Other People’s Business
Pamela Yaye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Acknowledgments

I have been blessed with a God-given talent and I am truly thankful for my gift. Without God as the head of my life, I don’t know where I would be.

This novel would have never come to fruition had it not been for the love and unconditional support of my family.

To my husband, Jean-Claude, I adore you and I am honored to be your wife. Thanks for believing in me and calling me an author long before I ever achieved success.

Mom and Dad, you are incredible people of God and wonderful parents. Thanks for teaching me the ways of the Lord and for modeling love, faith and respect in our home.

Bettey, you’re my best friend and my life is sweet because you’re in it. Love you, Miss B!

Kenny, you’re the coolest big brother a girl could have! Thanks for reading the first draft of the book and giving it a thumbs-up.

To my Super-Agent, Sha-Shana Crichton, you are a godsend! You’re the first person, outside of my family and friends, who believed in me. Any success I achieve is a direct result of your dedication, professionalism and enthusiasm. You rock, Sha-Shana!

To my editor, Mavis Allen, thank you for making Other People’s Business the best novel it can be.

I have grown tremendously as a writer and I appreciate your insight and invaluable contributions.

Special thanks to the following people who encouraged me, supported me, lifted me up in prayer and gave me godly counsel: Pastor and Sister Farquharson, Pastor and Sister Dawkins, Tommy and Donna Thompson, Misan and Joyce Odidison, Dorothy and Trevor Johnson, Verona and Fitzroy Allen, Mary Odidison, Sam and Shermain Babalola, Natasha and John Otitoju, Marla Johnson, Crystal Wiens and all the wonderful writers in CARWA.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 1

“This file needs to be delivered to Rawlins and McGill right away. Mr. Whithers has to have this package before he leaves for the day, and I don’t have the time or the patience to wait for that bungling courier. Since you did the bulk of the work on the report, I’d like you to take it over, Ms. Nicholson.”

Autumn Nicholson glanced up from her computer screen and inconspicuously closed her message box. Ms. Barstow would skin her alive if she caught her surfing the Internet during working hours. It was Friday afternoon and near quitting time but her gray-haired boss wouldn’t care, she would ream her out all the same.

Ms. Barstow remained firmly planted in the doorway, cueing Autumn she was expected to leave, immediately. Thank God I didn’t duck out early, she thought, hastily packing her briefcase. She would have ordered me back to the office just to haul me over the coals.

Autumn checked the wall clock. She was going to get stuck in dreaded Washington, D.C., rush hour on her way downtown but it would be ten times worse on the drive home. After ribbing her best friend Melissa Grisbey about her tardiness for as long as she could remember, Autumn couldn’t afford to be late to her best friend’s dinner party. She was dying to tell Ms. Barstow to take the documents her damn self, but clamped down on her tongue. She valued her job and its hefty paycheck far too much to get fired, and if she gave in to her displeasure and told her boss what she was thinking, she would be first in line at the unemployment office come Monday morning.

After applying to more than fifty accountancy firms and wearing down the soles of her favorite pumps, Autumn had leapt for joy when Ms. Barstow had offered her the junior accountant position at the conclusion of her interview. She loathed the long hours, heavy workload and the fact that her office was the size of an airplane bathroom, but she had fallen in love with Monroe Accounting.

In her third year with the company, her assiduousness and devotion had paid off and she had been promoted to a senior accountant position. The title had come with a fifteen-percent salary increase, a lighter workload and an office three times the size of her previous one. Autumn was one of the most well-liked employees at the firm and no one worked harder than her or put in as many hours as she did.

Autumn knew her boss was overstepping her bounds, but she wasn’t about to give The Glacier any ammunition for mistreating her later on down the road. The steely-eyed, fifty-something woman had earned the nickname after unleashing a tongue-lashing on a snot-nosed intern at a staff meeting. In a matter of minutes, she had reduced the pro-wrestling-size man to a puddle of tears, and he’d quit on the spot.

Ms. Barstow was unreasonable and downright rude, but Autumn had learned from her just how far fierce determination, hard work and a no-nonsense attitude could take you. The Glacier could scare the pants off a grown man with just one look, but she was also insightful beyond measure, incredibly tough and highly esteemed in the accounting world.

Extending the bulky manila envelope, Ms. Barstow gave Autumn some final instructions. It didn’t matter what came out of The Glacier’s mouth, it always sounded as though she was barking orders. Take this. Hurry up. Leave now. Get there before five o’clock.

She should enlist in the army, Autumn concluded, doing up her three-button blazer and securing the locks on her briefcase. She’d be one heck of a drill sergeant.

“Have a good weekend, Ms. Barstow. I’ll see you on Monday morning,” Autumn called as her boss turned to go through the open door.

Ms. Barstow came to a halt. Eyebrows arched sky-high, her mouth curved disapprovingly, she pointed towards the envelope in Autumn’s right hand. “You’re not returning to the office after you drop that off? It’s only four o’clock.”

Autumn gulped. “I… I have a family engagement this evening and—”

“Very well,” Ms. Barstow said, continuing her soldier-like march down the hall, “get going.”

Your wish is my command, oh Cold One. After closing her office door behind her, Autumn stomped over to the glass elevators. She jabbed the down button so hard, her index finger cracked. Why do I have to drive halfway across town on a Friday afternoon? And where in my contract does it say I’m a courier?

An hour and some change later, Autumn eased her car out of the parking lot of the Rawlins and McGill law firm and fused into early-evening traffic. She slipped on her sunglasses, turned on her CD player and signaled her intention to make a right turn at the approaching intersection. With a heavy pull on the wheel, she bounced the car over the curb, landing with a thud, then made a left turn onto Canal Road, rounding the corner like an Indianapolis-500 driver, and slammed her foot down hard on the gas. If she hurried, she would have enough time to take a bath and spiral-curl her braids.

Singing along with Janet Jackson, Autumn drummed her slender fingers on the crown of the steering wheel. The sensual, heartfelt ballad reminded her of Tyrell. The last three months of their relationship had been about as stable as a teeter-totter, and just like Janet, she, too, was growing tired of being mistreated. Nine months ago, Autumn had felt like the luckiest woman alive. Tyrell had wooed her with dinners at five-star restaurants, called her five, ten times a day and impressed her with fancy gifts. But nowadays Autumn felt that her luck had dried up. Tyrell had changed; he was nothing like the man she had fallen for. As of late, she had seen a side of him she hadn’t even known existed. This new guy was cunning and deceitful, and he couldn’t find the truth if it dropped into his lap. But in the last two weeks, Tyrell had made an effort to change. He was trying to make things better, and she applauded his efforts. They were far from being a couple again, but Autumn was optimistic the arrangements she had made for tonight would turn things around.

Autumn continued down MacArthur Boulevard paying no heed to the construction markers or the posted speed limit. Humming softly, she made mental preparations of what she needed to do when she finally reached home. She was deciding which pair of sandals would complement her body-fitting halter dress best, when the steering wheel began to vibrate. Autumn gripped it so tightly her hands started to throb. She fought to maintain control of the viciously shaking vehicle. Finally, frustrated, she nursed the cantankerous car onto the shoulder.

When the car came to a complete stop, Autumn released her hold on the steering wheel. With trembling hands, she shut off the music and turned off the engine. She released the breath she had been holding and rubbed her hands gingerly over her face. Taking a series of deep calming breaths, she wondered, What the heck was that?

Autumn pushed on the hazard-light button before exiting the car. The air was pervaded with the scent of smoke. She quickly backed away from the car. But when a few minutes had passed without a stream of billowing smoke issuing from the hood and with no thunderous explosion, she walked around to the front of the car and popped open the hood. Autumn didn’t know what she was looking for, but she poked her head inside anyway. Everything looked normal. No smoke. No loose wires. No signs of serious damage. Autumn closed the hood and slowly walked around to the passenger side. Her mouth dropped open. Remnants of the back tire lay everywhere on the highway behind her, as well as chunks of broken glass, crooked nails and what looked like half of a hammer.

With a curse to Ms. Barstow for her needless delivery and to all construction workers on the face of the earth, Autumn wrenched open the passenger door. God, please let Tyrell be home, she prayed, ferreting around in her handbag for her cell phone. She tapped her toe on the pavement impatiently as she waited for the call to connect. Someone picked up the phone on the fifth ring. “Tyrell? Hello? Tyrell?”

“Uh… Yeah. Who’s this?”

“What do you mean, ‘Who’s this?’ It’s me,” Autumn said, the attitude heavy in her voice.

“Oh, hey.”

Autumn chose to ignore his lackadaisical tone. She would deal with that later. “Tyrell, I’m stranded on MacArthur Boulevard, and I need you to come get me.”

Silence.

Autumn was poised to repeat herself when she heard him take a deep breath and then yawn loudly and expansively.

“What do you mean you’re stranded?”

“My back tire blew out and I don’t know the first thing about changing it. You have to hurry, Tyrell, because I still need to go home and get ready for tonight.”

“I don’t know if I can, Autumn. I’m just waking up…and I have a splitting headache. I can barely stand up, let alone drive. Why don’t you call your brother? Or one of your girlfriends?”

“Because Isaac is the guest speaker at a business conference in Baltimore,” she explained, her aggravation mounting with each passing second. “Calling Yvette is out of the question because she lives too far away, and Melissa’s probably at home getting ready for tonight.” Autumn knew that if she called either one of her girlfriends they would drop whatever they were doing and come get her, but she didn’t want to. She wanted Tyrell, the man who claimed to care about her, to come to her rescue, not one of her friends. Besides, neither Yvette nor Melissa knew the first thing about replacing a flat tire.

“Why don’t you call Triple A? They’ll send someone right out and the tow truck driver will change the flat for you.”

Now Autumn remembered why she had dumped him the last time. Here was yet another shining example of why she was better off without Tyrell Wellman. It was almost six o’clock in the evening and he was still lazing around in bed. No doubt he’d gone clubbing last night and was now so hung over and sick to his stomach he couldn’t get out of bed. Some things just never change, Autumn thought, shaking her head sadly.

“Do you know how long it will take for a tow truck to get here? It’s rush hour on a Friday evening, Tyrell. I could end up waiting out here for hours.” Autumn was quickly losing patience. He was either coming to get her or he wasn’t. And if the latter came to pass, Tyrell could kiss the possibility of them ever getting back together goodbye.

He yawned again. “Why don’t you catch a cab back to your place and we’ll pick up your car after the party? That is, if I make it. With the way my stomach is churning, I may end up skipping tonight’s festivities altogether.”

Autumn shook her head some more as her face twisted into a frown. Leaving her car by the side of the road wasn’t even an option. It was a traffic-congested street, but there was no telling what would happen if she abandoned it. It could end up being vandalized, stripped or, worse yet, stolen. When Tyrell started to suggest another dim-witted idea, she cut him off in mid word. “Are you out of your damn mind? I can’t flag down a perfect stranger and catch a ride with them!”

“I can call my father and ask him to send his driver to come and get you. How does that sound?” Tyrell asked, sounding rather self-satisfied. But after a reflective pause, he reneged on the offer. “On second thought, I’d better not. He’s still pissed off at me for not attending his annual Politicians of Tomorrow fundraiser last night. Scrap that idea.”

Jacob C. Wellman, the African-American mayor of D.C., had expected his son to follow his political footsteps and carry on the family legacy. But instead of diving into the political waters after graduating from Georgetown University with a degree in political science, Tyrell had announced that he was taking six months off to “find himself.” Ten months had passed and the only thing he’d found were new ways to blow his parents’ hard-earned money. But Mr. and Mrs. Wellman didn’t seem to mind their son’s laziness. In fact, they supported his lifestyle by giving him a handsome monthly allowance and turning a blind eye to his destructive behavior.

“I don’t even know why I bothered calling you. I should’ve known you wouldn’t come help me,” Autumn said more to herself than to him. She raised her voice and spoke directly into the mouthpiece. “Don’t bother picking me up tonight, Tyrell. I’ll manage just fine at the party without you. I always do. Just stay home and nurse your hangover. And while you’re at it, lose my number permanently.”

“Come on babe, don’t start this sh—”

Click.

Autumn kicked a pebble into the ditch, imagining it was Tyrell’s backside. She was sick of him bailing on her when she needed him most. She deserved more than this. Much more. Autumn had never been first in Tyrell’s life, and, if she was honest with herself, she had never even rounded out the top five. There weren’t going to be any more chances for Tyrell and no amount of persuasion would change that. They were through. Autumn didn’t care if he got down on his hands and knees and begged like R. Kelly before a grand jury. Tyrell could grovel until he wore out the knees of his khakis for all she cared. She wasn’t taking him back. Sighing wearily, she clicked open the glove compartment and rummaged around inside for the roadside assistance brochure.

L. J. Saunders wasn’t a mechanic, not even car literate, but he didn’t feel right driving by the marooned motorist. What if the driver had engine trouble? Or was in need of medical assistance? The charring heat of the sun and the balmy wind made the temperature feel much higher than its seventy-five degrees and with traffic backed up for miles, the motorist could end up waiting for hours before help arrived. L.J. didn’t bother turning on the indicator light; it was broken, along with a host of other things on this banged-up truck. Cars whizzed by as he maneuvered into the far right lane, pulled up behind the stopped vehicle and threw his truck in Park.

Autumn was punching in the 1-800 number for roadside assistance when the crunch of tires on gravel reached her ears. She peeped out the back window just in time to see a dark-skinned man step down from a dilapidated truck. The battered vehicle looked as though it had been submerged in a pool of mud. The color and make were unrecognizable, and although Autumn tried, she couldn’t decipher a single license-plate number. The stranger wore an Atlanta Braves baseball cap, a soiled white T-shirt and equally filthy nylon shorts. He had a slightly crooked nose, which added to his mysterious aura, a faint moustache and a powerfully built body. He had the well-muscled shoulders and defined legs of a track star.

He’s attractive in a handyman sort of way, Autumn decided, eyeing him warily. She gripped her cell phone in one hand, and her car keys in the other. The man could be a serial killer for all she knew. Sure, he looked normal, but most serial killers did. Poised to dial 911 if the man made any sudden moves, she got out of her car and took baby steps towards the grimy-looking stranger.

Behind the veil of his Ray-Ban sunglasses, L.J. checked out the smartly dressed woman moving cautiously towards him. Her white fitted blazer and knee-grazing skirt were conservative, but the high-heeled, pointy-toe shoes were anything but. She moved towards him with a wealth of confidence and grace. L.J.’s eyes skimmed over her frame appreciatively. The woman had a pear-shaped figure and a perfect pair of legs. He had always been drawn to women with simple elegance, and that she had. Her skin was the color of lush, brown soil, her eyes a much lighter shade.

“What seems to be the problem, miss?” he asked, his voice coffee-rich.

Autumn’s shoulders tensed. He had a faint Southern accent and gave a slight nod when he stopped in front of her, but that didn’t count for much. Psychos, rapists and serial killers came in all different shapes, colors and sizes. What if he tried to assault her? Or snatched her necklace? With few options, and no help on the way, there was little Autumn could do. She was stranded and unless she was willing to hitchhike, which she wasn’t, he was all she had. Besides, she was on a busy road. If anything happened, she could easily flag down a car. Positive she was in no real danger, Autumn conquered her thoughts. She smiled at the stranger. In an attempt to calm her nerves, she joked, “I have a flat tire and I don’t know how to fix it because when my father was trying to teach me, I was busy inspecting my manicure.”

He chuckled, revealing a slim dimple in his chin. “Well, do you have a spare, Miss Manicure?”

“I think so, Mr. Mechanic.” Much to Autumn’s surprise, he burst into a hearty laugh. She joined in. Clicking open the trunk and stepping aside, she said, “Hopefully, it’s in here somewhere.”

Autumn watched him dig around in the trunk and stared at his hands. It was hard not to. They were filthy. Her mother’s voice echoed in her ears, You can tell a lot about a man by how he carries himself. Check out everything. His walk. His posture. Even his fingernails. Taking her mother’s advice, Autumn surveyed the man before her. His thin, ashy fingers were covered in nicks and cuts, a faint burn mark was in the middle of his left hand and dirt was lodged beneath chipped fingernails. Mud marred his jawline, but it was his wretched body odor that made Autumn’s stomach jolt. Mr. Mechanic was in dire need of a shower and the strongest deodorant money could buy. For a half minute Autumn thought of reaching into the trunk for the air freshener and slinging it around his neck. The smell was that bad. When the stranger tossed her a backward glance and caught her eyeballing him, Autumn buried her eyes in the trunk and pretended to be aiding in the search.

“Here we go.” L.J. pulled out a full-size tire and a steel jack and rested them against the bumper. “Can you close the trunk?”

Autumn did, then looked on as the muscle-bound stranger wheeled the tire with one hand and carried the jack with the other. She watched with keen interest as he jacked up the car and removed what was left of the tire without breaking a sweat. The sun beat down on them with no mercy, elevating Autumn’s anxiety with each passing second. Sweat trickled down her back, and her clothes were sticking to her body. The moisture between her thighs made her long for an ice-cold shower. She swept a hand across her forehead, grabbed the roadside assistance brochure from the passenger seat, and fanned wildly.

“You picked a prime time to get a flat,” he said as the blare of beeping horns rained down on them. Their cars were safely off the road, but heavy-footed drivers were forced to slow down as they approached the scene.

“I know and it doesn’t help that it’s the hottest day of April, either. I’m roasting out here.” Her stomach let loose a monstrous grumble. Autumn patted her stomach. She had more problems than she knew what to do with.

L.J. glanced up just in time to see her unbutton her blazer and fling it into the backseat. The sight of her alabaster lace camisole aroused thoughts of its softness under his fingers. He wondered if her toffee-brown skin was as smooth as it looked. She plucked at her camisole, lifted her mid-back-length braids off her back and rolled her head forward. The mindless act left L.J. gasping for air. He gulped down his desire as he rubbed the palm of his hand across his forehead. I must be getting really desperate to be lusting after marooned women, L.J. thought, giving his head a good shake. But the sight of trim, shapely legs crossing just inches from his face seconds later, made his mind wander down the road once again. He was definitely a leg man and this woman had a pair that could rival any Las Vegas showgirl’s. He was so caught up in his appraisal of her physique that he didn’t feel the wrench slip from his hands. The clatter snapped L.J. back into the here and now. Smiling away his embarrassment, he retrieved the wrench from the blistering pavement and went back to work.

Forcing himself to concentrate, L.J. worked for the next ten minutes without incident. He tightened the bolts and then kicked the tire to ensure it was secure and the pressure was adequate. He returned to the trunk, and once the young woman had clicked it open with her key remote, he heaved the damaged tire inside. At last, finished, L.J. dusted his hands, wiped them across the front of his shorts, and announced, “All done, miss. You can be on your way now.”

Autumn almost broke into song. If I rush, I can still make it to the party on time, she thought. Grateful to him for all his help, she reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. It wouldn’t be right to leave without giving the stranger something for his troubles. He had practically saved her life. Besides, he looked like he could use a helping hand. Autumn held out a crisp twenty-dollar bill. “Thanks. I know it’s not much, but it’s all I have.”

“Save your money,” he advised, repositioning his worn-out baseball cap. “It was no problem, really. I’m just glad I could be of some help.” Taking in her oval-shaped face and clear complexion, L.J. wondered how God could give so much beauty to one woman. He didn’t know if her skin had a natural glow or if the heat magnified it, but he was enraptured all the same. Her expressive eyes twinkling in the reflection of the sun dazzled him, but it was her cheek-to-cheek smile which made his breath catch in the walls of his throat.

Autumn shoved the money into his hands. “If I’d been at the mercy of roadside assistance, there’s no telling when they would have showed up. I wouldn’t feel right leaving without giving you something as a token of my appreciation.”

“I can’t take your money, miss.”

“But, I have to give you something,” she stressed.

“Then give me your phone number.”

Autumn’s eyes flickered. “Pardon me?”

L.J. cleaned his hands on the sides of his shorts again. He put on his most charming smile, stuck out his right hand and introduced himself. “My friends call me L.J.”

Disregarding his grimy hands and his outlandish request, Autumn slipped back on her Jackie O-inspired sunglasses. She was in no mood for idle chitchat, but she couldn’t be flat-out rude, either. After all, he had saved her. “Well, thanks again for your help, L.J.,” she said, trying out his name. “My best friend would have crucified me if I had missed her party.” She started to walk away, but stopped. Glancing over her shoulder, she asked, “Are you sure you won’t take the money?”

L.J. nodded. He didn’t need her money, but he wouldn’t mind taking her out. Nothing fancy. Maybe drinks at a nice bar or a quiet dinner. Not ready to let her go without the possibility of reconnecting, he asked, “What’s your name?”

Annoyed and uninterested, Autumn wanted to say, but instead told him she really had to go. She had an unruly stomach to feed and a party to get ready for, all in the next hour. Anxious to be on her way, Autumn began the trip back to her car. “Thanks. Bye.”

L.J. tugged the tip of his hat forward. He eyeballed her as she rushed over to her car. The swish of her shapely hips was mesmerizing. Ms. Flat Tire had a tight body and a face worthy of gracing magazine covers, but she was much too thin for his taste. L.J. liked his women the way he liked his steak: thick and juicy. But it was the first time in months that a sister, or any woman for that matter, had piqued his interest.

Don’t go there, he chided himself, ripping his eyes away from the curvature of her butt. These D.C. women are all the same. A bunch of uppity snobs. And Ms. Flat Tire was no different. She drove an expensive car, wore enough sparkly jewellery to require her own personal bodyguard and didn’t look like she had worked a day in her life. Probably some poor schmuck’s girlfriend, he decided as her car merged back into traffic.

L.J. didn’t know why he had wasted his time trying to step to her anyway. The last thing he needed was to get involved with someone like her. That was how he had landed himself in troubled waters the last time. Chasing a sister with a pretty face and a banging body without knowing who she was or what she was about, was just inviting heartache and strife.

When L.J. returned to his truck and turned the key in the ignition, it coughed like a senior with a serious case of bronchitis. He pounded the gas until the engine came to life. Two intersections later, he pulled up beside a two-door Infiniti. L.J. couldn’t resist peeking inside. It was Ms. Flat Tire. She smiled politely before returning her eyes to the road ahead.

L.J. didn’t want her to think he was sweating her, so he fiddled with the radio. He bobbed his head up and down as though he was jamming to an infectious hip-hop beat rather than a weepy Whitney Houston song. When the light turned green, her car lurched forward, leaving his sick truck and the other vehicles in her wake. The Infiniti disappeared into the sea of traffic and L.J. couldn’t help wondering where she was racing off to. What do you care? his conscience prodded. He didn’t. Women as a whole were a pain, but the ones in D.C. were a migraine. The opposite sex had caused him nothing but trouble and he’d had enough trouble to last a lifetime.

Chapter 2

The Grisbey estate sat on two acres of impeccable grounds in the most desirable and prosperous neighborhood in all of Washington, D.C. The breathtaking landscape of Kalorama, which sat upon a rugged hill above Dupont Circle, housed attractive and luxurious homes. Tree-lined streets, broad sidewalks and the relative peace and isolation from the rest of the city made Kalorama home to Washington’s most privileged families. The residents were as refined as age-old china and the stench of new money hung in the spring air like a November fog.

Autumn trailed the procession of luxury cars crawling through the wrought-iron gates. The sight of the ten-bedroom, eight-bathroom palatial home never ceased to amaze her and she had been visiting the Grisbey home for years. The modern-day castle had every imaginable comfort: a world-class, fully equipped gymnasium complete with a workout room, a fifty-seat theater and game room, a commercial elevator and an Olympic-size swimming pool. Melissa’s mother, Janet, was the most sought-after interior decorator on the east coast and she had converted her home to a showcase of the best decor money could buy. The sumptuous furniture, the light fixtures and marble flooring had been imported from Venice; the warrior sculptures and vibrant oil paintings shipped from a tiny South African village and the outsized Oriental hand-made rugs purchased in Hong Kong. The Grisbey estate, which had recently been featured on Martha Stewart Living, was rumored to be in the ballpark of ten million dollars.

After parking on the outskirts of the sprawling lawn, Autumn locked the car doors and headed into the backyard. The smell of freshly cut grass and the gracious chatter of fashionably dressed guests greeted her as she proceeded down the walkway. Autumn accepted a fruity cocktail from one of the suit-clad servers and made her way over to Yvette Albright, the third member of Autumn and Melissa’s friendship trio.

Yvette was unhappily married to a police detective whom she claimed to still love. Her nine-year marriage had produced three adorable daughters, ranging in age from four to seven.

“You’re late.” Yvette gave Autumn a peck on the right cheek. “Why do you look as if you were in a street brawl? Fix your face into a smile before Melissa sees you,” she warned. Noting Tyrell’s absence she queried, “Where’s your man?”

Autumn didn’t answer.

“What did he do this time and how long will it be before you go running back to him?” Yvette asked sourly.

Autumn didn’t know if she could discuss what had happened with Tyrell without getting worked up, but she could always count on Yvette to be straightforward and that was precisely what she needed—straight advice. Concerned that someone might overhear them, Autumn steered Yvette over to a sheltered spot near a grove of trees.

“Do you think I overreacted?” she asked after telling Yvette an abbreviated version of what had happened that afternoon. “You know better than anyone that I have a tendency to blow things out of proportion. I jump to conclusions, tell people off then discover I didn’t have all the facts. Give it to me straight, Yvette. Am I wrong?”

“Hell, no!” Yvette paused to regain control before continuing. “Tyrell left you high and didn’t even have the decency to call and make sure you got home safely. You have every right to be furious! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Tyrell Wellman’s a self-absorbed momma’s boy who doesn’t deserve a woman as devoted and loving as you are. Why do you keep putting up with his mess? For the last time, cut that brother loose.”

Autumn twirled the glass in her hand as she weighed Yvette’s advice.

“Tyrell thinks he’s the salt of the earth just because his parents have money and he has a few fancy sports cars. Big deal! There’s a lot more to making a woman happy than just buying her nice things. He constantly disrespects you and your relationship. Don’t you see that, Autumn? Do you need me to remind you of all the messed-up things he’s done since you started dating? Where should I begin?” Yvette tilted her head to the right, as if deep in thought, then stuck out her right thumb. “First of all, the man lies through his teeth. Remember when he told you he couldn’t come to your birthday dinner because he had the flu, and then we ran into him later that night at the club? What about when he stood you up at the theater? He arrived an hour late to your parents’ anniversary party and didn’t even apologize. What about when he…”

Like darkness giving way to light, the truth of her injurious relationship with Tyrell became clear to Autumn. As Yvette rattled off a list of his most recent infractions, she reflected on that afternoon. On the drive over to the Grisbey estate Autumn had wrestled with her conscience. I lost control again. It’s not his fault he’s sick. Maybe I need to be more understanding. Maybe I should quit nagging him. Maybe I need to loosen up. Just because I revile the party scene, doesn’t mean I have the right to make him feel guilty every time he hangs out with his friends, right?

Autumn had struggled for answers. But after a few seconds with Yvette, everything became clear.

“You’re right, Yvette. That’s just what I needed to hear.”

Yvette’s nose wrinkled as though she had just gotten a whiff of some old garbage. “Enlighten me, Autumn, because I’ve been trying to figure out what the attraction is. What keeps you hanging on? Tyrell mooches off his parents instead of standing on his own two feet, he’s deathly afraid of commitment and he has roving eyes. Your devotion to him can’t be attributed to something as heady as mind-blowing sex, because y’all ain’t having any. So what is it?”

Autumn elbowed Yvette sharply in the ribs. “Don’t go there, Yvette.”

“What?” Yvette shrugged, an innocent smile playing on her lips. Reading the terse expression on Autumn’s face, she wiped it away. “Fine, but I’m just trying to make sense of this mess you’ve gotten yourself into.” After a pause, she asked Autumn a tough question. “Are you in love with Tyrell?”

Autumn felt as though a spotlight was shining on her. It was as if a microphone had been thrust in her face and the whole world was listening in. She had never had weak-in-the-knees feelings for Tyrell, but he was a decent guy and kind of cute. “I guess so.”

“Autumn, either you’re in love with him or you’re not. From what I’ve seen, I’d venture to say it’s the latter. And I bet Tyrell would say the same thing. He hasn’t exactly been discreet about his other women and the word around town is he’ll sleep with anyone with big boobs.”

Autumn avoided the hazel eyes staring back at her. She didn’t want to hear any more gossip about Tyrell. She had heard it all before. And although his once flawless character had revealed pothole cracks, it was still hard for her to believe that he would cheat on her.

Autumn sipped her drink, trying not to think about what she had had planned for later on that evening. Tyrell was such an accomplished smooth-talker that she had actually believed him when he’d said the problems in their relationship were a direct result of their nonexistent sex life. He had made her feel guilty for not “taking care” of his needs and assured her that sex would bring them closer together. Autumn shook her head slowly. She had been up-front about her values from day one, and Tyrell had led her to believe he could handle it. What a joke.

“I’m not interested in a physical relationship,” Autumn had confessed, adopting an assertive tone of voice. She had sounded less like herself and more like her pastor’s wife, Regina Carrington-Nelson. The bubbly, thirtysomething clinical psychologist had invited Autumn to a session for single women and, initially, she had spurned the invitation. She had better things to do with her free time than sit around with a bunch of single women bashing men. But when Regina had popped up on her doorstep one Wednesday evening and ordered her out the door, Autumn had had no choice but to comply.

Autumn had learned more in the two-hour session than from all the self-help books she had ever read. And after attending a month of sessions, she had made the life-altering decision to become a “born-again” virgin. It had been three years since that fateful night and Autumn had never once regretted her decision. Most men balked when she told them about her pledge, but not Tyrell. She still remembered his reaction after she had told him….

“I find it hard to believe that a woman of your beauty isn’t getting any,” he admitted, tossing back his beer. He finished the bottle, and then rolled his tongue over his lips. He examined the dewy-eyed woman sitting across from him, undressing her in his mind. Sure she looked sweet and wholesome, but her curvy figure and sexy smile told another story. Celibate? Impossible. Sexually frustrated? Definitely. All Autumn needed was a man to show her the ropes. Teach her how sex was supposed to be. Tyrell was more than willing to add another student to his class. But first, there was something he needed to know. “You’re not one of those church girls who thinks sex is revolting or immoral, are you?”

“Of course not!” Autumn answered, the heat rising steadily up the back of her neck. She usually saved this conversation for the third or fourth date, but when Tyrell had suggested they go back to his place to “get to know each other better,” Autumn had determined that was as good a time as any. “I’m not scared of sex and I’m not ashamed of my body. I’m just not ready for the emotional baggage that sex creates, so I have committed to put my future happiness and emotional well-being ahead of the fleeting needs of my body. The next man I make love to will be my husband, and if you can’t respect that, I need to know now.”

Tyrell didn’t even blink. “Believe you me, I can handle it.” His probing eyes held hers and in a sickly sweet voice he gushed, “I’m interested in getting to know the real you, Autumn. That’s it. Sleeping with you is the furthest thing from my mind.”

But in the last three months, it had been the only thing on his mind. In recent weeks, Tyrell had become more agitated about her unwillingness to “put out.” He’d found ways to work sex into every conversation they had and had even gone as far as sending Autumn long, pitiful e-mails on the subject. After weeks of his incessant badgering and “Baby, baby, please,” she’d caved in. Tonight was supposed to be the night. Autumn had sauvignon blanc chilling on ice, Teddy Pendergrass waiting to lend his voice to the occasion and white rose petals sprawled across her candle-laden bedroom.

Autumn sighed deeply. Tyrell had turned out to be just like all the other guys. He was caught up in the game. The pursuit. The challenge. He was spirited and competitive, and luring her into his bed was just another one of his conquests. Tyrell thought that once he finagled his way into her heart, she would be putty in his hands. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Autumn polished off her cocktail. When a lanky, wide-faced server offered her another glass, she politely declined. “Tyrell always had an answer. He—” Autumn searched for the right words. When none came, she paused a moment longer. “I believed Tyrell when he told me I was the only woman in his life. He took me to nice places, treated me like a lady and he is from the wealthiest African-American family in D.C. The fact that my mother adored him made it easy for me to overlook some of his questionable behavior.” Autumn ran a shaky hand through her hair. She was already dreading her face-off with Evelyn. Her mother was enamored with the Wellmans and had been overjoyed when she had discovered her daughter was dating one. A shiver whizzed up Autumn’s spine. She could only imagine what Evelyn would do when she returned home and learned the truth.

“I can understand that,” Yvette conceded, “but if that’s all you want—someone to take you to nice places and foot the bill—then stay with him. But if you want a lasting relationship with a man who’s going to be there every step of the way, quit wasting your time with Tyrell.”

“For months now, I’ve been the one fighting for this relationship. I did the calling, I planned the dates and I was the one making sacrifices so we could spend time together. And for what? So Tyrell could bail on me when I need him the most? He’s not the right man for me and I can see that now.” When Yvette raised her eyebrows and crinkled her nose, Autumn insisted, “I’m serious this time. It’s over.”

“We’ll see,” Yvette said distrustfully, “because Lord knows I’ve heard that one before.”

The chalk-white tent, outfitted with drapery, opulent ceiling fans and shiny brass chandeliers, lent an air of glamour to the event. Twenty round tables, each seating ten, were dressed in white tablecloths, gold napkins and heart-shape flower arrangements. Three sphere-shape gold candles sat on flat mirrors on each table, reflecting light throughout the tent.

Peeking through the curtain, Autumn couldn’t help thinking the evening looked more like a wedding reception than a dinner party for the engaged couple. Well-dressed guests seated on lawn chairs were listening to the colorful banter of Edgar Grisbey, awaiting the arrival of the bridal party.

Autumn turned back around and checked her impulse to laugh. Mrs. Grisbey was fussing all over her adult daughter as if it was her first day of preschool and Melissa was eating it up.

“Your father is going to conclude his address by thanking everyone for coming and then he’ll introduce the bridal party.” Mrs. Grisbey adjusted the ultra-thin straps of her daughter’s topaz chiffon dress. “Walk in with your head high, your back slightly curved and don’t forget to smile at the photographers. Now, where is everyone?”

Melissa fluffed her hair. “The girls went to freshen up and the guys ducked into the game room. But Peter promised they would be right back.” Right on cue, Melissa’s fiancé, Peter, and a half dozen men of varying shades and heights emerged from the rear patio door.

“I’m going to give them some final instructions.” Mrs. Grisbey rushed over to the all-male group.

Shante, Melissa’s cousin and a bridesmaid, pointed a lengthy, acrylic nail straight ahead. “Now here comes a piece of chocolate I wouldn’t mind tasting. Hot damn! That brother has the most kissable lips I’ve ever seen,” she finished, low murmuring sounds further emphasizing her point. Then, she turned to her cousin. “Who is that and why haven’t I been introduced?”

Melissa stared at the posse of black men that had encircled her mother. “You need to be more specific, Shante. There are a dozen pieces of ‘chocolate’ over there,” she joked, laughing lightly.

“The bald hottie in the tan suit.” She added with a toothy grin, “The one with all those muscles, the wide strapping shoulders and the tight, brick-hard butt.”

Autumn tried not to gape. Not only was the hunky stranger a walking billboard for GQ but he also had a smile that could melt the wax off a slow-burning candle in the blink of an eye. Mr. Tan Suit can light my fire any day of the week! Autumn felt her face warm. It was bad enough she was openly lusting, she didn’t want to add swooning to the equation, too, so she forced her eyes to look away.

Yvette whistled. “Now, that’s what I call fine. Long limbs, heavy lips and a body so hot it could thaw a block of butter. Yum-m-y.”

Autumn chuckled. Sometimes Yvette was just too much. She kept her voice natural and her facial expression non-chlant when she asked Melissa who the stranger was. “Is he one of Peter’s co-workers? A family friend? A distant relative or something?”

A self-righteous smile curved Melissa’s lips. Autumn was trying to appear uninterested, but desire shone clear in her eyes. Melissa turned from her cousin to her best friend. “Remember last week when you said no to a blind date with the best man?”

“Yeah…” Autumn murmured.

“That’s him. Peter’s best man, Larry,” Melissa explained slyly.

“Larry?” Autumn and Yvette bellowed in unison.

“That’s the guy you were trying to hook Autumn up with?” Yvette asked dubiously. “The country bamma from Mississippi?”

Melissa looked as though she wanted to laugh. “The one and only. Now, pick your jaw up from off the pavement, put your eyes back in your head and smile, Autumn. Here he comes.”

Autumn gathered her wits about her. She tightened her slack jaw, smoothed the creases out of her cheeks and plastered what she thought was a welcoming smile on her face. She could do this. He was just a man. An incredibly gorgeous man whose very presence suddenly made her very nervous. But still just a man.

“Ready to make your grand entrance?” Peter asked, kissing his bride-to-be.

Melissa twined her arms around his slim torso. “I’m ready now that you’re here.”

Shante looked on in amazement as the ridiculously happy couple retreated to a just-the-two-of-us world. They hugged and kissed and whispered as though they were alone in their bedroom, rather than among family and friends. Shante straightened her slinky black dress. She didn’t have time to wait for the lovebirds to sober up and make the necessary introductions. There was no telling when they would resurface from their fantasy world, and time was of the essence. She had to make a move on the Jet centerfold before Autumn sank her claws into him. A year ago, Little Miss Perfect had swiped Tyrell right out from underneath her. But not this time. She refused to be outshone and outsmarted again.

Shante raked a hand through her waist-length hair, flashing a sly smile the stranger’s way. She took a bold step forward, primed to fire off her best pickup line. But before she could part her lips, he focused his eyes on Autumn, and asked, “Did you make it home okay this afternoon?”

The sound of his husky, late-night voice snapped Autumn’s mind to attention. “Excuse me?”

He smiled, revealing perfectly straight teeth. “I can’t believe the fifteen minutes we spent together meant absolutely nothing to you.” His hundred-watt smile dimmed. Then he threw his left hand over his chest and grinned mischievously. “I’m hurt by how little you care.”

Autumn exchanged a baffled look with Yvette.

“You’ve met?” Melissa inquired, suddenly interested in their exchange. “How come you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t know we had.”

“I guess our brief meeting meant more to me than it did to you,” Larry said, taking off his sunglasses. “I never forget a face, especially one as pretty as yours.”

Autumn gave him the once-over, staggered by her intense reaction to him. She had never been this taken with a man before. Never. She couldn’t remember the last time she had agreed with Shante, but there was no disputing the man-eater’s claim—the man had kissable lips. Autumn was nothing if not disciplined, and in the three years she had been celibate, she had never once stumbled. But than again, Autumn had never met a man who made her body shake, rattle and roll with just one smile. His bedroom eyes taunted her and his sultry five o’clock shadow made her heart do the cha-cha. He had the kind of extraordinarily long eyelashes that drag queens would kill for, and his brown coloring reminded Autumn of caramel—rich, smooth and creamy.

Autumn flipped through her mental address file of all the men she had met recently and came up blank. No Ebony Hunk. It wasn’t possible that they had met and she couldn’t remember. He wasn’t the type of man a woman forgot. Her eyes lingered on his lips. She could just feel the heat of his mouth as his lips blazed a trail from her neck to her breasts. His strong, manly hands would grab a handful of her… Whoa! Get a grip! This is not how a celibate woman behaves. Autumn cleared her throat. She was crossing the line. Jumping over it was more like it. If Regina or any of the other group members could see her now, they would ban her from attending any more group sessions.

“Are you sure you don’t remember me?”

The man reeked of charm, which made him all the more appealing. Autumn stared on as he licked his lips with more finesse than LL Cool J, then set his mouth in a broad grin. Did he work in her building? Had they met at Rawlins and McGill? Autumn thought back to earlier in the day. She had handed the file to the Mr. Whithers’s receptionist, Eugenia, and after a few minutes of polite conversation, returned to the parking lot and collected her car. She hadn’t even been in the law firm a full five minutes. “I’m quite certain we have never met before,” Autumn replied, her mind working overtime. She tried desperately to place him. Something about the man was oddly familiar and he was eyeing her as if they shared a secret.

“I’ve always had a soft spot for a damsel in distress. I guess my mom read me one too many fairy tales as a child,” Larry acknowledged good-naturedly. “So when I spotted a young woman…”

Suddenly everything clicked. It was him. The Good Samaritan who had changed her flat tire. Her eyes narrowed. Autumn could hardly believe that the hunk standing before her was the same foul-smelling man who had helped her just two hours ago. But he was. Giving her eyes free rein, she subtly checked him out. He had cleaned up nicely. Clean, trimmed nails, no traces of mud or dirt anywhere, and he smelled like lemon and coriander, not spoiled milk. The stained white T-shirt and shorts had been swapped for a fitted suit, stylish leather dress shoes and a few pieces of simple jewelry.

Autumn couldn’t believe her luck. If this wasn’t one of fate’s twisted jokes, she didn’t know what was. Over seven hundred thousand people lived in Washington, D.C. Anyone of them could have come to her aid, but she had been rescued by the very man Melissa wanted to set her up with. Larry. Larry Saunders. This had made-for-TV movie written all over it. Autumn tilted her head to the side. Melissa was grinning from ear to ear like someone who had pulled off the con of all cons. Autumn’s mouth settled into a deep frown. If she didn’t know any better, she would think Melissa had rigged her tire and then sent Larry to come and save her. Autumn almost burst into wild laughter at the absurd workings of her mind. She was definitely losing it.

“When I saw shapely legs peeking out of the passenger door, I almost drove off the road,” he confessed in a hushed voice.

Larry examined Ms. Flat Tire closely. His eyes traveled down her curvy frame and back up again before she could label him a creep. “So we meet again.”

“I guess so,” was all Autumn could say.

This time, when her knight in shining armor extended his right hand, she took it, in part to keep from keeling over onto the grass and in part to prove to herself she wasn’t the least bit affected by being in such close proximity to him. Even if her body was telling her otherwise.

“Larry Saunders. But like I told you before, my friends call me L.J.”

“What does the J stand for?”

“Jeremiah. And what’s your name? Little Miss. Reckless Driver?”

Autumn couldn’t hold back her smile. His eyes were alive with laughter when she said, “For your information, I’m an excellent driver, Jeremiah, and I have the merit points to prove it.”

No one called him Jeremiah except his grandmother, but L.J. loved the way it sounded rolling off this woman’s lips. Strong. Powerful. Herculean even. He had adopted the moniker L.J. in the fifth grade after his cousin, Dominick, said it sounded a hundred times cooler than Larry or Jeremiah. But his abhorrence for his middle name dissolved as soon as Ms. Flat Tire said it. With a lovely face and a body to match, the woman could call him Chewbacca for all he cared. Titillated by the silkiness of her voice and wanting to hear more, he squeezed her hand. “Now it’s your turn. What should I call you?”

Ready and willing, Autumn thought. Acutely aware that they were still holding hands, and that they had a band of nosy spectators behind them, she pulled away. “Autumn. Autumn Nicholson. And thanks again for this afternoon.”

“It was my pleasure. But you can properly thank me on the dance floor.”

Autumn took the bait. “Just say when.”

Chapter 3

L.J. couldn’t remember the last time he had been this entertained. Seated between Yvette and Autumn, he couldn’t have asked for better dinner companions. Yvette, who reminded him of his sister, Kellianne, was the exemplary round-the-way girl. She embraced everything from the raunchy lyrics of The Notorious B.I.G. to the well-regarded poetry of Langston Hughes. Autumn, who sat to his right and dazzled him in her papaya-colored dress and sparkly crystal earrings, was utterly enchanting and had the girl-next-door thing down to a science.

L.J. had spent so much time hamming it up with the two women he had scarcely tasted the three-course dinner. With dessert coming to an end, he was ready to call it a night. It had been a long day and although he was having an awesome time with Yvette and Autumn, his body was screaming out for sleep. He had arrived in Washington late last night, awakened at dawn, put in a full eight-hour day at his uncle’s farm and then come straight to the engagement party. If he didn’t get some shut-eye soon, he’d be sleeping in his bowl of piña colada pudding.

L.J. hated skipping out so early—it wasn’t even ten o’clock, but he was struggling to stay awake. He was nodding at everything coming out of Yvette’s mouth, but he had been sleeping with his eyes open for the last half hour. When Autumn turned to him and asked if he was having a good time, L.J. forced himself to focus. Maybe I’m not as sleepy as I thought, he decided as he responded to her question. He wasn’t going anywhere until he’d had the dance Autumn had promised him earlier.

L.J.’s chance to dance with Autumn came ten minutes later. When the bridal party was summoned to the dance floor to join Melissa and Peter, L.J. shot to his feet and helped Autumn out of her chair. Praying the DJ would play a slow tune so he could hold her in his arms, he led her out to the dance floor. He draped his arms around her sinewy waist as the familiar melody of “Always and Forever” filled the room. L.J. inhaled her aromatic, fruity perfume as their bodies came together. Autumn felt even better than he had imagined. Silky. Delicate. All woman. She had curves like a twisting road and each shift of her generous hips made his pulse soar. And that wasn’t the only part of his body rising. A bashful man would have pulled away to conceal his body’s reaction, but not L.J. He drew Autumn closer. The feel of her soft flesh under his hands made his entire body yearn for the taste of her lips.

L.J. prided himself on being a man of conviction. When he made a decision he stuck to it. But he was also man enough to admit when he was wrong. And he had been dead wrong about Autumn. After she had rebuffed him and sprinted over to her car, L.J. had labeled her a snob. He had grouped her with all the other stuck-up women he had ever met in Washington. But when he had returned to his uncle’s house, and caught sight of his gruesome reflection in one of the hallway mirrors, he’d staggered back in shock. He looked like he’d been sloshing around in a pigpen. Dirt and mud coated his clothes, grease stains masked his face and he smelled like spoiled meat. No wonder Autumn had recoiled when he’d asked for her name!

Autumn closed her eyes. Resting her head on his shoulder, she decided this was heaven. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this good in a man’s arms. For the past two years she had fortified her second virginity better than a Brink’s truck and had subsequently limited all physical contact with the opposite sex. No hugs. No intimate touches. And no dancing. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed the comforting touch of a man’s hands until L.J.’s fingers caressed her back.

What are you doing? Have you forgotten rules ten and eleven? Autumn lifted her head as swiftly as she’d let it fall. She didn’t know L.J. from Adam but here she was getting up close and personal with him on the dance floor. She disregarded the questioning looks from her friends, but inched back anyways. The last thing she needed was word getting back to her parents that she had been grinding on the dance floor with some stranger. Her parents were vacationing in Martinique and wouldn’t be back for several weeks, which gave Autumn ample time to prepare for the inescapable showdown with her mother. Evelyn would raise Cain when she learned her daughter wasn’t going to be the next Mrs. Wellman. Autumn could only hope that Evelyn would respect the decision she had made.

When the soothing sounds of Motown were replaced with a thunderous hip-hop beat, Autumn left the sanctuary of L.J.’s arms. He placed a hand on the small of her back, and then steered her over to the dessert table. “Do you want something to drink?” he asked, his breath brushing against her ear like a kiss.

Warmed by his heat, she said, “Something cold would be nice.”

“Soda all right?”

“Yes, thanks.”

While they drank, they watched a group of teenagers flaunt the latest dance moves. They moved with the fluency and ease of trained dancers and reminded Autumn just how out of touch she was with the younger generation. She was still in her twenties, but seeing what was “in,” made her feel like she was one birthday cake away from ninety.

“Would you like to go outside?” L.J. asked, realizing it was going to be impossible for them to talk over the ear-shattering music. “A stroll outside will do us some good.” L.J. had been sharing her all night, and was eager to have her to himself. When she hesitated, he added, “I promise not to bite. That is, unless you want me to.”

Autumn laughed off his remark. He’s joking, right? “All right, I’ll come but don’t try anything funny.”

Now, it was L.J.’s turn to laugh.

She curved her fingers around the arm he offered. The chilly evening breeze nipped at Autumn’s bare shoulders as they emerged from behind the tent walls. Her teeth chattered as she rubbed her hands over her chilled arms.

“If you need an extra set of hands, mine are free,” L.J. said, holding them up for her to see.

Autumn laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.” She untied the knitted shawl from around her waist, slung it around her shoulders and stepped back into line with him.

White, cylinder-shape lanterns hung from the tent to the patio and miniature glass bowls with floating candles surrounded the swimming pool. A handful of other couples were roaming around, taking pleasure in the spectacular sunset. The sky was blanketed in a dashing orange hue with streaks of magenta in the backdrop.

“What part of Mississippi are you from?” Autumn asked as they rounded the corner and made their way deeper into the backyard.

“Vicksburg. Also known as the Red Carpet City of the South. But aside from some restored historic museums and centennial homes, the city doesn’t have much to offer. After graduating from Mississippi State University back in ’95, I decided to try my luck in Atlanta, and I’ve been there ever since.”

“And how is the ATL treating you?”

Autumn surveyed L.J. with critical eyes, wondering if everything Melissa had told her about him was true. How could a man with his looks and remarkable personal success still be single at thirty-five? Over the course of dinner, she had discovered that Larry Jeremiah Saunders was every bit as delightful as he appeared to be. He had impressed her with his knowledge of world history, his diverse tastes in literature and music, and his witty sense of humor. When he spoke, he instantly commanded the attention and respect of people around him. He was just that fascinating. Were the women in Atlanta blind? Or is he hiding something? Maybe he has a fetish for wearing women’s underwear. Or maybe he’s bisexual. Autumn studied L.J. He didn’t look bisexual, but what exactly did a bisexual man look like? She stared at him some more. A woman could never be too sure in the new millennium. These days, brothers were skipping out of the closet left, right and center. And the ones who weren’t courageous enough to step out were simply fulfilling their desires on the sly.

“I love everything about the South,” L.J. was saying when Autumn returned to the present. He sat down on one of the striped pool chaises, patted the spot next to him, and when she took the seat, he continued speaking. “Southerners are unbelievably friendly people and Atlanta is one of the few big American cities where black people still smile and nod when passing. It’s the number-one city for African-Americans, and there are a plethora of reasons why. Atlanta is an equal-opportunity city and more welcoming to Blacks than other large cities. We’re a highly educated people starting our own businesses, running Fortune 500 companies and paving the way for the next generation to come into their own. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. I guess deep down, I’m just a good ol’ Southern boy at heart.” A pause, and then, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Where did that come from? Autumn tried to hide her amusement. She looked over at L.J., surprised to see heat radiating from his eyes and his mouth curled into a delicious smile. She had no doubts about his sexuality now. The man was as straight as a ladder. Before she could tease him for getting all up in her business, she heard the slumberous voice of Tyrell say, “Yes. She does.”

Autumn’s head spun around so fast, she just knew she’d wake up tomorrow morning with a sore neck.

Tyrell’s eyes darted between his girlfriend and the man with the boulder-size shoulders. “I’ve been looking all over for you, babe.” He pointed towards the tent. “What are you doing out here when there’s a party going on in there?”

L.J. could tell by the frosty expression on Autumn’s face that she wasn’t happy to see the wiry man towering over them. Standing, which displayed his height advantage over the resentful-looking brother, L.J. extended his right hand, saying, “I’m Peter’s best friend, L.J.”

Tyrell buried his hands in his camel-colored slacks. He was obviously annoyed with the situation and seemed bent on creating a scene.

Autumn stood. Folding her hands neatly in front of her, she took a deep breath and locked eyes with Tyrell. He had some nerve showing up at the party after leaving her to roast in the sweltering afternoon heat. She had every right to give him a whip of her tongue, but she restrained from telling him to get out of her face. Tyrell lived for drama the way strippers lived for dollar bills, and if she wasn’t careful, things could get real ugly real fast.

Tyrell was champing on his gum as though it was his first meal of the day, and the sound grated on Autumn’s nerves in the process. “What do you want, Tyrell?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded. “I came to see you.”

“Oh, really?” Autumn didn’t have to pretend surprise. She was astonished. “I thought you were in bed with a hangover. Isn’t that why you couldn’t come help me this afternoon?”

Tyrell’s face twisted in rage. He should have known this was coming. Autumn had to make everything he did or didn’t do a federal case. “Please excuse us.” He clutched her arm, and dragged her down the driveway. “Quit trying to embarrass me,” he ordered. “This is not the time or the place for one of your bitch sessions, Autumn.”

L.J. watched from a distance, trying to cool the anger boiling inside him. He had no business interfering, but he didn’t like the way this Tyrell character was manhandling Autumn. If her ex didn’t release his grip on her soon, he was going to make it his business. But when Peter emerged from the aperture of the tent and waved him over, L.J. had no choice but to leave the bickering lovebirds alone and return inside.

“Get your hands off of me!” Autumn snarled, struggling to free herself. But it was a losing battle. It was as if her arm was caught in a vise and no matter how hard she tugged or pulled, she couldn’t break free.

“I will once you calm the heck down.” Tyrell couldn’t believe her. Not only was she wearing a funky attitude but she was carrying on like a child. He had stumbled out of bed, thrown on some clean clothes and driven all the way to the Grisbey estate to see her. And what did he find? Her drooling all over some bodybuilder. “Why the hell are you airing our business in the street? And what’s going on with you and what’s-his-face?”

Tyrell loosened his grip, but didn’t let go of her arm. “So, you’ve been messing around on me? You’ve been fooling around with that dumbbell?” He was puffing heavily and the veins in his clenched hands were popping.

Autumn wanted to hate him, but her heart wouldn’t let her. Just because things hadn’t worked out between them didn’t mean they had to be enemies. Things hadn’t been all bad. Being with Tyrell had taught her some valuable life lessons, and she thanked him for the experiences he had given her. He made no apologies for his grandiose lifestyle and encouraged those around him to live life to the fullest. And that’s exactly what she was going to do, just not with him.

Autumn set her voice in the tone she reserved for when people pushed her too far. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I just met L.J. today. Furthermore, you and I aren’t together so how can I be cheating on you?”

“Is it my fault I was sick?” he challenged. Tyrell watched her eyes darken several shades and could almost see steam blowing out of her ears. It was time to wave the white flag. She was angry and upset and arguing with her wouldn’t help matters any. He stepped into the space that separated them, and traced her jawline with his index finger. “I’m sorry you’re upset, babe but I’m only human.” His face softened as he worked his slightly chapped lips into his most charming smile “I messed up, okay? But I promise to do better next time. You know I care about you, don’t you? You mean everything to me, that’s why I came here tonight. I wanted to see you.”

Autumn examined Tyrell’s face. Remorse was absent and his eyes were blank. Tyrell’s half-hearted apology did nothing to salve her bruised feelings. If anything, it made her angrier.

He thinks he can just waltz in here, slap a stupid smile on his face and things will be fine! Do I ever have news for him! Autumn tilted her head to the side, as if she was staring up at the sky. “I’ve had my fill of your tired promises, Tyrell. I deserve more than what you’ve been giving me and your lukewarm apologies mean nothing to me anymore. It’s time for us to go our separate ways.” Her voice was firm, but she couldn’t completely restrain the quiver in her voice.

“Things have been over between us for some time now, but for some reason I was scared to let you go. I’m not scared anymore, Tyrell.” She waited a few seconds for her words to sink in. “I hope in time we can try being friends again.” Autumn didn’t mean it, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

Tyrell’s face registered surprise. “What are you saying?” he asked, a note of skepticism in his voice. “Are you saying this is it? It’s over for once and all? Is that what you’re telling me?”

How much clearer could she be? Did he want her to write it on her forehead in neon pink marker? “Tyrell. It’s over.” Autumn knew she was doing the right thing, but it didn’t lessen the pain she felt in her heart.

Tyrell reached for Autumn, but she drew back. Mumbling under his breath, he drew a hand over his contorted face and then through his wavy hair.

Autumn watched his phoney smile wane as shock gave way to anger. She stepped back. There was no telling what he might do. She had seen him lose control so many times before, nothing he said or did would surprise her.

Tyrell threw his hands up in the air. “Fine Autumn, if that’s the way you want it, but don’t come crying to me when you realize you’ve made a mistake.” After a brief pause, he spoke again. His voice was chillingly cold. “I knew I should have cut you loose a long time ago. I don’t know what I was thinking wasting my time with a frigid stuck-up chick like you when I have swimsuit models blowing up my phone.” He stomped over to his glistening black Porsche Boxer, and gripped the door handle. “You’ll come back to me. You always do, “he vowed, sliding inside the driver’s seat. He brought the muted engine to life, and it roared loud enough to wake up all the residents on the block. He ripped out of the estate and into the bleak night, leaving Autumn in a cloud of swirling dust.

Chapter 4

Ten minutes later, Autumn was back in the tent, trying to keep up with the mindless chatter.

Darcee Kingsway, a willowy, pencil-thin Asian woman standing next to her, gulped down the rest of her drink and then waved over the crinkly-haired waitress standing nearby. Darcee dumped her empty wine flute on the tray the waitress held and helped herself to another. “So, I understand your parents are vacationing in Martinique. When are they due back?”

“I have no idea. They keep pushing back their return date, but I suspect it’ll be sometime next month.”

Darcee twisted the dazzling rhinestone bracelet on her left wrist, and in a tone that was more alcohol-induced than natural, said, “Vance bought me this when we went to Martinique for our first wedding anniversary. Since then, we’ve been to the island at least a dozen times. It’s the place to go to be properly spoiled and pampered, you know. We always stay at the Ilet Oscar, a tiny private island offshore from the town of Le Francois. The enormous nineteenth-century house is simply delightful! It’s staffed with a full-time, live-in maid, cook, masseuse and boatman. Would you believe the house has a twenty-acre tropical reserve and…”

Why didn’t I just go home? Autumn wondered. After watching Tyrell disappear down the block, she had spent some time outside gathering her wits about her. She wasn’t upset that Tyrell had yelled at her. She was ticked off that he’d made a fool of her in front of L.J. Sure, he was a virtual stranger, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed being humiliated. She had returned to the party with the sole purpose of apologizing to him, but after scouring the tent and spotting him huddled in a tiny, dark corner with Shante, her interest had died faster than quick-dry nail polish.

Autumn stole a glance at the attractive twosome, wishing she had some nerve gas to throw into their cozy semicircle. Her eyebrows wrinkled in displeasure. Shante was all over him like chocolate icing on a brownie. She looked on, utterly appalled, as the man-eater pulled out all the stops. Licked her crimson-painted lips. Twirled strands of her “hair” around her middle finger. And swayed seductively to the Ricky Martin song playing.

Women like that made Autumn sick. Trained in nothing, Shante Patterson had recently cashed in her trust fund and put the money to good use upgrading her physical assets. Her breasts had been enhanced, her eyes had been permanently eyelined and liposuction had erased her love handles. L.J. didn’t seem like the type to go for such a plastic-looking woman. But what did she know about what he, or any other man wanted for that matter?

“Come dance with me.”

Autumn peeked over her shoulder to ascertain who the throaty voice belonged to.

Omar winked at her, then his mouth broke out into an ear-to-ear smile. “I want to see your moves, Sexy Lady.”

Autumn returned his smile. Omar, the youngest of eight groomsmen and Peter’s cousin, had been flirting with her all night. She couldn’t help teasing him. “Are you sure? Because it looks like you could use a break.”

His smoky-gray suit jacket was nowhere to be found and his short-sleeved, olive-green dress shirt was drenched in sweat. He pulled out a white, crumpled handkerchief from his front pocket and wiped frantically to keep up with the sweat trickling from his neck-length dreadlocks and down his face. “Oh, I’m ready for you,” he came back with. “I have been waiting to get you out on that dance floor all night.”

Autumn opened her mouth to say maybe later, but caught herself. Why not? What she’d had with Tyrell was over. Done. Finished. To be no more. There was no use throwing away the rest of the night because she had a case of the blahs. She could analyze the demise of their relationship tomorrow. It was Melissa’s engagement party and she wasn’t about to let what had transpired with Tyrell put a damper on her night. She allowed Omar to pull her to her feet. Lobbing her shawl over her chair, she said, “All right, Omar, you asked for it. Let’s go!”

Omar wasn’t nearly as good a dancer as L.J., but he held his own on the dance floor. After working up a sweat to several radio-friendly songs, Autumn needed a break. Her feet were on fire. She didn’t know what had possessed her to dance in her cute shoes. Her heels earned high marks in the style and fashion department, but when it came to comfort they scored zero.

Autumn strained her voice so she could be heard over the music. “I need a break, Omar. I’m going to sit this one out, but I’ll see you later.” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her around the waist and whirled her around as though they were ballroom dancing.

“Just one more dance,” he begged as an updated version of a once-popular Temptations song filled the room. “Then we’ll sit.”

He had been singing the same tune for the last fifteen minutes. “Sorry, Omar, but I’m all danced out.” She untied his arms from around her waist and shouldered her way through the throng of gyrating dancers.

“Okay. But when you get your second wind, I’m first in line!” Omar called after her. But the music was so loud and the crowd so thick, Autumn could barely hear him.

Autumn was midway across the floor when she spotted Yvette, Shante and L.J. at “her” table. She thought of finding somewhere else to sit, but remembered her purse and shawl were on her chair.

She noticed L.J. eyeing her, and straightened her shoulders. Disregarding the stabbing pain shooting up her calves, she lifted her head high and put more hip into her walk. By the time she reached the table, L.J. was back in conversation with Shante, and her feet were screaming to be set free.

“Hey, girl.” Yvette swatted Autumn’s thighs playfully, then slapped a brand-new dollar bill into her palm. “Hot stuff! You looked real good out there, shaking your little money-maker for all it’s worth.”

Autumn burst out laughing. She was so loud, Shante and L.J. glanced over at her. Autumn ignored them, but quieted down. “I may have looked good, but my feet were bawling for relief,” she confessed, taking the vacant chair to Yvette’s right. Autumn slipped off her sandals, bent down and inconspicuously massaged her aching soles. The first thing she was going to do when she got home was bury the killer sandals in the back of her closet.

Three songs later, Omar shuffled over to their table and plunked down next to L.J. “Anyone interested in going to the Calypso Café? The party’ll be winding down soon, but the night’s still young, y’all!”

Yvette nodded. “Count me in. I’m in no rush to go home. Randall’s sprawled out on the couch, beer in one hand, remote in the other. He could care less what time I come home.”

Shante squeezed L.J.’s forearm. “Interested?”

L.J. nodded. “I’m game. I’m playing tennis with Pete in the morning, but it’s no biggie. I can whup him on just a few hours of sleep.” He locked eyes with Autumn, then directed his query at her. “What about you? Ready for some reggae music and an Island Mojo?” he asked in his best Jamaican accent.

Autumn wasn’t much of a drinker, but whatever it was it sounded tempting.

Reading the confusion on her face, he explained. “An Island Mojo is a fruity cocktail mixed with light and dark rum, lemon juice and grenadine. And once you try one, you’ll be hooked.”

The soothing sound of his voice and the glimmer in his eyes made Autumn wonder if L.J. was trying to work some mojo of his own. She didn’t intend to sound coy when she responded, but the look on his face said that was the message he got. “It sounds delicious, but I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll buy you one when we get to the club. You know what, Autumn? I’ll buy you as many as you want!”

Now look who’s trying to be cute, she thought, more than amused. They were out-and-out flirting and now the ball was in her court. Autumn was set to kick the game up a notch, but Shante beat her to it. “You know what my favorite Caribbean cocktail is, L.J.? Skinny-Dipping on a Nude Beach,” Shante purred. She laced her toned arms through his, and rubbed her chest across his forearm like it was butter and he was bread.

Autumn couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling. Shante was throwing out more take-me-home-tonight signs than a baseball catcher and it was annoying. This is torture, she thought, taking a mouthful of her lukewarm cream soda. Could she be any more obvious? Autumn would sooner go line dancing at a country bar than go anywhere with Shante.

Impatient for a change of scenery, Omar drummed his fingers on the table. “So, what’s the verdict? Are we going or what? People are starting to file out of here.”

“I’m ready,” Shante winked at L.J, then licked her lips teasingly. “I’m always up for some action. Anytime, anyplace, anywhere.”

Nixing another eye roll, Autumn searched for a plausible explanation for why she couldn’t join the group. Spending the rest of the evening watching Shante put the moves on L.J. was not her idea of fun. She was eager to apologize to L.J. for Tyrell’s deplorable behavior, but not with Shante the man-eater in the mix. Drinks at the Calypso was definitely out of the question. “I’d love to hang out some more,” she lied, “but I’m beat. I’ve been fighting all night just to keep my eyes open. Sorry, guys. This girl is going home to bed.”

“Come on,” Yvette pleaded, throwing her arms around Autumn’s shoulders. “I can’t remember the last time we went to the Calypso and enjoyed some live reggae music. Stop acting like a little old lady and come on. You can catch up on sleep tomorrow.”

“I know, but it’s been a tiring week, Yvette. When I leave here, all I want to do is go home, light some candles, put on some Al Green and take a hot chamomile bath.”

“Oh, I get it,” Shante quipped, turning her eyes from L.J. to Autumn. “Planning a little sumthin’ sumthin’ back at your place for Tyrell? Speaking of your man, where is he? I thought I saw his fine ass around here somewhere.”

“Don’t know, don’t care.”

Shante raised her surgically perfected eyebrows midway up her forehead. “Since when? Y’all looked all lovey-dovey when I ran into you guys having dinner at the Mercury a few weeks ago. This is rather sudden, isn’t it, Autumn? How are you holding up, girl?”

Autumn wanted to reach across the table and yank that ridiculously long weave out of Shante’s head. “Well,” Autumn began, her eyes dipping to Shante’s overflowing cleavage, “you should know better than anyone how quickly things can change.”

Omar rubbed his hands together. “Hot damn! This is better than ringside tickets at the MGM Grand!”

Shante stared Autumn down. Then, to the surprise of everyone at the table, she burst into loud, raucous laughter. “I gather from your testy response that it wasn’t an amicable break-up. You poor, sad soul. I’ve never been dumped, but I can image how difficult it must be. No wonder you’re a mess.”

Autumn wanted to clock Shante into next week. Delving into the details of her split from Tyrell wasn’t an option, but she wasn’t about to let this she-devil knock her down, either. For the second time that night, someone was trying to humiliate her, but this time she wasn’t having it. Girding herself for a fight, she pressed her hands down on the table and tilted her body forward. “You listen here, you—”

Yvette projected her voice above Autumn’s, “I’m going to pass on that drink, too. The kids are with their grandmother and I’m sure Elsie’s ready to throttle them. I’m going to go rescue her and take my little darlings home.” She turned to her best friend. “Ready, Autumn?”

Autumn nodded.

Omar, who was making eyes at a voluptuous redhead standing alone by the punch bowl, mumbled something about being thirsty, and scurried off.

Shante beamed. Latching on to L.J.’s arm, she snuggled even closer to him. “Our first date! How romantic.”

L.J. got to his feet before Shante could go the extra mile and hop right onto his lap. “It’s too late for you ladies to be walking the streets alone. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to escort you to your cars.”

Yvette shared a look with Autumn. They were both impressed. Yvette smiled at him. “Thanks, L.J., that’s very thoughtful of you.”

Shante dug her clawlike fingernails into his forearm. “You don’t have to walk them out. Nothing’s going to happen to them on the estate. There are people everywhere! Besides, we should get going. The Calypso is the size of an airplane bathroom, so it doesn’t take much for it to fill up.”

L.J. didn’t want to be rude, but this buxom woman with the coarse mouth and aggressive personality was too much. And the last thing he wanted was Shante tagging along when reconnecting with Autumn was the only thing on his mind. He drew out his words nice and slow. “Shante, I’ll be right back. Wait here.”

Autumn didn’t know if she could make it outside without hobbling. Her feet were sore and painfully tender. She contemplated carrying her sandals, but canned the idea without giving it proper thought. She didn’t want to give Shante any more ammunition to embarrass her. Autumn put her heels back on, swiped her purse off the table, and without so much as a goodbye to Shante, headed for the exit.

“What are you going to do to keep yourself busy while you’re in D.C., L.J.?” Yvette asked as they emerged from the tent and into the starless night. She put her jacket on over her floral dress and zipped it up. The temperature had dropped considerably since they’d arrived at the estate hours earlier. A fierce wind was swaying the tent and rustling the oak trees shielding the expansive property.

“Hang out with Peter before Melissa lays down the law,” he answered. A deep chuckle ripped from his mouth when Yvette gave him a hard shove.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yvette’s tone was harsh, but she was smiling.

“My grandfather used to say, ‘wedlock is a padlock’ and he was wrong about most things, but he was right about how miserable marriage could be. I bet Melissa will be giving Peter a curfew before the ink has dried on their marriage license.”

Yvette’s shoulders shook as she laughed. “Come on, L.J., marriage isn’t that bad. When you find the right person, it can be the best thing in the world.”

L.J. took a peek over his shoulder. Autumn was limping a few feet behind them. She hadn’t said a word since her exchange with Shante, and he wanted to bring her into the conversation. “What do you think, Autumn?”

I think these shoes are cutting off my circulation. If I don’t get to my car soon, you guys will be picking me up off the pavement! “I’m with Yvette,” was all Autumn could manage. She wanted to say more, but talking and limping was just too difficult. She needed to preserve her energy for the rest of the walk. Her car was still several feet away.

L.J. couldn’t overlook the aggrieved expression on her face any longer. He stared down at her feet, held prisoners by the pointiest shoes he had ever seen, and said, “You look like you’re about to pass out, Autumn. If your feet are hurting, I could carry you, you know. I don’t mind.”

The sparkle in his eyes and the smile he shared with Yvette wasn’t missed on Autumn. He was teasing her. She could barely put one aching foot in front of the other, but she wasn’t about to be the brunt of anyone’s jokes. Forgetting the sting, she wiped all traces of pain from her face, and fixed her mouth in a wide smile. “I’m just fine, thank you very much. Don’t worry ’bout me, L.J. I can make it.”

Her brusque reply made L.J. wonder if he’d done something wrong. She’d been acting strange ever since her run-in with her ex-boyfriend. It was as if she had gone through a drastic personality change in the space of an hour. She wasn’t nearly as amiable as she had been when they were chatting by the pool.

He could tell by the look on her face that she had a lot on her mind. No doubt, she was thinking about her ex. L.J. and Kellianne were as close as a brother and sister could be and he’d seen this predicament play out in her life many times before. Autumn’s ex had messed up and now she was in what he liked to call the I-hate-all-men-and-I’m-better-off-without-any-of-them phase. Because she loathed the opposite sex, including nice guys like him, she would rather suffer than accept his help. But L.J. didn’t blame her. From what he’d seen, her ex was the king of all jerks.

L.J. resumed his conversation with Yvette, not giving Autumn another thought. But when he heard her stumble, his head whipped around. Her mouth was set in the most unflattering of expressions and she was breathing as though she’d just finished running up a flight of stairs. He offered his hand, but she waved it away. “Okay. Suit yourself.” Then to Yvette, “How many children do you have?”

Yvette pulled out her wallet. Like a typical mom, she proudly showed off her daughters. She pointed at each picture and shared cute anecdotes about each child. “What about you, L.J.? Any rug rats?”

“Shoot!”

Yvette and L.J. turned around just in time to see Autumn stumble again. But before they could help her, she was back on her feet and dusting off her the hem of her dress.

“You okay?” Yvette asked.

Autumn could only nod. Averting her gaze, she spotted Yvette’s rusted, sky-blue minivan parked halfway down the block. It was hard to miss. It had a plethora of child-friendly bumper stickers, yellow Baby-on-Board signs and the silhouette of a safety seat in the back. “Do you want me to give you a ride to your van, Yvette?” Autumn asked, standing up tall and squaring her shoulders.

“No, no, that’s all right. I need to walk off the four slices of cheesecake I had. I’ll call you tomorrow, girl.” With a quick hug to her best friend, and a small wave to L.J., Yvette continued down the driveway and strolled through the open gates.

“Thanks for walking me to my car. It was really thoughtful of you,” Autumn said when they reached her car a half-minute later.

“I should be thanking you.” When her face clouded over, he said, “For saving me from Shante. I’d been trying to shake that woman all night!” They shared a laugh. “Why don’t I show you my deep gratitude by taking you out for a dinner? Say tomorrow night, around eight o’clock?”

Autumn couldn’t hold back her smile. “Very smooth.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “What? You have to eat and I have to eat. So, why can’t we do it together?” Hoping to persuade her, he offered, “You can choose the restaurant. Chinese. Mexican. Italian. Anywhere you want.”

More laughter passed between them. Autumn didn’t know much about L.J., but she liked that he could make her laugh. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but she couldn’t go out with him. It just didn’t seem right. She was fresh out of a relationship and he was, well…visiting. He didn’t call Washington home and before she knew it L.J. would be returning to Atlanta. Why bother? Autumn was set to decline his offer graciously when she saw Shante hustling and bustling down the driveway like an out-of-control wheelbarrow. The woman was dangerously close to toppling over, and Autumn was secretly praying for the fall.

L.J. held open the door for her. “So, what do you say?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Autumn kicked off her sandals and hurled them into the backseat. She gestured with her finger behind him. “Here comes reason number one.”

L.J. didn’t need to turn around to know who was coming. Shante. His chin dropped so low it was sitting on his chest. The woman reminded him of his pet rottweiler, Keys. She was frisky, loved chasing things and was hard to cuddle with. Shante wasn’t his type. In fact, she was the complete opposite of the women he normally dated. He needed to find a polite way to let Shante know he wasn’t interested. As L.J. watched Autumn’s car pull out of the driveway, he wished she was the one hanging all over him instead of Shante.

Chapter 5

“The quickest way to get over a man is to find a new one,” Melissa explained, marching in beat to music blaring from the television, “and I know just the man to cure you of the funk that you’ve been in.”

Autumn shot Melissa a leave-me-alone look. She retightened the elastic band in her hair and guzzled down some water. It was Saturday afternoon and the two friends were working out in the Grisbeys’ fitness room. Autumn reset the stationary bike for another thirty minutes, balanced the latest issue of Essence magazine on her lap and started peddling.

“All I’m saying is, get out of your damn apartment. You’ve been holed up in your place like you’re under house arrest and you’ve turned down all my invitations to get together. Shutting yourself away and moping around the house isn’t going to make you feel better, Autumn.”

Autumn continued reading. If she gave Melissa a chance, she knew her best friend would slip into Oprah mode and Autumn wasn’t in the mood for any more advice. Since breaking up with Tyrell, she had been getting plenty of unwanted counsel, and she had finally reached her breaking point. “I’m fine. I just don’t feel like hanging out, that’s all.”

Mimicking Tae Bo instructor Billy Blanks, Melissa set her feet in a defensive stance and raised her balled hands to chin level. Alternating between waist-high kicks and throwing punches that would make Lennox Lewis proud, Melissa grunted along with the ten on-screen participants and the fitness guru. Without breaking her kicking rhythm, Melissa tossed Autumn a look over her left shoulder. “Well, do you at least find him attractive?”

“Who?” she asked, knowing full well who Melissa was referring to.

“Who else?” Melissa replied with a snort. “L.J. Do you think he’s good looking?”

Do I ever, Autumn confessed, but not out loud so Melissa could hear. Autumn hadn’t seen him since the dinner party, more than two weeks ago, but she could remember every detail of his ruggedly handsome face. Wide eyebrows set above deep, slanted eyes with copper specks; a broad, slightly uneven nose and thick, kissable lips. His clean-shaved head appealed to her inner bad girl and his well-sculpted body testified to all the hours he must spend at the gym. The man had some really thick muscles on him.

Autumn wiped her towel across her face and then down her neck. “He’s all right.”

“All right!” Melissa shook her head in disbelief. “Broccoli’s all right. A knock-off Prada purse is all right. Vacationing in Cancun during spring break is all right. But men who look like L.J. are not all right.” She turned her attention away from the fifty-two-inch plasma-screen TV. “Confidence and intensity are unbelievably sexy, and L.J. has both in heaps. He has a gravity about him and he knows it, but not in a way that makes him arrogant, like Tyrell.”

Autumn nodded. “I agree, but it doesn’t really matter what I think of L.J. ’cause I’m not interested in him.”

Throwing a flurry of punches and following them up with back-to-back front kicks, Melissa grunted some more. “That’s your problem right there, Autumn. You play life safe. You do the same thing day in and day out and you take no risks whatsoever.”

Autumn made a face.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s true. You’re too busy planning and organizing your life to actually live it. You go with the flow and don’t ever trouble the waters. What’s so wrong with going out with him or anyone else who asks you out?” When Autumn didn’t respond, she went on. “I should just keep my mouth shut. Do what works for you. You’re a settler. Always have been. Always will be. So, don’t try new things, or meet new people or step out of your comfort zone.”

Autumn didn’t want to exchange verbal blows with Melissa, but when she continued ripping into her, she couldn’t keep the lid on her frustration. “So, what do you suggest I do?” she asked not bothering to look up from the magazine. “Throw myself at L.J.’s feet like your shameless cousin?”

The image of Shante hanging all over L.J. like a praying mantis flashed in Autumn’s mind. She gripped the handlebars and began peddling with renewed energy. God, I couldn’t stand that woman. Shante Patterson was the most self-minded, conniving person Autumn had ever met. She had no respect for herself or the plight of professional women. The daily struggles of career women fighting to be treated equally in a male-dominated work force were foreign to the onetime model. Shante batted her eyelashes, wiggled her hips and flaunted her curves, and when she didn’t get what she wanted, she reminded people who her prominent family was.

Autumn would never dream of using her father’s name to advance her career. When her father had learned that she had accepted the junior accountant position at Monroe, his eyebrows had creased like old linen pants. “I golf on a regular basis with some of the company’s board of directors, you know. One call from me and they’ll see that you get a better position.” Autumn had refused. She had decided long ago that she was going to make a name for herself in the accounting world without her father’s influence or his endless list of connections, and as tempting as the offer was, she had turned it down. She’d had her fair share of crappy, low-paying jobs after graduating from college, but she had never once asked her father for help.

“You think I should go out with him and do the things Shante does?”

“Heck no!” Melissa stretched her toned arms from left to right, and then bent over and touched the tips of her size-six feet. “I’m not suggesting you should emulate Shante, but you could learn a thing or two from that cousin of mine. She’s not afraid to speak her mind and she doesn’t let people stand in the way of getting what she wants, either. She’s also strong-willed and fiercely competitive and that’s never a bad thing.”

“You may find this hard to believe, Mel, but I like my life just the way it is. And I refuse to change who I am just to get some man’s attention.” Autumn lifted her head and stuck out her chin to farther prove her point. “I don’t care how good-looking or successful a man is, I’m not going to play the beauty card or degrade myself for anyone.”

Melissa chose her words carefully. She didn’t want to upset Autumn, but her best friend needed to hear this. “No one’s asking you to. Just live a little. Stop saying no all the time and say yes every now and then. Try something new. Travel. Do that one thing you’ve always wanted to do.” Melissa flopped down on the pillow-thick exercise mat and stretched her legs in front of her. “Yvette and I are worried about you, Autumn. You’re turning into an old maid right before our eyes and you’re not even out of your twenties yet!”

The timer beeped, signaling that the thirty-minute cycle was over. Autumn shut off the machine, eased off the bike and then clutched the handlebars to steady her shaky balance. “Me, an old maid? Please. That’s absurd. I’m at the top of my career, I have friends and family who love me and I just bought a fabulous new condo.”

“But are you happy?”

Autumn bit down hard on her bottom lip. “Tremendously.”

“Really?” Melissa quit stretching and tucked her legs underneath her.

“Really.”

“When was the last time you did something exciting? Or tried something new?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Melissa leaned back on her palms. She searched Autumn’s honey-brown eyes, as if the answer she was looking for could be found there. “Will you just answer the question? And don’t say having your first bikini wax, either.”

Autumn thought hard for several minutes and came up with nothing. Truth be told, she wasn’t a risk-taker. She was a planner. A list-maker. An organizer. Having things prescheduled and neatly organized was how she had always lived her life and after twenty-nine years, she wasn’t about to change. Not for Melissa. Not for anyone.

“When you step out of your box you gain a deeper understanding of yourself,” Melissa said in her best psychologist voice.

“Is that why you’re rushing to get married? Are you afraid of becoming an old maid?” Autumn smoothed the base of her ponytail. Yanking out the rubber band, she shook her damp braids free and ran her fingers through marble-size knots.

Melissa shrugged. “Maybe, but my decision to marry Peter was made in my mind long before he ever asked. I just got to the place in our relationship where I wanted to spend all my days and nights with him.” Melissa’s eyes softened with care. “Just give some thought to what I said, Autumn. You deserve all the happiness you can stand and you deserve to be with a man who’s going to love you so good it hurts. I’m not trying to say L.J.’s that man, either, just open yourself up to the possibility of love. Don’t get stuck in the mind-numbing routine of work, work and more work. Have fun and be free while you’re still young.” She winked, her thin lips curved into the naughtiest of smiles. “You know what they say, girlfriend, variety is the spice of life.”

An awkward silence stretched into minutes. Then they returned to their individual workouts. Autumn lay flat on her back at one end of the mat doing sit-ups; Melissa alternated between lunges and jumping jacks. The next half-hour passed quickly and when Melissa shut off the DVD player and announced she was going to take a shower, Autumn was glad to see her go.

Autumn was slow getting to her feet. Stretching her arms high in the air, she rolled her head in short semicircles. She was trying not to take exception to what Melissa had said, but her feelings were hurt. Bruised. Deep down, she knew her best friend hadn’t set out to put her down, but that was exactly how she felt. The people she trusted most, the same people who were supposed to have her back, were pointing fingers at her. Laughing at her. Talking behind her back. Questions whirled around her head as her neck rotated. Who did Melissa think she was and where did she get off calling her a settler? Just because she’s getting married and Peter puts up with her drama doesn’t mean she’s a relationship guru, Autumn raged, kicking the dark-blue exercise ball halfway across the room.

Autumn was happy. Blissful even. More than satisfied with the life she was living. She had a complaint or two, but didn’t everybody? Fine, she wasn’t the most spontaneous person and it was true she shied away from trying new things, but that didn’t mean she was one girdle away from a nursing home. An old maid? Please. That was pure nonsense. Just because Melissa was unfulfilled with life and craved more adventure, didn’t mean she did, too. Autumn shoved Melissa’s off-sided comments to the farthest part of her mind, gave the exercise ball another good boot and marched into the guest bathroom. Cranking the cold-water dial to full blast, Autumn reaffirmed what she already knew to be true: she was doing just fine. Wonderful even. And no one was going to tell her otherwise.

Forty-five minutes later, Melissa and Autumn were showered, changed and eating lunch out on the patio. The sun had finally broken free of the clouds and hung high in the sky like a Goodyear Blimp. Autumn rubbed her forehead. They hadn’t been outside but ten minutes, and she was sweating like someone who’d been toiling in the sun since daybreak. Fanning herself with her hand, she drank from her glass of fruit punch. As predicted, the afternoon was turning out to be a scorcher and when the sun got this intense, there was only one place Autumn wanted to be—inside.

The elderly housekeeper refilled her empty glass and wiped down the sticky table surface with a wet cloth. Autumn smiled. “Thanks, Eliza.”

“You’re welcome Ms. Autumn. Now, can I interest either of you in some fresh fruit? I have sliced cantaloupe, water-melon, pineapple and guava.”

“That would be nice.” Melissa finished off her juice in one big gulp and deposited the empty glass on Eliza’s already-full tray. The round, fair-skinned Black woman promised to be back shortly and returned inside. “So, what do you have planned for the rest of the day? It would be a sin to waste such a sunny day indoors. This is ideal beach weather.”

Says who? Autumn knew exactly how she was going to spend the remainder of the day: inside her apartment with the air-conditioning on full blast. But Autumn wasn’t about to tell Melissa that. After the you’re-turning-into-an-old-maid-who-will-never-get-a-man speech, she was hesitant to share her afternoon plans. “I have some errands to do and some work—”

Melissa smacked the table with her right hand and startled Autumn. “What?”

“See, that’s exactly what I was talking about.” She shook her head, curls grazing her cheekbones and tumbling all over her face. “It’s a glorious afternoon and instead of doing something fun like going to the beach or for a stroll in the park you’re going to sit in your apartment. One day—” Melissa broke off, her face sparkling brighter than Fourth of July fireworks. She mindlessly fluffed her hair and then adjusted her shell-pink bikini top.

What the hell? Bewildered, Autumn peeked over her shoulder. Strolling across the grass wearing wide smiles and with tennis rackets in their hands were Peter and L.J. The two men could pass for brothers in their wrinkle-free T-shirts, knee-length black shorts and dark, rounded sunglasses. Ultra-casual and laid-back, L.J. looked more like the Adonis who had changed her flat tire and less like the ebony hunk she remembered from the Grisbey party. He was a shade above six feet, but with his long limbs and bulging muscles he seemed much taller.

Autumn snatched her towel from the back of her chair. If she’d known they were stopping by she would have put on a more respectable bikini—not a suit that barely covered her chest and served up a healthy dose of her behind. When Melissa had called that morning to invite her over, she had said that her parents were in New York and they would have the house to themselves. She’d neglected to mention that Peter and his best friend would be coming over. “Why didn’t you tell me we were having company?”

“Slipped my mind?”

Autumn wanted to heave Melissa into the pool. She didn’t believe for a second her best friend “forgot.” Melissa had a penchant for details and the sharpest memory of anyone she knew. This was no slip of the mind. It was a hook-up if Autumn had ever seen one. “If I’d known he was coming over, I wouldn’t have put this on,” Autumn said as she plucked at her barely there bikini top. “I can’t walk around in this. He’s going to think I’m—”

“Stop your bellyaching, Autumn. You look tasty.” Melissa licked her lips in an exaggerated fashion. “Relax. Take a breath. Better yet, get up and go for a swim. The water looks cool.”

“Are you out of your mind? I can’t prance around in high-heels and a teeny-weeny bikini. He’s going to think I’m showing off. Or trying to impress him.”

Autumn’s stomach muscles tensed. L.J. was closing in on her. The familiar scent of his overwhelming cologne brought her mind back to their sexy dance. She could still feel the warmth of his hands as he’d clutched her waist. The memory of his tender embrace transported her mind and body to another place.

Autumn fixed her eyes on the charming, soft-spoken man who had had a recurring role in her daydreams for the past fourteen days. L.J. looked like a man who’d just spent the last hour under the skilled hands of a masseuse rather than playing tennis. He moved with total ease. His voice carried across the lawn with buoyancy. Autumn pretended not to be touched by his presence, but she was. A bit too touched. Before she could properly get herself together, the two men were at the table offering greetings. She took a deep breath. Slipping on her sunglasses, she donned her ready-for-anything smile.

Melissa welcomed Peter with a tight hug and a kiss that lasted long enough to make L.J. and Autumn feel invisible. Greeting L.J. with the smile she reserved for her big-money clients, Melissa turned to Autumn. “Look who’s here, girl. You remember L.J., don’t you?”

Autumn suppressed an eye roll. What a stupid question. Of course she remembered him! How could she forget the man who’d rescued her on the highway and stirred all sorts of passions within? L.J.’s penetrating gaze unnerved her and the stifling heat didn’t help, either. The weather and intolerable humidity made it hard for Autumn to think, let alone formulate words and organize them into coherent sentences. She was sitting at the table as good as naked. Raising her towel higher, she crossed her arms underneath her chest. No sense in giving him a glimpse of something he would never see. “Nice to see you again, L.J. How have you been?”

L.J. smiled. That was all he could do. His tongue was twisted in knots and just standing upright seemed to require serious effort. Being in Autumn’s presence made him nervous. L.J. drank up every delectable inch of her. The brown-sugar skin; round, expressive eyes, slender fingers and trim arms. Autumn sat in a drool-worthy swimsuit fiddling with her napkin, oblivious to what she was doing to him. Her red-and-white bikini top made him think of a candy cane—and what he wouldn’t do for a lick. L.J. couldn’t remember the last time he was this enamored of a woman. It was as if she were a magnet and he was a paperclip trying to avoid getting stuck. But this thing he felt, this pull, was more than something physical. There was no denying the chemistry, but there was something else. He didn’t know what to call it yet. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t lust. What was it?

L.J. helped himself to a chair. “I’m good, can’t complain. You?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

He thought of what to say next. He had been looking forward to seeing her all day, but now that she was sitting in front of him, his mind was blank.

When a few seconds passed without another word from him, Autumn picked up the newspaper lying in the middle of the table. She concealed the top half of her body with the entertainment section of the Tribune, and L.J. felt as if an iron door had slammed shut in his face.

“So, have you two ladies decided what movie we’re going to see?” Peter asked, squeezing his fiancée’s waist. “L.J. and I want to check out that new DMX movie.”

Autumn folded the newspaper. “Movie? What movie?”

“Did I forget to mention that, too?” Melissa flicked her hair over her shoulders.

“I hope you guys aren’t dragging us to see some sappy love story,” Peter warned, stealing a piece of bacon off his fiancée’s plate, “’cause I can’t take another movie where all the characters do is talk, talk some more, argue and then make up. I want to see something blow up!”

Melissa waved her hand absently in front of Peter’s face. “Honey, please. We’re going to see Head Over Heels. I heard it’s an adorable date movie and since it’s my turn to pick, that’s what we’re going to see.”

“Is that right?” Peter’s hand fell from around Melissa’s waist. He pointed at himself, then L.J. “What if we don’t want to see that one?”

“Then I guess you can sit in the car, because that’s what I want to see,” Melissa snapped back. “You didn’t see me kicking up a fuss when you dragged me to see that horrific war movie last weekend, did you? Or what about when you convinced me to wait in line an hour to buy tickets for that martial arts thriller? Don’t get me started, Peter. I’m not in the mood.” Switching gears and the tone of her voice, she said, “Now, do you want something to eat? The movie doesn’t start for another hour.”

Autumn had to give it to Melissa. She could out-argue anybody. She’d checked in on her at the courthouse a time or two, and watching her friend in action had given her tingles. Melissa could go up both sides of the opposing counsel, then turn on the charm for the judge and play the sympathy card with the jury. If Autumn was ever arrested, she’d want Melissa representing her. Autumn returned her eyes to the newspaper. She didn’t have to see the end of this scene to know how things were going to play out. They were going to see Head Over Heels.

Peter rubbed his hand across the base of his jaw, a devilish grin taking shape on his lips. His eyes were twinkling brighter than a star-filled sky and before Melissa could blink, Peter had scooped her up and tossed her high in the air. Nuzzling his stubbly chin against her neck, he whirled her around. “Now, who’s the man?”

Melissa struggled to get free, but she was no match for Peter. He outweighed her by a solid eighty pounds. “Peter Roland Delancy, put me down! Now! Right now! Or you’ll be sorry.”

“What are you going to do, big bad Melissa?”

When she wavered, he set off towards the pool.

Melissa screamed loud enough to wake the dead, “Put me down, dammit! Now! Peter, if you don’t put me down this instant I’m going to—”

Peter didn’t let her finish. He heaved his bride-to-be into the elongated swimming pool, then doubled over in laughter. Melissa, a certified lifeguard and former captain of her high-school swim team, was flapping her arms and legs as though it was her first time in water.

Autumn jumped up from her chair, and her beach towel dropped around her ankles. Laughing until she was clutching her sides, she was oblivious to the show she was giving L.J. Now that’s what I call sweet justice, she thought, hooting right along with Peter. Melissa had finally gotten her due.

Melissa sputtered to the surface, looking fierce. Mascara was streaming down her cheeks, her berry red lipstick was chalky and the hair she’d spent a half hour curling was now pancake flat. Peter rested his hands on his knees, trying to regain control. “Turtledove, I…” He tried earnestly to apologize, but was overtaken again by laughter.

“You think this is funny?” Melissa screamed, pounding her fists against the water. “Wait! Just wait until I get out of here. We’ll see who’s laughing then, funny man!”

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