Passion Overtime

“Do you remember my cousins Neal and Damon?”

“Vaguely.” It was a lie, but Kyra wanted to obliterate memories of their past and lying seemed to be the only way.

“I’ve been kicking it with them. We played pool and had some sushi last night. You used to love eating new foods. Ever tried Japanese?”

“No.” Kyra stared down at the phone, the lines on her forehead bunched into a frown. Okay, now she was just being silly. What would it hurt if she admitted that she liked sushi, too? Before she could retract her words, he spoke.

“You lied to me,” Terrence said. “You’re not married. Why didn’t you say anything when I asked?”

“Because I’m not going to discuss my personal life with you.”

“Do you know what I love most about being back here?”

Kyra could hear the smile in his voice and pictured his broad grin.

“The people. Everyone’s so polite and welcoming.” He paused expectantly. “And then there’s you.”

Right, she thought, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. He couldn’t wait to return to Hollington to see me—the woman he’d dumped and humiliated. Loosening her grip on the receiver, she propped an elbow up on the desk. All Kyra wanted to do was sign Terrence and get on with her life, but he seemed bent on rekindling their friendship. That was too bad. It wasn’t going to happen.

“My evenings are free. Wide open,” he told her. “I have nothing to do but watch TV. It would be great to hang out, you know, for old times’ sake.”

Her heart accelerated. Kyra felt like she was hanging upside down on a cliff. He sounded like the old Terrence. The one she used to love, the one who made her laugh, the one who’d once licked whipped cream and fudge off her breasts.

Deleting the image and his suggestion from her mind, she sat straight up in her chair. Remembering she was the one in control of this conversation, and not Terrence, she asked if he was free tomorrow. “The Lions practice at nine o’clock and I’d like you to come and meet the team.”

“Cool. I’ll see you then.” He added, “Oh, and Ky?”

The phone slipped from her grasp, but didn’t fall. Why was he using her pet name? They weren’t friends anymore, weren’t lovers, so why was he being cute with her all of a sudden? “Yes, Terrence?”

“Don’t work too hard.”

Someone knocked on the door. “I have to go, but I’ll meet you in front of the stadium at nine o’clock sharp.”

“I’ll be there, ready and waiting.”

Kyra put down the phone. “Come in,” she called, adjusting her plum-colored suit jacket. It was probably her boss, wanting to see if she’d made any progress with Terrence yet. He’d been on her back all day, offering ideas on how to win the former NFL running back over. “Nikki, is that you under all those flowers?”

The bouquet was enormous. So big, it covered the top half of Nikki’s body. If it wasn’t for the intern’s teal high heels, Kyra wouldn’t know who was carrying it.

“This is a surprise,” she said, coming around her desk. Her office was inundated with the scent of pineapple and upon closer inspection Kyra realized it was a bouquet of fruit, not flowers. The white ceramic vase overflowed with stems of cantaloupe, guava and watermelon.

Who knew? she thought, popping a heart-shaped strawberry into her mouth. Charles must be feeling guilty about what happened at lunch, because he’d never sent her flowers before. He’d apologized, promised it wouldn’t happen again and admitted he was under extreme pressure at work. Everyone lost their cool sometimes, even sweet quiet guys like Charles Roberts.

Munching on a cube of banana-dipped chocolate, she took the miniature envelope from Nikki’s outstretched hands and ripped it open. “Looking forward to creating new memories with you,” she read aloud. “I had no idea Charles could be so romantic.”

“Mind if I have some?” Nikki asked, setting the bouquet on the desk. “I skipped breakie this morning and the pineapples smell yummy.”

Kyra nodded. “In fact, do me a favor and take it to the staff room. I’m liable to have a sugar overdose eating all this fruit.”

“I forgot your phone messages on my desk, but Terrence Franklin called earlier. You were in with Mr. Morrow and I didn’t want to disturb you.” Nikki’s face shined.

“What’s he like, Kyra? Do you think the tabloid stories about him are true?”

“Every last one,” she blurted out. Casting a glance at her wide-open door, she leaned back against the desk and gave herself five minutes to indulge in some harmless, office gossip. Nikki Wakefield, the department’s high-spirited intern, was in her final year of the business management program and saw to it that everything ran smoothly. Once a week, Kyra took the senior out to lunch and it was always a lively, hour-long affair. “He’s conceited, macho and—”

“Hella fine!” she shrieked. “Terrence Franklin is living proof that God exists. He’s the perfect male specimen, in my book.”

“All that glitters isn’t gold, Nikki.” Kyra put a hand on the intern’s shoulder. “He might seem charming, but be very, very careful around guys like that.”

Nikki’s eyes glazed over and Kyra knew she’d lost her. Trim, chesty and blessed with naturally curly hair, the management student had more admirers than a Playboy Playmate of the Year. “The man is gorgeous,” Nikki cooed, coiling a glossy curl around her index finger. “You could cover him in green slime and he’d still be fine!”

Tell me something I don’t know.

Nikki turned to leave, then spun back around and extended her right hand. “Oh, I almost forgot. Your dad called. He wants you to call him at the church.”

Nodding absently, Kyra took the message slip and shoved it into her pocket. Returning her father’s call could wait. He was always imploring her to live the Christian way and Kyra wasn’t in the mood to hear one of his midday sermons. Not when she had Terrence Franklin hot on her trail.

When Nikki departed, she picked up her pen and got down to work. The business letters weren’t going to write themselves, and Kyra knew Walter would come looking for them at the end of the day. But when she wrote the word fine instead of find for the second time, she got up from her desk and went over to the window.

Students rushed to and from the dormitories, a group of international students kicked around a soccer ball, and couples kissed under the shade of lofty willow trees. Pride filled Kyra’s heart. Few people, including her parents, understood why she’d chosen to study at a historically black college. Scholarships had poured in from other prestigious universities, but she’d turned them all down. Here, among students of every shade of brown under the sun, she’d flourished. Her sorority sisters had cheered her accomplishments, challenged her way of thinking and offered a shoulder to cry on when she needed it most.

Raised in a middle-class suburban neighborhood, Kyra had secretly longed to have friends and teachers who looked like her. She’d grown up wanting to be Debbie Allen and when she arrived at Hollington that balmy afternoon in August just days after her eighteenth birthday, she’d felt like a character on A Different World. Kyra had loved the community so much she’d applied for the public relations position the second she’d seen it in the newspaper, bought a two-bedroom townhouse in East Point and settled comfortably into her new life.

A girl who couldn’t be much more than eighteen pushed a stroller down the street. Kyra rested her head against the glass. Everything she’d ever wanted in life had become a reality, and although she wasn’t a wife or mother yet, she knew in time it would happen. Once Terrence signed on to coach the Lions and the excitement of homecoming weekend was behind her, she’d think more about her future.

For the last three months, the reunion had consumed her and now she had to fill the head coaching position. Her quiet life had suddenly become very hectic and something told her, Terrence Franklin, the former bad boy of the NFL, was going to be more trouble than he was worth.

“Beverly, what do you mean you’re not going to the reunion?” Kyra asked, her hands propped on her slender hips. “This is a big weekend for the university and I’m counting on you to be there.”

“I don’t see why,” Beverly Turner quipped, straightening a rack of printed skirts. Her trendy, high-end boutique, Hoops, was on North Highland Avenue and a steady stream of twenty-somethings flowed into the store and left carrying enormous white shopping bags with the dainty Hoops logo. The sparkling chandelier, golden cherubs and tasteful furniture gave a chic, intimate feel to the place. “Aside from you and a couple of other people, I haven’t kept in touch with anyone from our graduating class.”

“Beverly, you were homecoming queen and everyone’s expecting you to be there.”

“That’s too bad, because I’m not going.”

“Give me one good reason why you can’t go.”

“I’ll give you three,” she chirped, her low Southern twang taking on a hard edge.

Kyra sighed inwardly. Beverly was a deeply thoughtful woman with a gentle disposition, but she was always poised with a comeback.

“For starters, I’m swamped here.” Selecting a dazzling sheath dress from off the rack, she slipped it off the gold padded hanger and held it up to one of the mannequins in the front window. “I’m putting together the final touches for my new spring line, and I have to design a gown for Gabrielle Union to wear to an awards gala next month.”

“You seem stressed, Bev. Why don’t you let me take you out for lunch?”

“So you can pressure me into going to the reunion?” Beverly shook her head. “No way. I don’t have time for this right now. I’m up to my neck in paperwork and it’s going to take me the rest of the afternoon to fill the online orders.”

“Beverly, you’ve been dodging my calls for weeks and the reunion is less than a month away. I need to help Chloe finalize the rest of the plans for homecoming.”

She said nothing, just continued dressing the mannequin and humming to the Smokey Robinson song playing in the background.

Kyra heaved a heavy sigh. This was not going as she’d planned. One of her girlfriend’s less laudable traits was definitely her stubbornness, but if she was going to convince Beverly to attend reunion weekend, she had to get to the heart of the matter. “So, that’s it? You’re not going and there’s nothing I can say or do to change your mind?”

Beverly gave a brisk nod, then changed the subject by asking how her meeting with Terrence Franklin went. “I was picking up some fabric at my favorite store on Monday and it seemed the whole town was abuzz with the news of his big return.”

Kyra thought about the scene she witnessed yesterday at The Tavern. She’d stopped in for lunch, but when she spotted Terrence and Mr. Morrow eating beside the far window, she’d ordered her chicken salad to go. Shielded by a large, imposing floor plant, she’d watched Terrence in all of his celebrity glory. Fans scurried over to his table for autographs, pictures and hugs. For months, there had been speculation that he would come out of retirement before the trade deadline, and his silence heightened the media’s interests and fueled every sports blog in the country. Kyra didn’t like that Terrence was playing both sides of the fence, but until he signed on to coach the Lions, she didn’t have a say in the matter. “Yeah, his arrival has generated a lot of good press for the school. We’ve received hundreds of online applications, and we had so much traffic on the Web site yesterday, it crashed!”

“I bet,” Beverly agreed. “After all, he is the pride of Hollington.”

“I’m lining up as many interviews as I can. I even contacted my old sorority sister, Tamara Hodges, about doing an article on Terrence becoming the Lions coach.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You got him to sign on already?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

Beverly started to speak, but her words were drowned out by a shrill, piercing laugh. Realizing they needed privacy, Kyra grabbed Beverly’s hand and dragged her into the back office. Where the boutique was bright and glitzy, the office was a simple, understated space teeming with fashion magazines, invoices and poster boards. “Now,” Kyra began, closing the door and standing in front of it, “spill it. What’s the real reason you won’t go to the reunion?”

Beverly stood her ground. “You’re not going to change my mind, so you might as well save your breath.”

“The class of ’99 voted you Homecoming Queen, Beverly. How’s it going to look if you don’t show up?”

“Like I’m a popular fashion designer who has orders to fill.” Straightening up, she folded her arms across her chest, her gaze drifting to the open window. “Kyra, I’m not trying to be difficult, but I’ve moved on from beauty pageants and modeling contests. I want to be taken as a serious businesswoman and that’s not going to happen if I’m riding on top of a flowered float.”

In an effort to keep the peace, Kyra listened to what she had to say without interrupting. Beverly was frowning, and Kyra could tell by the faraway look in her eyes that her mind was somewhere else. “Why does it feel like you’re blowing me off?”

“I’d never do that,” Beverly insisted, shaking her head. “We’re friends, remember?”

“Then can a sister get a discount on that gold Ralph Lauren gown?”

Beverly gave a brief sputter of laughter, her eyes soft with a radiant glow and her oval face bright with cheer. It made Kyra feel good to see her girlfriend smile. All she ever did these days was stay cooped up in her office working. More than anything, Beverly needed to start living again, and three days of partying, drinking and socializing was just what the doctor ordered.

“Hanging out with old friends is just what you need. You’ve been divorced for almost two years, but you haven’t been on a single date. I’m not telling you to go out there and party like Paris Hilton, but live a little, girl! Go to the reunion, and have a good time. And if you see someone who catches your eye…” Kyra trailed off, her glossy, red lips curled into a mischievous smirk. “There are going to be plenty of handsome, eligible brothers at the reunion, Bev. It would be a shame for you to miss out.”

A smile broke through. “You must be very good at your job,” Beverly teased.

“I try,” Kyra sang, laughing. Sensing a subtle shift in her friend’s mood, and anxious to get her on board, she continued. “Homecoming weekend is your opportunity to shine. Do you know how much business you’ll drum up for the boutique just by being there wearing one of your gorgeous, one-of-a-kind creations?”

“I never even thought of that. It would be great for business, wouldn’t it?”

Kyra nodded. A hard-driving perfectionist with an eye for detail, Beverly had created a line of mermaid-style gowns that had been worn on the red carpet by some of Hollywood’s leading women. In the last six months, her celebrity clientele had tripled and her name was on every fashionista’s lips. “Please, Bev? You’re going to have an awesome time during reunion weekend. I just know it.”

Beverly shrugged. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

“Oh, you’re going all right,” Kyra vowed, lobbing an arm around Beverly’s shoulders, “because I won’t take no for an answer!”

Chapter 4

Cyclists in spandex shorts and wraparound sunglasses clogged the bike trail at Centennial Park. Pressing down the heel of her Rollerblade skates, Kyra slowed and waited until she was past the ten-man group before resuming her speed.

Chest heaving, arms swinging like a skier catapulted off a mountain, she shot down the hill on her Rollerblades, feeling as light and as free as a jaybird. Seagulls squawked, dogs barked and the sound of children’s laughter rippled on the sultry, red-hot breeze. After a stressful day, in-line skating was just what Kyra needed to clear her head.

Invigorated by the scents and sounds of summer, she skated up the winding path and decided to do a third lap through the park. Kyra didn’t know if she’d be able to get out of bed tomorrow, but she wasn’t ready to pack up and go home.

Kyra plucked her tank top with one hand and wiped her forehead with the other. Sweat dripped off her face and chunks of hair clung to the back of her neck. Insects buzzed around her, but she was feeling too good to be bothered. Next month, her sorority sisters would be back in town for their ten-year reunion and there was no telling what trouble they’d get into this time.

Punching up the volume on her iPod handheld, she moved her shoulders and hands in tune to the beat. The Destiny’s Child song made her reflect on her college days. Lately, she’d been doing a lot of self-examination. Ever since Terrence showed up, she’d been having one flashback after another. Turning away from her thoughts, she chose to admire the bright, fragrant flowers swaying in the breeze.

Joggers ran alongside their dogs and seniors strolled leisurely along the narrow trail. A bare-chested man in shorts and a baseball cap came into view. The corners of Kyra’s mouth drooped slightly. He was perfection. A ten. A living, breathing, dream. Six feet four inches of sexy. The word beautiful was the most abused word in the English language, but the man jogging towards her was gorgeous. Muscular arms, pert nipples, a chest begging to be touched. Following the hard contours of his waist, her eyes moved slowly up his shoulders to his lips. His cap shielded his forehead, making it impossible for her to see his entire face, but she’d recognize the familiar shape of Terrence Franklin’s mouth in the dark.

Her heart swayed like a daisy in the breeze. Should she pretend not to see him, or dive into the bushes? Kyra wiped the perspiration from her face. Sweat wasn’t cool, neither was funk. Her tank top was damp and she smelled as if she’d slept in a men’s locker room. Since Kyra wasn’t sure whether he’d even seen her, she decided to just keep on trucking.

When they were just a few feet away, he stopped and fell into step beside her. “Funny seeing you here,” he drawled. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Kyra slowed but didn’t stop. He sounded sincere, but the expression on his face said touchdown. The roguish sparkle in his eye matched his wide grin. Kyra had no proof, but she had a sneaking suspicion Terrence had orchestrated this meeting. But as she considered the likelihood of it, she realized it was next to impossible. Terrence was good, but he wasn’t that good. There was no way for him to know she’d be on this trail at this time of the day. “Hey, Terrence.”

He pointed with his chin to the trail. “Mind if I join you?”

“Actually, I was just leaving,” she said, skating backward out of his reach. “I promised my mom I’d come over for dinner.”

“Then I’ll walk you to your car.”

Her legs shook like a straight man in heels, and she suddenly didn’t have the energy to stand, but she stayed shoulder to shoulder with him all the way up the hill. His cologne had notes of cedar and stimulated her senses. Then there was his chest…his nipples…the slope of his rock-hard abs.

Kyra fanned her face. It was hotter than a Texas heat wave, but where on Earth was his shirt? Was he an exhibitionist or had some crazed female fan mauled him in the parking lot? “What does SKW stand for?” she asked, spotting the scripted initials on his right bicep.

“Selma Kay Williams.”

“Was she an ex-girlfriend?”

“Nope. My great-grandmother.” The expression on his face was one of pride. “She was an integral part of my life when I was growing up, and this tattoo is my small way of honoring her memory.”

Kyra almost melted onto the hot pavement. It was the sweetest, kindest thing she’d ever heard a man say, and she was touched deeply by his confession.

“How’s work?” he asked, feeding her another gorgeous smile. It was definitely one of his best. “Get all that paperwork done that’s been keeping you so busy?”

Her eyebrows knitted together. What, was he psychic now, too? “Things are fine.”

“I can tell you’re very good at your job.”

His gaze was powerful, crippling, more potent than a double shot of whiskey. Good thing I have my sunglasses on, she thought. I’d be blinded by all that sexual energy.

“I hope your boss knows how lucky he is to have you.”

Her gaze slid down his physique. Wrong move. Toned arms, muscles as hard as steel, long legs. Terrence Franklin was dark, fine and broad. The kind of man even a woman with amnesia wouldn’t forget. There was nothing sexier than a guy who’d just finished working out, and Kyra felt a swoon coming on.

“I spoke to my agent this afternoon,” he told her. “Teams have been calling to see if I’m interested in coming out of retirement.”

“Are you?” Kyra felt like the ground might slip out from under her. How could anyone withstand this heat? she wondered, running her tongue over her lips. Wanting to put all those Psychology 101 courses to good use, she tore her eyes away from his nipples and asked, “Is returning to the NFL a viable option?”

Silence fell between them.

“When I first busted my knee, I thought I’d be out for a couple months, maybe three, but as time passed, I realized it was a lot worse than the doctors originally thought.” He pushed out a ragged breath. “I miss the game, but my surgeon made it clear that continuing my career could result in permanent damage.”

“That must have been hard to hear.”

Head down, he tugged at his baseball cap, pulling it down past his eyebrows. “I had another five, six seasons left in me, and it was tough walking away from a game I’ve loved since I was nine.”

His voice was hollow, his tone flat. “I never won a championship and that kills me more than anything. More than my knee, more than my friends who turned their backs on me, more than all the women who…never mind that.”

“What do you miss most about the game?”

He lifted his eyes to her face, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’m embarrassed to say this, but I miss everything about playing in the NFL. The thrill, the excitement, the energy. Out on that field, I’m invincible. Fans surround me on every side, screaming just for me. There’s nothing like it, Kyra. It’s a constant adrenaline rush. It never ends. Long after the game is over, I’m still hyped up and ready for more.”

“You had an incredible ten-year run, Terrence. Few players can say they walked away from the sport at the height of their career, healthy, sane and whole. You’re one of the lucky ones.”

For a moment, he didn’t speak. “It’s all good, though,” he insisted, with a firm nod. “I might be down, but I’m not out. I read for a small part in the new Robert De Niro movie, and my agent assured me I’d get the role.”

Her heart fell. A Robert De Niro movie? When was he going to tell her about his acting aspirations. Kyra had dozens of questions, but before she could ask a single one, he said, “Did you like the bouquet?”

Kyra shot him a look. Goodness gracious, how did he know about that? Choosing to keep her personal life private, she dodged his question by playing dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It never came? That’s weird. I got an e-mail confirmation hours ago.”

“You sent the fruit basket?” Shaking her head, as if unable to believe what she was hearing, she rubbed a hand along her forehead. Charles hadn’t sent it? But that didn’t make any sense. He should have. After all, he was the one who’d embarrassed her at the Azure Bar & Lounge, not Terrence. “I’m shocked. I don’t know what to say.”

“You hated it, didn’t you? Damn, I should have gone with real roses.” Stopping abruptly, he turned to her, his eyes soft and his smile apologetic. “This was my way of starting over. I remembered how much you loved exotic fruit, and thought you’d like it.”

“I did,” she blurted, wishing she could hit Rewind and snatch the words back. Encouragement was something Terrence didn’t need. Her mind was closed to the idea of seeing him outside of work, but she thanked him for the bouquet. “It was very sweet of you, Terrence. The staff loved it.” She added, “I saw some faculty members eating from it when I left this afternoon.”