Ten years. Eight grads. One weekend. The homecoming of a lifetime.

Enjoy the concluding stories in the Hollington Homecoming series, where old friends reunite…and new passions take flight….

PASSION OVERTIME, Pamela Yaye

The last thing Kyra Dixon needs is an unwelcomed blast from the past. But the PR rep has been given the job of helping sign sexy pro-football star Terrence Franklin as Hollington’s new head coach. Kyra knows Terrence…intimately. They were once engaged—until he dumped her to chase dreams. Now he’s back in her life and as irresistible as ever.

Terrence is finally ready to settle down. Only one woman fits his fantasies of bliss, but Kyra may not be ready to forgive and forget. All Terrence wants is a second chance to convince Kyra that as long as they’re together, neither of them will ever lose.

TENDER TO HIS TOUCH, Adrianne Byrd

Beverly Turner is pulling out all the stops for her reunion. The trendy designer’s first order of business is to let loose and have some fun. And her wish just might come true when she meets Lucius Gray. The hunky, high-powered attorney is looking for the same thing she is: a sexy fling with no strings.

Lucius needs a time-out from his workaholic life, and the sensual designer more than fits the bill. Like Beverly, he has once been burned by love. If she’ll let him, he’ll give her the happy ending she deserves and prove to this unforgettable woman that there is life—and love—after college….

Hollington Homecoming

Volume Two

Essence Bestselling Author

Pamela Yaye

Adrianne Byrd

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CONTENTS

PASSION OVERTIME by Pamela Yaye

TENDER TO HIS TOUCH by Adrianne Byrd

Dear Reader,

We hope that your college years were filled with fond memories—football games with tailgating parties, studying all night and meeting your roommate for the first time. Aside from these remembrances, there might also be that one love that you left behind and wondered, what if…

This Hollington Homecoming collection presents four wonderful stories that take you on an exciting adventure back to homecoming weekend. You will be reminded of what it feels like to revisit your old stomping grounds and connect with friends and lovers. Your heart will beat with nostalgia as you read these sensual class-reunion tales and are swept off your feet by the power of passion.

In Pamela Yaye’s “Passion Overtime,” PR rep and event planner Kyra Dixon has been given the plum job of helping sign hunky pro-football star Terrence Franklin as Hollington’s new head coach. But Kyra and Terrence have some unfinished business. Essence bestselling author Adrianne Byrd’s “Tender to His Touch” introduces trendy designer Beverly Turner, who wants to let loose and have some fun at her reunion. And her wish just might come true when she meets Lucius Gray.

Enjoy this escape down memory lane with Hollington Homecoming, Volume Two, and look for Hollington Homecoming, Volume One, available now wherever books are sold.

Happy Reading,

Harlequin Kimani Arabesque

PASSION OVERTIME

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 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 One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

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 awe-struck 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 sides 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 email 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 a 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 email, 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 email 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 email 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 email 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. Copping a cool, self-assured grin, he threw his sports car into drive and dialed Neal’s home number.

Chapter 6

“Please tell me those guys aren’t the Hollington Lions,” Terrence said. Head cocked to the right, he gestured toward the football field with his index finger. Sunlight reflected off his sunglasses, and although Kyra couldn’t see his eyes, she heard the disappointment in his voice. “You said they were a hard-working bunch with a desire to succeed.”

“They are,” she insisted. “They’re still not in the best shape yet, but they’ll be ready in time for the homecoming game.”

Coach Mayo appeared. “All right boys, gather around.”

No one moved.

Undeterred by their lack of enthusiasm, the interim coach spoke about the importance of team work and perseverance. “This is a new day, boys. A new season. We’re going to go out fightin’, you hear me? Compete on every snap, on every play, on every down. Now, let’s warm up and give a good showing this morning!”

Feet dragged across the field. The players formed a crooked circle around Coach Mayo and stretched to the count of ten. After, he instructed them to run five laps around the football field.

Worried about the impression Terrence was forming of the team, Kyra searched for the right explanation to give about the players. “They’re really great kids,” she began. “The quarterback, Javarius Nelson, is the first person in his family to go to college, and three of the defensive linemen are here on full scholarships.”

“Now I know why they were 6-7 last season.” Terrence plunked down on the wooden bench. “What the hell am I getting myself into?”

“They just need some direction, some discipline, a strong, firm hand.” Taking the seat beside him, she held the team files on her lap, prepared to refer to them if he had any questions about specific players. “They’ve had some injuries in the past and as a result, had a rough few years. Their confidence is shot. Terrence, you know what a losing streak can do to a player’s mental game. You also know that the right coach can make all the difference.” He didn’t respond, so she ploughed ahead. “Only you understand what kind of pressure these kids are under. We’re all convinced you can help turn this around.”

His expression troubled her, but she knew under his guidance, the Hollington Lions could be a championship-contending team again. Gifted with natural talent and an unparalleled love for the game, he had the skill and know-how to make it happen. “Terrence, you were a high school All-American, and you had the highest finish ever in Heisman balloting. Everyone here respects your leadership skills both on and off the field. That says a lot about your ability.”

Someone cursed, words were exchanged and pushing ensued between players. The coaching staff rushed over to break up the scuffle.

“This is painful to watch,” he confessed, hanging his head and rubbing a hand over his face. “They’re turning against each other instead of working together. Not an easy thing for a losing team to get over.”

“You can do this. I know you can.” Her voice was strong, firm, unwavering. “You rushed for two hundred and fifty yards in your first NFL game and scored three touchdowns against the crushing defense. This—” she pointed at the field “—will be a walk in the park for someone with your tenacity and fortitude. If you could go toe-to-toe with a big bully like Joe Bilkie, then you can do anything.”

“You saw that game?” he questioned, shooting a look at her. When she nodded, a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. “Mom said I shouldn’t have punched him. She said I should have been the bigger man and walked away. What do you think?”

“I think you should have socked him in the gut!”

Terrence had a good laugh. “I knew you’d say that. It didn’t matter what I did out there on the field, you always had my back!”

A pair of beauties in pink shorts jogged by. Dressed simply in a chartreuse blouse and capri pants, Kyra wondered how she stacked up to all of the other women he’d dated over the years. Various images from tabloids and entertainment magazines crowded her mind. He liked them young, stacked and curvy. Kyra watched the cheerleaders making eyes at him, but when she looked at him, he was staring at her. “You attract attention wherever you go.”

“Too bad it’s never the right type of girl.”

“You expect me to believe you’re not flattered when a sweet, young thing sashays over to you and slips you her number?” He opened his mouth to protest, but she pushed on. “Terrence, you’re not fooling anybody. I’ve heard the stories. I know what’s up.”

“Kyra, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Spotlight Tinseltown is not a valid news source. Everything you see on TV isn’t true.”

The air felt light on her face, but her heart raced. It had been ten years since they dated, a full decade since they’d made promises and vows to each other, but she was as skittish as she’d been on their first date.

“Keep this up and I’m going to cancel your subscription to Celeb Today magazine,” he warned. His unfailing good humor calmed her, but when he casually put an arm around her shoulders in a split-second embrace, she broke out into a sweat. “I’m not as bad as the media makes me out to be. My mom raised me to be a gentleman, and all those afternoons I spent with her talking about respecting black women weren’t in vain.”

The emotions his smile evoked squeezed her heart. Held on tight and wouldn’t let go. Everything about Terrence Franklin aroused her. His voice soothed, his smile compelled and he pulsed with a sexual energy. But he was a player. A dog. A womanizer of the worst kind and she had the emotional scars to prove it.

“I’m glad we made it out here today.”

Their eyes met and held. Sparks flew like invisible streaks of lightning. And as if programmed, her face warmed, her legs tingled and butterflies danced in her stomach.

“Being here takes me back. Makes me feel like I never left Hollington.”

But you did. And you left me. Shaking off feelings of melancholy, she admired the blue, cloudless sky. Her mind slipped back to the summer of 1998. Terrence had surprised her at this very spot. Right there in the middle of the field. He’d spread out a blanket, then made love to her under a breath-taking full moon.

Kyra pressed her eyes shut. That night—that sweet, enchanted night—was ingrained in her heart forever. It had been a tender moment, and despite all of her attempts, she’d never been able to forget it. Kyra hoped Terrence didn’t remember that warm summer evening. Hoped he didn’t mention it or reminisce about how willingly she’d given herself to him...

“Man, I’d die to be out there one more time, playing to the crowd, spinning out of tackles, showing the whole world what I can do.”

Terrence gazed out onto the field and Kyra stared at him. It was unbearably humid, and as hot as the desert, but he was wearing a black V-neck shirt and tan pants. The former NFL running back had powerful shoulders and a Herculean build, but it was his smile that seduced her every time.

“I used to dread training camp,” he said, with an easy laugh. “The days begin well before sunrise and we endure the most grueling practice sessions imaginable, but I’d gladly run a hundred laps if it meant I could play just one more pro game.”

“It must be hard knowing you’ll never play again.”

“Hurts like a bitch.”

“Don’t worry, your female fans aren’t going anywhere,” she teased, hoping to lighten the mood. “I’m sure they’ll give you a hero’s welcome at the opening game.”

“Is that what you think I miss about playing in the NFL? The women?” Disappointment colored his face. “Most people don’t know this, but the Dallas Cowboys organization is very involved in the community. We clean up drug-infested neighborhoods, read to preschool children and paint over gang tags and graffiti. I’ve done a lot of things in my life, but there’s no greater feeling than signing a kid’s T-shirt or visiting cancer patients at the children’s hospital. Making a difference in someone’s life trumps meeting the winner of some model reality show any day.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you, I—”

“And while we’re on the topic of females, let me just say this. It’s not as easy for me to meet women as you think.”

“It’s an open secret that pro athletes bed women by the hundreds, Terrence. Everyone knows they’re dogs.” Determined to prove her point, she said, “They jump from one groupie to the next making babies they refuse to support.”

“No one with a lick of sense would date an ODB.”

“A what?”

“A woman who only does ballers. Every league has them.” His tone was persuasive, matter-of-fact. “The major leagues have bat girls and soccer has bedposts.”

“Are you serious? That’s crazy,” she said, “and slightly disturbing.”

“I have to work plenty hard to meet sisters. Independent, career-types like you automatically think the worst of me, so I have to work twice as hard to prove that I’m a stand-up guy.” He winked. “Because I am, you know. Ask Mom. She’ll tell you!”

His good-natured smile almost made her forget he’d once dogged her out. She was sure that her opinion didn’t matter anymore to him, didn’t hold any weight, but she couldn’t resist asking him about the now infamous Spago Smackdown. “Is it true you were dating two actresses on the same network at the same time and got busted leaving Spago with one of them?” she asked, giving in to her curiosity. “Why did they start tearing each other’s clothes? And was Jerry Springer really there egging them on?”

Terrence snorted. “That’s pure fiction.”

Amused, she listened as he defended his reputation. It sounded as if he had years of frustration to get off his chest. Kyra heard the irritation in his voice and the underlying sadness he couldn’t conceal. He had several million-dollar homes, luxury cars and all the other trappings of success, but expected her to believe he wasn’t happy. Please. Did she have sucker written across her head in pink neon marker. That baby-life-is-hard speech might work with other women, but not with her.

“Being a professional athlete isn’t easy. You wouldn’t believe all the crap I go through just because I’ve got a little money.”

“Confessions of an NFL running back,” she quipped, trying to keep a straight face. “How sad. You have women throwing themselves at you, and everything you’ve ever dreamed of, but it still isn’t enough. I don’t get it. What more could you want?”

“You mean besides you?”

Her breath caught. A rush of pleasure flowed through her, immobilizing her and leaving her mute. If the school founders could see her now, they’d be hanging their heads in shame. Four years of university down the drain. Remembering that this was the same man who’d dumped her via email made Kyra’s interest wane. Terrence had had his chance, and she wasn’t interested in dating him again, no matter how persuasive he was.

“Kyra, I want what every man wants.” He leaned over until their arms were touching. “A woman who’ll love me for me and not for the things I have.”

Her lust level soared. Kyra swallowed the lump in her throat, her thoughts racing like a kid in a toy store. And when he moved closer still, shivers vibrated down her spine.

“And—” He paused for a moment. His gaze was strong, steady, invasive. For a second, one crazy terrifying second, she wanted him to kiss her. To create some space between them and usher in some fresh air, Kyra made three shifts to the right. “I want a woman who’s a lady in the street, a sex kitten in the bedroom and a Sara Lee chef in the kitchen!” He chuckled. “I’d like to have a bunch of rug rats and a couple of dogs, too.”

Unable to picture the scene he’d just described, she read his facial expression for clues. “You’re pulling my leg, right?”

“Nope. I’m going to be the Brad Pitt of the NFL!”

Laughter came.

“What about you? Are you ready to tie the knot?”

Studying her hands, she slid her silver bracelet up and down her wrist. When the silence became unbearable, she said, “I guess so.”

“You guess?”

Annoyed that he was poking fun at her, she rolled her eyes. “You’re one to talk with your bimbo girlfriends and strip club birthday parties,” she shot back.

“All right, you’ve got me there. I’ve been a very, very bad boy,” he confessed, his words strung together like cans on a string. “I’m not trying to get on your bad side, Kyra. I just figured you’d be married by now.”

“I would have been if...”

“If I’d been man enough to step up to the plate?” Facing her, he offered a weak smile. “It’s okay, Kyra, you can say it. I was a sorry excuse for a man back then.”

Their eyes came together. It felt as if a bowling ball were sitting on her chest. Every breath was a struggle. Insects hummed in her ears, but all she could hear was the gentle timbre of his voice and the deep feeling behind his words.

“Everything was coming at me so fast. Training camp, opening season, the wedding. I’m not making excuses, Ky, I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t you. It was me. I was the one trippin’. I was the one who screwed up what we had.”

Kyra didn’t know if it was the quiver in his voice or the gut-wrenching look on his face, but something compelled her to say, “It was a long time ago, Terrence, and neither one of us were ready for marriage.”

“I promised myself that I wouldn’t bring up the past, but—”

“Terrence, I’m begging you. Please don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what? Apologize for breaking your heart and—”

“You’re giving yourself way too much credit,” she snapped, stunned by his nerve. Where did he get off? After signing with the Cowboys, he’d dropped her, and taken up with a stunning, Cameron Diaz look-alike, but that didn’t mean Kyra had gone off the deep end. Yeah, she’d set fire to his Letterman jacket and cut up his pictures, but that didn’t mean she was bitter. “I was upset, sure, but I moved on. In fact, I took a trip with my girlfriends that fall and had the time of my life.”

A challenge rose in his eyes.

Kyra averted her gaze. Okay, so she’d spent the entire trip in bed crying, but listening to every song ever recorded by Aretha Franklin was incredibly therapeutic.

“Just hear me out, okay? I have to do this or we’ll never be able to move on. We’ll always be stuck in the past.”

Refusing to participate in the discussion, she stared absently out onto the field, her mind chock-full of memories. The players were standing on the sidelines, guzzling water and slipping on numbered jerseys. Discussing the demise of their relationship wasn’t going to change anything, and Kyra suddenly wasn’t in the mood to hear another one of his well thought-out speeches.

“What I did was messed up and I’ve always felt guilty about the way things ended. I was stupid. A stupid, terrified kid who didn’t know if he was coming or going. I listened to the wrong people, and I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Feigning boredom, but secretly touched by his confession, she inspected her manicure, pretending not to notice him eyeing her. Their breakup had nearly ruined her, and Kyra didn’t want to relive one of the lowest moments of her life.

“If I knew then what I know now, I never would have left you.”

“Terrence, we were kids. We knew nothing about love.”

“What are you saying?”

“We were two lonely teens experiencing love for the first time. Or what we thought was love.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Lust is a powerful emotion and we mistook it for the real thing.”

“You’re wrong.” He was transparent, open, as vulnerable as she’d ever seen him. “I know a good woman when I see one, Ky. I loved you more than anything, more than anyone. Don’t ever forget that.”

A moment of silence passed between them.

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” His smile was back.

“I think so. We’ve accomplished a lot in our respective careers and we both have a lot to be proud of.”

“I’d like if we could start over.” Wearing a grin as long and as broad as a four-lane highway, he offered his right hand. “Friends?”

Touching him was dangerous, deadly, riskier than selling Girl Guide cookies in Compton. Kyra was finally headed in the right direction and she didn’t need a great-looking athlete playing with her head. Or her heart. Having Terrence here—at Hollington, the place where they’d met and fallen in love—was confusing enough without him playing mind games with her. Kyra sensed his interest in her, and didn’t want to make a habit of seeing him on a personal level, but she liked the idea of calling a truce. Just to prove she was really over his betrayal. Steeling her nerves, she reached out and shook his hand. “Friends.”

His touch shot chills down to her toes. She saw the question in his eyes, felt the warmth of his remarkably soft skin and knew something special had just passed between them. Passion was synonymous with desire, but Kyra refused to believe that after all this time, the chemistry between them still remained. This wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t going to fall for his smooth speech and muck up what she had going with...damn, what was the name of the guy who’d taken her to lunch last week?

“You know why I returned to Hollington, don’t you Kyra?” His gaze was so deep, so penetrating, she felt naked before him. Like that night they’d made love on that bearskin rug, in front of the fireplace, to the soothing sound of D’Angelo’s whispery vocals. “I came to see you.”

“Terrence, we could never be more than...” was as far as she got. Gripped by his megawatt smile, his invigorating scent and his touch, she gulped down the rush of emotion threatening to overtake her. Several deep breaths later, Kyra ordered herself to get a grip. Terrence had the bravado of the James Bond icon and more sex appeal than a Chippendales dancer, but she refused to be duped again by his suave moves.

“There you are,” a familiar voice said.

Kyra dropped Terrence’s hand as if it were a roasted stone. Smile frozen in place, she swiveled around on the bench and met her boss’s gaze. “Mr. Morrow, hi, um, what are you doing here?”

Chapter 7

Secretly pleased by the interruption, Kyra looked on as her boss led Terrence onto the field. Fifty feet away, she could still hear Mr. Morrow’s rich, booming laugh. Introductions were made, players were split into teams and, to her surprise, Terrence donned a red pinny and joined the smaller of the two squads.

Digging her cell phone out of her purse, she got up off the bench and walked over to the sidelines. Kyra smiled when she heard her best friend’s message. After striking up a conversation at the Georgia Conference for Women three years ago, Aimee Phillips had quickly become someone she could depend on. The Houston native had parlayed her love of down-home cooking into a culinary career, and Kyra was thrilled the personal chef was relocating to Atlanta.

Anxious to speak to Aimee, she pressed Redial and put the phone to her ear. On the third ring, her girlfriend’s light, breathy voice floated over the line. “What took you so long to call me back?” Aimee asked once they’d exchanged greetings. “I called you hours ago.”

“It’s been one of those mornings. Crazy from the moment I rolled out of bed, and growing longer by the second!”

“It couldn’t be any worse than the day I’m having.”

“What’s up? You sound bummed. Is everything okay at the...”

Momentarily sidetracked by Terrence’s impressive moves on the football field, she lost the ability to think and talk at the same time. Glued to the spot, her eyes slipping and sliding all over his bulging forearms, she waited for her mind to clear. A minute passed. Then another. Kyra was having a mental lapse again, but ever since Terrence had arrived at her office, daydreaming had become a daily occurrence. And when their eyes met, desire washed over her like water from a brook. Blessed with the face and physique of a model, he had the height, the build and the kind of personality that women of all ages found hopelessly attractive. Biting the inside of her cheek, she turned away from his powerful, muscled body and regained the use of her tongue.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked, remembering her girlfriend was on the line. “Are you visiting your parents this weekend?”

“No, they’re out of town.”

“Great. So you can join me and Shaunice at The Tavern for trivia night.”

“Kyra, you know you’re my girl and everything, but that sounds kind of corny.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it. Last month we won the grand prize.”

“What, a year’s supply of corn chips?”

“No, thirty-five hundred dollars.”

Aimee’s voice perked up. “What time did you say it started?”

Giving in to her laughter, she raised her head just in time to see Terrence yank off his pinny. Walter paused to speak to Coach Mayo before falling in step with the former NFL running back. The men strode off the field, wearing identical smiles.

A minute later, Kyra slapped her cell phone shut and slipped it into her purse. “The kids sure looked happy to see you,” she said when Terrence pulled up beside her.

“As they should be. Flash is the real deal!” The excess skin around Walter’s chin jiggled and his shoulders shook with merriment. “You should have seen the wide-eyed expression on their faces when Terrence asked if he could play. They looked like they were going to pass out!”

Terrence pointed his chin towards the field. “They’re a good bunch. If they study the play book and listen to the coaching staff, they might have a chance this year.”

“With you at the helm, they’ll have more than just a chance. But we can discuss your vision for the team over lunch.” Walter clapped him on the shoulder. “There’s a great restaurant up the street that has the biggest steak burgers you’ve ever seen.”

“Don’t say no more. I can eat any time of the day!”

“All right,” Kyra began, putting on her Prada designer sunglasses, “you guys go have lunch and I’ll catch up with you both this afternoon.”

Mr. Morrow frowned. “Nonsense, you’re coming with us. We’ll talk football, and then you can show Terrence around our fine city.”

“But Terrence went to school here,” she pointed out. “He knows the area better than I do. He doesn’t need me to show him around.”

“Oh, but I do,” he insisted, his eyes wide and innocent. He’d perfected the deer-in-headlights look, and unfortunately for Kyra, her boss was eating it up. “I want to check out the aquarium and the Atlanta Sports Museum.”

Walter nodded. “Great, it’s settled. Kyra will show you around after lunch.”

“It sounds wonderful.” Kyra forced the words out through clamped lips. “We should hurry, so we don’t get caught in the lunch rush.”

Terrence gave her an affectionate touch on the arm. “Ladies first.”

Hating the pompous smirk on his lips, she hurled a dirty look at him. Why was he doing this? Is he trying to get a rise out of me? Summoning a smile for her boss’s benefit, she licked the dryness from her lips. Terrence’s eyes were filled with laughter, and though she took a step forward, he didn’t remove his hand.

* * *

Brampton’s Bar, a high-end restaurant located downtown, served breakfast until closing and its extensive wine list and eclectic menu brought patrons in from neighboring counties. Prompt seating, efficient servers and a peaceful ambience made the establishment the talk of the town.

“We should order a bottle of wine,” Mr. Morrow announced, stopping a passing waiter. “Terrence, I know you haven’t accepted the coaching position yet, but I feel like celebrating! This could be the start of another Hollington dynasty!”

Terrence winked at Kyra.

A Southern girl from a family of big, strapping men, Kyra had always been taken by strong, silent types with impeccable manners. He greeted the manager as if they were old friends, chatted up the hostess as she led them out to the patio and entertained Walter with stories about his most harrowing days in the NFL.

A cell phone beeped, and Kyra reached into her purse.

“Sorry, it’s mine.” Putting down his fork, Terrence cleaned his mouth with his napkin and pushed away from the table. “Normally, I wouldn’t answer, but I’ve been waiting to hear back from my agent all day. Do either of you mind if I take this call?”

Mr. Morrow flicked a hand as if to dismiss his apology. “Go on, Terrence. I’ll see you at practice on Monday.” He gestured towards Kyra. “You’re in good hands. Kyra will take great care of you.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Confident to the point of appearing cocky, he winked at her and rose to his feet. They were sequestered behind soaring hedges of fiscus trees that shielded them from prying eyes, but as Terrence strode off through the patio, Kyra noticed that everyone, from the businesswomen downing wine to the teenager with the fashion sense of T-Pain, turned and stared admiringly at the former NFL running back.

Mr. Morrow ingested a mouthful of chicken. “Think we could convince Terrence to invite some of his celebrity friends to the Winter Wonderland Ball?”

Kyra thought about it for a moment, then said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I don’t have to tell you how important it is that we get Terrence here at Hollington,” he began, stroking his jaw reflectively. “We have a brand new stadium and have practically given tickets away, but the stands are still empty.”

“That’ll change once Terrence becomes head coach. Soon, every seat in the stadium will be filled. Mark my words, Walter. You’ll see.”

“I love your enthusiasm.” His head remained bent, but he was watching her intently. “You’re in the last year of your contract, right?”

Kyra nodded. She tried to look interested in what her boss was saying, but how could she focus when Terrence was staring right at her? His smile lacked its usual warmth. At ten feet away, he was too far to be heard, but the troubled expression on his face told her the conversation was not going well.

“You’ve given your heart and soul to this school and you’re one of the best PR directors Hollington’s ever had.” He was smiling, but the expression on his face was solemn. “I’m going to level with you, Kyra. What happens this season is going to have an enormous effect on your future. If Terrence signs on as head coach, I’ll see to it that you get a raise and a long-term contract.”

As if I don’t have enough pressure, she thought, annoyed.

“I have to run. I’m chairing this afternoon’s board meeting and I don’t want to be late.” Ending the conversation, he stood and slipped his beige suit jacket over his shoulders. “Take good care of our star coach. See to it that Terrence has everything he needs. Spoil him. Roll out the red carpet. Be extra nice.”

She slaked her thirst by sipping her ice water. “I’ll try my best.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Walter took another swig from his wineglass, and then was gone. But before Kyra could enjoy a quiet moment with her thoughts, Terrence was back.

“That was fast,” she said.

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yup.”

“Liar.” Leaning forward in her chair, arms folded casually on the table, she studied him for a full minute. “The clenched jaw says it all, but if that’s not enough, you’re gripping your glass so tight your veins are popping.”

Slowly, his frown fell away and was replaced with a grin. “You still know me better than anyone else.”

Kyra swallowed. Her tongue felt like dead weight, and it didn’t matter how much she moved it, it wouldn’t oblige. Needing a diversion, she forked broccoli into her mouth and chewed. “So, what’s up? Why do you have a long face?”

“I’m in talks with a network to host my own show, but negotiations have stalled. They’re trying to lowball me, and my agent thinks we should bail.”

“Wow,” she breathed, her voice laced with awe, “you’ve got your hands in everything. Movies, television, endorsements.”

His hearty laugh drew the attention of the brunette at the next table. Winking, she formed her pouty lips into a coy smile. Terrence looked away. “I try to stay busy. I’d lose my mind if I had nothing to do.”

“I’d kill to have some more free time.”

“That’s what you think, but after a few weeks, you’d be itching to go back to work,” he argued. His eyes were sharp and wide and showed how much he was enjoying their banter. “There’s no substitute for getting out and being with people.”

“Maybe for a social butterfly like you, but I have plenty to do at home. I have so many projects on the go, I had to make a list!”

Squinting, he leaned forward. She saw the amused sparkle in his eyes and wondered if she’d revealed too much. His smile had always been her downfall, and that hadn’t changed in the time they’d been apart. Every time he flashed those pearly whites, she went soft. “Tell me what’s on your list.”

“It’s nothing. Just a few things I enjoy doing.”

“Come on,” he prodded. “Don’t be shy. I’d love to know what you do for kicks.”

Was it the sweltering heat that made it impossible for her to think, or his intrusive gaze? Convinced she was reading too much into his questions, she told him about the extensive renovations that had been done to her house last month. “I still have to clean out the garage, unpack boxes and find a company to landscape before winter. Then, there’s my scrapbooking projects, and all the orders I have for my holiday candles.”

“You still make aromatherapy candles?”

Nodding, she bit back a smile. “I’m surprised you remember.”

“How could I forget? I had the best-smelling dorm room in Rupert Hall. You always accused me of flirting with the other co-eds, but it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with your products!”

“It didn’t help that you liked strutting around without your shirt on.”

“I was trying to impress you.”

Kyra gulped down some water.

“Scrapbooking, huh? I should get you to help me organize all the pictures, and mementos I’ve collected during my career.”

Not wanting to offend the superstar athlete, she said, “Not a problem, I’d love to help out. Just say when—”

“How does tonight sound?”

“Sorry, I’m busy.” Unsettled by his steely gaze, Kyra lowered her eyes and pushed out a breath. She needed to steady her nerves before she embarrassed herself. “Back to your deal with Fox. How are you going to find time to host a Sunday morning sports show, with all the other things you’ve got on the go?”

“I’ll find the time. Sleep’s overrated. As long as I get five hours, I’m good to go.”

“You should take it easy,” she advised. “After ten years and countless hits, fractures and broken bones, you need sufficient rest.”

“Kyra, no one retires at thirty-two. I might not be healthy enough to play football, but I have a few good years left in me.”

“You never were one to heed advice.”

“That’s true.” They were two, meaningless words, but his voice was thick with feeling. His expression sobered. “My mom told me to marry you, but I wouldn’t listen. That was the worst decision I ever made and I’ve regretted...”

Pressing her back flat against the chair, she uncrossed her legs and wrung her hands fretfully in her lap. Kyra wanted to tell Terrence to stop, wanted to tell him to quit living in the past, but the words stuck in her throat. They were lodged so deep she could hardly breathe. Sucking in some fresh air, she decided to deal with his erroneous statements head on. Laughing, joking and reminiscing about the good old days took Kyra back to one of the happiest times in her life, but she had to draw the line. Right here, right now. She wasn’t about to take up with an arrogant skirt-chaser who’d betrayed her once before.

“I’m glad Walter contacted me about the coaching position.” He gazed at her, his eyes bright, his big, handsome smile more endearing than a fluffy, white kitten clawing at the back door. “I have a lot to be thankful for. Job offers are starting to roll in, I’m feeling stronger than I have in years and then there’s...you.”

Kyra wanted to laugh, but didn’t. Terrence Franklin had some nerve. He’d broken her heart when he’d dumped her, but arrogantly thought she could be placated with smooth lines and wide smiles. Waiting impatiently for him to wrap up his speech, she tried not to stare at his thick, juicy lips. An unscrupulous charmer, he lived for the intrusive glare of the spotlight and seemed to derive extreme pleasure from seeing her sweat. Kyra didn’t care if he had a perfect smile, bulging biceps and a tight butt. She wouldn’t date him if he were the last man on Earth. But if all that was true, why was she sitting in the stifling heat, shooting the breeze with Terrence when she had tons of paperwork waiting for her back at the office?

“I’m grateful for this opportunity.” His hand grazed hers. “If it wasn’t for the job offer, I would have missed the chance to see you again.”

It took Kyra a moment to organize her thoughts, but when she opened her mouth, a lie rolled off her lips. “Terrence, you’re a nice guy, and I’m sure you’ll make some woman very happy some day, but with our history we could never be more than friends.”

“You’re getting a head of yourself, aren’t you? We haven’t even had our first kiss yet.” He changed the subject so fast Kyra was convinced she’d misheard him. “What are your plans for the weekend? Got anything special going on?”

“Nothing much. Visiting my parents, cleaning the house, maybe a little baking. What about you?”

“My cousins are huge trivia buffs and they need a third man for their team, so I’ll be at The Tavern tonight kicking some butt.”

Her eyes ballooned. “You play trivia?”

“I know. Geeky, huh?”

“No, not at all. You graduated with high marks in all of your English courses, but you always downplayed how well you did,” she said. “I just couldn’t imagine an NFL superstar like you hanging out with us at The Tavern on Friday night.”

“I’m more than just a handsome athlete, you know. I’m smart, too!” His smile increased tenfold. “You should come by the bar and watch me do my thing.”

“I’ll be there, but not to watch you,” she told him, with a dismissive shake of her head. “My team, the Foxy Cleopatras, are the reigning champs.”

“Well, prepare to be dethroned!”

“It’s not going to happen, Terrence. We’ve been undefeated for weeks.”

“But there’s a new sheriff in town,” he countered, “and I hate to lose.”

“I don’t know what your cousins told you, but trivia night at The Tavern isn’t for the faint of heart. The questions are hard, the competition is tough and the crowd’s wild.”

“I played in the NFL. I can handle a bunch of suits and nerds.”

“Who are you calling a nerd?” To underscore her disgust, she gave a snort of disdain. “What’s your team name?”

“The Verbal Ninjas.”

“That’s original,” she drawled.

“It doesn’t matter what we’re called. You’re going down!”

Kyra burst into uncontrollable laughter. “Keep dreaming, pretty boy! You have a better chance of being struck by lightning than beating me!”

“Wanna bet?” He slanted his head to the right, studying her, examining her, wondering how to make this deal work to his advantage. “If I win, you have to cook dinner for me tomorrow night and if I lose I’ll take care of your landscaping.”

“You?” The skepticism in her voice was palpable.

“I had my own landscaping business when I was a kid. Ten dollars a yard. It wasn’t much, but it kept me out of trouble.”

In jest she said, “I’d hate for you to ruin your sneakers.”

“Then you better bring your A game, because I play to win!” Terrence fished some bills out of his wallet and placed them on the silver billet. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he stood and came around the table. He pulled up behind her chair and placed a hand on her shoulder. “How about that tour? I thought we could start at...”

Terrence murmured in her ear, and chills zipped down her back. Against her will, but too dumbfounded to protest, Kyra rose on wobbly, sweat-drenched legs. She commanded her feet to move, and they reluctantly obliged. With a hand fixed to the slope of her back, his touch more dizzying than a French kiss, he escorted her through the sun-drenched patio and out onto Stayler Avenue.

Chapter 8

Known for its fine dining, designer boutiques and ten-thousand square-foot mansions, Highland Hills was home to some of the most prominent businessmen in the state. And on Friday nights, the movers and shakers in the community crammed into The Tavern for old-fashioned steaks, vintage wine and scintillating conversation.

Desperate to escape the pelting rain, Kyra yanked open the wooden door and rushed inside, almost knocking over a teenage girl with dyed blue hair. Housed in a historic bungalow, The Tavern had long been regarded as a Georgia landmark and the framed portraits hanging at the entrance paid tribute to the city’s founders. With its extended bar, and muted lighting, the century-old restaurant was the ideal place for after-work drinks or a cozy first date.

Shaking the water from her umbrella, she peered into the dining room, canvassing the area for her girlfriends. Every Friday, the women met for food, conversation and cocktails. Shaunice Berkley was a devoted mom to her preteen daughter, but she never missed an opportunity to hang out with her girls. Being an emergency room nurse was a stressful job, and Shaunice often joked that if it wasn’t for happy hour, she would have been carted off to a psych ward a long time ago.

In the same instance she found Shaunice, she spotted Terrence. As if by design, he passed right in her line of vision. Kyra stood there for a moment, weighing her options.

Should she greet Terrence or make a beeline for her table? If she ignored her girlfriend, she’d hear about it later, but it didn’t seem right dodging Terrence. After all, it was her job to entertain him while he was in town.

“Kyra! Over here!” Terrence yelled, drawing the attention of everyone in the lounge. When she didn’t move, he strode over. He smiled as if he thought he was cute. And he was. Casual, in a white polo shirt, jeans and a buckskin jacket, he looked even sexier than he had that afternoon out on the football field. Wearing thousands of dollars’ worth of bling, in a place that the upper class frequented, he stuck out like a priest at a biker bar. His crooked grin, arresting eyes, and home-boy swag made all the women in the room sit up and take notice, including her.

Remembering all the laughs they’d shared that afternoon, she tore her gaze away from his delicious mouth and waved in greeting. Terrence was an affable, easygoing guy, so why did she get flustered whenever he was around? She enjoyed his wit and his personality, and his bad-boy vibe only emphasized his appeal.

Showing admirable poise, she pushed out a breath and greeted him with a tentative smile. “Hey. How’s it going?”

“You made it.” To her utter surprise, he bent down and pecked her cheek. “I’ve been watching the door for the last fifteen minutes.”

Kyra tripped over her tongue. His voice had a soporific effect on her and she suddenly felt light-headed. Why did this keep happening to her? Around Terrence she became more self-conscious than a preteen girl buying her first training bra. Recognizing the danger of being so close, she moved her body away from his. “Traffic’s usually crazy on Friday nights, but the rain made the drive ten times worse.”

“This is your last chance to back out of the bet,” he told her. “My cousin Damon is even more competitive than I am and he suggested the loser pay the winner’s tab. Think your friends will go for it?”

“Bring it on, bucko! We’re going to mop the floor with you!” Laughing, she agreed to meet up with him after the game and crossed the room toward her friend.

“Is that Terrence Franklin?” Shaunice asked, gripping her forearm.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“He looked mighty happy to see you.”

Kyra told her about the bet. “I’m not worried. We’ve got this, right?”

“Not if Black Barbie doesn’t show up. Where is Aimee, anyway?”

“Shaunice, I told you to quit calling her that,” Kyra scolded. “How would you feel if I made fun of you behind your back?”

“Aimee’s plastic. It fits.” She lifted her martini glass to her thin, glossy lips. “I don’t know what men see in her. She’s as fake as a blow-up doll!”

“You sound jealous.”

Her eyes thinned. “Me? Jealous? Never. I might not have dimples or three bags of human hair flowing down my back, but I’ve got it going on.” She punctuated her words with heavy sighs and excessive eye rolling. “In my opinion, she’s nothing but a fake...”

Kyra shook her head. That confirmed it. Jealous. Shaunice’s problem was and always had been that she was intimidated by anyone who was different. She was Kyra’s loudest, most aggressive friend by far. No one was exempt from her sharp tongue and critique, but she had always been a good friend to her. “How are things going at work? Still working all that crazy overtime?”

Flying high over the promotion she’d received on Monday, Shaunice chatted about her plans for the bonus. Her friend kept up a continuous stream of chatter, but Kyra’s thoughts were on Terrence. Every so often, she’d steal a glance at him and after several seconds, look away. This time, she gave herself permission to stare. Frowning, she scrutinized the women who had surrounded his table. Didn’t he have any male fans? she wondered, as another leggy blonde joined the group. Being surrounded by a troop of sinewy model types would make the average man puff out his chest, but Terrence looked bored.

Kyra heard a buzzing sound. Plopping her handbag down on her lap, she rummaged through it for her cell phone. Concealing it under the table, she flipped open the screen and quickly read the text message.

What’s your pleasure? A Cosmopolitan, or a Candy Cane Martini?

Hiding a smile, she glanced up at him. His eyes were all over her. Terrence thought the world belonged to him and arrogantly believed they could pick up where they left off. Overconfident and full of pride, he was the type of man who never gave up. The type who’d stop at nothing to win. They’d never be more than friends, but there was no harm in letting him buy her a drink, was there?

“What are you over there smiling about?” Shaunice asked, glancing over Kyra’s shoulder. “Hey, I thought we agreed not to answer our cell phones during dinner. It was your rule, remember?”

Feeling guilty, she switched her phone to vibrate and made a show of dropping it into her purse. “Happy now?”

“Very,” Shaunice said, wearing a cheeky smile, “and don’t let it happen again!”

Two waiters arrived, carrying trays of appetizers and cocktails.

“Courtesy of the Verbal Ninjas,” the server explained, placing a drink in front of each woman. “Enjoy the lemon piña coladas, ladies.”

Kyra softened. So, he did remember. Pushing an errant piece of hair off her forehead, she sent Terrence a smile of thanks. He didn’t respond. Instead, he studied her with all seriousness, as if he were putting together a hundred-piece puzzle. And maybe he was, because when it came to their relationship nothing made sense.

The bar filled up and soon every seat was taken. Kyra was on her third cocktail when the disc jockey from WTSU 95 took the microphone and greeted the crowd. Glancing around the room for Aimee, Kyra opened her cell phone and punched in her girlfriend’s number. When the call went to voice mail, she left a message.

“Let’s get this party started!” the emcee bellowed, pumping his fists. “The first team to fifty points wins!”

Allowing herself another quick glance at Terrence, she pushed away her dainty cocktail glass and sat up ruler-straight.

He mouthed, “Good luck,” took a swallow of his beer and faced the host like a diligent student awaiting instructions from his teacher. An act if she’d ever seen one. To the casual observer, Terrence was just another participant, enjoying a night of trivia, but Kyra knew this was much more than just a game. And when he answered the first three questions correctly, Kyra knew she’d been had.

* * *

“How many albums has Michael Jackson sold worldwide?”

Shaunice smacked the buzzer. “750 million.”

“Five points for the Foxy Cleopatras!” The emcee paused expectantly. “How many countries border the African country of Libya?”

A man with a nasally voice answered. “Four!”

“Wrong. The correct answer is six. Who did the Atlanta Braves beat to win the 1995 World Series?”

“The Cleveland Indians!” Terrence shouted, up out of his seat.

Kyra snorted. Of course, a sports question. Hell, everyone in the state of Georgia could get that one right.

“We’re down to the last question, and the Verbal Ninjas and Foxy Cleopatras are leading all teams with forty-five points each. Whoever answers the next question right will win a thousand big ones, y’all!”

Kyra tasted her water. If she botched the next question, she’d be cooking Terrence dinner at his house tomorrow night. What was she thinking, agreeing to such outlandish terms? He’d goaded her into the bet and she’d fallen for his trick—hook, line and sinker. It was the oldest con in the book, but she’d been too busy lusting to see what he was doing. How long could they spend together before crossing the line? Kyra would never dream of sleeping with Terrence, but she couldn’t keep pretending that she wasn’t attracted to him. Not when her heart thundered every time he walked into a room.

Leaning forward, hand poised to strike, she calmed her nerves. Losing to Terrence wasn’t an option, so she smacked the buzzer before the host even finished reading the question. “Nineteen fifty-five!” she shouted, high above the din. “Martin Luther King received his doctorate in nineteen fifty-five.”

“Correct! The winners, for the third consecutive week, are the Foxy Cleopatras!”

Shaunice cheered, whooping and hollering like the missing member of the Village People. Kyra followed her friend to the front of the restaurant and burst out laughing when Shaunice snatched the prize money out of the emcee’s hands.

They were back at their table, sharing a complimentary slice of chocolate raspberry cheesecake when Terrence sidled up to their table with two dark, equally attractive men.

“That was some game,” Terrence said, after introductions were made, “but just for the record, I knew the answer to the last question.”

“Too bad your hand isn’t as fast as mine!”

The group laughed.

“Terrence, what’s it like being back in the A after all these years?” Shaunice asked, setting down her cocktail glass. “Did you miss it?”

“Definitely. I grew up in Pittsburgh, but Hollington will always be home. I played ball, received my degree and fell in love for the first time, too.”

Kyra coughed.

“We saw your first NFL game,” Shaunice told him.

“Really? I’m flattered.”

“When you ran out onto the field, Kyra screamed so loud I spilled soda all over my jeans.” Shaunice tugged on her earlobe. “I still can’t hear properly out of this ear!”

Eyes wide, mouth ajar, he turned to Kyra. “You saw my debut game?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s a sports nut,” Shaunice explained. “She likes the Falcons, but the Cowboys are her favorite team.”

A grin on his lips, Terrence turned towards his cousins. “I think Shaunice deserves a celebratory glass of wine, don’t you think so, fellas?”

“For sure,” Damon agreed. “Winning is tough work.”

Under the table, Kyra clutched Shaunice’s hand. Speaking through the side of her mouth, she begged her to stay. “Please don’t leave me alone with him.”

“You’re a big girl,” she whispered, “I can’t pass up this opportunity! His cousins are single and hot!”

Then, in the likeness of Jezebel, she rose from her seat, linked arms with Neal and Damon and waltzed off as if she were the belle of the ball.

“So,” Terrence began, taking a seat in the now vacant chair, “you’re a fan.”

“A fan of football, not one of those insane Franklin Fanatics.”

“Oh, so you’ve been on my website, too.” His smile was ridiculously wide. “Ky, I have to admit that I’m shocked. You gave me the impression that you didn’t care.”

“I don’t.”

“You do. Why else would you be keeping tabs on me?”

“Keeping tabs on you?” she repeated. “You’re joking, right? I loved football long before we ever met. I have two brothers, remember?”

He didn’t answer, but his smile said he wasn’t buying it. Resting his elbows on the table, his gaze more devastating than a four-alarm fire, he watched her intently. “What time should I come by tomorrow?”

“For what?”

“A deal’s a deal,” he drawled. “I’m your handsome landscaper tomorrow.”

She started to protest, but he interrupted. “Pick a time or I will.”

“Anytime after ten will be fine,” she replied, prying the words out of her mouth.

“Great. Then I’ll be there at noon.”

Kyra laughed.

“I have a hell of a time waking up in the morning.”

“I bet. Parties at the Playboy Mansion never end before sunrise, do they?”

“I’d much rather spend an evening with you than watch a bunch of blondes play-fighting in a pool of chocolate pudding.”

“Is that what happens at those parties?”

“Why don’t we talk about us?” he proposed. “What are you doing later?”

Good question. What was she doing? Feeling dry-mouthed and woozy, Kyra gripped the side of her chair to keep from passing out. No more piña coladas, she decided, shifting nervously in her seat. “I don’t know. It’s up to Shaunice.”

Terrence stared deep into her eyes. Kyra looked away, but she could still feel the heat of his gaze. Wondering where Shaunice was, she searched the overcrowded room. Being alone with Terrence, even in a public place, was risky. He was openly flirting with her, trying to seduce her right then and there in The Tavern.

“Being here with you is just like old times.” Voice full of longing and regret, he leaned forward, brushing his fingers against her hands. “Can I ask you something?”

He looked serious, but Kyra felt the strange compulsion to laugh. Noting the hitch in his voice, she lifted her head and pressed her back flat against her chair. Terrence was moving closer and was just inches away. Worried her mouth smelled like onions, she discreetly checked her breath. Kyra didn’t want Terrence to kiss her, but if he did, she didn’t want him to recoil in disgust.

“Do you think you could ever date a guy like me?”

His voice fell gently on her ears. It was rich and soulful, the sweetest sound she had ever heard. She stared at him, wondering what it would be like to feel him inside her again. Back in university, they’d been inexperienced lovers, but now, at thirty-two, Kyra knew how she liked to be loved. Gaining control of her thoughts, she said, “I did date a guy like you, remember? And it nearly broke me.”

When Terrence didn’t respond, she continued. “We shouldn’t be discussing this,” she began, lowering her voice so they couldn’t be overheard. The strength of his gaze worried her. Nothing drove Terrence like failure, and she feared what he might do if she rejected him. If she wanted to keep their relationship pleasant, she had to handle him with kid gloves. “If you take the coaching position, we’re going to be coworkers, Terrence. I don’t want us to start the year off on the wrong foot.”

“I’ve achieved success beyond my wildest dreams and now I want what every man wants. Someone strong and sexy to come home to at the end of the day.”

“Have you considered placing an online ad?”

His eyes shone with jollity. “You mean on one of those dating sites?”

“I can help you to set up your profile.” Kyra had to calm down to finish her sentence. Giggling, she dug into her purse and produced a pen and notepad. “How does Sleepless in Atlanta sound?”

“I’d let you fix me up,” he confessed, slipping an arm over her shoulder and giving her an affectionate squeeze. “I’ve always thought you had great taste. Still do.”

He made a move as if he was going to kiss her, and Kyra froze. Panic flooded her body. Her tongue was heavy and she felt like her lips had been wired shut. She wanted to protest, but couldn’t find the words. Heart thumping wildly, she parted her lips, frantically gulping mouthfuls of air.

“Sorry I’m late.”

The sound of Aimee’s voice yanked Kyra from her daze. “Oh, hey, girl,” she greeted, glancing up at her friend. “What took you so long to get—”

“Terrence?”

He cranked his head to the right. “Aimee?”

“I haven’t seen you since that night in Houston.” Features contorted into a glare, Aimee pushed a hand through her sleek, golden hair. Slanting her head to the right, she studied him through her extra-long eyelashes. “What are you doing here?”

Confused, Kyra divided her gaze between them. Antarctica isn’t this cold, she thought, rubbing her hands over her chilled shoulders. Aimee toyed with her diamond bracelet and Terrence was staring off into space, but their mutual animosity was clear. Kyra sat there silently, passively, waiting patiently for an explanation, but when they lapsed in silence, she decided to get to the bottom of things. Addressing Aimee, she said, “Did you guys hang out in the same crowd?”

Aimee shot Terrence a surreptitious glance, but he was too busy studying his Nikes to notice. Kyra frowned. Things were getting weirder by the second. In all the time she’d known Terrence, she’d never seen him look so uncomfortable.

“We dated for a while,” Aimee said.

Terrence coughed. “I wouldn’t use the word dated. We went out once or twice.”

“Once or twice?” Aimee’s eyebrows shot up. Glaring at him, the wrinkles in her forehead jammed together in a clump of crooked lines and she stuck a hand on her hip. If it wasn’t for her designer clothes, she’d look like a deranged clown. “He’s lying,” she spat, anger seeping through her tone. “It was a lot more than a couple dates.”

Kyra remained seated, without moving a muscle, unable to believe the scene unfolding before her. Terrence had slept with Aimee? Kyra didn’t know why she was surprised. Everyone wanted Aimee Phillips. Her hazel-blue eyes were offset by creamy brown skin, and high cheekbones. The product of a black man and a white woman trying to make a go of an interracial marriage in the early seventies, Aimee had lived most of her life being teased by whites, ostracized by blacks and thoroughly confused about where she fit on the color line. But since relocating to Atlanta, Kyra had seen her friend blossom. After decades of fighting for acceptance, she’d finally come into her own.

Kyra didn’t think the evening could get any worse, but when Terrence excused himself from the table and Aimee launched into a lengthy play-by-play about their hot and heavy summer romance, Kyra felt sick to her stomach.

Chapter 9

At ten o’clock the next morning, Terrence turned onto Penrose Drive and searched for house number forty-nine. The suburban neighborhood of East Point featured impressive homes, neat lawns and a surfeit of shiny convertibles.

Terrence found Kyra’s condo at the end of the block. Decorative flower plants flanked the porch and fine calligraphy script beautified a pair of wooden rocking chairs. Trees arched gracefully along the entrance, and behind the row of mailboxes was a small pond. A red Dodge Viper car was parked in the driveway. Knots of tension twisted in his stomach. That wasn’t Kyra’s car. So whose was it? Charles’s?

His luxury sports car rolled to a stop, but Terrence didn’t take his foot off the brake. What was Charles doing here? Had he come for breakfast or had he spent the night? He hadn’t considered, not even for a moment, that Kyra might be in love with Charles Roberts. She rarely mentioned the guy, and when she wasn’t working late she was with her friends. Terrence didn’t want anyone up under him 24/7, but if Kyra was his woman, he’d want to see her all day, every day.

He’d been smiling ever since he’d reunited with Kyra and thoughts of her snuck up on him when he least expected it. Yesterday, he was confident that he was making progress, but now he was back at square one. Still annoyed about his run-in with Aimee last night at The Tavern, he released a long, pained sigh. Aimee’s arrival had ruined everything. And he knew that she’d badmouthed him to Kyra after he left the table. That’s just the kind of girl Aimee Phillips was. He shook his head at the inanity of the situation. Of all the women in his past, he’d been dogged by a sister who could be the spokesperson for the Gold Diggers of America.

Terrence considered his options. Coming clean about his fling with Aimee would open the door to other conversations about his past. Did Kyra really need to know about that raucous weekend in Rio? Or about the DUI he’d been charged with last year?

His knee was acting up, but he wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to see Kyra. He’d popped a couple of aspirin, had a shot of whiskey and jumped into his car. His decision was an easy one to make. He was going to do what he’d always done in the face of adversity. Forge ahead. After all, Charles Roberts was the least of his problems. Kyra’s temporary boyfriend wasn’t the biggest obstacle. Their past was.

Terrence released his seat belt. He had his work cut out for him. It was going to be an uphill battle to win Kyra’s trust, but he was nothing if not determined. Shoving his keys into his pocket, he reached across the seat and grabbed the bags of takeout.

Strolling up the walkway, he took the steps two at a time and rang the doorbell. A half-minute later, he heard light footsteps. Terrence wasn’t sure how he’d feel if Charles answered, but before he could reflect on it, the door swung open. Terrence didn’t know if he should be surprised or relieved. Aimee didn’t speak, but her arched eyebrows and upturned mouth spoke of her annoyance. “What do you want?”

Staggered to see her, he greeted the personal chef with all the kindness he could muster. “How’s it going, Aimee?”

Her frown deepened.

A dead ringer for the late singer Aaliyah, she wore her hair parted down the middle and a revealing, bone-white dress that offered two cupfuls of cleavage. “You look very nice today. Are you catering an event this—”

“You didn’t drive over here to hand out compliments, so get to it.”

“I’m here to see Kyra.”

“She’s busy.” Her tongue clicked against her teeth, making a loud, annoying sound. “You really should have called first. Showing up uninvited is in poor taste, Terrence, even for you.”

“You don’t understand. I—”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” she snapped, making a face that could rival Ugly Wanda. “Don’t think for a second that I’m going to let you play my best friend, Terrence. I know your MO and I’m onto you, so don’t even try it.”

The devil doesn’t wear Prada, he thought, she wears Apple Bottoms. Like a menacing-looking security guard at a gated mansion in the Hollywood Hills, Aimee was barring his entrance into Kyra’s house and seemed to take great pleasure in insulting him.

“Kyra’s expecting me,” he told her, annoyed that she was spoiling for a fight at this ungodly hour. “If it wasn’t for the accident on Ninth, I would’ve been here an hour ago.”

After five miserable hours of sleep, he’d dragged himself out of bed and made the hour-long trek to East Point to have brunch with Kyra. He wasn’t here to listen to Aimee run her mouth. That was one of the reasons he’d stopped calling her. She talked constantly and had something to say about everything. In her mind, silence was the enemy, and if there was a break in the conversation, she felt it was her duty to fill it with mindless jibber-jabber. “Are you going to go and get her for me?”

Aimee shook her head, her ponytail swishing back and forth. “She’s getting dressed and I’m on my way out, so call her later,” she suggested, gathering her purse. “Now, get out of my way. I’m running late.”

“No problem. You go about your business and I’ll wait for Kyra in the kitchen.”

“Oh no, you don’t.” Arms folded, she sneered at him with open contempt. “There’s another man in Kyra’s life and I don’t think he’d like you sniffing around.”

“It’s not like that. Kyra and I went to Hollington together. We’re old friends.”

Surprise colored her cheeks. Her green-eyed glare spoke of her malevolence, but she loosened her grip on the door handle. “You’re not interested in Kyra romantically?” she asked, her tone accusatory. “Last night at The Tavern, you sure looked interested. You had your arms around her and you were drooling like my brown lab!”

Appearing nonchalant, he hung his thumb off the front pocket of his jeans. “We’re old friends,” he told her, producing a smile. His mother had taught him nothing good could come from lying, but if he wanted to get past Aimee, he had to tell her what she wanted to hear. “Kyra’s seeing someone and I’m not looking to catch a beat down. I’m just landscaping her yard. Nothing more than one friend helping another.”

Aimee’s frown fell away and was replaced with a smile so bright it could power the entire state of Georgia. Eyes centered square on his face, she twined one leg behind the other and wet her lips with more flair than Marilyn Monroe. It was like letting the air out of a balloon. Her face softened, the tension in her shoulders receded and she looked like she’d been worked over by a masseuse.

Terrence thought he heard movement behind her and peered inside. The shutters were open, and the sun was making mosaic shapes on the mahogany floors. Cool blue walls blended easily with the opulent, crystal chandelier, the oak staircase and luxurious draperies. He felt connected to Kyra, and Aimee—or any other temptress who tried—wasn’t going to come between them.

After a nasty spill off his motorcycle a few years back, he’d heeded his coach’s advice and cleaned up his act. No more late nights at the club, no more bar fights, and no more girls like Aimee Phillips. He wanted more than just another pretty face and a bangin’ body. He wanted the total package. Someone thrilling and fun who wasn’t concerned with where he ranked on lists of richest athletes.

“Oh, I see. Well in that case, we should definitely hook up while you’re in town. I’m moving down here soon, and I could really use a friend.” Aimee asked if he needed a date for Snoop Dogg’s album release party and thrust her breasts in his face for good measure. “Are you game?”

Terrence shook his head. Aimee hadn’t changed one bit. The personal chef was still looking for someone to take care of her. And not just anyone, either. It had to be someone famous and ridiculously wealthy who could use their celebrity status to open doors for her. Though she’d once ditched him and hooked up with a hot-shot baseball player with a fleet of luxury jets, Terrence harbored no hard feelings toward her. Why would he when he had Kyra? Aimee had perfected the naughty-but-nice look and had the longest legs outside of Nevada, but Kyra was the type of woman he’d been looking for. Authentic, straightforward and more beautiful than words, Terrence knew that he could always count on Kyra to tell him the truth. Aimee had the loyalty of a stray cat, and though she was an attractive woman, she couldn’t be trusted.

“Aimee, you’re still here?”

Terrence stepped around Aimee and pushed open the door. Without makeup, Kyra barely looked legal, and the fuchsia bandana covering her hair enhanced her youthful appeal. Her extra-long tank top and shorts were loose-fitting, but her beauty was unmistakable. It shone from within, from her core, from the depths of her soul. Aimee was decked out in white, but Kyra was the one who looked innocent. And when she greeted him with a cheery wave, his heart thumped louder than a hundred conga drums.

He held up the bags. “I brought brunch.”

“Something smells delicious.” Aimee pointed a jeweled finger at the bag. “Do you have poached sausages in there?”

Terrence nodded. “I have breakfast enchiladas, too. They’re Kyra’s favorite.”

Groaning, Aimee rubbed a hand over her stomach. “I wish I could stay, but I have a meeting downtown with a potential client.”

“Then you better get going. Traffic’s thick heading south.” Terrence didn’t mean to be rude, but when Aimee stomped off, he knew she’d taken offense. An eye roll, a flick of her hair, and she was gone. Not wanting to appear eager, he waited until he heard the door slam, before setting his sights back on Kyra. “Great house,” he said, glancing around. A marriage of classical and urban architecture, the two-storey home featured an arched opening, cherrywood furniture and generous shelf space. “The decor’s very cool. Eclectic but modern. I like it.”

“Your place is probably ten times this size.”

“It’s not the size of a house that makes it a home,” he told her. “It’s the people who live there and the love and respect they share.”

“Uh-oh. Someone’s been watching too many Jimmy Stewart movies.”

“Who?” Terrence scratched his head. “Is that the guy in all those old movies you used to force me to watch?”

Her laughter filled the room. It was a soft, almost musical sound and her eyes were sparkling. Terrence felt his heart inflate. Finally, something was going right. Kyra was laughing, and that was always a good thing.

“I forgot, you never liked the classics. Baby Boy is more your style, isn’t it?” Kyra wore a coy, closed-mouth grin and if it wasn’t for the distance between them, he would have kissed her. He’d never been one to push up on a woman, but he was only human. How could anyone withstand that delicious smile? Desire consumed him and the more he fought it, the more he wanted her. It was that age-old cat and mouse game; he was enjoying the chase.

“So, what were you and Aimee talking about?”

“Nothing.” To put her mind at ease, he decided to tell the truth. “Kyra, I don’t know what she told you, but we were never a couple. We went out a few times, but nothing happened between us.”

Kyra shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I was just curious.”

“I’m going to set up brunch out on the patio,” he said, anxious to distance himself from his past. “Why don’t you meet me outside with a pitcher of your famous watermelon lemonade?”

“But—”

“Ky, don’t argue. Just let me do something nice for you.” In four long strides, he was in her personal space. She smelled like orchids and her lips looked sweet. Terrence was a quick study and though he’d only been back in Hollington for a week, he had a good picture of who Kyra Dixon was. The PR director was a woman of incredible poise and strength, but beneath all of her admirable qualities was someone who was hurting. Terrence had to show her how special she was. With that thought in mind, he slipped a hand across her shoulders and led her through the French doors.

* * *

Chuckling, Terrence put down his glass and sat back in his wicker chair. “Come on, Kyra. Everyone knows women lie more than men. Weaves, acrylic nails, five-inch heels to make you taller.” He lifted the tablecloth and paused when he saw her red painted toes poking out of her sandals. “It’s all part of the female conspiracy, and every time a guy buys a woman and her girlfriends a round of cocktails, he feels like a sucker.”

Kyra giggled. “We get all dolled up to go out because that’s what you men like. You guys drool over curvy centerfolds and we sisters are just trying to stay in the game.” She pointed a finger at him. “And just so you know, no one wakes up looking like a sex kitten. Eva Menendez has bed head and bad breath just like the rest of us!”

Their laughter floated on the afternoon breeze.

“Sounds like someone has a touch of celebrity envy,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “God, I hope you don’t have a secret aspiration to be an actress or something because I’m sick of meeting women whose life goal is to be on the big screen.”

“I couldn’t handle all the scrutiny that comes with being famous. Hell, I’d get a tummy tuck, too, if I was dissed on one of those gossip Web sites.”

“I’d die before I’d let you do that. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

“And all natural!” she added, laughing.

“That you are, baby. That you are.”

Kyra took a bite of her four-cheese omlette. Chasing it down with water, she noticed the defiant slope of his jaw and the odd look on his face. She wanted to know what he was thinking, but didn’t have the courage to ask. Steering the conversation to a safer topic, she asked about his plans for the weekend. “Are you going to Snoop Dogg’s party? It’s all Aimee could talk about during our workout.”

“That depends. What are you doing tonight?”

He looked deep into her eyes and when he smiled, her heart murmured. Kyra made a point of dropping Charles’s name into the conversation, but every time their fingers accidentally touched, she had an overpowering desire to kiss him. To just lean over and plant one on him. Her face flushed at the thought. She’d obviously lost grip with reality, and if she knew what was good for her, she’d stay on her side of the table. “Charles is taking me to the theater.”

“Mind if I come?”

“Right, like you’d skip the biggest party of the year to see an all-woman play.”

“I would,” he affirmed with a quick nod of his head. “I’m sick of the single scene. If the right woman came along, I’d propose in an instant.”

Her mouth creaked open.

“Don’t look so surprised, Kyra. I haven’t been an Eagle Scout, but I’m not as bad as the media makes me out to be. Pro athletes need love, too!”

“With your wild bachelor lifestyle, I find it hard to believe you’re ready for a monogamous relationship.”

“Having a wife and family is all that really matters.”

Kyra wasn’t convinced. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“There’s nothing sudden about it. I’ve been partying like a rock star since I entered the NFL, and now it’s time to grow up. At least, that’s what Big Mama says!”

His deep, rumbling laugh brought a smile to her lips. He sobered, and spoke openly about the challenges of being wealthy in a country obsessed with looks and celebrity. Kyra listened, enraptured by the sound of his voice. In that moment, Terrence reminded her of the sweet, caring guy she’d fallen for all those years ago. And if she was being honest with herself, he’d never, ever left her heart. In spite of their acrimonious breakup, he still represented everything she wanted in a man. Sincere, down-to-earth, chivalrous. In her book, Terrence was still one hell of a guy and the more he talked about family and community, the more she fantasized about kissing him.

“I want someone to come home to. Someone who has my back.” Pain filled his dark brown eyes. “You can’t put a monetary value on love, Kyra. It’s a special thing, and hard to find. I want a wife, kids and a happy family. That’s my definition of success.”

“You really mean that?”

His gaze pinned her to the chair. “With all my heart.”

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