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  After that dance, he made sure the owner would put Laurie in a cab, made sure she knew the change in plans, and hurried to his car so that he could catch Regina leaving. He didn’t personally know her date, but he had recognized him and remembered hearing that he was something of a ladies’ man from mutual friends. He had to make sure that Regina got home safely. He felt like a thief or a stalker, but when they came out just as he pulled up, he followed them to their car and followed them to wherever they were going, hoping that it was her place and not his.

  He was relieved to see the guy leave Regina at the curb and to see her walk up to the third story of a three-story house. Still acting on impulse, he followed her, not sure what he would say or how she would react.

  * * *

  Regina kicked her shoes off as soon as she hit the living room. When she heard the knock on the door, she thought that maybe her date had forgotten something. Or maybe he thought they might be continuing the evening in her apartment. If so, he was terribly mistaken.

  She paused at the door, wondering what her date might be thinking and if she might have to fight off any advances. Outside of tonight, she didn’t know him at all. In fact, tonight had given her no real clue either.

  It was late, but she picked up her phone and dialed Amelie’s number.

  “Hey. If I don’t call you back in ten minutes, come get me.”

  She opened the door with the phone in her hand and was surprised to see Nigel, not her date. “Oh.”

  “Disappointed?”

  “Relieved. Don’t ask,” she said. If it had been her date, it would have been awkward, at the very least.

  Actually, this should be awkward, too, but it wasn’t. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had imagined the knock on the door might be Nigel. Something about dancing with him, even in a crowded club on opening night, had made them seem like friends again. It had surprised her that he hadn’t tried to talk. Maybe she had even been a little disappointed. But then, he had been on a date, as had she.

  “First, once again, you should check the peephole before you open the door.”

  “The landing light is out. I can’t see a thing out the peephole. And it’s too high for me—I have to get that fixed. By the way, there is a buzzer. But you can’t see it, can you?”

  After the lack of conversation with her date that evening, she now felt rather chatty. She was breaking her own rules, but it was a relief to have someone around who could hold a conversation.

  “And second,” Nigel said, “I thought we could have a cup of coffee or...”

  “Or?”

  “I don’t know. That’s as far as I got. I only know that I had to see you.”

  “I’m sure—” she almost said Black Barbie “—your girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate you saying that.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my coworker’s sister, who will be put in a cab by the owner, and he’s the only reason I went. Business.”

  “I guess that doesn’t let me off the hook.”

  She reluctantly stepped back, letting Nigel in. Part of her knew she should send him away, but the larger part of her wanted to decompress after the long night and have a real conversation with a real person.

  “Okay,” Regina said, “let’s clear the air. I’m not putting those shoes on again, so you’ll have to take whatever’s in my kitchen, which is decaf, I think.”

  “So this is where you’re living now?”

  “You didn’t know? My new address is on the application.”

  “No, I didn’t get it from the application. I followed you home.”

  Regina made an exaggerated face, looking at Nigel like he might be a crazy stalker. He got her meaning and cracked up.

  “I know. I’m a bit out there right now,” he said, not wanting to tell her what he’d heard about her date. “But seeing you again... Seeing you in that dress. I don’t know. Maybe it is time to clear the air.”

  “I’m in a strange mood, too. It was just one of those nights. Anyway. Clearing the air.” She turned serious. “We can’t go back there.”

  He got quiet, too. “I know. I know. But who you are now, who I am now—”

  “We’re different people now,” she said.

  “Who you are now is interesting, too. Where’s your artwork?”

  “I found a dealer in the art district who took pity on me and took about a third of my finished pieces on consignment. The rest is in there.”

  Nigel headed into the room she had pointed to.

  “It’s not pity. Your work is beautiful. I saw a little at the studio—I’m sorry again that you lost it. What about Amelie?”

  “Oh. Amelie.”

  Regina still had the phone in her hand and hit Redial.

  “No, you’re not coming for me. It was just Nigel....He didn’t say anything about that, so I assume not.” She turned to him. “Did we get any commentary back yet?” He shook his head no. “No, but I’ll let you know....Oh, hush. Bye-bye.” She clicked the phone shut. “Sorry about that.”

  “Protection?”

  “Yes. That was Amelie. We have a booth on weekends in the open market at Eastern Market. Have you been there?”

  “Not yet.” He was walking slowly through the room, looking at the pieces she had out front, sometimes stopping to tip a board forward and see the one behind it.

  “We share a booth, but she’s doing well there. Sharing it takes the pressure off the need to be there all weekend, which is nice. She has a show coming up, as well.”

  “She’s beginning to be recognized.”

  “Yes. We’re still trying for a place of our own.”

  “You’ll be recognized soon, too.”

  They were in what would usually have been the second bedroom of her two-bedroom place. For her, it served as an art studio. His attention to her pieces drew her eyes to them, as well. She didn’t realize he had moved behind her until he wrapped his arm around her.

  “It’s getting muddy again,” she said, but she didn’t pull away.

  “I know,” he answered.

  They were quiet for a long moment.

  Perhaps she just wanted to break the mood, but she had a playful thought. “You know, when you asked me to dance, you didn’t say that you couldn’t dance a lick to New Orleans jazz.”

  “Or any other jazz,” he added.

  They both chuckled.

  “Thank you for trying. You caught on quickly.”

  “Yeah, your boyfriend didn’t look like he was about to.”

  “Like I said, don’t go there.”

  They chuckled again.

  “Hey,” he said, “where did you learn to dance to New Orleans jazz?” He said it like he should know everything about her.

  “My older cousin Willie, from the Big Easy. He used to come visit us about once a year when I was little.”

  Regina moved to break the spell between them and return them to reality, but he held on to her. From behind her, he crossed his arms over her chest and rubbed her arms. The movement dragged his forearms gently over her breasts, and her body started to tingle. His mouth was near her ear, close enough that his warm breath sent shivers through her.

  “You dance well. I don’t dance anymore at all.”

  “You? The eternal partier? You’re just out of practice.”

  “That I am.”

  He pointed to one of her pieces. “What do you call that one?”

  She stirred slightly at his question, but he gently held her back to his chest, and rubbed her arms again. The name that had been on the tip of her tongue slipped out of her mind.

  “Um. Oh, it’s called The Overlook. See the way the figure is overlooking the horizon?”

  “Yes,” he said into her loose hair. He drew one of his hands around her wa
ist and drew the other to her breast, gently caressing it through the pleats of her dress. Her body tensed, and goose bumps ran up her spine.

  “Tell me about that one.”

  “That one is called The Crucible. It’s a Georgia O’Keefe–type theme. Women’s sexuality.”

  Nigel lifted his head. “Where?”

  “See, there are the lips, the V for the hair. It’s abstract.”

  “I see it now. It’s beautiful. I wouldn’t have gotten it if you hadn’t told me.”

  He moved the hand on her waist down to her thighs and drew his palm up toward her V. Her buttocks contracted involuntarily, and her thighs clenched, tilting her hips. She sucked in a breath.

  “Your body wants me. I want you, too.”

  She stopped, exhaled.

  “Let’s be clear. I can’t go back there. This is...” She didn’t know how to finish.

  “Let’s just say it is what it is and leave it at that.”

  * * *

  Nigel moved his palm down Regina’s thighs again and then back up. He loved the way her body bucked against his when he did it, making him stiffen.

  “You know. I haven’t—” she said.

  “You haven’t what?”

  “I haven’t been with anyone other than you since high school.”

  Nigel was floored and broke out in a grin, which she turned her head in time to catch. She playfully elbowed him in the side.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “But the truth is that I haven’t been with anyone other than you all this time either. Not that I haven’t had offers.”

  “I’m sure you have.”

  “And clearly you have, as well.”

  He still held her breast in his palm, and he ran his thumb over her nipple, feeling it stiffen, feeling her whole body sway.

  “It’s getting murky again, Nigel.”

  “No, it’s not. Not really. Let’s just say that we’re two people who’ve been starved for affection and who are used to each other.”

  “I’m not used to you,” she protested. “I’m not used to anyone.”

  “Well, we’re more used to each other than anyone else.”

  “And it is what it is,” she said, as if to make certain that they were on the same page.

  “It is what it is,” he confirmed.

  “But let’s not make it a habit. That’s when things get murky again.”

  He was too busy smelling her hair to respond. When he opened his eyes and dipped his head down, she looked like she was wondering what the hell she was doing. But when he ran his hand over her breasts again, her eyes fluttered shut, and a shiver ran through her whole body.

  He took her and drew into the hall, looking for her bedroom.

  They went inside and faced one another next to her bed. She looked at him for a long moment and then stepped into the radius of his embrace, pressing her hands against his chest, finding his nipples and closing her fingers around them, weakening his knees.

  * * *

  It was his grin. It seemed to turn back time in his face, making him into the boy she had known and loved before he became the man who stood in front of her now.

  And it was his touch—the way he moved his fingers over her chest and the way he moved his palm up her legs, making heat and moisture flood into her body.

  Still, she had to wonder what on earth she was doing with the man who had once left her. But thinking about that didn’t answer her real question. Why was her body still lit on fire by his touch? Though she hedged, in the end she knew that she wanted this as much as he did, and as long as they were both clear...

  But she couldn’t be clear with his fingers moving over her, his hand exploring her body. She moved her hands along his chest and let herself be lost in the sensations.

  When she heard the zipper of her dress, she opened her eyes. When she felt his fingers fluttering down her back, her body arched into his, and she began to throb. She got her hands between them and undid the buttons of his shirt, wanting to feel the warmth of his skin against hers. Then she felt her dress sliding down between them, and his head dipped down to her neck and then her breasts, as the material fell to the floor.

  His mouth was hot through the fabric of her bra, turning her nipples into hard peaks. He sucked one into his mouth and wetness flooded her. Her body shivered from the touch, and she couldn’t hold in the murmur that escaped her. Then his fingers moved between her legs, finding her heat. Her body jerked and a soft moan poured from her throat. She had to hold his shoulder to stop from sinking to the floor as a heavy throbbing overtook her.

  She slipped his blazer and shirt from his shoulders at the same time, and he straightened, letting her undress him. The passion she saw in his face made her flush. She brought the jacket over to her chair and turned to find him stripping off his pants, along with his shoes. When he saw her undo the clip of her bra and let it slip from her torso, he stopped and stared, his manhood tugging against his shorts.

  She held out her hand for his pants and laid them over the seat. Then she moved into his open arms.

  His mouth covered hers, and his hard chest dragged across her breasts, making her moan again. He slipped the panties down her legs and took off his shorts before lifting her onto the bed. He stopped to put on a condom he must have taken from his clothes while undressing, and then he covered her with his body.

  When his manhood grazed her center, her back arched and she murmured. But instead of moving inside her, he slid his body down the length of hers, suckling her nipples before moving lower. When his mouth found her, when the heat of it covered her, Regina moaned out loud and thrust her hips. Sensations flooded her. She clung to the bedspread and thrust against his teasing lips. And he didn’t stop.

  She was moaning and thrusting when his fingers found her breasts, pushing her over the edge as a wave of release shattered through her body. She cried out as the pleasure ripped through her body.

  She was breathing heavily as he slid upward next to her, letting her run her hands along his body—its hardness, its curves, its thick peak. She pulled him toward her, and he followed her tug, landing between her legs.

  He entered her in one slow movement, building the pressure inside of her all over again. His slow thrusts filled her. His lips captured her breath. His moan filled her mouth.

  His movements spread fire through her, made her body grip on to his. But he was taking his time, making her moan, making her thrust, making her build toward the edge.

  When his movements became short, hard jerks, her back arched, bringing her chest to stroke along his. She moaned and he moaned as they both tumbled over the boundary.

  Chapter 12

  A week later, Nigel couldn’t wait to see Regina again. In fact, he wasn’t going to wait. And he wasn’t going to follow the little rules she’d laid out for them; she could never be just a warm body to him. He had already decided to drop in on her and see what she was up to. Where it went from there, well, that was up to her.

  Nigel knocked on Regina’s door for the second time. When he still didn’t get an answer, he remembered that there was a buzzer and decided to try it before giving up.

  He heard a chain sliding, and then the door opened.

  “Yes. I did look out the peephole this time, thank you.”

  “I didn’t say a thing.”

  She eyed him. “You were thinking it.”

  He gave her an innocent face and shook his head. She laughed.

  “What are you doing here? And don’t you know that I have a phone? You can call ahead. You know, I’m usually at our booth in Eastern Market by now.”

  “I figured, but I thought I would take a chance.”

  He followed her into the living room and took a seat. She was wearing jeans with a tank top and had sneakers in her hand
. He loved seeing her in casual clothes almost as much as he had loved seeing her in business attire. The tank top left her shoulders out, and already his lips were itching to kiss them. In fact, he wanted to play with all of her curves.

  She sat down to put on her sneakers.

  “I actually do have quite a bit to get done,” she said. “I can’t stop and play.”

  “So what are we doing today?”

  “Nothing in those clothes.”

  He wasn’t ready for her to say that. He imagined that she might turn him down altogether, not that she would have an issue with his clothes.

  “Don’t you have any casual wear? Jeans?”

  Nigel looked down at himself, perturbed.

  “I think I have some jeans at home. I know I have sweat pants.”

  “Jeans are better,” she said. “Sweat pants will do.”

  “Why? What are we doing today?”

  “Errands.”

  “Errands?”

  “You’ll see.”

  At least she was amenable to the company.

  They headed out as if they were used to being together. They left his car on her street, and she followed his directions to his place so he could change. Nigel liked the new feeling of being out with her, doing things, but she had never been to his place, and now he wasn’t sure what she would make of it.

  He let her go in ahead of him and watched her as she took it all in: a winding black leather sectional, a fully stocked cherry wood entertainment center with a six-foot coffee table and matching chest, a deep-piled eggshell carpet.

  “Damn,” she said.

  “I actually had a decorator do it. I wanted to impress you.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  He sighed, realizing too late that he had perhaps admitted too much. “No, I wanted to show you that I’d made it after all.”

  She walked to the end of the living room and back, then turned into the hallway and found his equally decked-out bedroom. He liked the idea of having her in his room and followed her in.

  “This isn’t necessarily what I think of when I think of making it.” She’d found his closet.