuinely surprised. “For me? Why? What is it?”

Tiffany relaxed for the first time since walking into the room. “Open it and find out,” she said, chuckling.

Nick took out the box and opened it. He stared at the cuff links for a long moment.

“If you don't like them we can have them exchanged,” Tiffany offered.

“I love them,” he said finally. When he looked up, Tiffany could have sworn that his eyes were misty. “I've sent many women on shopping sprees,” Nick continued. “No one has ever brought me back a gift. I think that because I've got money, they figure it's not necessary. But everyone likes presents, and even more, to know that you were thinking of me while you were out.”

Tiffany made a mental note to kiss Joy the next time she saw her. Maybe reading all those romance novels was beneficial after all! Especially now, as the way Nick was looking at her almost made her melt.

“May I have a kiss?” he asked.

Tiffany nodded.

Nick walked over to her, leaned down, and lightly touched his lips to Tiffany's. Then he kissed her nose and forehead. “Thank you,” he said again. He walked back to his chair and reached for the wine that had gone untouched. “To a beautiful woman who is the light of my life,” he said softly. “I want you back with me, Tiffany. I want us back together. Is that what you want?”

Moments later, Tiffany entered Nick's room—one of the mansion's master suites, located in the same wing as her room. Little had been said after Nick's pivotal question and Tiffany's tentative yet affirmative nod. After they'd quickly finished their glasses of wine, Nick had simply stood and extended his hand. Together they'd walked back up the stairs. Tiffany had no idea where the two assistants who'd ridden with her in the back of the plane or the other partners were. It was as if she and Nick were the only ones in the house.

Nick whispered terms of endearment in Tiffany's ear as he helped her undress. When she reached behind her head to unclasp the necklace, Nick stayed her hand. “No, I like the pearls, leave them on. I want to see you in them…and nothing else.”

Tiffany shivered. Not from cold, but from wanting. In this moment, all her fears, all her logical reasons for not dating Nick, all the similarities between him and her father flew out the window. The only thing that mattered was the feel of Nick's arms around her, his lips touching her skin.

Nick gently lifted Tiffany and placed her on the bed. When she reached for the cover, he again stayed her hand. “Just lie there. Let me look at you.”

Tiffany obeyed, yet felt vulnerable, exposed. She told this to Nick. “You're making me vulnerable,” he replied. “And you're turning me on, more than I've ever been turned on in my life.”

He stared at her as he stripped off his beige silk shirt and unfastened the tailored chocolate brown slacks that fit to perfection. His desire was evident as he pulled his undershirt over his head before sitting on the bed to remove his shoes and socks. Tiffany shivered again, remembering what the desire she saw outlined in his briefs felt like—and knowing that she'd soon feel it again.

Nick joined Tiffany in the middle of the bed. He lay on his side, resting his head in his palm as he looked at her. Tiffany stared back for a moment, and then closed her eyes.

“Uh-uh. Look at me,” Nick whispered, placing a tendril of errant hair behind her ear.

Tiffany opened her eyes and looked into Nick's. She could have drowned in the love she saw there. “I'm scared.” This truth came out in a rushed whisper before she could stop it.

“I know. So am I.”

“You are?” Tiffany asked, her brow raised. She couldn't fathom this strong, confident man next to her being afraid of anything.

“Love is a risk, Tiffany, for all of us. Men are not excluded from the fear factor. When I…” Nick stopped, not wanting to bring Angelica's name into the moment. “There have been times when I swore I'd never love again. That I would live my life in the moment, with whoever was convenient at the time. Many men do it, but that's an empty life for me. I want a life that is filled to the brim. If we get married, how many kids should we have?”

Nick's abrupt change of subject surprised Tiffany. First, the “I love you.” Now, marriage? Kids?

“This is a very important question for me, love.”

“I've never thought about kids,” she said honestly, after a pause. “Marriage either, for that matter.” When Nick continued to be silent, Tiffany went on. “I'd say to start with one, see how we do, and then decide.”

Nick laughed. “Spoken like a true planner. My sweet sous chef. Brown sugar…” Nick leaned down and placed feather kisses on Tiffany's mouth, nose, cheeks, ears…“So…sweet.” He moved back to her mouth and plundered it, thrusting his tongue deep inside. They both moaned as the kiss deepened even more, even as Nick languidly rolled Tiffany's nipple between his thumb and forefinger, bringing it to a hardened peak. His assault continued as he left one breast for the other, and then abandoned both to trail his fingers across her stomach and over her hips. “Open up for me,” he quietly demanded after brushing his hand across the patch of rectangle-shaped pubic hair.

Tiffany spread her legs slightly, and Nick wasted no time in searching for her treasure. He touched her nub, and Tiffany's legs spread further of their own volition. He touched and teased, fingering Tiffany's body like the keys of a piano. All the while, he kissed her senseless, murmuring his undying devotion and his thanks for her belief in their love. When his tongue followed the trail his fingers had blazed earlier, and he buried his head at the juncture of her thighs, Tiffany became overwhelmed with emotion. Tears sprang to her eyes as he lavished her, ravished her, caused her to reach one orgasm, and then another. Soon, his moans replaced hers as she worshipped at his engorged shrine, taking in as much as she could, trying to pour the depth of her feelings into the skill of her tongue. They were both on fire when Nick placed Tiffany on top of him. “Ride me, baby. I want to watch you take your pleasure.”

Tiffany balanced herself, and then closed her eyes as she slowly sank down onto Nick's long, thick rod. Her breasts swayed with the slow, deliberate rhythm. Wanting to feel every inch as he entered her, she raised up again, tightened her muscles, and slid down, even slower than before.

Nick watched Tiffany from half-closed eyes. He moaned his appreciation, even as he grabbed her hips and quickened the pace. “This is mine, Tiffany,” he whispered, repositioning them so that he could enter her from behind. “No more running, this is mine.”

They made love and talked until the morning. Nick had an early meeting, but encouraged Tiffany to sleep in, and then go shopping. Tiffany smiled as she snuggled back under the covers after kissing Nick goodbye, thinking of how he had claimed her again and again. He'd said he didn't want her to leave, that she was his. He was right. Nick had unlocked treasures she hadn't known existed, had helped to open a part of her soul. She wasn't going anywhere.