Promises We Make. Pamela Yaye

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      Roxi ignored her and addressed Niveah. “If I’m right about you being a Goody Two-Shoes, you’ll have to hand over your new Gucci handbag. You know, the one I watched you drop a thousand dollars on at the mall yesterday.”

      “Okay, and I want your Oprah tickets.”

      Her face crumpled like a piece of paper. “B-b-but they’re the tickets to her final show.”

      “Those are the terms. Deal or no deal?”

      “You’re on. That purse is going to look great with the dress I plan to wear to the show.” Flashing a superior grin, she leaned forward in her chair, and rested her elbows on the table. “Did I tell you guys that Oprah will be interviewing her all-time favorite guests on the finale?”

      “Only a million times,” Jeanette grumbled.

      “There are also rumors circulating that world-famous singers will be performing together. I can hardly wait! It’s going to be …”

      Having heard this before, Niveah glanced absently around the ballroom. It was no surprise that her eyes strayed to the bar. Her mouth dried. He was staring right at her. Guests blew noisemakers, and boisterous laughter filled the room, but Niveah could still hear her deafening heartbeat. It was beating in double-time, throbbing painfully in her ears.

      Wearing a broad, megawatt smile, the handsome stranger lifted his tumbler in the air, tilted his head toward her and downed his glass in one smooth swig.

      “Go over there and introduce yourself,” Jeanette encouraged, brimming with excitement. “He’s definitely interested in you, girl.”

      Roxi shook her head. “Miss Thang is too much of a lady to approach a guy. Attending a high siddity university made her all proper and whatnot. See, I believe in taking life by the horns, so if you’ll excuse me, that hottie at the bar is calling my name.”

      “Then, you need to get a hearing aid, because he’s checking out Niveah, not you!” Jeanette laughed at her own joke. “I know it’s hard for you to believe, Roxi, but you can’t have every man you want.”

      “Oh yes I can,” she snapped, twirling her index finger around in the air, “and besides, Niveah wouldn’t know the first thing to do with a brother like that.”

      Niveah gripped the stem of her cocktail glass to keep from shoving Roxi off her chair. They’d had a love-hate relationship ever since Jeanette introduced them, and it was at times like this that Niveah wondered why they were even friends. “We’ll see about that.”

      Niveah downed the rest of her mai tai, pushed back her chair and stood. Her legs wobbled as she walked across the sleek hardwood floor. I can do this. I’m smart and sexy and I have a lot to offer. Repeating the words she’d once heard on an afterschool special didn’t bolster her confidence. Niveah wished she had another drink, because as she approached the bar, she felt an intense bout of the nerves.

      The stranger stood against the counter, holding his Blackberry, oblivious to her approach. As Niveah came up beside him, she tried to think of something clever to say. Anything besides the standard greeting. “I hope you’re enjoying your cognac,” she said, in her sultriest voice, “you strike me as the kind of man who likes a strong drink.”

      Damien Hunter glanced up from his cell phone and his eyes bulged out of his head like a cartoon character. Standing before him in a slinky champagne-colored dress was a caramel-skinned goddess. A woman he felt an instant, undeniable connection to.

      Examining her gave Damien great pleasure, so he did a slow, thorough appraisal. He took in every detail of her face, committing each exquisite feature to memory. Her blinding white teeth drew his attention to the delicate curve of her lips. To the pretty, full rosebuds he could already feel around his—

      Damien purged his thoughts. He was putting the cart before the horse. Conversation first, mind-blowing sex after.

      Resting his arms against the counter, he continued his assessment. Loose, luscious curls grazed her shoulders, brushing lightly against her arms. Her mouth looked sweet, her hips were fine and he was itching to stroke her long caramel brown legs. She looked wholesome, like the kind of woman who baked bread and enjoyed playing with children, but there was nothing innocent about her sultry smile. It was provocative, tinged with lust and full of suggestion. In his profession, he mixed with a lot of attractive women, but no one had ever captured his attention like this sister with the bedroom eyes. Play it cool, man, the voice inside his head cautioned. She’s just another crazy beautiful woman looking for a good time, and you’re just the man to give it to her. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

      Niveah licked her lips. The sound of his voice, all deep and masculine, was enough to melt her panties right off. He oozed with confidence, pulsed with positive energy and smelled like expensive aftershave. “I’m Niveah. And you are?”

      “Damien,” he said smoothly. “I appreciate you buying me a drink, but now it’s my turn to return the favor. What would you like?”

      You, naked in my bed. The thought made a wave of giddiness sweep over her. Where had that come from? she wondered. Niveah hadn’t had sex in—hell, it had been so long she couldn’t remember. That’s why being in close proximity of this tall, dark and handsome man made her wet in all the right places. “Two cocktails are my limit, so I’ll just have a ginger ale.”

      While he placed the order, Niveah checked out his profile. Jeanette was right about him being good-looking, but he was much, much more. On top of having a smooth-as-chocolate-pudding complexion, he had a straight nose, chiseled jaw and a chest that she was aching to lick, and stroke and caress. “Thank you,” she said, taking the glass he offered. Electricity passed between them when their fingers touched, and it took a moment for Niveah to recover. “Tell me about yourself, Damien.”

      “I’m in town on business. What about you?”

      Keeping up her end of the conversation was more difficult than riding a bicycle backward. Damien was a great conversationalist, who made her laugh, asked tons of questions and listened intently to her responses, but Niveah couldn’t concentrate. Her mind was all over the place, jumping from one illicit sexual thought to the next. It didn’t take her long to come to a decision: she was going to sleep with Damien, and when she heard the opening bar to her favorite R & B song, Niveah imagined herself kissing him all over.

      “Care to dance?”

      Niveah cast a glance at the overcrowded dance floor. “Yeah, but I don’t feel like getting trampled on.”

      “Then we’ll dance right here.”

      Singing the lyrics to the song, Niveah moved her shoulders and legs in time with the slow, erotic beat. R. Kelly was singing about being ready and so was she. Niveah liked the way he moved, loved how cool and self-assured he was.

      Caught up in the moment, she abandoned herself to the music and allowed herself to be swept into his arms. It didn’t matter that they’d just met or that her girlfriends were watching; this felt right, fated, like the most natural thing in the world.

      Needing to be closer to him, she curled her arms around his neck, swallowing the space that had been living between them. Niveah had never considered having a one-night stand before, but then again, she’d never met a man who looked fresh off the pages of a Ralph Lauren ad and whose voice tickled СКАЧАТЬ