33
“You were amazing out there.” Michael had borrowed the patience of Job and waited more than three hours after the last race for the chance to speak with Shayna. Alone.
“Coach said that you were here. Why'd you come here, Michael?” Usually one to shy away from the presses, Shayna had talked to every reporter, stood for photo ops, and gave an impromptu speech to a group of children, all in hopes that Michael would take the hint and leave. But he hadn't. And the situation she thought could be dealt with later had to be handled now. She wasn't ready. Hadn't had time to think about what she should do, what she could do, considering the truth she'd finally dared admit to herself.
Oh, so we're going to play it like that?
Taking in her cool facade, and the back that now faced him as she gathered her things, Michael's voice became detached as well. “What, are you no longer my client? Because as of this very moment, I don't remember receiving a call from your lawyer or yourself that the status has changed. If it has, let me know.” A slight clenching and unclenching of his jaw was the only outward sign of his anger. She turned and glared at him. His eyes held her gaze.
Shayna blinked first. “Yes, I'm still your client.”
“All right, then. As my client, you need to realize it's important that I witness these major events firsthand, that I have the right PR people in place in order to raise your profile. The magazines, TV stations, and Internet bloggers clamoring for your attention weren't just doing so because of your three first-place finishes today, as impressive as they were. There are people working behind the scenes for you, Shayna. I'm one of those people.”
Okay, there was no way she could be rude and not acknowledge that more press seemed to talk to her than some of her other teammates, even though there were others with multiple first-place finishes, namely Alonzo Snead, who'd dominated the long jump, triple jump, and the hurdles. “Thank you.”
“I heard of a restaurant that serves a stellar seafood paella. Would you join me?”
“I really should get back to the hotel. Weâ”
“I spoke with John.”
This got Shayna's attention. “You what?”
“You heard me.” He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Stalking-basketball-player-slash-ex-lover aside, this was the very reason why he didn't date the people he represented. Women tended to not be able to keep business and pleasure in their respective corners. True, he'd phoned a friend and “created” the business opportunity with Shayna as a way to get her to talk to him. But this type of beneficial mixing for what he wanted was beside the point. Michael clarified his position. “I tried phoning you, Shayna. When you didn't return my calls, I contacted John so that he could tell you about the photo shoot happening tomorrow. He didn't tell you?”
What her coach had said was to call Michael. She hadn't.
“We're slated to take a flight tomorrow morning for Rome. Italian
Vogue
will be doing a shoot with several female athletes on the Spanish Steps near Trevi Fountain. You'll be modeling Chai's Fashions, both formal wear and athlete designs. It's going to be an all-day shoot, then we'll fly from there back home tomorrow night.”
A thrill of excitement ran down Shayna's spine. At least that's what she called it. Since childhood she'd held a secret ambition to be a model, something that because of her height she thought would never happen. She wouldn't dare attribute the feeling to the way Michael was looking at her, the way his jeans carelessly hugged his lean hips and long legs, the way he absentmindedly nibbled on those thick, capable lips, or the way the dimmed lighting made his eyes glow. Knowing she had to do something to cool this growing ardor, Shayna raised herself to her full five foot four, crossed her arms, and acted way angrier than she felt. “Don't you think you should run things by me before you commit to my participation? What if I'd had something else planned, or needed to be back in the States right away?”
“John said thatâ”
“John is my coach, not my spokesperson or my father! You shouldn't have booked this shoot without my okay.”
“Is that so?”
The calmness of his tone sent another shiver down Shayna's spine. “Yes, that's so.”
“Well, I did. And since I know you're the consummate professional and all, able to control any feelings you have for me, I know that you'll be there. Isn't that so as well?”
Shayna couldn't disagree with a thing Michael had said. Which is why later she'd question why in the heck she kept arguing with him. Insecurity? The lack of feeling in control? Mistaking his confidence
in
her as condescendence
to
her? All or none of the above could apply. No matter, at the moment she felt that she'd gone too far to turn back now.
“I'll be at the shoot, Michael, but you need to remember that I'm your client, not your employee. You work for me, not the other way around. You sought me out to represent; I didn't come looking for you. Now, I realize that we've crossed some boundaries, but since
you're
the consummate professional and all, able to control any feelings you have for
me,
I know you'll keep what I've said in mind for the future, and not make any more decisions about my life and career without my input. Is
that
so?”
“Did anyone ever tell you how fine you are when you're angry?” Shayna's eyes narrowed to slits. “Yes, Ms. Washington. Your observations as to the workings of this business relationship are duly noted. Now, can we have dinner?”
Shayna had a feeling that dinner might be in a restaurant, but dessert would take place in Michael's bed. It had taken all of her energy to stand up to himâsomething that happened only because her feigned anger had turned to real chagrinâand if he hit the panties, she wasn't sure she'd have the energy to do it again. So, she gave him the only answer that made any sense. Short. Simple. Unmistakable. “No.”
34
Almost twenty-four hours had passed since their heated exchange, but the two had had little to say to each other and even now barely spoke two words during the short walk from the Spanish Steps to the five-star Hotel Rafael. Reaching the door, Michael opened it to let Shayna pass. As she did so, she could have sworn she felt the heat emanating from his body. She'd certainly felt the heat of his stares during the shootâdesire palpable and untamed as she stood in her mini and five-inch heels. She could understand the desireâshe was feeling the same. Which is why she couldn't fathom the range of her emotions, and why she was acting immature and irrational. Michael had done a wonderful thing in arranging this shoot and additionally had secured an interview with the Italian press. He'd done nothing but act professional, just as she'd asked, nothing but focus on business, the way she'd said she wanted. Except right now, with them enclosed in the small space of the elevator and her body on fire, she knew that there was something else she wantedâsomething primal and untamed, something beyond the calm restraint Michael had shown her since they landed in the Eternal City. And as much as she knew what she wanted, she knew that he wasn't going to offer it to her. He'd tried once, this morning when they'd checked into the hotel, and her rebuff had been instant and absolute.
Yeah, how's that working for you right about now, Miss Shayna?
That's just it; it wasn't working for her. Not at all . . .
As soon as they entered the suite, Michael turned toward his room. “Good night, babe.”
Just like that? Seriously?
She watched his proud, straight, receding back.
What did you expect him to do after turning him down this morningâbeg for it? You wanted professional, and that's what he's giving you.
“Good night.”
She walked into her room, began to undress, and moments later heard water running from down the hall. A mischievous smile formed on her face as she tossed aside the nightie in her hand and walked bold and buck naked toward the shower.
Michael snatched the hand towel off the rack and angrily soaped his body. Here he'd worked his behind off setting up an amazing shoot and interview for Shayna and what had she done? Basically ignored him all day. Here he was in one of the most romantic cities in the world, where no less than half a dozen women had come on to him (and he had a couple hotel room numbers to prove it) and here he was with a woman tripping because of a few phone calls. Hadn't he told her that he wasn't seeing anyone, that it would take him a minute to untangle from years of living like a consummate bachelor? And even after he'd handled the women he'd seen in the past, there would be others. In the world of high-caliber celebrity sports management, it came with the territory.
I need someone who is confident enough to not trip out every time there's a female nearby.
He'd thought that woman was Shayna. Now he wondered if he'd thought wrong.
The soft click of the shower door was his only warning, and until he felt her lips against his back, he'd even thought that it was his imagination. Now it was his turn to cop an attitude. He turned around. “Yes, may I help you?”
She reached for his limp member and squeezed. “I sure hope so,” she said silkily, squeezing the sleeping monster and encouraging it to awaken.
“Oh, so when I wanted it this morning, you didn't feel like it, but now that you want it I'm supposed to handle my business. Is that it?”
Shayna reached for the soap and began lathering Michael's body. “I'm sorry, baby. Seeing all of those numbers come in, all those names one after another just made me crazy. You were up front and told me about them, and we're both grown so we both have a past. I don't know why I let it get to me as much as it did.”
“And my coming to Barcelonaâwhy were you tripping about that?” Michael's voice was stern, but his hips had begun to betray him by guiding his stiffening dick in Shayna's hand.
“Because I didn't think I was ready to see you, thought I needed more time to decide how I felt about . . . everything.”
“Uh-huh.” He reached up and tweaked a nipple, brought lazy, lust-filled eyes up to meet Shayna's half-lid stare. “And how do you feel?”
Shayna began a slow kneel to the tub floor. “I think we'll both feel better in a minute.” And with that, she filled her mouth with the width of him, and as much of his length as she could stand. A growl escaped Michael's mouth, and he steadied himself with one hand on the cool marble of the wall and the other on the glass side. The warmth of the water cascaded down his back and the heat of Shayna's mouth almost caused him to explode at once. Shayna put as much focus on the task at hand as she would the 100-meter dash or the 4 x 100 relay. She eased him in and out, rolled her tongue around his massive tip, kissed his weighty balls, and balanced herself on the balls of her feet while clinging to his thigh. She was totally oblivious of the water that was taking her hair from its bone-straight press to a curlicue do. All she wanted in this moment was to satisfy her man. She reached around and caressed his buttocks, adding pressure to the way she was sucking him in. He placed his hand on the back of her head, encouraging her on. And as much as he loved the way she was loving him, he felt it was way past time for her to be satisfied. He guided her up and amidst long, wet kisses they soaped each other's bodies and then made quick work of rinsing off the suds. Opening the glass shower door, he lifted a wet and dripping Shayna into his arms and quickly closed the distance to the bed. As he lay her down, his focus was as singular as hers had been just moments before. He spread her wide and buried his head between her legs, using his tongue with an archer's precision, branding her heat with his skillful determination. She cried out in pleasure, thrashing against the high-count sheets. Michael gave no quarter; instead he upped the ante by parting her folds and licking long and hard, while simultaneously teasing her with his long middle finger. Shayna cried out in ecstasy.
But Michael wasn't finished. He was just getting started.
“Come here,” he growled, guiding her to her knees and positioning himself behind her. He brought them together with one strong push, and immediately set up a fast-paced rhythm. “I missed this,” he whispered, cupping her cheeks while driving home the point. “I missed you.”
“Me, too,” Shayna huffed.
“Who does this belong to?” Michael asked, branding her insides to prove the point.
“Ah . . .”
Michael pulled out to the tip. “Whose is this?” He tickled her opening with his tip.
“Yours.” She wiggled her butt to reclaim her prize.
He sank back in, fully, completely. “Are you ever going to deny me again?”
Shayna's head swung back and forth. “No!”
“Good. Now arch that back, let me give you a couple more inches.”
She did, and he did. And they did. It would be morning before Shayna would learn about the names that had been deleted from Michael's phone.
35
“Are you sure you can't do Thanksgiving with us?” Michael asked Shayna, while watching her get dressed.
It had been three weeks since their explosive makeup sex in Barcelona. During this time, Michael had had “the conversation” with all of his exes. Like Shayna's ex, Jarrell, some of his former lovers also had a problem taking no for an answer. Some of the calls continued, and he'd reluctantly changed his phone number. It caused a pain for his assistants to have to inform all of his legitimate contacts, but at the end of the day, it made Shayna happy and that, in turn, pleased Michael immensely. Not only that but the Triple S line had been featured in
Women's Running
magazine and was slated to run in an upcoming issue of
O
. Add to that the fact that Michael had signed Rashad Walls the star running back for the Los Angeles Sea Lions and the current boyfriend of one of his exes, Chloe Sinclair, and that another client had just picked up sponsorship from JP Morgan, and one could say his life was pretty much perfect.
“If I don't tell Mama I'm bringing a date, she's likely to try and set me up.”
“Seriously?” Shayna said, with a laugh. “Your mom is playing matchmaker?”
“She's trying to own the game! And not just with me but with Gregory and Troy, too. She's a trip. But you'll like her, and I know she'll love you.”
“You think so?” Shayna thought about this as she walked over to the closet that was slowly becoming filled with her clothes and took out a pair of shoes. Since Barcelona, she'd practically lived at Michael's, so much so that her roommates were threatening to make double money by renting out her room if she didn't check in soon. Since Big Mama died, she'd not really felt that warm-fuzzy feeling that came with family. Larsen liked to party so the get-togethers with him and her mom were usually loud, rambunctious, and filled with too much T & A. She fondly remembered that last Thanksgiving in Inglewood, just Big Mama, Beverly, and Shayna. The turkey was fall-off-the-bone tender, the dressing was sinfully good, and Shayna still longed for those sweet potato pies. It was a melancholy heart that thought about what dinner would be like in Vegas, especially since her mother had asked her not to bring Michael. Part of the holiday, she knew, would be convincing Jarrell yet again that there was no chance of reconciliation. She was losing her appetite just thinking about it.
“Why don't you spend half your day there, then catch an afternoon flight and come to my mom's?”
“That's a great idea, Michael, but I haven't seen Mom in a while and she has something she wants to talk with me about. I'd better keep the whole day open so I can play it by ear.” She walked over to where he sat, leaned down, and kissed him. “But I'll miss you.”
“I'll miss you, too.”
The next day, Shayna touched down at McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas and, as she'd figured, Jarrell was there to pick her up. His gentlemanlike, hands-off demeanor should have made her grateful, but instead, she was immediately suspicious.
What type of game is dude trying to play?
One thing was for sure: Shayna would keep her guard up.
“So how have you been, Shay?” Jarrell asked, once they'd settled into his sports coupe. “I checked out your line at the local XMVP. I gotta admit your stuff is bangin'. You're doing the damn thing, girl, for real!”
“Thanks, Jay.” Shayna rubbed the soft tan leather of Jarrell's brand new ride. “Looks like you're doing pretty good for yourself as well.”
“Yeah, I'm trying to do a little sumpin', sumpin'. Larsen's business is booming and I've developed a celebrity arm where we're the exclusive service to most of the celebrities coming from Cali and New York. We've already purchased two additional town cars and I think we might need four more in about six months.” He glanced at Shayna. “I always told you I was going to be a success one day, that it was just a matter of time. This gig is just the beginning. After I help Larsen get his business solid, I'm going to start a franchise of luxury car services in the South and Southeast. It's going to be called Nothing But Bentleys, and it's going to be off the chain!”
“What about politics? I thought you were moving down here to run for city council?”
“I'll do that eventually, but first I have to build up a name for myself, and owning the company that squires around the muckety-mucks is one way to get to know all of the players. I figure a couple years, three at the most, and one of those seats is as good as mine.”
“I'm happy for you.” And she meant it. Shayna had decided before getting on the plane that she was going to do her best to enjoy this trip, and make it a nice holiday for everyone.
“I always saw you with me when I made that climb.”
“Jay . . .”
“I'm just saying, Shayna. I know that you don't want to hear it. I heard about you starting to see Michaelâ” Shayna showed her surprise. “Whatâyou don't think that wouldn't get back to me? Some people couldn't wait to let me know what was going down.”
“Who, the woman you're seeing?”
“I don't want to argue with you, Shay. I know I did you wrong and I'm really sorry. We were both youngâ”
“I wasn't cheating.”
“I know. I got scared, Shayna, once other people started pulling on you and you became so involved in track. It was the first time since we were teenagers that you didn't need me. Taking care of you had always been my job and all of a sudden I was unemployed. I started talking to other women just to prove that I still had it, you know, that I could still pull.” He glanced away from the road to look at her. “It was the worst mistake of my life.”
Shayna was silent as she absorbed this truth, the first time since his infidelities began that he'd come out and owned them, and apologized. Jarrell had been so nasty in those last few months, for the last year of their being together actually, that she'd never thought to look at what was happening from his point of view. It didn't make it right, that he was propping his manhood up against her achievements . . . but she understood it. “What's done is done,” she said at last. “And, Jarrell, I have moved on.”
“Uh-oh. You're just like my mom. Whenever she calls me âJarrell' and not âJay,' I know she's serious.”
“Yes, I am. But that doesn't mean that we can't treat each other in a civil manner, keep things peaceful for the sake of the family.”
“So you're saying that we can be friends.”
“Anything's possible.”
“I'll always be your first love, Shayna. Your big-shot boyfriend can't take that from me. But I'll take friendship, if that's what I can get.”
The small talk continued as they drove to Henderson, a tony suburb about twenty minutes from the Strip. They turned into a cul-de-sac and parked in the driveway of the largest house of the group. Shayna was a bit surprised to see only two other cars in the driveway. She expected there to be at least a dozen people over for dinner. But it was still early, she figured, looking at her watch. Just a little past noon. Dinner wasn't until three.
“Hey, Shay!” Beverly looked up from where she lounged in the living room. She was looking radiant in a brightly colored, thigh-length caftan. Her hair was fixed in a bone-straight style and hung down her back. Sometimes Shayna had to remind herself that Beverly was her mother, and not a chick round the way.
“Hey, Mom.” She walked over and gave her mother a hug. Soon Larsen came around the corner and also greeted her. “Hey, sis.”
“Hey, Larsen.”
Jarrell walked in with a bottle of expensive bubbly in one hand and a bottle of orange juice in the other. He set them down on the bar that separated the living and dining areas. “Well, now that you're here, let's get the party started! Who all wants a mimosa?”
“You know I'm down with the Cristal,” Larsen said.
“I know you, Shayna. A drop of champagne and a lot of juice.”
“Yes. Like a fourth of the bubbly and the rest orange juice.”
“Just juice for me,” Beverly said. When three pairs of eyes turned to her, she smiled shyly and added, “I'm on the wagon.”
“Well, there's a first time for everything,” Larsen replied, giving Beverly a skeptical look. “You sure you're not sick or something?”
“I'm fine, lover,” Beverly said, rising smoothly from the couch and walking over to plant a kiss on Larsen's cheek. “Come here, Shay. I want to show you these new outfits I bought.”
As soon as they got to the huge master suite, Shay closed the door. “All right, Mom. Out with it.”
“What?” Beverly's voice was innocent, but her eyes twinkled.
“With whatever has you not drinking. You're usually the first one to have your glass out for some fine champagne. If you keep that up all day, we'll start to think you're pregnant.”
Beverly smiled, and lifted a brow.
“No.” Shayna just knew her mother wasn't saying what she appeared to be saying. “Oh my goodness, Mom. Please tell me that you're not pregnant.”
“I can tell you that, but I'd be lying.” Beverly giggled like a schoolgirl, twirled around, and sat on the bed. “You're getting ready to have a baby sis or brother in about six months.”
Shayna stared at her mother. Now the oversized caftan, something her mother never wore, made sense. And as she looked closer, Shayna noticed Beverly's face was more full and she definitely had a glow about her.
“I take it Larsen doesn't know yet.”
“No. That's why I wanted you here. I'm going to announce it at dinner.”
“How do you think he'll feel about it?”
The smile faded as Beverly stood and began to pace the room. “Honestly, Shay, I don't know. A part of me thinks he'll be happy; he hardly ever sees his daughter since they moved to DC. Plus, she's ten years old and he hasn't ever been that involved in her life. I'm hoping it's a boy. Men always like having a namesake, and a little Larsen would be just the ticket I need to make sure the daddy always finds his way back home.”
“Really, Mom? You honestly believe a baby will keep your marriage together? How many women have made that mistake? I only hope that it brings you closer instead of pushing you farther apart.”
“I know it's a lot to adjust to, for everybody. Try and be happy for me, okay? Try to be excited, and say what a wonderful thing it is for me to be having his child.”
“But how can I say that when I'm getting ready to have a sibling that's twenty-five years younger than me? You're forty-three years old, Mom. When the child's sixteen, you'll be . . . oh my God . . . almost sixty years old!”
“Yeah, and by that time sixty will be the new forty. Look, I think that everything will be all right. Let's just try and have a good time today, just the four of us.”
“What? There's only going to be us for dinner?”
“Yes. It's going to be just like old times.”
“No, not quite. Not without Big Mama.”
A shadow passed across Beverly's face.
“What is it, Mom?” Beverly shook her head. “What is it about Big Mama that you're not telling me? Does it have to do with why there always seemed to be a rift between you?”
“It's in the past,” Beverly said, pasting on a smile again. “Let me show you my latest purchases, then we'll go find our men and have some fun.”
Shay followed her mother into the dressing room where she'd stashed some designer maternity clothes she'd already bought, and even a few items for the baby. Shayna tried to share in her mother's joy, and she wanted to make the best of the day. But things surely wouldn't be the way they used to. Big Mama was gone. Her man wasn't there. And in this moment she missed him more than ever.
“Mom, I need to share some news myself.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I'm now dating my manager. And I'm in love.”
Â
Â
“Son! It's so good to see you!” Jackie walked toward Michael with arms outstretched. Michael hugged her, looking over her shoulder at Troy, who was gesturing toward the living room.
“You just saw me last week,” Michael replied, somewhat dryly. “What's got you so excited to see me today?”
“You know how much I love the holidays; for me Thanksgiving is the official start of the season. Now get on in here. Someone is waiting to see you.”
Michael stifled a groan and flipped the bird to Troy, who was laughing and gesturing out of his mother's sight. While walking to his mother's front door, he'd seen that he'd missed a call from Troy. But because he knew he'd be seeing him shortly, he didn't bother to return the call. Now he wished he had, so that he could have heeded what he now knew was a warning. His mother was at it again!