A Private Affair (15 page)

Nikita smiled. “Or, we could take Mrs. Finch up on her offer.”

“Naw. Don't think so. Don't want to get her started. Then she'll be bringin' me dinner every night.” He laughed. “Turn on some music. I'ma go up and change.”

She nodded and went over to the stereo, picking up and putting down CD cases. She finally settled on Mary J. Blige's “What's the 411?” wanting to hear what all the hoopla was about over a girl whose reputation seemed to be built more on her attitude than her aptitude.

While she listened, not really getting it, she strolled over to the bookcase, looking over the wide range of selections. He had
everything from mystery to poetry to contemporary fiction, as well as an array of nonfiction titles.

Had he actually read all of this? Then why did he talk as if he'd never seen a written word?

Her slender fingers grazed over the spines of the hardcover and softcover titles until she ran across a romance novel, which stopped her cold.

Romance?
Now that was a twist. Must belong to one of the women he knew.

She picked the book up from the shelf and opened the front cover.

“Who's Lacy?” she mumbled.

Footsteps on the staircase snapped her out of wondering. Quickly, she returned the book to its space.

“Mary J., huh?” His eyebrows rose.

“Why not?”

“Hey, whatever.”

He pushed open the sliding doors that separated the living room from the dining area and strolled into the kitchen. She followed him.

When he turned from checking out the fridge, Nikita was posed against the counter.

“Nice outfit,” he said, popping the top of his beer, admiring how the clingy aqua knit hugged her every which way. He took a breath.

“Thanks.” Her lowered lids shielded her eyes. She looked up and he was still staring at her. “So what did you do today?”

He looked away and took a swallow of his beer. “Hmm, this and that. What about you?”

“Why won't you tell me anything about yourself, Quinn? Why is your life such a big secret?” she added, tired of the cat-and-mouse game.

“My life ain't no secret. It just ain't that interestin'. At least, nothin' you'd be interested in.”

“How do you know that if you don't tell me?”

“'Cause I know.” He crossed the room, seeing the hurt seconds before she averted her gaze, the defiant crossing of her arms. He stepped up to her. Close.

She kept her eyes focused on the yellow-and-white tile floor.

He tilted her chin upward with the tip of his forefinger.

“It's really not that interestin',” he said in a soft voice, hoping to ease the harshness of his last response.

“Maybe it is to me, Quinn,” she said, matching his tone. “Ever think of that?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know you—really know you. You're such an anomaly. You present yourself to the world as this…this rock-hard, can't-be-touched, too-cool thug. But anyone with one eye could see that there's so much more to you than the front you put on.”

“Umph.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Maybe
this
is the front. Maybe what everyone sees
is
the real me. Has been for twenty-odd years. Think of that?”

“So which is it, Quinn, this or that? Tell me so I'll know who I'm dealing with.”

“Strange as it seems, both. It's all me, Nikita. I choose how I wanna be, who with and when.” He shrugged. “I just don't mix 'em together. Simple.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

She let out a breath, then looked him in the eye.

“Listen, I've been led around by the hand all of my life. Told what to think, what to believe, what to do. I want to move past that phase of my life. So I don't need to backtrack by dealing with yet another man who thinks that I'm some airheaded, fragile princess who doesn't have an original thought in her head. I know we're different. I think that's part of the attraction. But in so many ways we're the same. You're making changes in your life, major changes. I can see it, feel it. The
resistance is still there, but change is coming. Just like it is for me. I don't know about you, but I don't want to do it by myself.”

He looked at her for a long moment before speaking.

“You think you wanna make those changes with me?”

“Yes. I do. But only if you're willing.”

His eyes roamed over her face, searching for any hint of a game being run. He'd never met a woman in his life—except Lacy—who didn't have some plan going on when they met a dude. But Nikita seemed different—for real. She actually seemed honest. And on the serious tip, he didn't think she had it in her to be otherwise.

He took his hand from his pocket, reached out and stroked her cheek. “We'll try it your way.” The corner of his mouth turned upward. “Just be careful what you wish for.”

'Round Midnight

T
hey'd had a light dinner at a little Chinese restaurant on Sixth Avenue. Then Quinn announced that he had to go uptown. This time, he broke all of his own rules. He took her with him.

Quinn turned onto St. Nicholas Avenue. “I gotta stop and pick up my man, T.C.”

Nikita looked around at the towering tenements, the gutted and boarded buildings, and pockets of people who congregated on every available corner. Children, countless children, everywhere, racing up and down the garbage-strewn streets as if they were let loose in an amusement park.
Who did they all belong to? Where were their mothers, fathers?

Quinn pulled to a stop in front of Shug's Fish Shack, where a line ran from the counter out into the street.

Was the fish free, or was it that good? she wondered.

The smell of fish grease, fried onion rings and something else she couldn't decipher seeped into the cool, filtered interior of the BMW.

“Be right back.”

She wanted to scream:
Don't leave me here!

Quinn eased out of the car and rounded the front. The alarm engaged with a soft beep in time with the door locks clicking into place. She suddenly had an eerie picture of a prisoner being led down a cell block with the clang of the metal door shutting behind him. A shudder skittered through her.

Nikita stole a glance at Quinn as he moved easily among the knots of boys-to-men, passing a word here, a high five there. Everyone knew him, and they went out of their way to catch his eye, gain his favor—a blessing, with a wave or a nod of acknowledgment from him—like the pope.

A tiny, electric shock of realization hit her. He knew all of these people.

This is where he grew up, lived and breathed, where he'd learned most of everything he knew, an earthy, street-savvy intelligence that he shed like snakeskin when he stepped across the threshold of his home.

Seeing him through new eyes made her wonder how, if ever, she could find a place in his life. Where did she fit? Here, or back in the Village?

A tingling sensation akin to fear floated around in her stomach. Yes, she was afraid. Afraid to get out of the car and walk through this neighborhood. Afraid of the men who stayed in a perpetual state of anger, rage and hopelessness. Afraid of the women in their body-hugging clothes, hip-grabbing skirts and five-pound-weight earrings, who cut her dirty looks as they strolled by the car, snickering as if they had a secret she'd never know.

She tried to appear cool, assuming the same stare-you-down look as the women who passed.

Her heart thudded.

Did that make her afraid of Quinn, too?

She jumped when the alarm popped again and the front and back doors opened and closed in unison.

“That's T.C.,” Quinn said with a toss of his head to the back of the car. “This is Nikita. My lady,” he added, his smile asking her if she had a problem with that. She returned it, her pulse fluttering. “So treat her nice and watch your mouth.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, what's happenin', Nikita?”

She didn't know what to say, so she just said, “Hi.”

Quinn turned his head toward her. “We got a few stops to make, then we'll head back. Cool?”

“Sure.” She nodded. What other choice did she have?
Be careful what you wish for.

He patted her clasped hands and pulled out.

 

Nikita sat alone in the car, the blunt beat of hip-hop her only company, while Quinn—with the long, rangy T.C. trailing behind him—went in and out of five “spots,” doing who knows what. The duffle bags that they carried in always seemed much bulkier when they came out. Finally they made their last stop, but this time they came out empty-handed.

Where are we headed now?
she wanted to ask, but didn't.

Before long, they were back where they'd started, in front of Shug's, and at one o'clock in the morning there was still a line. Made her want to try some—just to see.

“Hungry?” Quinn asked, as if reading her mind.

“Kind of.” She smiled.

“Shug's has the best fried whiting in the city. You wanna check it out?”

“Sure.”

“Cool.”

“Later, Nikita,” T.C. said from the back and hopped out.

“Later,” she mumbled.

Quinn looked at her for a minute, then grinned. “Be right back.”

 

She had to admit this fish was the best she'd ever tasted. Crispy, with just the right amount of batter, and seasoned to perfection.

“Good, huh?” Quinn grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners, from across his dining room table.

Nikita raised her eyes and pulled her finger out of her mouth. She smiled sheepishly.

“How can you tell?”

“'Cause I can't figure what you wanted to suck on more, the fish or your fingers.”

“Very funny.” She wiped her hands and mouth on the little napkin that Shug's had provided.

“Here, let me get that for ya.” Quinn reached across the table and took her hand. One by one he took each finger and dipped it in his mouth, flicking his tongue, momentarily, across the sensitive pads, his eyes glued to her face.

A pulse way down between her legs started to beat like those drums in the music she'd been listening to, the heat of it building, rising and spreading through her body. Her temples began to pound and she could have sworn she heard her own heartbeat above the sound of R. Kelly's “I Believe I Can Fly.” A shudder rippled up her back, and she shivered.

His voice reached down and stroked that throb. “Cold?” He placed her hands between his.

All she could do was shake her head in denial.

“Hot?”

She swallowed.

“Let's see what we can do about that.”

He came around the table and gently pulled her to her feet. He kissed her forehead, a kiss so featherlight that she wasn't sure it had happened.

Taking her hand, he led her upstairs.

He opened his bedroom door and she followed, her heart racing in first place, her thoughts a strong second.

How would it be? How would she be? Why was she here? Oh, God.

He opened the second door which led to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, while Nikita stood in the doorway, not sure what “wuzup.”

The room filled with steam while Quinn removed fluffy oversize towels from the tall linen closet, which she hadn't noticed before.

He walked over to her, a gentle warning in his eyes. Slowly he leaned down until his lips touched, captured and explored hers.

Her arms had a will of their own as they glided up his back, her fingers threading through his hair.

Steam enveloped them. She felt the dampness suck her dress to her skin, dewdrops dotting her arms, her face.

Quinn's warm, wet hands moved down her sides, finding the bottom edge of her dress, easing it up and above her hips.

Nikita shivered in the heat, whispering a moan of pure pleasure to Quinn's ears.

He pulled her dress over her head to reveal the satin and lace.

Quinn's eyes roved over her petite body, marking his territory.

“You're beautiful, Nikita.” He slipped one strap from her shoulder and then the other, then pushed her bra down, forcing her breasts to reach out to him, which he took—one by one—until Nikita began to whimper, her legs growing weak.

How or when she didn't know, but Quinn had removed his shirt, because she realized that she was feeling his bare chest against her.

“Come on,” he urged. He took her hand and led her into the shower.

“But—”

“Just step in—just as you are.”

She blinked away her confusion and stepped into the shower stall, where she watched Quinn remove his pants, leaving on his briefs, and join her, shutting the door behind him.

“We're gonna stay just like this, 'til we know it's right.” His eyes glided over her face. “Awright?”

What else could she say? That she wanted to strip down right this second, wanted him to do to her what she'd been dreaming about, and the hell with waiting?

“All right,” she whispered.

To her ultimate delight she'd never experienced a more erotic interlude. The fact that they still kept their underwear on, even as they touched, massaged and intimately explored each other's bodies, was more of a turn-on than being fully nude. It raised the whole experience to a level of anticipation that was indescribable.

They laughed, sighed, moaned and whispered until the water began to grow cool.

Quinn turned off the shower, stepped out and grabbed a towel, wrapping Nikita in the downy-soft cocoon. He followed suit.

Then, without a word of warning he picked her up, cradling her in his arms. She closed her eyes and snuggled closer, listening to the rapid beat of his heart.

He laid her down. She felt a cushiony quilt wrap around her. Her eyes fluttered open and rested on his face. And then it registered where she was.

Her eyes widened in surprise. This was the guest bedroom! Why—

“Get some rest,” he whispered, leaning down for one last deep-down kiss. “See you in the mornin'.” He turned and closed the door behind him.

She stared at the closed door. Stared at the ceiling. Her entire body was a mass of tightly strung nerves. She was on fire. Everything throbbed.

What had happened? She knew without question that he was just as aroused as she was. There was no debating that. Then why had he stopped?

She flipped onto her side and stared at the wall, questions but no answers tumbling through her head. Still, she found herself drifting to sleep. She unwrapped the towel and slipped out of her damp undies. At least she wouldn't have to worry about washing them out.

She slid down between the sheets, her nude, tingling body slowly beginning to calm. The heat, the hot water and the total body massage began to take their toll.

 

Quinn dimmed the lights next to his bed, then got in.

He could have had sex with Nikita. There was no question about that. It probably would have been great, too. Had it been anyone else that he'd been dealing with, he would have just taken what was offered and called it a day.

He didn't know what it was about Nikita. She was different—special—and he just wanted to make sure that he didn't make any mistakes with her. He wanted what they did in bed to really mean something. For once.

She wasn't like those other women. He knew her heart was going to be in it, and he had to be sure his was, too. Women
he'd been with had only one thing in mind, having a good time and just “seein' what he was like.” It wouldn't be that way with her. She'd want more. She already did. Could he handle it?

Sleep didn't come easily.

 

When Nikita opened her eyes again it was eight o'clock in the morning. She blinked and sat up, when reality struck.

The house was tomb quiet. Quinn was obviously still asleep.

She stretched. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so well. She actually felt invigorated.

She got up, wrapped herself in the discarded towel and tiptoed across the room to the bathroom, carrying her emergency toothbrush. Quietly she pressed her ear to Quinn's side of the door. Not a sound. She turned on the water in the sink.

Tiptoeing back to her room, she started to get dressed when she heard knocking on the bathroom door.

“All clear,” she shouted, pulling her dress down over her head.

Quinn poked his head in. “Mornin'.” His dimples winked at her.

“Hi.”

“Sleep okay?”

“Fine, and you?”

“Coulda been better,” he said, stepping fully into the room, beautiful and bare chested. “Maybe we can do somethin' about that at a later time.”

She swallowed. “May-be.”

“What time you gotta be to work?”

“Well, Ms. Ingram won't be back until Monday. So I need to open the office and get things going.”

“Hmm.” He took a breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

“You're up early. Have plans?” The last time she'd stayed over he'd slept right through her departure, and she hadn't had the heart to wake him.

“This and that.” He grinned. “Found a note under my door from Ms. Finch. She wants me to take her everywhere but to heaven today.” He chuckled. “Besides, I didn't want to miss seein' you before you left.”

Heat infused her face. “Oh.”

“You comin' tonight, right?”

“Of course. I can't wait. I know you're going to be fabulous.”