King's Pleasure (18 page)

I
’m going to be a mom.

That news trumped the news of DeShawn running off to Vegas to marry an exotic dancer. From what she understood, that sort of thing happened all the time. Her mother, however, was having a harder time with it, and judging by the number of times Ariel was calling her cell phone, she was, too. However, for Leigh, DeShawn’s elopement had a more liberating effect. The guilt she woke up with that morning was gone. And the confirmation she’d received at the doctor’s office literally had her floating on air.

A mom.

This was definitely one of those times when she didn’t know how much she’d wanted something until it was right there, staring her in the face. Perhaps the circumstances weren’t ideal, but her joy triumphed over everything else. She was nowhere near showing, and yet she couldn’t stop touching her belly and smiling.

I’m going to be a mom.

“Hello, Leigh.”

Leigh jerked her head up at the unexpected, but still very sexy and familiar baritone.
Annnnnnd here’s the father.
She sucked in a deep breath and tried her best to level him with an annoyed glare. “Hello.”

He amped up his smile, and then turned it on her unsuspecting mother. “Hello. Jeremy King. I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to meet.”

Sheree’s eyes sprung wide with shock. “Oh, you’re Jeremy King.” She slowly slipped her hand into his, as if she was in some sort of trance. “I’m Sheree Matthews, Leigh’s mother.”

“Nice to meet you.” He tried to release her hand, but it was her mother who hung on. “My, what large hands you have.”

“Why, thank you.”

“Huh…um.” She cocked her head and assessed the shoulder, chest and waist.

If Leigh hadn’t gently kicked her under the table, she was fairly certain that she was about to tell him to turn around so that she could check out the rear view. “Mom,” she hissed.

“Hmm, what?” Sheree dragged her eyes away from Jeremy’s chiseled frame to meet her daughter’s hard stare. “Oh. Right.” She released Jeremy’s hand and proudly…and inappropriately announced, “We’re mad at you.”

Leigh closed her eyes and tried to count to ten—she made it to three. “Is there something that I can help you with,
Mr. King?
”

“Actually, yes. I was hoping that we could have a few minutes alone so that we can talk.” His smile turned apologetic toward her mother.

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” Leigh stated flatly.

“Leigh,” her mother hissed, before her foot nearly took her daughter’s shin out under the table.

“Ow!” Leigh said, glaring back at her mother.

Sheree Matthews flashed her daughter a flat, tight smile before picking up her purse and sliding out of the booth.

Leigh panicked. “Where are you going?”

“Just to the bathroom,” she responded in an overly saccharine tone. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Leigh had a sneaking suspicion that she’d be lucky if her mother was back in an hour.
Damn. Why hadn’t she driven the car?
With only her sharp glare as a weapon against her mother, she sighed in another deep breath as Sheree stood and offered her seat to the enemy.

“Thank you,” Jeremy said, and sat down.

When his dark soulful eyes leveled on Leigh’s face, her body’s mutiny began. Her tongue curled, her breasts ached, her mouth went dry and her clit hammered in sync with her speeding heart.

“What do you want?” she managed to ask before her throat tightened.

“I called you this morning…I don’t know if you got my message….”

Leigh folded her arms and stared. She wasn’t going to acknowledge a damn thing.

He knew what time it was and inhaled another deep breath. “About last night,” he began. “I—”

“I don’t want to talk about last night,” she said, shaking her head and grinding her teeth.

“But—”

“In fact, I don’t want to talk to you about anything ever again, if I can help it.”

To her surprise, his head jerked back as if she’d just slapped him. She leaned in over the table. “You had some nerve manhandling and talking to me like that.”

“I know, I—”

“Not only was I humiliated, but you had the audacity to call me a crazy gold-digging ho,” she hissed.

“Actually, I said that you were either or.”

She pounded a fist on the table while her eyes narrowed murderously.

Jeremy’s arms flew up in surrender. “But your point is well taken.” This time, he leaned over the table.

In response, she eased back.

“Leigh, I’m not proud of what I did last night. I have to admit that it had a lot to do with my anger and fear. And while my emotions were at levels that I’ve never experienced before, I have to say that I am truly, truly sorry.”

He reached for her hands, but she jerked them back. His touch was the last thing that she could handle at this moment.

Leigh’s eyes misted as she shook her head. “You’re only saying that because…” She struggled to swallow the boulder lodged in her throat. “Because…” She turned and hopped up out of her seat. “I can’t do this right now,” she croaked. “Do me a favor and just go to hell,” she said, and raced out of the café.

Two seconds later, her mother bolted out of the ladies’ room after her.

Jeremy watched them race out with his throat tightening and a growing pain inside his chest. “I’ve really screwed this up.”

“F
rankly,” Quentin said, in an utterly sincere voice, “I thought it was a wrap for my boy. I mean, I ought to know. There are some things that there’s just no coming back from.”

Julianne Turner frowned as she cupped her chin and studied him. “You don’t believe in forgiveness?”

“Well, there’s forgiving and there’s forgetting. In my opinion, a lot of people get the two mixed up. Most of the time when people ask you to forgive them, they are really asking you to forget. Nobody forgets. It’s impossible except, I guess, when you’re dealing with someone with memory issues. Other than that…” He shook his head. “It’s not happening. And if you’re unable to forget, you’ll never truly forgive. It’s all just lip service.”

“You have an interesting belief system, Quentin. You claim not to believe in love—“

“Uh-uh-uh…” Q sat up and shook his head. “I said that I didn’t
understand
love. I believe in it. After all, my parents are in love—or at least their version of it.
I
was in love with Alyssa—”

“Was?”
Dr. Turner perked up. “You don’t believe that you are anymore?”

Quentin blinked, but as he considered the question for a full minute, the truth tumbled out. “No.” Once the simple answer fell from his mouth, he would’ve bet everything he owned that a huge weight had just been lifted off his shoulders.

“This is good,” Dr. Turner said, bobbing her head. “I think that we may be getting somewhere here.”

“Huh.” Quentin remained silent as this revelation washed over him.

“How do you feel about it?”

After another minute to run that question through his mind, Q answered honestly, “I’m not sure.”

“Okay.” Dr. Turner bobbed her head and flashed a smile. “That’s okay. This is still good.”

Quentin smiled at the way her eyes lit up. “Reggie is a lucky man,” he said, shaking his head. “I hope he knows that.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” she said sternly, but still holding on to a smile. “But yes, he does.”

Their eyes locked for an indeterminate amount of time before Julianne Turner snapped out of her trance and cleared her throat.

“Uh, w-where were we?” She coughed to clear her throat, but when it didn’t work, she hopped up. “Excuse me for just a second.” She rushed over to the small refrigerator and took out a bottled water. She didn’t bother with a glass.

“Are you all right?” Quentin asked, his dimples deepening.

“Yeah. Sure. I’m good.” She waved off his concern, but she was clearly flustered. She tilted the bottle again and drained it. “Okay. Now, where were we?” she asked as she returned to her chair.

“Several places, actually,” Quentin said, checking out the deep flush of embarrassment on her face.

“Forgiveness,” she blurted, sliding back on her professional veneer. “Let’s back up to that. I’m interested in knowing why you think one can’t forgive without being able to forget.”

It was his turn to become uncomfortable again.

“Forgiving a wrong simply means someone chooses not to let the wrongful deed have power over them—the power to hurt, the power to fester, the power to destroy love,” said Dr. Turner, somberly. “Forgiveness can sometimes be just paying lip service, I agree. In society we toss around the word a lot. But it does happen. I see it every day.”

Quentin was quiet for a long time. “I haven’t.”

“No?” she asked dubiously. “Didn’t Victoria ultimately forgive Eamon for his omission? Didn’t Xavier forgive Cheryl for her deceit?”

Quentin’s brows crashed together.

“And what about Jeremy and Leigh? How did he ultimately win over his wife?”

“Well,” Quentin reflected. “It wasn’t easy.”

Two months later…

“Y
ou called her what?” Eamon said, abandoning the buttons on his tuxedo to cup his ear. “I
know
I didn’t hear you right.”

“You heard him right.” Quentin smirked. “He should count himself lucky that she only slapped him around with a piece of fish instead of him sleeping with them.”

Xavier just stood in front of the mirror holding his cuff links with his mouth visibly gaping open.

“I know. I know.” Jeremy groaned while still fumbling with his Windsor knot. “I don’t think she’s ever going to forgive me.”

“You and me both,” Eamon said. “That’s almost up there with the b-word. I think Victoria would smack the taste out of my mouth if I ever called her that.”

“Of course she would. You’re a borderline domestic-violence victim as it is,” Jeremy shot back.

Xavier roared in agreement. “She does kind of have a temper on her.”

Eamon waved them off. “My baby is just passionate—and as long as you see this smile on my face, just know that your big brother is satisfied.”

Jeremy’s face twisted. “Uh-huh. Has she learned how to cook yet—because you can count me out for family dinners at your house.”

“Victoria doesn’t need to learn how to cook. I handle all that.”

Jeremy and Quentin exchanged glances with each other before they said in union, “That’s a no.”

Eamon refused to be fazed. Nearly a year into matrimony and he was still thrilled about the day his wife stormed into his life like an Amazon goddess, waving around a fifty-million-dollar lawsuit.

“Well, has she even talked to you about the baby?” Xavier asked, worried. “I’m sort of looking forward to being an uncle.”

“No. Not yet,” Jeremy said, trying to tamp down his own nervousness about that. “I don’t mind telling you guys, but I feel like I’m dying over here, man. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I’m hardly at the club anymore. I’m at my wits’ end about this. I’m scared to call her anymore because I’m just a couple calls away from having a harassment suit slapped on me.

“I’ve sent roses, daffodils, irises, sunflowers, daisies—you name it. Friday the florist said that Leigh started refusing my deliveries. And don’t get me started on the chocolates—or the puppy.”

“You sent her a puppy?” Xavier said, frowning.

Jeremy shrugged. “Who doesn’t like puppies? Frankly, I think it’s a good sign that she kept
that
delivery—but then again it was an adorable Yorkie.”

His brothers shared a look.

“I know. I know. This is never going to happen.” He glanced up, hopeful. “Is it?”

“I’m not one to rain on anyone’s parade,” Eamon said. “But maybe you just need to give her space. Sounds like she’s been through quite a lot. Let all of this process first.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Jeremy bobbed his head. “But patience has never been my strong suit.”

“Check it out, li’l bro,” his brother said. Xavier crossed the room and swung his arm around Jeremy’s shoulder. “You know, Cheryl and I also had to rebuild from scratch. After finding out that she was a cop, I wasn’t even sure that the person I thought I was in love with even existed. Lucky for me it turned out she did. I hate to say it, but you and Leigh have even less invested in each other than even we did at the time. Think about it. You guys really only had that
one
night. And she’s never given you any indication that she wanted more than that. Am I right?”

Jeremy’s heart sank as he nodded.

“I’m not saying that it can’t happen for you. But I do think that you need to prepare yourself in case it doesn’t.”

“You’re right.” Jeremy sucked in another deep breath, and then forced a smile. “All right, enough with my pathetic love life. Let’s go see if Cheryl is still crazy enough to take our last name.”

They pounded each other on the back and finished getting ready. And never once after their brotherly talk did Jeremy let on to the rest of his family and friends that his thoughts were swirling around Leigh Matthews.

Cheryl and Xavier’s wedding ceremony at Bradford Galleries was perfect. Cheryl’s small family consisted of a younger sister, Larissa, and her son, Cheryl’s only nephew, Thaddeus. There were a few of Cheryl’s fellow officers from when she was on the force, including her partner, Detective Johnnie Walsh. The rest of the guests were from the Kings’ large family tree—mostly out of Houston, Texas.

Their father, Jorell King, was also the youngest of three brothers: Ivan and Deon. To date, Uncle Ivan had produced the most children: seven boys and two girls, while Uncle Deon often complained about having to chase men away from sniffing around his five girls.

Having just seen them all at Eamon’s wedding, everyone poked and prodded Jeremy about when he was going to tie the knot. His old cries of “Never” had now morphed into “Who knows?” And every time he said it, an image of Leigh racing from him on a moonlit night in Malibu surfaced in his mind.

“So when are you going to tell him?” Ariel asked, sitting across from Leigh on the back deck of their friend Cathy’s Malibu home. “You’re already past your first trimester.”

“I know. I know.” She glanced off toward the ocean and watched the rumbling surf take out a few exuberant surfers. As usual, the young and not-so-young guns would pop back up, looking like a cluster of bobble-heads, laughing and ready to take on another wave.

“I tell you what, I’m more than impressed by how long you’ve made the man grovel. A couple more weeks, and a deed to a house or the keys to a brand-new car might show up.”

“I’m not trying to punish him. I just needed some time,” she said. “Time for myself to reflect, to mourn, to grow—to plan.”

“Do you think that you’ll ever forgive him?”

“That’s just it. I think I did that the day at the Breakfast Café. There’s no doubt in my mind that his apology was sincere. At the time, I thought that I just wanted to hang on to my anger, but I just couldn’t.”

A strong breeze swept across the deck. Leigh closed her eyes and the let the wind comb through her hair. Once it died down, she sighed and opened her eyes.

“You know what’s crazy?”

“What’s that?”

“I miss him.”

“Please say you mean Jeremy King.”

Leigh nodded. “One night. One glorious, uninhibited night of pleasure and I can’t get the guy out of my head. Everything from our dancing at the party to playing in the ocean and…” Her smile almost wrapped around her head.

“Damn. That good, huh?”

“Oh. The sex was out of this world—but there was something else, something I can’t quite put my finger on.” She closed her eyes just in time to feel the next breeze. But this time, she imagined that it was Jeremy who was running his fingers through her hair.

“In the end, I know it could never work. I learned the hard way that you can’t take the play out of a playa. And men like Jeremy and DeShawn are not the settling-down type. They can never be content being a one-woman man. And I refuse to go back to a life where I always get this sickening feeling every time my man doesn’t answer his phone, or he’s always texting on the damn thing when he
is
around, or when he’s looking me dead in my face,
lying
—and I
know
he’s lying. With men like that, women are too readily available and willing, and are nothing more than eye candy or toys.”

Leigh sighed. “No. It could never work, but it is time that I see him and talk to him about the baby. But that’s it.” She turned her head away from Ariel just as the threat of tears burned in the back of her eyelids. It was strange to mourn something that never existed. It was like mourning the death of something or someone you never knew—the death of possibility and of hope.

As the tide crashed onto the rocks along the shore, Leigh closed her eyes again. As she began to drift off, she could have sworn she heard Jeremy’s deep laughter amid the sound of the ocean’s waves.