Authors: Crista McHugh
He left the office and said something to Sherita on the way out that set her friend off in a fit of girlish giggles. A minute later, Sherita popped into her office with a dreamy grin. “That man is all that and a bag of chips.”
“Oh, he’s more than just that.” She nodded to the computer screen. “Take a look at what he did.”
Sherita hustled over and let out a low whistle. “Brawn
and
brains.”
“With a side helping of trouble.” She saved the ad and sent the file to the local newspaper.
“Out with it.” Her friend leaned against the desk, one balled-up hand on her hip. “I want details.”
“We just had lunch.”
“And I don’t believe a word of that.”
One of the many problems with working with a friend who’d known her since high school. Sherita could spot a lie from her like a beautician could spot a bad weave job. But how much did she dare reveal about the fake romance she was trying to cultivate? “He flirted.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” She fanned herself like it was a sweltering ninety-degree day. “That man can get me hot and bothered with just a glance, but that still didn’t change the fact he was only interested in you.”
“He’s interested in me because I’m the head of the foundation,” Kiana replied, turning her attention to the emails that had arrived while she was gone.
“And I’m a virginal nun.” Sherita shifted until she blocked the computer screen, her arms locked across her chest in a way that said she wasn’t going to leave until she’d gotten all the juicy details.
Kiana leaned back in her desk chair with a groan. “Fine. I got him out of a bad situation in exchange for him helping me promote the gala.”
“And?”
“And part of the reason he took me out to lunch was because if we’re seen together in public, people will think we’re dating, and it will draw more attention to the foundation and clean up his image in the process.”
“Bullshit. That man has the hots for you, and he’s just playing along to get past your defenses.”
She sat up. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“When was the last time you went out on a date?”
She almost replied, “Just now,” but instead she said, “You know why I’m not in any hurry to let a man into my life.”
“No, you’re just hiding behind your kid. Besides, not every man is like Malcolm. Mr. Hottie there, for example—”
“Is called ‘Romeo’ by his teammates for a reason,” Kiana finished. “Besides, he has a temper, and I know better than to get involved with a man who knows how to throw a punch.”
Sherita’s posture went lax, and she hung her head. “Aw, sweetie, I didn’t mean it that way. I just think it’s time you get back out there and remember what it’s like to be a woman.”
“Are you saying I’m turning into some shriveled-up prune?”
“You said it. Not me.” Her friend pushed off the desk and made her way to the door. “But if I had a man like Frank Kelly chasing after me, I’d definitely indulge in a little fun while I could.”
Kiana waited until she was alone before opening up the photos Frank had placed on her hard drive. The smiling version seemed to match the man who’d danced with her in the club and flirted with her over lunch. Charming. Carefree. Confident.
But when she clicked on the stern-faced version, a shiver of fear raced down her spine. This was the man who had a reputation for knocking quarterbacks to the turf on Sundays. The man who’d beaten the crap out of Malcolm and his friend and sent them both to the hospital less than a week ago.
Her pulse jumped, and a metallic taste filled her mouth, reminding her of all the times Malcolm had hit her until she tasted blood. Her hand shook as she reached for the mouse. She closed the image before it triggered a panic attack.
She’d been fooled before, but she’d learned her lesson. As much as Frank Kelly intrigued her, she needed to stay far away from him.
Chapter Five
Frank lifted the barbell with a grunt. His pulse throbbed in his temples, and his lungs burned from the effort of bench pressing two hundred and twenty-five pounds. But dammit, he was going to get to forty reps.
He only got to thirty-two before a loud bang disrupted his concentration. The force of the metal door hitting the wall behind it echoed through the nearly empty weight room, followed by the pounding of heavy footsteps. Frank had barely replaced the barbell with the trainer’s assistance when Tre’s angry faced loomed over him.
“What’s going on with you and my sister?”
Frank’s blood chilled, and a cold sweat added to the perspiration already covering his skin from his workout. The trainer wisely ducked out of the room, but there was no escape for him. He kept his voice nonchalant in the hope it would cool his friend’s ire. “What are you talking about?”
“This.” Tre pulled out a full-page ad from yesterday’s newspaper and poked his finger right in the middle of Frank’s smiling face on it.
His anxiety waned, and he sat up slowly, wiping his face with a towel. At least Tre didn’t know about the kiss. He’d asked the photographer he’d planted in the restaurant to hold off on releasing the pictures of him with Kiana. Not that it didn’t keep him from pulling them up on his phone a dozen times this weekend. They looked good together. Real good. But until he got the green light from her, he was willing to respect her privacy.
“She asked me if I’d be willing to help promote your father’s foundation, and I said sure.”
A muscle rippled along Tre’s jaw, and his hands bunched into fists, crumpling the newspaper in the process. “Fine. But keep your hands off her—understand?”
“And if she can’t keep her hands off me? After all, she was the one who contacted me.”
The veins along Tre’s neck started to protrude, and Frank forced a laugh to break up the tension. “Relax, bro. I’ll behave. Kiana’s a class act, and I admire her for taking over your father’s work. She’s not fling material.”
“Damn right, she’s not.” He flung the paper down and turned away, but not before Frank got the sense there was something else upsetting his teammate. The seconds ticked by, though, and Tre’s fingers slowly uncurled, releasing his anger with them. “Besides, what am I worried about? I’ve already warned her about you, and she’s smart enough to keep you at arm’s length. You ain’t got a chance with her. She’ll push you away before letting you get too close.”
“Gee, thanks.” Frank took a healthy chug from the bottle of Gatorade beside him. “Just don’t ruin my chances with the rest of the ladies.”
“That’s all on you.” Tre nodded toward the barbell. “And what are you doing here, anyway? It’s the off season.”
“Just trying to stay in top form.” Frank stood and moved to the leg press machine. “The draft’s coming up in a couple of weeks, and I want to make sure some rookie doesn’t strip me of my starting position.”
“Whatever, man.” Tre tried to make light of the situation, but a hint of worry laced his words. If anyone was in danger of being cut, it was him.
“Want to change into some gym clothes and join me?”
Tre’s phone buzzed, and his attention returned to the screen. “I’ve got things to do. Thinking about making a little trip to Vegas. Want to come along?”
Frank shook his head. The last time he’d joined Tre, they’d spent the whole night in the casino, either playing blackjack or watching sports scores roll in. Tre was a high roller—sometimes winning, sometimes losing—but never getting to the point where he appeared to be in over his head. “I’ve got too many things to do here.”
“Your loss.” He left the gym, his fingers flying as he replied to a text message.
Frank sat on the bench but didn’t resume his workout. Something about his conversation with Tre bothered him. He meant what he’d said about Kiana not being fling material, and he knew his reputation as Romeo was a strike against him. Hell, he’d even agreed to play along with the fake romance as a way to feel out how receptive she’d be to going out with him. But if the chemistry of their kiss was any indication, they’d be good together.
Real good.
However, he first needed to find out if she was interested in him or only what his name could bring to her foundation.
***
Frank stared at the number on the screen of his phone and swallowed his fear. He’d hated calling girls since junior high, and the years hadn’t dulled the jumble of nerves twitching through his gut as he stood in the living room of his home and worked up the courage to press send. It would’ve been much easier if Kiana had been in the office when he’d swung by there this morning. Face to face, he could gauge her reaction to his invitation. Over the phone, he had no clue where he stood.
The only upside to this was that Sherita was more than willing to give him Kiana’s personal cell number. If he was in the doghouse, there was no way her friend and assistant would’ve been so eager to share that kind of personal information. Maybe lunch last week had gone better than he thought it had.
Of course, Tre’s warning from this morning still lingered in the back of his mind. Would Kiana push him away because of his reputation? Or was she only tolerating his company because of what he could do for her foundation?
There was only one way to find out. He pressed send and waited to see if she would answer.
“Hello? This is Kiana Dyer.”
Damn, he loved listening to her voice. It was rich and full with just enough sass to give it a sexy vibe while still sounding professional.
He licked his lips and grasped for any shred of confidence he could get. “Hey, Kiana.”
“Frank?” Her voice rose in surprise. “How did you get my number?”
“Sherita.” He ran his hand along the back of his neck. Damn, this was harder than he imagined it would be. “I wanted to see how the ad was working.”
The shock faded from her voice, and she seemed to slide back into that smooth, professional tone of hers. “It seems to be going well. I’ve been out all morning making sure we had enough tickets printed for all the people ordering them for the gala.”
Some of his nerves ebbed, and he leaned back against the sofa. “So my pretty face seemed to help, huh?”
“Maybe.”
He caught a hint of a teasing note and laughed, the last of his tension fading. “Glad to know I could help. Maybe there are a few more things I can do.”
“Such as?”
“Well, for starters, there’s that whole public persona idea.”
“Are you planning on planting more photographers to catch us together?”
He grinned. If he got her to accept his invitation, he wouldn’t need to hire photographers. There would be plenty on site. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to catch a Hawks game with me tomorrow night.”
A pause filled the line, and his nerves returned with a nauseating fury. He’d rather take a hit to the gut than have her say no.
“I wish I could, but I already have plans.”
His mouth went dry, and he struggled to find his voice. “No problem. My fault, actually, for asking you on such short notice.”
“No, Frank, it’s not that, it’s just…” Her voice faded, but not before he caught an unspoken apology in it. She wanted to come, but something was keeping her from saying yes. Maybe she did have plans. Maybe she was trying to let him down gently, but at least it wasn’t an outright diss.
“Some other time, then.” He quickened the conversation, ready to end it as soon as possible. “I’ll check back with you later this week to brainstorm some more ideas for fundraising.”
“I—” She caught herself and then changed her response. “Thank you.”
The call ended, and he stared at his phone, wishing he knew why she’d said no.
***
Kiana’s heart fluttered like a hummingbird on crack as she ended Frank’s call. For a split second, she’d been tempted to say yes. But then she’d spied her daughter’s picture on her desk and remembered why she couldn’t indulge in the sinful temptation that was Frank Kelly.
“So what did Frank want?” Sherita asked from the doorway.
“Why don’t you start by telling me how he got my phone number?” She’d barely walked back into her office when the phone rang, and now that the call was over, she finished unloading her briefcase.
Her friend looked up at the ceiling and buffed her shiny ruby-colored nails on her blouse. “Well, he said it was urgent.”
“I should’ve known you were behind this.”
“And I want to know what you turned down.” Sherita crossed the room and sat on the edge of Kiana’s desk. “And maybe afterward, we can get your head examined for telling him no.”
Kiana closed her eyes and counted to ten. She’d hoped her best friend would understand why she refused to get tangled up with someone like Frank, not try to play matchmaker. “I might need to change my number.”
“Stop changing the subject. It’s not like he was asking you over to his place for a night of wild, hot, sweaty sex.” A mischievous glint filled her dark eyes, and she leaned forward. “Or did he?”
“He asked me to go to a Hawks game with him tomorrow night.”
“And you turned him down?” Sherita’s brows furrowed. “Girl, what’s wrong with you? You love basketball.”