“Your skin is so soft,” he said, sounding fascinated.

“Ooh.” Her head fell back, exposing her long neck.

Hylan recognized an invitation when he saw one and leaned down to plant kisses on the line of her jaw all the way down to her sensitive collarbone. Kissing her was like finding the golden ticket to the chocolate factory. She tasted that damn sweet. What he really longed for was the taste of her caramel-tipped nipples. So much so that his stomach growled with hunger.

Nikki was lost in the magic that Hylan was creating. As for that little pesky voice in the back of her head, she’d gagged it and locked it in the deep recesses of her mind. All she wanted was for Hylan to keep doing what he was doing. She’d think about the consequences later. She sighed when Hylan’s lips moved away from her neck then started to dip down the center of her body.

He was already the best she’d ever had because she’d never been with a man who’d even bothered with foreplay. Mindlessly, she ran her hand through his short cropped hair and then down his steely shoulders and onto the hard planes of his back. Lord, he had an incredible body.

Body Heat
Adrianne Byrd

ESSENCE BESTSELLING AUTHOR

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Hylan Dawson is married.

The only problem is…no one bothered to tell him.

Thanks to all my friends and fans who encourage me every day to keep going.

Dear Reader

I hope that you enjoy Body Heat, part of the HEARTS-AT-PLAY GETAWAY series. Hylan and Nikki were fun characters to write and gave me the chance to indulge my penchant for romantic comedy.

The idea for this story just popped into my head one day. It’s a fun spin on the secret-marriage storyline that is a staple of romance novels. I also loved the idea of creating a woman like Nikki, who has the best of intentions but never really thinks things through all the way.

In addition to being part of the GETAWAY series, this is the third book in my KAPPA PSI KAPPA series. I hope you’ve checked out the first two books: Two Grooms and a Wedding and Sinful Chocolate. The fun never stops with these fine frat brothers. In the previous KAPPA PSI KAPPA novels, Hylan was always perfect though we didn’t really know too much about him. I hope his charm and ability to live in the moment win you over.

After reading Body Heat I hope you will visit and drop me a line at my Web site, www.adriannebyrd.com, or check me out on Facebook.

Happy reading,

Adrianne

Chapter One

“Places, everyone. Places!” Nicole Jamison shouted and clapped her hands to make sure she grabbed her small cast and crew’s attention. “Five minutes ‘til show time.” Judging by the looks on their faces they were just as nervous about their opening night performance as she was. It was the good kind of nervous jitters—at least that’s what she kept telling herself every five seconds.

Nicole smiled although every muscle in her stomach was now successfully tied into knots. This was it, the culmination of all of the blood, sweat and tears she’d put into her work for the past five years. Her first Broadway play!

Well, more like off-off-off-Broadway—but hell, it still counted. A year ago things were different. Her script, Hot Comb and Hair Grease, was all the buzz. She and her agent enjoyed the highs and lows of a bidding war over the script. Investors were all lined up to launch Nikki’s once dead-in-the-water career into the stratosphere.

No more ramen noodles for dinner.

No more battling mice and roaches for apartment space.

Most importantly—no more asking her parents for money.

Nikki, however, had underestimated her lifelong run of bad luck. In one fell swoop the bottom dropped out of the economy. Producers rescinded their offers, investors vanished into thin air and then her agent-slash-best friend flat out stopped returning her calls. The only things left were the ramen noodles, the mice and her parents’ constant looks of disappointment and their checkbook.

What followed was a month long marathon of The Oprah Winfrey Show: 20th Anniversary Collection DVD. At first it was sad—no, it was still sad—but what emerged was a new attitude. Nikki, with Oprah’s help, convinced herself that she didn’t have to just accept this reality kick in the teeth. She could pick herself up, dust herself off and go about the business of turning this whole thing around. That’s when the brilliant idea to produce the play herself emerged.

No. It was more like an epiphany—or as Oprah would say, an aha! moment—replete with a choir of angels singing in her head. And the more she thought about it, the more it made perfect sense. Everyone had loved the story once, right? So they would love it again. All she needed was a good word-of-mouth campaign and she would be right back on top.

Problem solved.

Well, not quite. She also needed some money.

So Nikki emptied her savings account, which was enough to perhaps buy a pair of Payless shoes. Next, she convinced her parents to invest a good chunk of their retirement money in the production. It wasn’t easy. Her father laughed for about three weeks and then when he realized that she was serious, he started treating her like she had the plague.

Typical.

Nikki then focused on her soft-hearted mother like a laser beam…and got a check from her. Okay, so it wasn’t a very big check, but it was enough to lease a low-rent, rat-infested theater and buy a few costumes at the Salvation Army. The actors were the only thing that didn’t cost money. In New York, out-of-work actors were a dime a dozen and they were willing to perform for the bare minimum: coffee.

Nikki pulled back the stage curtain and stole a quick peek at the front row. Her mom, beautiful in a cream-colored linen dress—usually reserved for Sunday morning church service—beamed with pride while her humorless father sat ramrod straight in a pair of basic brown khakis and a sky-blue open collar dress shirt. If he was excited about his daughter’s opening night, it certainly didn’t show.

Too many times her father had urged her to give up this whole writing thing and get a real job. Not that she hadn’t tried. She had been everything from a waitress at a café to a much-maligned bill collector in order to pay her bills. What her parents and most of her friends failed to understand was that writing was her bliss. It was what she was born to do.

And tonight was her chance to prove it to the world, share her art, and let the New York theater community know that NICOLE JAMISON HAS ARRIVED.

Nikki drew a deep breath as a bright smile blossomed across her face, while her heart pounded like a racehorse.

“Nikki. Nikki.”

Nicole whipped her head around to see Crystal Cummings, rushing toward her. Alarm bells immediately went off in Nicole’s head when she saw her lead actress’s face quickly turning puke-green.

Definitely not a good sign.

“Crystal, what is it?” Even as the question left her lips, Nikki’s heart sank in anticipation of bad news. What would her life be without bad news?

“I can’t—I can’t go on.” Crystal slapped a hand over her mouth just as a gagging, gurgling, chugging noise rose from her throat. Next, Crystal’s large brown eyes bulged before she took off like a shot toward a plastic garbage can by the small buffet table.

The other actors scattered out of the way, but the sound of Crystal vomiting had a domino effect, causing a few more actors to turn green. That was the beauty of throwing up—either the sound or smell was all it took to spark a real outbreak.

“No. No. No.” Nikki covered a hand over her heart as if that was going to stop everything from falling apart. It took a few more seconds for her to realize that she needed to do something. She rushed over to the garbage can and held Crystal’s long wavy hair away from her face. It was the least she could do. But the stench wafting from the trash can now had the knots in Nikki’s stomach flopping around.

The understudy. Nikki’s gaze whipped around as she looked backstage for Crystal’s understudy. “Where’s Grace?” she shouted, but her question was met with blank stares from the other actors. Then she caught a quick glimpse out of the corner of her eyes. “Grace!”

The woman froze.

A second set of alarm bells went off when she noticed Grace looked like a deer caught in headlights. Definitely another bad sign.

Nikki released Crystal’s hair and raced over to Grace. “You’re gonna have to go on tonight.” She may as well have told the understudy that she had terminal cancer from the look of sheer horror that blanketed Grace’s face.

“I can’t. I can’t.” Grace stepped back until her small frame was pressed against the back wall.

“What do you mean?” Nikki grabbed the young, pencil-thin actress by the shoulders, but then reminded herself at the last second that it was illegal to snap the woman in half. “We don’t have a choice. You have to go on.”

“B-But I didn’t learn the lines,” she confessed in a high-pitched whine.

“What?” Nikki’s heart sank deeper in the pit of her stomach. “What do you mean you didn’t learn the lines? You’re Crystal’s understudy.”

“I know…But Crystal is such a good actress I didn’t think anything could go wrong. Not to mention my college courses are really kicking my ass this quarter and my boyfriend and I have been fighting and—”

“Grace! Focus!”

The young understudy snapped her jaw shut. But then Grace’s eyes started blinking so much, Nikki was afraid that she was in the middle of an epileptic fit.

“The bottom line is that you didn’t bother to learn your lines,” Nikki said, feeling as if the floor was spinning beneath her feet. “I don’t believe this. In a few minutes I’m about to be the biggest joke on Broadway.”

“You mean off-off-Broadway,” Grace corrected.

Nikki’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t push it. You’re already on my bad side.”

Grace teared up. “I’m really, really sorry.” And with that weak-ass apology, she scampered off.

“Curtain in two minutes,” Barbara, Nikki’s stage manager-slash-assistant-slash-baby sister, announced as if everything was all sunshine and roses.

Barbara caught sight of Nikki’s horror-stricken face and rushed right over. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have a lead actress,” Nikki choked out. She checked over her shoulder to see Crystal still hunched over the garbage can and dry heaving into it. “You don’t happen to have a gun on you, do you?”

Barbara steered her sister’s attention away from the sick actress. “C’mon now. She’s not worth it.”

“It’s not for her. It’s for me. I’d rather do myself in than have the critics do it.”

“C’mon. It’s not like Ben Brantley is out there.”

“Please. Who needs The New York Times when you have this little bitty thing called the Internet?”

The desperation of the situation seemed to finally hit Barbara because she clammed up for a few seconds. “But what about—?”

“She didn’t learn her lines,” Nikki answered in a flat tone. “An understudy that doesn’t study…” She smacked her palm against her forehead—which seemed to flip the switch on a lightbulb. Nikki looked at her sister with renewed hope.

Barbara’s eyes bulged as she inched away. “Don’t look at me. I’m not an actress.”

“But you know the lines.”

“Just because I read the script doesn’t mean I memorized the lines,” Barbara stressed, trying to pull her arm out her sister’s grasp. “You’re not going to get me to go out there and make a fool of myself.”

Nikki’s hopes plummeted as fast as they had risen.

“What about you?” Barbara suggested. “Nobody knows this script like you do.”

“I’m not an actress,” Nikki protested with the same horror her sister displayed just moments before.

“Yeah, but you seem to be a little short on those tonight,” Barbara reminded her.

In sync, their watches beeped. A hush came over the whole theater.

“It’s showtime,” Barbara said, whispering the obvious.

Nikki felt ill, but she knew what she had to do. “Go out there and stall,” she instructed Barbara. “I need two minutes. I’m going to have to go on.”

“Are you sure?”

“You have a better idea?” she asked, in a voice that was ironically tinged with both sarcasm and hope.

Barbara gave Nikki a sympathetic smile, the kind you give when someone tells you that they only have twenty-four hours to live. “Okay. Break a leg, kid.”

Nikki took off toward Crystal’s dressing room—a janitor’s closet—and quickly changed her clothes. As bad luck would have it, Crystal was a size smaller than Nikki and she was forced to cram her size eight hips into a size six dress.

It wasn’t pretty.

She quickly tunneled her fingers through her hair to give it a very tousled and unkempt look, grabbed her antique hot comb prop, and then had to waddle like a penguin on crack back toward the stage. Standing stage left, Nikki took a deep breath and then waved frantically at her sister to let her know to wrap up her rambling speech.

Barbara brightened with relief. “And now…on with the show!”

There was a respectable applause as Barbara curtsied her way off the stage.

Nikki started praying and she kept on praying well after the house lights dimmed and the curtains parted.

The last thing in the world Hylan Dawson wanted to do was to go to a play—especially one entitled Hot Comb & Hair Grease. This artsy-fartsy stuff was never his thing. Nevertheless, one of his New York playmates, Shonda, was calling herself an actress these days and she kept insisting on dragging him from one bad production to another. It was a high price to pay to get into her Victoria’s Secrets, but a man had to do what a man had to do.

Shonda squeezed his hand as the house lights dimmed. “I’m so excited. My friend Crystal is the lead actress,” she boasted in a low whisper. “I just know that you’re going to love her.”

Oh joy. Hylan smiled to camouflage his despair. If this Crystal chick’s acting was as bad as Shonda’s then he was truly in for a very long night. He turned his attention to the stage, drew a deep breath and prepared himself for anything.

Well, almost anything.

A woman waddled out on stage in a dress so tight he swore the entire front row could hear the seams screaming. Hylan didn’t mind so much since the actress had an incredible body. She was stacked like a priceless work of art with full breasts, slim waist and rounded hips. If this play involved nudity it was definitely going to get two thumbs up and a couple of toes from him.

“That’s not Crystal,” Shonda hissed, frowning.

Good. That meant that Hylan could avoid a sticky situation between girlfriends when he slipped this black angel his number after the show. Sure the slick move would make him what women called a dog, but to him and his fellow Kappa Psi Kappa brothers it was what they considered exercising his options. Which for the record, he did on the regular. And why not? He was single, handsome and rich. Why shouldn’t he shop around and play with all the toys his lifestyle afforded him?

Hylan smiled, wondering what her back view had to offer—something lush and squeezable he hoped. He took his time committing every curve of her incredible body to memory. When his gaze finally reached the actress’s face, he sucked in a sudden breath at the sight of what could have only come straight out of his dreams. Her glowing oval face, plump full lips, crescent-shaped cheekbones and large doe-shaped eyes were a lethal combination to his heart…and his libido. Immediately, he started imagining how sexy she’d look draped in diamonds and writhing on a bed of black satin sheets.

Suddenly, his pants felt tight. He shifted in his chair and hoped that Shonda wouldn’t notice.

“Isn’t she going to say something?” Shonda whispered.

Hylan’s brows jumped. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized that while he was ogling the actress, she had been on the stage for at least a full two minutes and hadn’t uttered a single word. In fact, she looked paralyzed—frightened.

Someone coughed in the audience, probably hoping that it would jar her out of her trance. When that didn’t work, he could hear people shifting and grumbling. Still, his frozen angel stood in the center of the stage. A low murmur rippled around him. He watched as the woman’s bottom lip trembled and her eyes watered. Clearly she was just seconds away from a breakdown.

He jumped to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Shonda hissed.

He blinked. Where was he going?

Finally a pencil-thin woman raced out on the stage and started whispering feverishly into the actress’s ear. Whatever was said flicked on a switch and the actress quickly started babbling out dialogue at a clip that was mind-boggling and robotic as she waved a hot comb in the air.

Hylan lowered back into his chair. From Hylan’s side, Shonda snickered. “She’s awful.”

Hylan agreed, but he was still fascinated by the beautiful actress. Who was this woman? How old was she? She looked young. Was she married? Had a man? If she had either of those things, was she happy? Shoot. A brother was just trying to get where he fit in.

The actress made a dramatic turn as other actors started to drift onto the stage, but when she did there was an audible rip. A gasp rose from the crowd as everyone was treated to a beautiful view of a pair of red-lace thong panties.

“Hot damn,” Hylan mumbled under his breath as he gazed upon the most beautifully shaped ass he’d ever seen. Unfortunately, his exuberance was rewarded with a sharp elbow to the ribs and a narrowed glare from Shonda.

He tried to smooth it over with a lopsided smile that said, Hey, I’m a man, but Shonda just folded her arms until he melted back into his chair.

The initial shock gone, the audience roared with laughter.

The actress’ face turned as red as her panties and she raced from the stage with tears streaking down her face.

The other actors stood stock-still for a few minutes and then continued even though the crowd was damn near in stitches and couldn’t possibly hear what was being said on stage.

Hylan stood—ready to bolt backstage to check on the actress, but Shonda also stood and took his hand.

“C’mon,” Shonda said. “This blows. Let’s go back to your hotel…and play.”

Hylan hesitated, an unusual reaction when a woman was offering up sex-on-a-platter. But he really wanted to check on that horrible actress and make sure that she was all right, and, of course, slip her his number—as long as she wasn’t crying. He couldn’t stand it when women cried.

“Hylan.” Shonda tugged on his arm. “Let’s go, baby.”

What could he say? He had to leave with the one he came with. He smiled and then followed Shonda out of the row of seats. But as he, and a few others, shuffled up the aisle to the exit, he kept glancing back over his shoulder, wondering if the weeping actress would brave another appearance.

No such luck.

Chapter Two

To no one’s great surprise, Hot Comb & Hair Grease opened and closed on the same night. For Nikki, reading the reviews was about as much fun as having her skin ripped from her body with a steel cat-o’-nine-tails. Nah. That would’ve been more fun.

Seriously.

For the next seven days, Nikki buried herself in her bed under a mile of sheets and comforters and kept the phone off the hook. She didn’t watch television or listen to the radio. She just wanted silence, but was denied even that when a long line of concerned friends and family paraded up to her door and banged on it endlessly. Some even threatened to break it down, but then slumped away when Nikki called their bluff.

Even worse, in between visitors, Nikki couldn’t shut off her brain. All her woulda, shoulda, couldas just chased each other around her head until she was dizzy enough to pass out. When she woke the whole thing would just start all over again.

In the back of her mind, Nikki knew she was just being stubborn and childish. But she couldn’t help it. Everything she’d dreamed of, worked for and slaved over had just blown up in her face. She was a joke in the theater world. Her name will become a verb. You don’t want to pull a Nikki Jamison on opening night.

Nikki grabbed her favorite pillow and covered her head. “Aaarrrgh!” The scream felt good, but the relief it brought would only last for a couple of seconds. After that there would be more tears. More “what ifs,” and “why me’s”.

And she still hadn’t figured out what she was going to say to her parents. Somehow “sorry” didn’t quite seem like it would be enough or even adequate. She just lost them a good chunk of their retirement money with no way of getting it back.

Her mother would just pretend like it didn’t matter. Her father would demand that she face the truth and grow up—which she was willing to concede at this point and admit that maybe he was right. Maybe it was time for her to face the music—she was washed up. A has-been even before she’d ever been anything. Did that even make sense?

She had no problem imagining her parents’ disappointed faces because it was a look she’d become accustomed to. Her mother would look like her smile was pinned on and her father would look as if he’d spent the last twenty years sucking on lemons.

Ella Joyce Jamison was a soft spoken woman—unless you started messing with her children—then she would turn into a raging lion. She was convinced that Nikki just wasn’t challenged enough in life and tended to have an active imagination. This was all true. But Wilbur Jamison saw his daughter’s inability to finish what she started as a sign of complete laziness and lack of discipline. There was a little bit of truth in that statement as well. At least it was true when it came to her dropping out of ballet, gymnastics, track, the softball team, the basketball team, college, design school and even cosmetology school. Every new hobby or project or school, her parents were right there—one reluctantly so—writing a check and hoping for the best.

The other parent rolled his eyes and counted the minutes until he could shout from the rooftops, “I told you so!”

This time, however, was different. Nikki did complete something. She wrote this damn play, financed it—well, begged her parents for the money—and even had an opening night. In some cynical way her father could read all of this as progress.

Then again, maybe she shouldn’t hold her breath on that one.

Nikki removed the pillow from her head and just stared at the ceiling until she started making a game out of discovering different shapes and patterns in the chipped paint. A rattling at the front door caught her attention. Then there was the unmistakable sound of a key slipping into the lock.

Barbara.

She was the only person entrusted with a key to the studio apartment. Nikki closed her eyes and made a weak prayer for her baby sister to go away.

Nikki was the older sister. She was supposed to be the leader, grounded—someone her sister should or could look up to. Instead, Barbara was the perfect child. The child that could dance circles around Baryshnikov and play piano like she was born with keys glued to her fingertips. She was the straight-A student who was always at the top of every honor roll throughout her junior and high school years. From there she conquered medical school and was now dating a freaking neurosurgeon.

Bottom line: Barbara Rihanna Jamison was the daughter her father was always proud of—the one that he could never stop talking about. The one he kept saying Nikki needed to be more like.

“Nikki?” Barbara chirped when she cracked open the front door.

Nikki’s hand shot out, grabbed the pillow again and smacked it down onto her head. She gave a less than one percent chance of her sister believing that she wasn’t buried under the covers in the bed.

“Nikki?” Barbara rushed into the apartment, closed the door and then tiptoed her way toward the bedroom sectioned off by a room divider. When she reached the foot of her sister’s bed, she started pulling the sheets and comforters from her sister’s body. “I know you’re in there, Nikki.”

“Go away!” Nikki shouted into the pillow.

“I can’t.” Barbara said. “Not until I at least know that you’re okay.”

The pillow popped off again. “See. I’m okay.” She forced a joker’s smile. “Now go away!”

The ever-smiling Barbara cocked her head. “You can’t lie in bed all day.”

“Sure I can. Watch me.” Nikki rolled over and tried to pull the comforter back over her body, but Barbara held a firm grip and refused to let go. Instead of giving up, Nikki redoubled her efforts and before she knew it, she was engaged in a full fledged tug-of-war.

“Let go,” Nikki hissed, tugging.

“You’re acting ridiculous,” Barbara reasoned, tugging right back.

“So what! Nobody asked you to come here anyway.” Tug.

“I was worried!” Tug.

“Well, who asked you to worry? I just want to be left alone!” Tug.

“Fine!” Barbara let go of the comforter just when Nikki was about to throw her full weight on the next tug.

Next thing Nikki knew she was careening over the side of the bed and the left side of her face smacking against the hardwood floor. “Ow.”

“Ohmigod, Nikki!” Barbara raced around the bed. “Are you all right?” She knelt down and turned her sister over onto her side. “It sounded like you hit your head.” She immediately started examining her.

“Will you stop it?” Nikki said, pulling away.

“Just hold still. I need to make sure that you don’t have a concussion.”

Nikki swatted her sister’s hands away. “I’m fine.”

Barbara finally snapped. “Why are you always fighting me?”

“Why do always think you can fix things?” Nikki barked as her eyes welled with tears. “You can’t fix this, Barbara. So please, please stop trying.”

Her little sister’s eyes glossed with tears as her bottom lip started trembling. “Okay.” She glanced around. “Then I guess I better…” She stood up and hand-ironed her skirt down. “I’ll just…talk to you later.” Barbara turned and headed toward the door.

Nikki watched as her sister walked away with her shoulders slumped and her head hung low and felt like a complete ass for blowing up at her. “Barb,” she called.

But Barbara didn’t stop walking.

“Barbara!”

Her sister opened the front door and then slammed it behind her.

Fearing that she had finally done it, Nikki jumped to her feet and ran after her. “Barbara!” Damn, me and my big mouth. She gave chase all the way out of the building, but like in everything else, Barbara was a better runner, too. Great. Just great.

Later that night, Nikki’s girlfriends Antoinette and Gwen pulled off a miracle and actually managed to get Nikki out of her self-imposed exile and dragged her down to their favorite hole-in-the-wall club, Sparkle. The place was fairly popular with the artsy crowd where everyone pretty much just bragged about whatever project they managed to snag over the loud eighties music.

“See. Don’t you feel better getting out of the house?” Antoinette said, wearing her usual sunny smile.

As far as Nikki knew there wasn’t a tragedy that Antoinette couldn’t put a positive spin on. That habit had a way of being both endearing and annoying. “I guess it’s all right.”

“Well, I think it’s awfully brave of you,” Gwen said, expressing her usually pessimistic view. “Had it been me up there flashing my ass to a theater full of people, I wouldn’t come out of my apartment for at least a couple of years.”

“Good night,” Nikki turned around on her bar stool and started to climb off when Antoinette grabbed her by the shoulders.

“No. You’re not going anywhere.” She twirled Nikki back around. “Gwen, you’re not helping.”

Gwen shrugged her shoulders. “I’m just keepin’ it real.”

“No. You’re just—”

“Just let it go,” Nikki said. “I’m not in the mood to play referee.” She held up her empty glass toward the female bartender that was splitting her time between flirting with the male customers and working. “Refill.”

“Isn’t that your third drink?” Antoinette asked.

“Oh, please,” Gwen rolled her eyes. “The only time to get concerned is when she starts ordering drinks that actually have alcohol in them.”

Nikki twisted her face into a comical frown. “I may be depressed, but I still know that me and alcohol don’t mix.”

“Amen,” Antoinette agreed. No doubt she was remembering a college spring break that landed Nikki a starring role in Girls Gone Wild.

“Another virgin piña colada?” the bartender asked in a dull voice.

“If you don’t mind.” Nikki smiled tightly because she detected the woman was struggling to refrain from rolling her eyes.

“Comin’ right up.” She took Nikki’s empty glass and walked away.

Once her back was turned, Nikki felt free to roll her eyes first. Then as she started to turn her attention back to her two girlfriends, she caught a few stares and hand-pointing aimed in her direction. “Just great,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Don’t pay them any mind,” Antoinette said, without having to be told what Nikki was referring to—which meant that she saw them, too.

“Yeah,” Gwen said and then yelled above the music. “What the hell are y’all looking at?”

The staring and pointing stopped. Not too many people were bold enough to challenge Gwen. On top of being loud and boisterous, she was a very large and rather intimidating woman who’d rather knuckle up than talk it out.

“Mmm-hmm. That’s what I thought,” Gwen mumbled.

Nikki shook her head. She didn’t know if her friend was making it better or worse.

“One virgin piña colada,” the bartender said, returning. “I even added an extra pineapple wedge.”

“Thanks,” Nikki deadpanned. But as she stared down at the tropical drink, she didn’t really have the urge to drink it. “Maybe Gwen is right,” she said. “It’s too soon for all of this.”

Gwen bobbed her head in agreement.

“Nonsense. Whenever you fall off a horse, you get back up,” Antoinette said, pushing Nikki’s drink toward her.

Nikki didn’t respond. She was too busy listening to Michael Jackson scream “Beat It.”

“Maybe what you need is a little vacation,” Antoinette finally conceded, “someplace where you can just get away from the hustle and bustle of the city.”

“Yeah, someplace where they don’t know your name,” Gwen added.

Antoinette angled a hard glare at her friend.

“What? I’m just keepin’ it real.”

“Well, unless this magical place can be reached by the subway, I can’t afford it. And hell, to be honest, I can’t afford that.”

Her friends’ faces collapsed in disappointment. After a few jams from Bobby Brown and Prince, Nikki sighed. “It would be nice to get away.” She took a long sip of her frosty drink. “Somewhere tropical, exotic.”

“Hmm. I know a place like that,” said a woman sitting to Nikki’s right.

“Really?”

The woman shrugged. “I used to date this really good-looking guy out in Atlanta. Actually, he was more along the lines of gorgeous.” She laughed. “Anyway, he has a beautiful vacation home out in Saint Lucia that he hardly ever goes to. Have you ever been to Saint Lucia?”

Nikki shook her head.

“Beautiful.” The woman rolled her eyes. “White sand and a breathtakingly blue ocean. And the people there are so nice. There’s not a day that I don’t dream about going back to that island. Hell, I could stay at that big old empty house of his and he’d never know it.” She laughed.

Nikki perked up. “Really?”

“Really,” the woman reaffirmed.

The wheels in Nikki’s head started turning and a smile started to creep across her face.

“Oh, how I wish I could have snagged a ring from that man.”

“Why didn’t you?” Gwen asked, leaning forward. It was nothing for Gwen to jump into someone else’s Kool-Aid and stir it around.

“Because Hylan Dawson is not the marrying kind.”

Chapter Three

18 months later…

Gisella’s and Charlie Masters’s hands overlapped as they gripped the knife and together sliced into a popular Sinful Chocolate creation: white chocolate and lemon cake. The happy couple smiled at the wedding photographer and then at each other before shoving a handful of the decadent dessert into each other’s faces.

Laughter rippled through the large gathering of friends and family and then a cheer went up when Charlie then tried to kiss and lick his wife’s face clean.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered, snapping their bodies together despite the small baby bump and dipping his head for a long, soulful kiss. She tasted so sweet.

“Je t’aime aussi,” she responded when he allowed her to come up for air.

Charlie groaned at the instant hard-on he acquired whenever Gisella spoke French. Now that they’ve said their I dos, Charlie was ready to skip right to the honeymoon, so much so he found himself asking Gisella every five minutes, “Can we leave now?”

Charlie laughed as his mother gripped his cheeks and tried to pinch the blood out of them. “My baby has made me so proud. Not only did you give me a beautiful daughter-in-law, but I’m finally getting my grandbaby.”

“Anything for you, Mama.” He kissed her cheek.

“Of course you know I was right,” she added, releasing his cheeks. “Didn’t I tell you if you found a woman who could cook like your mama then you had a winner?”

“That you did, Mama.” He wrapped his arm around her.

“I just wish your father was here to see this day,” she said. “Married and about to become a father. He would be so proud. I am.”

“Thanks Mom.” He kissed her lovingly on her upturned cheek.

“Mama Arlene,” Taariq Bryson, a fellow Kappa Psi Kappa brother, greeted her with a wide smile. “I don’t know if Charlie told you, but we talked it over and he’s completely cool with calling me Daddy. All you have to do now is accept my proposal. I’ll make an honest woman out of you.”

“You’re so bad.” Arlene blushed as she gave Taariq a welcoming hug. “Now when are you getting married?”

“As soon as you say yes.”

She rolled her eyes. “You just love me for my fried chicken.”

“That’s not true. You make a mean sweet potato pie, too.”

Arlene laughed and then continued to giggle like a schoolgirl when Taariq asked for a dance. As he led her to the dance floor, Charlie was left to shake his head.

“So you finally did it,” Hylan said, stepping forward and slapping his large hand across Charlie’s back. “You waved the white flag and surrendered to the enemy.”

Charlie laughed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t start that with me.”

“What?” He hunched his shoulders. “I’m just saying. We were supposed to be playas for life. Remember?”

Derrick Knight, another fraternity brother, rushed up behind Hylan and quickly put him in a headlock. “Whatever he’s saying, don’t listen to him.”

“Oh, he’s harmless.” Charlie chuckled. “I’m just waiting for the day when he starts waving his own white flag.”

“It’ll never happen,” Hylan croaked from under Derrick’s arm.

“It doesn’t make any sense to be so hardheaded,” Derrick said, releasing him.

Hylan inhaled a deep breath and then playfully lunged a left jab at Derrick’s shoulder. “Mark my words. A brother like me ain’t going down without a fight. You’ll have to pry my playa card out of my cold dead hands.”

“All right,” Derrick said. “We’re going to hold you to that.”

“Charlie,” said Stanley, the only white Kappa brother in their clique, as he joined the group. “Your wife’s cake is off the hook. What’s her secret, man?”

“She didn’t make this cake. Her assistant Pamela insisted on making the cake as a gift. She did a good job.”

“Pamela, huh? Where is she?” Stanley turned to survey the crowd. “Maybe I’ll marry her.”

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear it,” Charlie laughed. “Start with baby steps. Try to get a date first.”

“Or try to get a woman to stand still long enough for you to introduce yourself,” Hylan added, laughing. It was a tradition to give the lanky redhead a hard time.

“Ha-ha. Ya’ll gonna get enough messing with me.” Stanley scanned the crowd again. “There’s gotta be someone here I can hook up with. Weddings are the best places for single people to hook up. That and funerals.”

Hylan and Charlie just stared at him.

“What? It’s what I heard.”

“We’re going to pray for you,” Hylan said, rolling his eyes. How Stanley managed to hang with them for fifteen years and still be as square as he was was something short of amazing.

“Whatever.” Stanley moved his lanky frame closer to Charlie. “So now that you’re off the market, what do you say to passing a playa like me your infamous little black book? I’ve heard that it’s a pretty thick book.”

“A playa like you?” Hylan snickered. “If anyone should inherit the Holy Grail from my man here, it should be me.”

“Guys, guys. As much as I’d like to improve your game, I can’t. Gisella and I had a nice farewell ceremony and then tossed the book into the fireplace.”

Hylan and Stanley blinked and then both pointed at him accusingly. “Judas!”

Derrick and Charlie laughed.

“What do a couple of married women have to do to get a dance with their husbands?”

Derrick and Charlie turned toward their smiling wives.

“Not a thing,” Charlie said, taking his wife into his arms. “Of course I’m looking forward to a little private dance,” he whispered as he led her toward the music.

“Oh you’ll get your dance, Mr. Masters. That and a whole lot more.”

“That’s what I’m counting on, Mrs. Masters. That’s what I’m counting on.”

Still smiling, Hylan shook his head. Two of the five Kappa brothers were down for the count. He still couldn’t believe it. Hell, it seems like it was just yesterday when they were all piled into Herman’s Barbershop and giving each other dabs and swearing that a honey would never lock them down. “Playas for life,” they had all vowed.

Now look at them.

Hylan, along with most of the wedding guests, watched the bride and groom glide across the floor to an old Luther Vandross classic. He had to admit that his buddy, Charlie, had certainly snagged himself a beautiful woman. Gisella glowed like an angel as she stared up into her husband’s eyes and Charlie looked…happy. In fact, Hylan had never seen him so happy.

There was a sudden tightening in Hylan’s chest. His throat constricted and his eyes…

A waiter waltzed by and Hylan snatched a flute of champagne from his tray and downed the contents in one long gulp while he tried to shake off whatever the heck that feeling was coming over him. “Maybe it’s just heartburn,” he mumbled as he set the now-empty flute on the next tray that passed by.

“Need an antacid?” Stanley asked, popping out of nowhere and grinning like one of those funny-looking orange Cheshire cats.

Hylan jumped and cocked an arm back. “Man, you’re going to get tired of sneaking up on me like that.”

Stanley laughed. “Don’t blame me. You ought to stop being so damn scary.”

“Ha-ha.” Hylan rolled his eyes.

“So where’s your girl at?”

That was a good question. Hylan’s gaze scanned the perimeter a couple of times and came up empty. “Why is it when women go to the bathroom, they stay in there forever?” he asked.

“Like I would know.” Stanley jammed his hands deep into his pants pockets and rocked on his heels. “So what’s the 4-1-1 with you and Shonda? Y’all together again?”

Hylan shrugged. “We’re just kickin’ it. Why?”

Stanley smirked. “Just asking.”

Hylan stretched the collar of his dress shirt and then grabbed another flute of champagne from yet another tray. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Of course not.”

After busting out some old school moves with Charlie’s mother, Taariq bowed to the older woman and then made his way over to his two best friends. “Well, it looks like another one bites the dust, fellas. I still can’t believe it.” He swung his gaze over to Hylan. “I gotta tell ya. I thought you’d fall before old Charlie.”

Hylan choked on the rest of his champagne. “Who, me?”

Taariq swatted him on the back. “You all right?”

Once Hylan finally managed to suck enough air into his lungs, he waved Taariq off. “How the hell can you say something like that? It’s like you’re calling me outta my Christian name or something.”

“All right. Don’t be overly dramatic,” Taariq said, shrugging. “It’s just that…you know…you and Shonda hooked up again.”

“And? Just because I’m seeing some chick I used to date a while back you think that’s just cause for me to jump off a cliff?”

“I’ve just never known you to recycle.”

Hylan cut his gaze toward Stanley.

“Me, either,” Stanley said.

“And you brought her to the wedding,” Taariq added.

“So? It’s just a pit stop. We’re flying out to Saint Lucia this afternoon for a little sun and fun. I haven’t had a vacation in I don’t know how long—and I need one.” Which was the truth. Dawson Engineering was still doing well, even in a down economy and was on pace to becoming Atlanta’s largest and most innovative technology provider. Hylan was in an industry where being a workaholic was required.

But the times he carved out to play—he played hard.

Taariq laughed and snapped his fingers in front of Hylan’s face. “C’mon, man. This is basic Playa Handbook 101 stuff here. You never bring a chick to a wedding unless you plan on marrying her. You bring a chick here and they get to seeing a wedding dress and all these pretty flower arrangements, and the next thing you know they’re plotting how they’re going to get you down the aisle.

Hylan started bobbing his head. Taariq was right. What the heck was he thinking? He liked Shonda. They always had a good time together—but making her wifey or wife was definitely not in the cards.

Just then Hylan caught sight of Shonda threading her way through the crowd. The young, budding actress drew her fair share of stares, but it probably had more to do with the fact she was wearing an outfit better suited for a hooker—an extremely short silk mini-dress that left nothing to the imagination.

The men in attendance seemed to like it.

The women…not so much.

Hylan glanced at his watch. “It’s about that time. I’m outta here.” He turned and gave both Stanley and Taariq half hugs and fist bumps.

“What? You’re not going to wait for the garter toss?” Taariq teased.

“Get the hell out of here with that mess, man.” Hylan laughed and then strolled across the pavilion to retrieve his date.

Shonda didn’t see Hylan and was still scanning the crowd and bouncing anxiously on her toes when he eased up behind her and wrapped his arm around her small waist. “Looking for me?”

Shonda jumped and gasped, but as soon as she realized who it was, she relaxed and turned in his arms to face him. “I’ve got great news,” she beamed.

Her excitement was so contagious, Hylan’s smile stretched equally as wide. “All right. Lay it on me.”

“I just received a call from Nick Jones. The Nick Jones,” she said squealing. “He wants me in his latest movie. Can you believe it?”

Actually, he couldn’t. “Well, that’s great. It looks like it’ll be a vacation slash celebration in Saint Lucia this week.” He glanced at his watch again. “Are you about ready to go?”

“Oh, I can’t go,” she said, eyes blinking. “Nick wants me out in L.A. tomorrow.”

“What?”

Shonda looped her arms around Hylan’s neck and pressed her large breasts against his chest while she poked her lips out into a fake pout. “You understand, don’t you? It’s the Nick Jones.”

Hylan’s spirits plummeted with disappointment, but he hid it with a perfect mask of understanding. “Sure. I understand.”

Looks like I’m flying solo on this vacation.

Chapter Four

Hylan loved Saint Lucia.

The minute the plane touched down, he could feel the stress of his job roll off of him in waves. How could it not? Everywhere he looked was a postcard-perfect snapshot—despite the gathering clouds. The Atlantic Ocean kissed the northern shores of the small island while the Caribbean Sea hugged the west coast. The twin coastal peaks soared two-thousand feet from the sea and were blanketed with an emerald-colored rain forest.

From the moment the private jet touched down in the Soufrière quarter, Hylan shut off his BlackBerry and mentally checked out for vacation. Stepping off the plane, he swore that the air smelled fresher, the sun was brighter and life just plain sweeter. “Why don’t I come here more often?” he said under his breath. The answer was truly a mystery. Whenever he was rushing around making deals, he repeatedly told himself that he didn’t have time for a vacation. And whenever he did make time, he always wondered why he didn’t do it more often.

Hylan’s maternal roots ran deep on the island. When he was a child, he remembered spending long summer days diving, snorkeling, sailing, windsurfing, hiking—you name it, he did it. His parents never had a lot of money, but everyone who knew Hylan Sr. and Sabelle Dawson knew that they were rich with love. Hylan had been their miracle child, having been conceived when his mother was in her late forties after nearly two decades of hoping and praying.

As a result, Hylan may have been a little spoiled.

A horn blared.

Hylan looked up to see a green Jeep speeding toward him near the small hangar. The man was going so fast, Hylan wondered if he needed to dive out of the way before being hit. At the last minute, the driver slammed on the brakes and stopped within inches of him.

“Bonjour, Mr. Dawson,” the islander shouted a half a second before he jumped out of the vehicle and swept Hylan into a full-body hug. “Welcome home!”

Hylan’s face contorted in confusion, but he managed to put on something that resembled a smile by the time the man released him. “Gotta tell you, me and the missus were starting to wonder if you were ever coming back. Nikki kept insisting that you were coming and…well…here you are!”

“Here I am,” Hylan said. Who in the hell is this guy? Knowing how small the island was, chances were that he was probably embracing some cousin or family member.

“It was just by chance that I was out here dropping off a couple of tourists who were staying at the Anse Chastanet resort when someone said that you were on this flight. You picked a helluva time to arrive with a storm brewing.”

Hylan glanced up. It never ceased to amaze him just how quickly storm clouds gathered over the island.

“Do you need a ride to the house?” the man asked.

“Actually, I was just going to call for—”

“Forget it. I’ll take you. Where’re your bags?” He glanced around just as a young teenager appeared, struggling with Hylan’s luggage.

The driver let out a loud whistle and then yelled a long stream of Antillean Creole at the teen. “I guess it’s a good thing that I came along when I did. Does Nikki know you were coming today?”

“I—”

“Of course she does. What the hell am I thinking?” He laughed and showed his entire top and bottom row of teeth.

Hylan felt as if he was supposed to join in, so he did. “You know, you really don’t have to—”

“Nonsense. I got to go out and see Momma Mahina anyway.”

“Mahina,” Hylan said, happy to finally recognize the name of his housekeeper in the confusing torrent of words the man hurled at him. “You’re Mahina’s son?”

“Nephew, but she’s like a second mom so I call her Momma.” The driver chuckled and then smacked his head. “Where are my manners?” He thrust out his hand. “The name is Rafiq. Momma Mahina and Nikki talk about you so much I feel as though I already know you.”

Hylan’s laugh turned genuine as he finally started to relax around the chatty driver. “Well, in that case, if you’re going my way, I’d love to hitch a ride.”

“Good.” Rafiq’s bright smile was as white as his skin was black. “As you Americans say, let’s get this show on the road.” His large hand smacked across Hylan’s back before he turned and snapped at the teenager to hurry up. “Mr. Dawson doesn’t have all day, son.”

“Mr. Dawson?” The tall, lanky teenager’s eyes perked up with curiosity as he pulled his thick dreads back from his eyes. If Hylan didn’t know any better, he would have sworn that he detected a hint of hostility from the teen. What the hell is this kid’s problem?

The still chuckling Rafiq leaned in with a loud whisper, “Don’t pay Adal any mind. Everyone thinks he has the hots for Nikki. Then again, I’d say Nikki has cast most men in the quarter under her spell.” He winked and elbowed Hylan in his side. “Teenagers. The boy is harmless.”

Adal scowled at Rafiq for ratting him out about his crush on this Nikki chick. Hylan tried to smooth things over by giving the young man a generous tip after he dumped his luggage in the back of the Jeep, but Adal just looked at Hylan’s gratuity as if he’d shoved a snake at him, and then stormed off.

Rafiq’s head rocked back with a hearty gust of laughter. “Aw yeah. The boy got it bad.”

“Oookay.” Hylan crammed the money back into his pants pocket and then climbed into the passenger side of the Jeep.

Rafiq was still laughing when he slammed his foot down on the accelerator of the lightweight four-wheeler and sped away from the airport hangar.

Almost immediately, Hylan grabbed the side door, half way expecting the G-force speed to rip him right out of his seat.

“Now that you’re back, I’m sure the local gossip will finally die down. I don’t mind telling you that people in the quarter was split down the middle as to whether you were ever going to come back.” He grinned over at Hylan. “I have to admit, I had my doubts, too. But then again Nikki is a very beautiful woman. The kind men usually just put on a shelf.”

Hylan frowned. What the hell is this dude talking about?

Rafiq temporarily took his hands off the steering wheel in mock surrender. “I don’t mean no disrespect, man. It’s none of my business. It’s just an observation, if you know what I mean.”

“Not really.” The Jeep swerved out of its lane and Hylan caught sight of a speeding truck, heading toward them. His heart leapt into his throat as he reached over for the wheel. “Pay attention to the road!”

Rafiq nonchalantly took control of the wheel. “No problem, man. I got this.”

Hylan glared as he eased back to his side of the vehicle. He didn’t travel all the way back to paradise so that he could become someone’s hood ornament.

“It’s just that, in the past, I’ve known you to come here with different women,” Rafiq continued as if their lives hadn’t just been snatched out of the jaws of death. “All of them beautiful,” he added hastily. “But in my opinion none of them comes close to Nikki. She’s beautiful both inside and out. Everyone in the quarter will testify to that. She’s been involved with everything from the Dunnottar School for children with disabilities to the Holy Family Charity Home. I swear sometimes if you look closely enough, you can actually see her wings. She’s beautiful, smart, kind, generous and…” he stabbed Hylan with a sharp look “…patient. Truly an angel.”

Is he trying to fix me up with this chick? “I see,” Hylan said. He had to admit that his interest was piqued a little bit. What was there not to like about a beautiful woman who was also smart? “And where is Nikki now?”

Rafiq shrugged. “I imagine at the house. She’s told everyone that she’s working on a new script. After having writer’s block for so long, this is good news, no?”

“At the house?” Hylan struggled to keep up with the conversation.

“Oh wait ‘til you see. Nikki has done an amazing job redecorating the place. Not to mention she’s been a godsend for Momma Mahina. You know she will never admit that she’s getting on in years and can’t do the things she used to do.”

Hylan felt as if he’d finally put the pieces to this strange puzzle together. Mahina hired an assistant that had apparently become the talk of the quarter. “So Nikki works with Mahina?”

“And thank the good Lord. After Hurricane Richard blew through here nine months ago, Momma Mahina needed all the help she could get.”

Hylan nodded, remembering hearing about the storm. His assistant had kept him abreast of all the repairs with his insurance company, his accountant, and his property manager, Mahina. With his company growing and the demands on his time, Hylan had put his complete trust in Mahina’s abilities and it sounded as if it had paid off. “Well, I’ll make sure that I thank Nikki personally for helping hold down the fort.”

“I bet you will.” Rafiq winked and then reached over and turned up the radio. The unmistakable voice of Saint Lucia native Taj Weekes boomed loudly from the speakers. Hylan and Rafiq bobbed their heads in time to the melodic bass. The music was the perfect backdrop to the lush, verdant scenery of wild orchids, giant ferns and Caribbean flamingos. And Soufrière was different from the other Saint Lucia quarters because it had the world’s only drive-in volcanic crater. Hylan always made a point of visiting it whenever he was on the island and could already feel himself getting excited at the prospect of seeing the sulfur springs again.

As the music of Weekes faded out, Rafiq turned the radio back down and grinned at Hylan. “So are you staying long or are you just swooping in to take our lovely Nikki away from us?”

“I’m just in for two weeks.” Hylan struggled to keep his grin from turning cocky. Rafiq seemed extremely confident in Hylan’s game when it came to women. But if this Nikki chick was even half the dime-piece Rafiq thought she was, then Hylan would be down for whatever. Vacations were always best when they were spent with the opposite sex. “But I can be persuaded to stay longer.”

Rafiq’s cocky grin matched Hylan’s as he made a sharp left on a rustic coastal road that ascended to Dawson’s private estate. Once they cleared the overgrown foliage, the two-story white, palatial villa stretched up toward a darkening blue sky.

“Looks like we’re in for a rough one,” Hylan observed.

“What are you going to do? It’s that time of year.” Rafiq said as he slammed on the brakes.

Hylan’s hands shifted from the door to the dashboard, which he was certain he was just seconds from sailing through. Before he could curse the driver out, Rafiq had jumped from behind the wheel and started unloading the bags.

“Welcome home,” Rafiq declared and then marched up toward the front door.

Hylan stumbled out of the vehicle on shaky legs and grabbed the two remaining bags. The moment he crossed the threshold however, he pulled up short and wondered if Rafiq had taken him to the right house. “What the…”

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Rafiq said, bobbing his head and smiling as if he expected Hylan to turn cartwheels or something.

He almost did. Not that he didn’t like his house before with its pristine, airy, white décor that, quite frankly, most villas—whether they were homes or resorts—showcased. His spacious vacation villa now looked both modern and urbane, intimate, masculine, quiet and sophisticated—especially with its coffee-colored walls.

“This looks like it cost me a fortune,” he said. His gaze danced across the room with its new furniture and an array of eclectic artworks.

Rafiq shrugged. “I don’t know about such things. You’d have to ask the missus about that.”

Hylan bobbed his head, but then when Rafiq’s words registered, he frowned and turned his head toward him. “Ask who?”

“All I’m saying is that a man’s house is his castle, no?”

Hylan started to answer when this angelic voice floated down from the second level. “Rafiq, is that you?”

Hylan didn’t think it was possible but the man’s smile stretched even wider as he brushed a hand over his bushy, uneven ‘fro.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The woman laughed and it sounded like sweet music to Hylan’s ears.

“I thought so. I’d recognize that engine anywhere. When are you going to get a tune-up?”

Obviously embarrassed, Rafiq’s broad smile dimmed as he kicked the tiled floor in the foyer. “Soon. I’ll get it to the shop later this week. Promise.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Can you go help Momma Mahina out in the guesthouse? We’re storm-proofing all the windows.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rafiq started bowing even though the woman had yet to grace him with her presence. “By the way Nikki, I, um, brought you home a gift.” He poked another sharp elbow into Hylan’s ribs.

Hylan flinched, but not before debating whether to send a quick jab upside Rafiq’s head. He spared him this time, but if the man elbowed him again, all bets were off.

“No more gifts, Rafiq,” the woman said, her voice becoming clearer as she approached the top of the stairs. “I told you that I’m a happily married woman.” She stepped into view and froze.

Hylan’s eyes widened with a sudden jolt of recognition—like any man could ever forget those stacked curves or even that face. “You.” In the next second, he felt as if he was spiraling out of control in some mad man’s vertigo. He dropped the bags that were in his hands and at the last second managed a little more strength in his knees. Was he dreaming or was he seeing that New York actress’s twin? They say everyone has one.

After a few more seconds, Hylan felt as if he was getting his bearings back—at least that’s what he took his growing hard-on to mean.

“Ah, Nikki, I knew you’d like this gift,” Rafiq boasted, slamming his large, bony hand against the center of Hylan’s back.

Nikki? This was the infamous woman Rafiq bragged about? Hylan dropped his gaze so that he could take in the pleasure of its slow climb back up her body. This certainly had the makings of becoming a memorable vacation.

Rafiq’s laughter bubbled between the silent couple. “Looks like I was wrong. Nikki didn’t know you were coming. You old dog.” He delivered another whack against Hylan’s back, before he then leaned over and whispered, “About that gift thing, that’s just a little inside joke between us two. I would never hit on your wife.”

Rafiq’s declaration may as well have been a sucker punch. “My wife!”

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