“I want you, Terrance,” she whispered, reaching for his hands and placing them around her.

Suddenly, thoughts of making love to him ruled Kyra’s mind. Her heart was beating loud and fast. Fast enough to require immediate medical attention, but instead of taking a moment to catch her breath, she went one step further. “We’ve been fighting this thing between us long enough. I’m attracted to you, and I know you feel the same way.”

He lifted, then lowered his eyebrows. “I can’t stay here. It wouldn’t be right.”

As Kyra gazed up at him, her body was filled with an unquenchable desire, and for the first time in her life she decided to act on her impulse. Hooking up. That’s what the freshman class called it. One night of explosive sex without strings. She’d never had a one-night stand, but bumping and grinding at Bollito had been a powerful aphrodisiac. Mind made up, she reached hungrily for him. They were going to make love tonight and there was nothing Terrance could say to stop her. “You’re not going to make me beg are you?”

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PAMELA YAYE

has a bachelor’s degree in Christian education and has been writing short stories since elementary school. Her love for African-American fiction and literature prompted her to actively pursue a career in writing romance. When she’s not reading or working on her latest novel, she’s watching basketball, cooking or planning her next vacation. Pamela lives in Calgary, Canada, with her handsome husband and adorable daughter.

Passion Overtime
Pamela Yaye

HOLLINGTON HOMECOMING

Where old friends reunite…and new passions take flight

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Special thanks and acknowledgment to Pamela Sadadi for her contribution to the HOLLINGTON HOMECOMING miniseries.

Dear Reader,

When I found out I was going to be writing the HOLLINGTON HOMECOMING series with Sandra Kitt, Jacquelin Thomas and Adrianne Byrd, I squealed like a schoolgirl! Like all of you, I’ve been reading their books for years and have enjoyed their unforgettable characters and page-turning stories. Writing with such an esteemed group of authors is a dream come true and I feel honored to have the opportunity to work with them.

I love sports, so when I learned that my hero was a buff, wickedly handsome ex-NFL running back named Terrence Franklin, I couldn’t wait to get started. After the way Terrence dogged her out, Kyra Dixon wants nothing to do with him. But as PR Director, it’s up to her to sign the popular sports hero to coach the school’s football team. Strolling around campus with Kyra stirs some powerful feelings in Terrence, and by reunion weekend, he’s sprung. Falling in love with her ex-fiancé isn’t an option, and Kyra refuses to mix business with pleasure. Smart girl, because Terrence will stop at nothing until he has her back in his life—and his bed!

Share your thoughts about Terrence and Kyra’s story at www.pamelayaye.com.

With love,

Pamela Yaye

Acknowledgments

Jean-Claude Yaye: You are such an amazing person, and from the moment I met you, I knew you were the perfect man for me. One day soon, we’ll travel back to Korea and recreate our first date. Only this time, I won’t play hard to get! (ha ha)

Aysiah Yaye: Mommy loves you very much. You are the funniest, most interesting kid I know and I feel so blessed to be your mom.

To the best parents ever, Daniel and Gwendolyn Odidison: Writing this book made me reflect about my college years, and what stands out most are all the times we all sat around the kitchen table talking, laughing and just hanging out. I love you both with all my heart and live to make you proud in all that I do.

Bettey Odidison: You are my biggest supporter, my best friend and the perfect sister in every way. I love you and am counting down the days until our next girls-only vacation together.

Kenny Odidison: Bro, you never cease to amaze me. Not only an incredible man, you’re a loving, doting father. Kayla is truly blessed to have you as her dad. Love ya!

As always, I have to thank my agent,

Sha-Shana Crichton, my editor, Kelli Martin,

my critique group, my coworkers and all my friends and family around the world who support my work. I hope you know that I appreciate you all. Thanks for everything!

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 1

“Terrence Franklin just pulled up in a yellow Ferrari sports car!”

Kyra Dixon jumped as if she’d been zapped with a stun gun. Blistering-hot coffee sloshed over her mug and splashed onto her slingback sandals. She felt a tightening in her chest at the mention of her ex-fiancé’s name and calmed her nerves with a deep breath. Masking her annoyance, she turned and smiled grudgingly at her boss. “Good morning, Mr. Morrow.”

“Can you believe it? He’s finally here. I glanced out my office window, and there he was signing autographs and posing for pictures by the fountain.” Straightening his tie, he studied his profile in the coffeepot, a wide, goofy expression on his face. When he swung back around, his smile had doubled in length. “I asked Nikki to show Terrence into the conference room,” he explained, nodding furiously. “I wanted us to have some time to go over our game plan.”

“Our game plan?” she repeated, frowning. “Walter, I think I can handle a washed-up, ex-football player. I’ve been the public relations director at Hollington College for almost seven years. I know what I’m doing.”

“Terrence Franklin is more than just an ex-football player. He’s a living legend!” Tugging on his olive-colored suspenders, Walter rocked on the balls of his feet with gusto. “This is the biggest moment of your career, Kyra. For me, too!”

His face was flush with excitement, and he was practically slobbering on his starched white shirt. “I think you’re worrying for nothing, Walter. Terrence Franklin isn’t the superstar athlete he once was. Getting him to sign on as head coach will be a piece of cake.”

“Kyra, Kyra, Kyra.” Shaking his head in disapproval, he wagged a finger at her, as if he were scolding a wayward child. “We don’t have much time, but I’m going to give you a crash course on professional sports. Try to keep up.”

Spare me, she thought, adding another sugar cube to her coffee. Raising the mug to her lips, she listened halfheartedly as her boss spoke in a loud but reverent tone about the National Football League. Football was America’s favorite pastime. People watched it, talked about it and die-hard fans gambled on its outcomes. And, a player with the right personality could bring millions in revenue to any given city. Gesticulating wildly with his hands, his breathing grew deep and labored, like a pregnant woman on the verge of giving birth.

“Not only is the kid good-looking, he has more charm than a Hollywood movie star!” His big, bold laugh was like a blast of a trumpet. “He’s a Heisman Trophy winner, an eight-time all-star and the only running back to be voted most valuable player two consecutive seasons. And he’s here, at Hollington College!”

Her legs trembled like a toddler on stilts, but she didn’t slide to the floor like she had the morning Walter called to say her ex-fiancé was interested in the head coaching position. Even though Kyra despised Terrence and everything he stood for, she had to admit that his stats were impressive. Since being drafted by the Dallas Cowboys, he’d broken long-standing records, amazed fans with his heroic plays on the field and built a cult following.

In ten seasons, he’d become the most talked about, most admired and most electrifying pro athlete. And every time Kyra turned on the TV, he was hawking the next big thing. Terrence was the golden boy of the National Football League and the media couldn’t get enough of him. Terrence had gotten injured during a nationally televised playoff game, but his coach had assured fans that he’d make a speedy recovery. Then, in a move that shocked the entire sports world, he’d announced his retirement and walked away from it all.

“Terrence is a superstar, and—” he leaned heavily on the word “—a Hollington alum. He’s given thousands to charity, and even partnered with the Make-a-Wish Foundation a few years back. Exceptional athletic ability and womanizing aside, he’s a good man, and an excellent role model for kids and teens alike.”

Kyra snorted. Big friggin’ deal. Her boss might think the former NFL running back was the salt of the earth, but she knew the real Terrence Franklin. The arrogant, showboating Casanova who didn’t have a loyal bone in his body. The one who craved the spotlight and female attention. In his third season, his off-the-field antics had tarnished his squeaky-clean image and after a wild night at a Las Vegas club Super Bowl weekend, the media had dubbed him Flash. Terrence seemed to derive great pleasure from shocking people. But what did she care? He wasn’t her problem, but if he took the head coaching position, the cavorting and partying had to stop.

“Kyra, you don’t watch football, so you don’t get how truly gifted he is.”

If he only knew. Since the day Terrence had stepped onto the field as the newest running back for the Hollington Lions, she’d watched every single one of his games. And she’d been there, along with Terrence’s family, when he was presented with the coveted Heisman Trophy. But admitting to her boss that she’d once been engaged to Terrence would only complicate things. Walter was a fair, easygoing, man, who trusted her, and she didn’t want to disappoint him.

The hours were long and the accolades few, but Kyra loved working at her alma mater. And she wasn’t going to let her feelings stand in the way of doing her job. Besides, her history with Terrence wasn’t the issue. Convincing him to sign on as head coach of a losing team was going to be challenging enough without their past getting in the way. Yes, keeping mum about their relationship was definitely the way to go.

“Terrence Franklin is the fastest man ever. Carl Lewis? Maurice Green? Those guys have nothing on him. And if he ever decides to come out of retirement, the NFL and its fans will be waiting.”

“You really think so?”

He nodded fervently. “Terrence is one of the greatest running backs to ever play the game. Right up there with Deion Sanders, Emmitt Smith and…”

She sipped her coffee. A season ticket holder of the Atlanta Falcons for years, Kyra, and her two younger brothers had braved traffic, freaky weather and long lines every Sunday afternoon to cheer on the home team. They were there when Terrence scored his first touchdown in a Dallas Cowboys uniform. Saw him twist and spin out of tackles and shoot into the end zone like a human cannonball. And hollered feverishly when he shattered another decade-old record.

Kyra’s mind returned to that chilly afternoon ten years ago at the Georgia Dome when the Cowboys were playing the Falcons. Over the deafening roar of the crowd, she’d actually heard the thunderous beat of her heart. After celebrating with his teammates, Terrence stopped in the middle of the field, and lifted his eyes to the rafters, as if taking everything in. He’d stared up at Section A, and for a panic-stricken moment, she’d feared he would see her. It was a ludicrous thought, of course. He didn’t have extraordinary vision, after all, just lightning-quick speed. But in that moment, it was as real as her raging, out-of-control heartbeat.

“I love this school,” Walter confessed, his eyes filled with pride, “but I’m tired of watching our guys get butchered out there on the field. Attendance is at an all-time low, players are arguing between plays and even the cheerleaders sound depressed.”

Kyra opened her mouth, but he spoke over her.

“It’s up to us to get Terrence here. Without him, the team doesn’t have a chance of winning their division. And building that new stadium would all be for naught.”

She waited patiently for him to run out of steam, but when she glimpsed the time on the clock, she decided to cut in. “We better get going,” she suggested, putting down her empty mug. “We don’t want to keep Wonder Boy waiting, now do we?”

Down the hall in a bright airy room off the main office, Terrence Franklin sent a text message to his financial adviser. Buying stocks in the auto industry sounded risky. Sure he had the money, but he hadn’t become a millionaire by making impetuous decisions. Maybe later, after his meeting with Kyra, he’d give it some more thought.

An image of Kyra, as he remembered her from their college days surfaced. Had it really been ten years since he’d seen her? It seemed like just yesterday they were walking through the halls of Hollington, hanging out in “the quad” with their friends and sharing their first explosive kiss.

He had been just another college student, juggling school, football and an active social life. Then he’d met Kyra. He knew from speaking to her sorority sister, Tamara Hodges, that she was a sheltered good girl, shielded from the temptations of the world by her minister parents. Before meeting the vibrant management student, he was a boozing, partying misfit who didn’t take his education or his future seriously. But after their first date, he realized he’d have to clean up his image if he wanted to be with a girl as special as Kyra Dixon.

Intent on having her, he’d quit drinking and stopped clubbing with the guys. A year later, he proposed. He’d been the one to break things off, but Terrence knew if it wasn’t for Kyra’s unwavering support, he never would have made it to the NFL.

Terrence turned away from his memories. He wasn’t going there. Not today. It was bad enough he’d had another dream about her. Since returning to Hollington he’d thought of nothing else but Kyra and the love they’d once shared.

Smiling ruefully, he shifted in his chair. Well, that’s a lie. She’d crossed his mind over the years, too. Times when he’d least expected it. The day he’d signed with the Cowboys. The afternoon he’d moved into his beach condo. And every time he smelled exotic fruit.

Footsteps pounded in the hallway. Then, the door swung open and a flabby, silver-haired man, who he guessed was Walter Morrow, burst into the room with more exuberance than Richard Simmons. Terrence stood, hand outstretched, game face on. He took a step forward, but his legs buckled like a folding chair.

Momentarily speechless, his gaze swept over the woman with the familiar scent. Walter welcomed him to Hollington, but Terrence didn’t respond. His eyes were glued to Kyra and the longer he stared, the harder it was to think. She had a fresh, modern look that was sexy but not overdone, and seeing her again after all these years made his heart race a hundred miles an hour. He was known to say, “You’ve seen one pretty face, you’ve seen ’em all!” But today, Terrence was prepared to eat crow. Kyra wasn’t the typical beautiful woman. She was infinitely more. More natural, more graceful, more sophisticated. There was a simplicity about her, something warm and compelling and, though it was hard to believe in this day and age, genteel.

“Terrence Franklin, the pleasure is all mine.”

He felt a sharp pop in his shoulder and snapped out of his daze. Mr. Morrow was pumping his hand so hard, his knuckles cracked.

“It’s good to be back at Hollington.” His decision to return to his alma mater had been twofold. He’d make some plans for the future and reconnect with Kyra. He’d never forgotten the sacrifices she’d made for him, and he was going to make things right with her if it killed him. Staring at her now, he said, “This school holds a lot of special memories for me.”

“That’s right. You rushed for ninety-three yards against the Wildcats in your first game!” Mr. Morrow’s face clouded with nostalgia. “I wasn’t president of Hollington back then, but I was in the bleachers that night. You were incredible and the energy in the stadium was electric!”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Excuse me, but I just have to ask. What’s Terrell Owens really like? He’s a hothead, isn’t he? A real live wire, I bet,” he speculated. “Come on, you’re out of the league now, you can tell me. I promise it won’t leave this room.”

Football had been his life since he picked up his first pigskin at the age of nine, but Terrence didn’t want to discuss his teammates, his endorsement deals or any of the other usual crap fans liked to talk about. Uninterested in the conversation, he stared at Kyra, desperate to make eye contact. Why wouldn’t she look at him?

As if remembering Kyra was standing behind him, Walter turned and gave her a hearty push forward. “This is the little lady I’ve been chatting up over the phone. Terrence Franklin, I’d like you to meet—”

“Kyra Dixon,” he finished smoothly. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

Mr. Morrow’s cheeks sagged when his jaw fell open. “You guys know each other?”

“We took a few classes together,” she was quick to say, “and we knew a lot of the same people on campus.”

Her smile was polite, guarded, filled with manufactured warmth. He’d been haunted by her face for all these years and he knew forced emotion when he saw it. “Welcome back to Hollington, Mr. Franklin. We’re glad to have you.”

Disappointed by her lukewarm greeting, he dug his hands into his pockets and shook off feelings of frustration. He wasn’t doing play drills in the scorching Dallas heat or working out with his trainer, but he needed a moment to catch his breath. This was insane. He’d dated models, dancers and an impressive collection of singers and actresses, but he’d never been more nervous than he was right now.

“I wish I could stay, but I have a board meeting in fifteen minutes,” Mr. Morrow explained. “I’d cancel, but everyone’s expecting me.”

Thank God. I thought he’d never leave. While Terrence waited for the man to disappear, he studied Kyra closely, carefully, examining every aspect of her appearance. Light eyes, plump glossy lips, curves stacked on top of curves. Her hair had a soft sheen to it and was cut in a dramatic, cheek-grazing bob. The reddish-brown hue was a sharp contrast to her coffee-with-cream complexion and played up her soft, pale eyes. Underneath her mustard blazer was a white blouse and a belted skirt that emphasized her soda pop bottle shape.

Terrence licked his lips. He’d just finished a bottle of vitamin water, but he was suddenly thirstier than a Kenyan marathon runner. High-heeled sandals gave Kyra height, and reminded him of those clunky shoes she used to wear back in the day. The PR manager hated her diminutive height and still did everything in her power to appear taller. Five feet four inches was listed on her driver’s license, but she used to swear on a stack of bibles that she was five-six.

“Terrence, we’ll talk later this week,” Walter promised, pausing at the door. “If you need anything, anything at all, just let Kyra know. She’ll take good care of you.”

“What was that all about?” he asked, when they were alone. “Why didn’t you tell him the truth?” He added, half-teasing, “You’re not embarrassed of me, are you Kyra?”

The corners of her lips tightened. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together in the coming weeks and I’d like if we could put the past behind us.”

Her eyes were so pretty, so deep and incredibly bright, he couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying. Kyra was all business, but that didn’t stop Terrence from wanting her. He wanted to touch her, hold her, feel the delicious heat of that shapely body. But he knew better than to touch her. Not yet, anyway. After, when she’d loosened up and quit being so tense, he’d show the public relations director that he was a changed man.

The sound of his name on her heavily painted cherry-red lips brought him back to the present. “Fine. If that’s what you want, I’ll go along with it.”

On the football field he was flashy, brazen, daring even, but here, in Hollington, standing inches away from his first love, his confidence deserted him. He was just another man, lusting over a ridiculously beautiful woman, and though he was a smart, articulate guy, he didn’t have the words to tell Kyra just how stunning she was. “Anything else on your mind?”

“I know you’re very busy, so let’s get started.”

Terrence pumped more shine into his smile. “I have all the time in the world.”

“Well, I don’t.”

His face must have showed his surprise, because she suddenly looked contrite.

Gesturing to one of the chairs around the table, she sat down and crossed her legs. Shoulders squared, hands clasped, she looked like a woman in control of herself and her surroundings. And for now, she was. “I promise to be brief.”

Terrence followed her lead. Seated, his eyes roving appreciatively over her chest and hips, he tried not to stare at her moist, luscious mouth.

“Mr. Rawlins quit unexpectedly, leaving us scrambling to find a suitable replacement, and although the interim coach is doing a fine job, President Morrow made it very clear that you’re the only one he wants for our team.”

“What do you think, Kyra?”

“I think you’ll bring excitement back to Hollington and connect with the freshman players.” Another artificial smile. “Why don’t I tell you more about the specifics of the job, and we’ll go from there?”

Kyra tucked a chunk of hair behind her ear. Sunlight splashed through the window and bounced off the diamond ring on her hand. Panic swelling in his chest, he checked to see which finger. Second from the left. What? Kyra was married?

Twenty minutes passed. Kyra delivered her pitch and though her enthusiasm was contagious, he didn’t hear more than five words. How was he supposed to concentrate when she smelled so damn good? No one could concentrate under these conditions. Not even the Pope, and he was the king, or rather, the father of cool.

“I was hoping you’d stop me when I got carried away,” she confessed, dropping her hands in her lap. “What do you think so far?”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Terrence couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw surprise flash in her eyes. “It’s eleven thirty,” he told her. “Why don’t we continue this discussion over lunch?”

Kyra got to her feet. “I can’t. It’s been a zoo around here all day and I’m busy getting everything ready for reunion weekend.”

“You can’t take an hour out of your day to have a bite with an old friend?”

“I’m afraid not, but we can set up another time next week to discuss the coaching position. Also, other people in the Hollington organization will want to speak to you about this fantastic opportunity.” Her voice was light, her words carefully chosen, but he heard the chill in her tone. To signify the end of their conversation, she strode over to the door and opened it. “I’ll show you out.”

Terrence knew what a brush-off looked like and Kyra had always been an expert at letting a guy down easy. His gut feeling was that the curvy PR director was going to be a tough cookie to crack, but Terrence wasn’t worried. He was made to compete, to win, to perform at the highest level, and it didn’t matter if he was shooting hoops or playing blackjack. He played to win. “Ladies first,” he announced, gesturing for her to precede him. “Why don’t you tell me more about the players on the team?”

Falling in step with her, they strode past narrow offices and sunlit conference rooms. To block out the noises around them, he leaned in, purposely brushing against her. Kyra hopped as if she’d been jabbed with a pitchfork. The message was clear: look, but don’t touch.

Convinced she was appalled at his behavior, Terrence decided to cool his Nikes. This was her turf, her world, and if he came on too strong, she’d think he was just another pompous athlete trying to score some tail. For now, he’d sit back and let Kyra take the lead. Hell, why not, when she looked so damn sexy doing it?

Chapter 2

Kyra felt Terrence’s hand on her lower back, and narrowed her eyes in disgust. Where did he get off touching her? Her first thought was to smack his hand away, but she didn’t want to appear uptight. President Morrow wanted Terrence to coach the Hollington Lions and until the ex-footballer accepted the job, she had to play nice.

Refusing to shy away from his gaze, she stared up at him, marveling at how youthful he looked even after all these years. The edges of his fine, dark hair were trimmed, giving the thirty-two year-old sports star a clean, polished appearance. His short-sleeve shirt and jeans couldn’t disguise his long athletic physique. Terrence Franklin reeked of masculinity and although Kyra wasn’t attracted to him, she loved the way his muscles filled out his designer shirt.

“Have you been working at Hollington since graduation?”

The friendly expression on his face didn’t fool her. The former NFL running back was trouble, and Kyra knew if she ever let her guard down, she’d be sorry. “No, I worked at an advertising agency for a few years before applying here. This is my—”

Their conversation came to a halt when the door to the registrar’s office flew open and a group of bright-eyed students rushed out. “Hey, look, it’s Terrence Franklin!”

Worried she might get trampled on, Kyra moved off to the side and watched in amusement as Terrence greeted the awestruck freshmen. A small crowd gathered around him, and though he smiled apologetically at her, it was obvious he enjoyed signing autographs and connecting with his fans.

When the crowd cleared, he apologized for the interruption. “I’m sorry for making you wait. I know how busy you are getting things together for reunion weekend.”

“It’s no problem. You’re one of the most recognizable athletes in the world, and that’s why the board of directors wanted you here at Hollington. To bring excitement and enthusiasm to the college.”

“Coaching at my alma mater would be a dream come true and I’m really grateful for this opportunity. Hopefully, this will be the start of a long, successful partnership.”

Kyra avoided his gaze. Truth was, she found it hard to believe anything that came out of Terrence’s mouth. After all, he’d lied when he said he loved her and made her the butt of their friends’ jokes when he dumped her.

They continued down the hall towards the reception area. “How’s your family doing? Is everyone all right?”

“Uh-huh.” His crippling smile and fragrant cologne made her thoughts turn to mush. An aromatic aphrodisiac, his scent aroused her senses and elicited an unexpected physical response. Her voice caught in her throat, and her skin prickled with desire. Over the years, Kyra had dated scores of cool, dreamy types, but no one aroused her like Terrence did.

“I hear your dad’s church is one of the fastest-growing in the South.”

Mindful of him watching her, she produced a smile. Her father’s ministry didn’t impress her and although he’d been heralded as a dynamic bishop, Kyra rarely attended services. Work kept her busy and she’d much rather organize her filing cabinet than listen to one of his fire-and-brimstone messages. “Yes, he’s got quite the following.”

“I’d love to see them again. Maybe one of these Sundays I’ll visit their church.”

Nodding, she allowed herself a fleeting look in his direction. Terrence had a voice made for radio and a body for the big screen, and suddenly articulating her thoughts was harder than riding a unicycle backwards. All smiles and good looks, he stared at her with such genuine interest that her thoughts scrambled like marbles on concrete. “Mom and Dad are still going strong. In fact, they were recently invited to the Mayor’s Luncheon and honored with a humanitarian service award for their dedication to the community.”

Terrence extended his congratulations and when she nodded in response, he asked if she was looking forward to the reunion. “Kevin Stayton and I have kept in touch, but I’m anxious to see the rest of the crew.”

“Me, too. Tamara and I have years and years of catching up to do.”

“What about us?”

“What about us?” she repeated.

Stopping abruptly in the middle of the hallway, his eyes burning into her very soul, he put a hand to her shoulder. “Kyra, we haven’t seen each other in ten years. Don’t you think we should talk?” His smooth, mellow voice deepened. “I went off to play in the NFL, but I never stopped thinking about you. You were always in my thoughts.”

Kyra gulped. Her throat was tight and she feared what might come out. Squeaking wasn’t cool. No matter what Terrence said or did, she had to keep her head. In college, he’d been a charmer, and there was no doubt in her mind that he’d perfected his skills over the years. Ten minutes earlier, he’d been offering compliments and making such intense eye contact she’d fumbled through her speech. All of her rehearsals in the bathroom mirror had been in vain because the moment Terrence smiled at her, she lost the use of her tongue.

“Can you believe it’s been ten years since we graduated? It seems like just yesterday we were going steady and stealing kisses in our American history class.”

Heart accelerating, mouth dry, she discreetly dried her palms on the side of her skirt. After a long, meaningful silence, her mind cleared and her voice returned. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Terrence. I’ll be in touch.”

“When?”

The question hung in the air for several seconds. Kyra felt like there were pop rockets in her stomach. The office was crawling with students, faculty members and visitors, and the telephone buzzed every five seconds, but none of it seemed real. And why should it? Terrence Franklin, the man she’d planned to marry, the man she’d lost her virginity to, was staring at her with those deep, penetrating eyes.

“I’ll give you a call once I free up some time in my schedule.” Another lie. Hiring a coach for the Hollington Lions was priority number one. He knew it, she knew it and so did her boss, so who did she think she was kidding?

“How long have you been married?”

Kyra frowned. “What makes you think I’m married?”

He indicated to her left hand. “You’re wearing a wedding ring.”

What? Only married women like diamonds? Kyra didn’t owe Terrence an explanation. They weren’t friends, they weren’t lovers. Hell, they were barely acquaintances. Besides, what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Or rather, hurt her. Her confidence returned, and a smile touched her lips. Yes, this arrangement would work out nicely. She’d pretend to be married and Terrence would never be the wiser. And her parents said it didn’t pay to lie. Who knew?

“Could we get together tonight to discuss…”

Kyra started to speak, but trailed off when she felt a hand wind around her waist. She turned to her left, and a smile came. A huge, toothy grin that could eclipse the morning sun. Charles had chosen the best possible time to make an appearance, and Kyra suddenly felt like hugging him. But they’d only been dating for a few weeks and she didn’t want to give him the wrong impression, even if it would knock Terrence down a few pegs. “Charles! Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

“Surprising you,” he announced. “Don’t tell me you’re busy making arrangements for homecoming, because I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all week. I’m taking you out to lunch, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Of course, Charles. You know how much I like spending time with you. I’ve…”

Terrence coughed loudly, breaking her concentration. Annoyed, she glanced over at him. His jaw was clenched so tight, the muscles in his neck were throbbing. Thank you, Charles! she thought, grinning with satisfaction at Terrence’s displeasure. She could be wrong, but he looked jealous. Though she’d graduated at the top of her class and bought her first home last year, nothing was more satisfying than seeing her ex green with envy.

“Hey man, what’s up? I’m Terrence.”

“Charles Roberts.” His ocean-blue eyes were hard stones, and his forehead was creased. “Are you also in PR?”

“No, I play…I mean, I played professional ball.”

Charles snuck a glance at Kyra for confirmation, and she nodded. “Terrence played for the Dallas Cowboys,” she explained, mustering the appropriate amount of excitement. “He was also voted offensive player of the year three times during his career.”

“You forgot eight-time pro Bowler,” Terrence added with a sly wink. “And tell him about those soup commercials. Big Mama loves those!”

Kyra laughed. She couldn’t help it. The commercials were a riot. Only Terrence could make figure skating look cool and she’d read recently that the company had seen a twenty percent increase in sales since the spots started running.

“Kyra, go grab your things,” Charles ordered, pulling back the sleeve of his suit jacket and consulting his diamond encrusted watch. “Our reservations are for twelve-thirty and if we’re late they might give away our table.”

Turning on her heels, she shot into her office, grabbed her purse off her desk and returned to the reception area in ten seconds flat. Couldn’t risk Terrence pumping Charles for personal information, now could she? “I’m ready,” she sang. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

But Charles didn’t move. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I knew you were recruiting a new coach for the Lions, but you never mentioned Terrence Franklin was your old college sweetheart.”

Kyra stopped breathing. For a moment, she stood there, frozen, her gaze bouncing between the two men. “We were kids. It meant nothing. It was over ten years ago,” she offered, by way of explanation. Her words came out in a clump, and she heard the quiver in her voice. Wonderful, she sounded like Miss Piggy on speed.

“It sure sounds serious,” Charles countered. “Is it true you were engaged?”

Kyra cranked her head to the right. Terrence looked as innocent as Jack the Ripper. “Yes, but it was a long time ago. So long in fact, I hardly remember.”

“Kyra’s being shy. We had some really great times back then,” Terrence mused, as if overtaken by nostalgia. “Cruising around in my Jeep, kicking it in the quad, eating at that crummy waffle house on Ninth.”

Kyra felt hotter than a furnace. Why was he doing this? Was he trying to get a rise out of her? When Terrence reached out and patted her arm, her veneer cracked. Two could play that game, she decided, gritting her teeth. Facing Terrence, she met the challenge in his eyes, and smiled with a sick, saccharine sweetness. “I’m surprised you even remember any of that. I mean, with all your groupies and whatnot.”

Returning her gaze to Charles, but watching Terrence out of her peripheral vision, she said, “He left for training camp and I never heard from him again. Well, unless you count that e-mail he sent dumping me.”

The light in Terrence’s eyes went out, and his mouth went slack.

Kyra nodded to herself. Mission accomplished. From now on, Terrence would think twice before embarrassing her. “Honey, let’s go,” Kyra purred, tugging on Charles’s arm. She’d never used the pet name before, but now was as good time as any. “I’ve missed you, baby, and we have so much to talk about.”

Charles frowned at her but said nothing. She was smiling so hard, her teeth ached, but when Terrence averted his gaze, satisfaction flowed through her. It appeared he couldn’t stand to see her with someone else. How did he think she felt every time she flipped on the TV and saw him at a Hollywood premiere with a gorgeous blonde draped in diamonds and Versace?

“Kyra, I’ll wait to hear from you,” he said.

She thought she heard a note of sadness in his tone, but Kyra refused to feel guilty for living her life. Terrence was her past and as long as she kept telling herself that, she’d be fine. Remembering her earlier conversation with her boss, she inflected her voice with cheer. “It was good seeing you again, Terrence. Welcome back to Hollington.”

“Thanks for taking time out of your very busy schedule to meet with me.”

“Take care.”

The elevator pinged and Charles stepped inside.

Then, in a twist of bad luck, everyone inside got off on their floor, leaving the elevator empty. Faced with no alternatives, Kyra got on and strangled a groan when Terrence followed. Staring intently at the control panel, she wondered how long the awkward silence would last. Is it just me or is this elevator moving slower than normal? she thought, praying the stupid thing wouldn’t stall. Stranger things had happened, and last night there had been a full moon.

“Terrence, how long are you in town for?” Charles asked, glancing up from his BlackBerry handheld device. “You’re not hanging around until homecoming weekend, are you?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“You have a place here in Atlanta?”

“I have a five-bedroom spread in Savannah,” he bragged, “but the school put me up in a place a few blocks from here.”

While Charles and Terrence discussed the sinking real estate market, Kyra noted each man’s physical attributes. Though Terrence was several inches taller, Charles had meatier arms and outweighed him by at least twenty pounds. Olive-toned, with a sprinkling of gray throughout his short, brown hair, Charles Roberts was on the fast track to being CEO of the largest insurance company in the nation.

Kyra’s eyes slid down the hard lines of Terrence’s chest. The NFL player might have been every woman’s dream, but he was her worst nightmare. For starters, he was broad, lean and had more muscles than a professional body builder. He possessed everything she liked in a man and more. Sexy shaved hair, deep brown eyes, ripped arms. And then there was his voice. There was a very sensual feel to it. It was commanding, but soothing and evoked feelings of calm. Charles spoke in a polished, refined way and though Terrence had graduated with a double major in English and education, his speech was cooler, laid-back, street.

“We should all hang out some time,” Terrence suggested, as the elevator came to a grinding halt. “Kevin owns a nightclub in the city called Bollito. Ever heard of it?”

Charles started to speak, but Kyra grabbed his arm and with a burst of superhuman strength, practically dragged him out of the elevator. Going clubbing with Terrence was out of the question. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. He’d made his choice ten years ago, and Kyra didn’t believe in second chances, especially not for someone like him.

“Is everything all right?”

Kyra snapped out of her daydream. Instead of enjoying a quiet lunch at one of her favorite restaurants, she was replaying her conversation with Terrence in her mind. Thanks to its celebrity investors, big shots such as Russell Simmons and Justin Timberlake, Azure Lounge & Bar attracted a steady stream of powerful executives and rising stars. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been very good company, have I?”

“No, but I forgive you,” Charles said.

Kyra couldn’t tell if he was joking, and didn’t have the energy to ask. Troubled about her meeting with Terrence, and hungrier than a hiker lost in the woods, she reached for another garlic bun from the oversized glass bowl.

“Why don’t you let me order you another appetizer?”

“Because I’ve already eaten a huge plate of peppercorn ribs!” She sliced the bun in half, decided against adding butter and took a bite. “I’d like to lose a few pounds before homecoming, and it’s already September 5. If I keep eating everything in sight, I’ll never fit into the gown I bought.”

“You’re beautiful no matter what size you are.”

Kyra’s mind drifted off. Terrence had once whispered those very words to her, and after one drink too many at a raucous house party, they’d returned to his apartment to “talk.” She remembered that night in remarkable detail. The potency of his cologne. The feel of his lips on her ear, his hands on her breasts and the rush of pleasure to her core when he plunged deep inside her slick walls.

“You feel the same way, Kyra, don’t you?”

Embarrassed that she’d been swept away by her thoughts, she smoothed a hand over her flushed cheeks. Not wanting Charles to know she’d been fantasizing about another man, she nodded in response to his question and choked down so much water, she felt the button on her skirt pop off.

“I want us to be exclusive,” Charles confessed, his awestruck tone teetering on desperation. Eyes glittering like diamonds, he took her hand and caressed her palm. “I think we’re good together, don’t you?”

Her shoulders tensed. It was too soon in their relationship to make grandiose declarations. Charles traveled a lot for his company, and Kyra was lucky if they saw each other once a week. Furthermore, she considered him more of a friend than a potential lover. “I’m really glad we exchanged numbers,” she said, unsure of what else to say. “It’s nice having someone to hang out with on the—”

“Hold that thought.” He swiped his cell off the table, pressed it to his ear and chirped, “Charles Roberts. Talk to me.”

Kyra stared at him, hoping her furrowed brows conveyed her disapproval. Talking on his cell phone at the table was her biggest pet peeve and they’d discussed it at length last week. Now he was back at it.

“Here we go,” the waiter announced, pulling up beside the table and setting down two enormous plates. After refilling her glass, he left.

“I’m sorry about that,” Charles said when he finally ended his call, “but I’m in the middle of a monster business deal.”

Not wanting to ruin their lunch, she accepted his apology. “It’s all right. I understand. Everyone gets a bit crazy when—”

His utensils fell on his plate with a clank, startling her.

“My food is cold.” Charles spit into his napkin. Rising from his chair, his gaze darted maniacally around the room. “Where is that stupid waiter?”

Having worked as a waitress to put herself through school, Kyra had zero tolerance for rudeness and told him so. “Charles,” she began, refusing to be embarrassed in front of the other well-dressed patrons, “your food is cold because you were on your cell phone for ten minutes. What did you expect the server to do?”

The waiter returned. “How is everything tasting?”

“I’d like another steak.” Charles pushed his plate forward. “This one’s cold.”

With a curt nod, the young man was off and running back into the kitchen.

“Charles, that was unnecessary—”

“It’s my accountant.” Phone pressed to his ear, he stood and stalked through the dining room. Kyra watched him walk away. Charles was acting like a petulant child, and she wasn’t going to let him get away with humiliating her. He had to learn to treat her—and everyone around him—with more respect. His behavior was something she’d expect from an actor. Or a rapper. Or a buff, wickedly handsome NFL running back.

Sighing, she glanced out the window, unwanted memories rolling through her mind. Ten years ago, she’d met Terrence on the Hollington College campus, and as she thought about that first meeting, a smile filled her lips. Rushing toward the fine arts building, she’d rolled her ankle and narrowly missed wiping out in front of Terrence. Kyra had seen the star running back around campus, but they’d never talked before. So when he ditched his friends and commanded her to hop on his back, she’d been stunned.

Five minutes later, she was climbing aboard the T-train, as he’d teasingly called it. Arms swathed around his neck, legs wrapped at his waist, he’d carried her to the north building and returned at the end of her African dance class with a pair of pink jelly shoes. To show her appreciation, she’d treated the handsome footballer to lunch.

Terrence was the big man on campus and she was a bookworm, but they’d hit it off immediately. Then one night after they’d had too much to drink they’d ended up back in his dorm room. One thing led to another and the next thing Kyra knew, she was down to her panties, pulsing with a tangible mix of desire, passion and lust. Terrence was her first, and though they’d stumbled in the dark, knocking things over and laughing hysterically at their inanity, she’d counted it as one of the happiest moments of her life.

Within weeks, they were inseparable. They ran with the same crowd, had the same friends and made plans to get married after the NFL draft. “Once things settle down and I finish training camp,” he’d promised. Things never did settle down and that magical day she’d always dreamed of never happened. Pressured by his manager to maintain his cool, single guy image, Terrence had broken off their engagement via e-mail, never to be heard from again. Until now.

Why, after all these years, was she rehashing the past? Seeing Terrence again had stirred something in her. Something that had died the day she’d read that e-mail message. Over the years, Kyra had dated some great guys. Powerful, accomplished men who knew how to treat a woman right. But Terrence stood out in her mind for several reasons. Though he’d been a struggling college student, with a rusted white hooptie and staggering debt, he’d spoiled her silly. He brought her breakfast in bed, walked her to and from class and made love to her with unspeakable warmth and tenderness. Humility had never been his strong suit, but he was chivalrous and respectful of her feelings.

“Ms., I brought a new steak entrée.”

Kyra came to. Oh brother. Not this again. Squinting, as if blinded by the angry glare of headlights, she searched the waiting area for Charles. Where was he? Deciding she’d had enough of Charles and his rudeness for one day, she opened her purse, tipped the waiter and rose from her seat. “Thanks, Miguel. Everything was great.”

He looked confused. “You’re leaving? What should I tell the gentleman when he comes back?”

“I don’t know,” she sassed, winking mischievously. “Be creative!”

Chapter 3

“Good morning, Kyra Dixon speaking.”

“Just the voice I wanted to hear.”

Her heart turned to wax. Terrence was more persuasive than a door-to-door salesman, but if she was going to survive the next eight weeks with him, she had to keep her guard up. “It’s good to hear from you,” she lied, with forced enthusiasm. Swallowing a yawn, Kyra flipped open her daily planner and scanned her list of appointments for the day. “I’m glad you called. I was going to contact you this afternoon.”

“You were?” The inflection of his voice conveyed surprise. “When I didn’t hear from you, I thought maybe you’d forgotten about me.”

I wish, she thought, remembering last night’s restless bout of sleep. Faded memories of her youth had filled her with nostalgia, and every time she closed her eyes, she saw Terrence, his mouth stretched into that cocky, lopsided grin, his arms outstretched like a compassionate lover. To distance herself from the troubling image, she asked Terrence how his day was going.

“I hope you’ve been enjoying this gorgeous weather, because it’s going to start cooling down soon.”

“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.”

“It’s the least I could do.” Returning the compliment, he inclined his head to the right and gently touched her shoulder. “You’re a very special woman, Kyra, and you deserve the very best that life has to offer.”

Kyra arched her eyebrows. Terrence lived for drama and excitement, and she was perceptive enough to know the star athlete was only after one thing. Refusing to fall for his slick line, she said, “Terrence, you don’t even know me.”

“That’s why I’m here. I want to change that. We were friends once and—”

She met his gaze head on. “I don’t need any more friends.”

“Is this about Charles?”

The truth stuck in her throat. “Yes and no.”

“Are you guys serious?”

Kyra felt her face flush. She’d given new meaning to stretching the truth, but what choice did she have? Terrence had more questions than Katie Couric during a sit-down interview, and he wasn’t easily satisfied. “He’s a good, decent man and I’m not willing to jeopardize a great—” she stumbled over the word “—relationship by being friends with you. It’s nothing personal, Terrence. It’s just not worth it.”

“Do you love him?”

How had a conversation about an edible fruit basket led to this? she wondered, retrieving her car keys from her pocket and dangling them between two fingers. There was a time when Terrence had been her best friend. They’d lie in bed for hours, talking, joking and planning for their future. But that was a long time ago. Ten years, to be exact. And she didn’t feel comfortable talking to him about her relationship. In part because she didn’t know how she was supposed to feel. Nothing about Charles thrilled her. He was just…okay. A hard-working, decent guy who’d be a good husband and provider, so why wasn’t she sprinting to the altar? “My private life is none of your business.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

They slipped into silence. Unable to control herself, her eyes strayed to his chest and slipped down his stomach. Kyra roped in her emotions before they got the best of her. Lusting led to fantasizing, and in the last three days she’d done enough daydreaming to last her a lifetime. Personal history aside, she was paid to do a job, and flirting with Terrence wasn’t one of the requirements. They were working together and it didn’t matter how many gifts he sent her, she wasn’t going out with him. Not in a romantic sense, anyway. Charles didn’t light her fire, but he was safe. He wouldn’t hurt her, and that beat tall, dark and sexy any day.

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” Terrence asked.

“Yes. I informed the assistant coach that we’d be coming and Mr. Mayo is very excited to meet you.”

“Do you know what I’m excited about?”

Terrence lowered his head and for one fear-packed second, Kyra worried he would kiss her. The closer his mouth came, the faster her heart beat. When his lips were just inches away, she forced a cough. “Oh, look, we’re here,” she said, backing up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Feeling a sudden burst of energy, Kyra waved goodbye and skated over to her red car. A minute later, she chucked her Rollerblades into the truck, tugged on her sneakers and hopped into the driver’s seat. Lurching out of her stall, she shot through the parking lot and disappeared into rush-hour traffic.

Chapter 5

Terrence watched Kyra shoot across the parking lot, a gleam in his eye and a wry smirk on his lips. Had he ever seen a backside so sweet? In his heart, lust, confusion and remorse battled for supremacy. And like a tourist wandering through the streets of Amsterdam, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her luscious body. Was this just about their intense attraction, or something more? Seriously hot, Kyra Dixon had the carefree disposition of an all-American girl and the sexual energy of a pinup model.

Kyra towed the line between sweet and sexy, but there was a very elegant way about her. A down-home beauty with bewitching eyes and a flirty laugh, she embodied all the qualities he admired in a woman—optimism, passion, honesty.

Terrence had been back in Hollington for seventy-two hours, but he felt as if he’d never left. The energy between them was electric and as he headed back up the trail, he reviewed their brief but noteworthy conversation. A woman in love talked with animation. Her face lit up at the mention of her man’s name, and her cheeks flushed with delight. Love literally oozed from every pore. Not only were those telltale signs missing from his conversation with Kyra, her voice had flatlined when he asked if she was in love in Charles.

Terrence was no relationship guru, and he’d never have his own syndicated talk show for the brothers, but he knew complacency when he saw it. Hell, he’d been in that dark, lonely pit before. Since his rookie season, he’d dated one brainless woman after another. Sisters who’d rather spend the day at the beauty shop than volunteer in their communities. They all looked good, and smelled good and filled out their designer dresses better than Kim Kardashian, but they couldn’t hold an intelligent conversation. Beauty and brains were the perfect mix, not booty and beauty, as his teammates used to say. Too bad it had taken him ten years to realize the truth.

Kyra exuded a confident-in-her-own-skin vibe and didn’t have any of the generic traits he was used to seeing in females on the west coast. He liked his women real, natural, fresh-faced, and the curvy PR director certainly fit the bill.

“I can’t believe it, it’s Terrence Franklin!”

Turning around, he matched the sultry voice to an oval face with red pouty lips.

“I’m LaTisha.” The temptress smiled.

Terrence gave her a quick once-over. It was a punishing eighty degrees, but her makeup was flawless. What kind of woman wore fake eyelashes and diamond earrings to the park? Kyra wasn’t even wearing a watch, while this girl looked like she was ready for a semi-nude video shoot. Her fuchsia bra-top overflowed with silicone, and booty hung out of her Daisy Duke shorts. Shoulder-length, honey-blond hair twirled in the wind like strings of nutty putty. Her face was impassive, but her eyes shimmered with mischief.

“You probably don’t remember me, but we met at an L.A. night club the year your team clinched the playoffs.”

His groupie antennae shot up. Only a woman who memorized team schedules and charted the hangouts of professional athletes would remember a five-second meeting in a packed club. Had she followed him to Atlanta? Before entering the league, he wouldn’t have believed it, but groupies were inventive and dedicated to their craft. In Las Vegas, a burlesque dancer once cornered him in the men’s room; at a friend’s birthday party a pair of twins had bum-rushed him in the hot tub; and at his grandmother’s church a few years back, the pastor’s teenage daughter had surprised him with a French kiss in her father’s office. Terrence hated being suspicious of fans, but when females stepped up to him, caution had to be the order of the day.

“I have a flat,” she announced, pointing a finger toward the parking lot, but not singling out a specific car. “Think you can help me out?”

LaTisha appeared to be in her late twenties, but he couldn’t be a hundred percent sure. Her outfit said junior section at Macy’s, but her body language suggested she was mature, conspicuous, experienced. Glad Kyra wasn’t around to witness this blatant display of entrapment, he pulled his keys out of his back pocket. He’d had enough sun for one day and they were starting to attract curious stares from sunseekers passing by. “I wish I could help,” he lied, starting for the marked crosswalk, “but I gotta jet.”

The woman pursued. “It’ll only take a minute and I promise to make it worth your while.” He heard a hint of anxiety in her voice. “You’ll be thanking me later. I can do things with my tongue that will make your head spin.”

Stopping beside his luxury sports car, he yanked open the door and retrieved his cell phone from the center console. Back in the day, he would have fallen for this obvious ruse, but now his eyes were wide open. If he wanted to be with a quality woman, someone with poise and class and substance, he had to start making better choices. “I’ll call a tow truck for you. What’s the make and model of your car?”

A delicate hand touched his forearm. “I don’t believe in beating around the bush, so let me spell this out for you.” She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Change my flat, and I’ll thank you in the backseat of your car.”

“I have a girlfriend,” he lied, wishing that it were true.

A coy, mysterious look came over her face. “I’m not greedy.” Her smile displayed every tooth. “I don’t mind sharing.”

“Still not interested.”

“Not interested?” Her bottom lip curled. “Are you blind? Look at me. I’ve been in Playboy magazine twice and hooked up with Lil Wayne last month. I’m the hottest….”

Terrence slid into his car.

“Hey, what about my tire?” she yelled, bending down and knocking on his window. “You’re not going to leave me stranded, are you?”

To silence her, he depressed the power-window button and said, “Wave down park security. They’ll help you.”

“But I want you,” she cooed, propping her chest up on the window sill. “Come on, Flash, help me out.”

A man in tattered sweats stopped at a rusted blue car. He was wide and chubby and his stomach lapped over his Chicago Bulls basketball team T-shirt. The guy didn’t look strong enough to bench five pounds, but Terrence wasn’t looking for a workout partner. He needed to get this girl off his back before she caused a scene. “Hey, you!”

The guy looked up, and recognition flashed in his eyes. “You’re Terrence Franklin! Holy crap. Dude, I’m like your biggest fan ever!”

“Do me a favor,” he began, motioning to LaTisha with his index finger, “change her flat. She’ll show you where her car is parked.” Terrence didn’t wait for an answer. Starting the engine, he whipped the Ferrari into reverse and tore out of the parking lot.

Terrence stopped at the intersection of Twelfth and Piedmont. What a trip. Didn’t these women ever quit? If they weren’t pushing up on him in the mall, they were leaving lewd messages on his MySpace website page or waving him down at the gas station. In retrospect, LaTisha had been tame compared to the other groupies he’d encountered over the years. At least she hadn’t flashed him or hopped into his car and refused to get out.

Picking his cell phone off the passenger seat, he glanced down at the screen, hoping he’d received a text message from his favorite intern. There wasn’t one, but he smiled to himself anyways. A believer in fate, not luck, he knew his chance meeting with Nikki Wakefield two weeks ago at the Dallas Airport wasn’t just another coincidence.

“You’re my boyfriend’s favorite running back!” she’d said after he scrawled his signature on her boarding pass. “He’s going to be stoked when he sees this.”

When Terrence saw the familiar logo plastered across her white backpack, he broke into a smile. “You go to Hollington College?”

“Yeah, I’m a senior.”

“Do you know who Kyra Dixon is?” he asked, nervous energy flowing through him. “She works in the public relations department.”

Nikki blew a bubble with her gum and popped it. “Of course, I know who she is. Kyra’s been my faculty adviser for years.”

“What did you say your name was again?” They’d boarded that noon flight to Atlanta and by the time the plane touched down, he knew how Kyra took her coffee, where she liked to shop and what her favorite radio station was.

He’d been at home, reviewing an endorsement contract, when he’d received Nikki’s text message. It hadn’t been easy getting to Centennial Park during rush hour, but he wanted to see Kyra and he’d decided a long time ago to give their friendship his all. Ten more minutes on the I-95 and he would have missed her, but as fate would have it, they’d run into each other out on the trail.

As he thought back over their talk, he wondered if he was going about this thing with Kyra all wrong. He had tender memories of their relationship, but every time he referred to the past, she’d quickly change the subject. Calling off their engagement had been a mistake and he hated himself for hurting her. Instead of being honest about his fears for the future, he’d withdrawn. He’d ignored her calls and laid low in the weeks leading up to graduation, but he didn’t know how else to cope with his growing list of problems. Breaking up with Kyra via e-mail was a cold, classless thing to do and even now, a decade later, Terrence was still ashamed about what he’d done. Regardless of what Kyra said, what he’d done wasn’t cool. The indiscretions of his youth were a sore spot for him, and he’d always planned to make it up to her. They had to create new memories together, and what better way than over dinner tonight?

Following the flow of traffic, he remembered the touch of sadness behind her smile. Did Kyra truly believe he’d forgotten all about her? He had often thought about contacting her, but didn’t know what he’d say if she answered his call. It had been years since his last serious relationship and every time he thought about his future, Kyra came to mind. It was more than just her smile or her sexy walk. Deeply compassionate, she had a sense of community about her and lived to help others. Not like his ex-girlfriend, Lourdes Spendoza. She’d had no trouble blowing his money, but the minute he got hurt, she’d packed her designer bags and hit the road.

Should he call her now or wait until he got back home? What if she had plans with her…Terrence couldn’t even bring himself to say the word. He was the right man for Kyra—the only man for Kyra—and he was going to prove it.

His cell phone chirped, and he knew instantly the message was from Nikki. The light turned red, and he stepped on the brake. The scent of fresh bread carried on the breeze and through the driver side window. His stomach grumbled, but he was too busy reading Nikki’s message to think about tea and crumpets. Turning down the music, he sat back in his seat and read the message out loud.

On Friday nights Kyra and her friends go to The Tavern to play trivia. Starts at 8 p.m. Don’t wear jerseys or boots when you’re out with her. Kyra hates the thug look, so dress real casual.

Terrence scratched his head. He didn’t know squat about trivia, but his cousins, Neal and Damon, had been honor roll students back in university. If anyone could win at trivia, it was those two. Coping a cool, self-assured grin, he threw his sports car into drive and dialed Neal’s home number.

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