Yield to Love (2 page)

Yes, she was definitely
the woman he was looking for. He’d planned to catch her alone and
make his introduction away from the prying eyes of other guests.
But to his utter amazement, she’d approached him. That meant she
must have seen something she liked. Not bad for a dude who’d just
turned forty a few months ago. He still had
it
.

He usually liked his women a little less
bold and aggressive, but Marlowe Jones might have been someone
worth making an exception for. Too bad he was here today on behalf
of his company. Good thing he never mixed business with pleasure—or
Ms. Jones would be in trouble.

“
I have a proposition for
you,” Roque told her.

“
I like propositions,
especially when they come in a pretty package.”

She’d misunderstood his intentions. Most
women would have slapped a stranger’s face for approaching them
with those six words. But she didn’t even appear shocked. In fact,
a spark of interest flashed in her pretty eyes. Despite the
deceptively sweet pixie cut hairstyle she wore, Marlowe Jones was a
naughty girl.

And Lord, he liked a naughty girl.

He pulled a business card
from his suit coat pocket and handed it to her. “I’m with Coleman
Developers,” he said. “I wanted to speak with you about a
business
proposition.”

Disappointment flickered in her irises as he
stressed the word ‘business.’ Then, she got serious. “What kind of
business?”

“
You have a piece of
property on the east side. My company is interested in acquiring
the house and the land. I’m prepared to pay you handsomely for your
troubles.”

“
A piece of property? Wait
a minute.” Her expression changed from confused to incredulous in
the span of a few seconds. “You crashed my sisters’ weddings to
tell me this?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t call it
crashing.”

“
You’re not here with
anybody, are you? You’re single.”

“
I came alone,
yes.”

He purposely didn’t answer about his
relationship status. It was none of Marlowe’s business. All she
needed to know was he was willing to pay for her little lot on the
east side. All of the other forty-eight residents in the shabby
neighborhood had sold except her. Once he had her piece, he could
do what he needed to do—put up luxury townhomes with a smattering
of retail shops. He’d make one hell of a commission on this if he
could have it all built within six months. An aggressive timeframe,
but when he had a powerhouse like Crowne Industries offering to buy
it, he was damn sure going to make it happen.

He always got what he wanted. This would be
no exception. In his mind, he was doing those people a favor
anyway. The neighborhood was an armpit of crime and poverty.

“
Well, the joke’s on you,
Mr. Coleman. I don’t own any property over there,” Marlowe informed
him. “You’ve got the wrong person. So, you bum-rushed your way in
here for nothing.”

He never got these things wrong. He’d
employed people to do meticulous research on all of the tenants.
Marlowe Jones was the only one remaining. She owned not only the
house, but the land as well. Unusual in this day and age. It had
taken months to track her down. If it weren’t for a link to the
Three Sisters Construction Facebook page, he wouldn’t have made the
connection to her.

“
You’re Marlowe Jones,
right?”

She tossed him an annoyed look. “We’ve
already established that. But I’ve never even bought a house, much
less any land.”

“
My sources tell me the
property is now owned by Marlowe Jones.”

And by
sources
, he meant a private
detective, named Gator, he’d hired. Gator insisted on that moniker
because he likened himself to an alligator when he found his prey.
He snapped on tight with powerful jaws and didn’t let go until he
got the information he wanted.

Roque didn’t give a shit what Gator called
himself—as long as he got the information Roque paid for. Of
course, being a private dick was only Gator’s part-time gig. The
man had a host of other jobs, along with three kids to feed. Roque
usually liked dealing with much more professional people, but Gator
did as he was told without asking questions. And his information
was always spot-on.

“
What do you mean it’s now
owned by me?” Marlowe asked. “Who owned it before me?”

Roque consulted his phone and scrolled to
find an email from Gator with the details. “Apparently, it was
willed to you,” he said.

She snapped her fingers. “Oh, I get it. This
is part of your lame ass game. You’re about to give me your number
now?” She tossed him a sarcastic smirk. “You men are so
predictable. If you wanted to trade numbers, all you had to do was
say so.”

He shook his head. This woman was a piece of
work. She was obviously used to playing cat and mouse. He had no
time for all that silliness. “First off, I assure you, my game is
not lame. Second, I don’t have to play games to get a woman to
notice me. Third, if I were trying to pick you up, you’d know it.
Too bad I’m here on business, or I’d show you how a real man
approaches a woman.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m on one of those
reality TV shows, aren’t I?” She jabbed a finger in his chest,
pinning one of the buttons of his silk shirt against his sternum.
“This isn’t funny, Roque Coleman.” She shoved his card in his face.
“If that’s even your real name.”

“
Why would I give you a
fake name?”

“
Nobody names their kid
Roque. It’s fake, just like your story.”

Okay, business or not, she’d crossed the
line. “Look, lady. There’s no need for insults. I’m here to discuss
the property that you own.” He glanced at the email he’d pulled up.
“It was previously owned by LaReesa Jones Wilson Colfax.”

All the color drained from the woman’s face.
Roque’s card fluttered to the ground as Marlowe placed her slender
fingers on his forearm to steady herself. Her pretty mouth dropped
open and she began to hyperventilate.

Oh, shit! She’s about to faint.

He clasped her by the elbows. “Ms. Jones,
are you okay?”

She shook her head, and then held one palm
over her heart and the other palm in the air like a human stop
sign.

“
Did you…say…LaReesa
Jones?” she managed.

“
Yes. You do know her,
don’t you?”

One of the bridesmaids barged up to him.
“What the hell is going on?” she demanded. Her gray eyes flashed
with anger. “What are you doing to my cousin?”

Roque was torn between stepping away or
consoling Marlowe. “I, uh, was telling her about LaReesa—”

“
What? Why are you
bringing that woman into this?” Gray Eyes spat.

He could see he’d touched a nerve. Maybe
there was bad blood between these ladies and LaReesa. Gray Eyes
pulled Marlowe into her embrace. Then, another woman with platinum
blonde hair and ruby red lips arrived and pushed an inhaler into
Marlowe’s hand. Roque watched as Marlowe dragged two deep breaths
from it.

Great. Apparently, he’d made her asthma
flare up.

“
What did you say to her?”
Blondie demanded.

Aw, hell. Now, he had three women pissed at
him. Gray Eyes gave him a glare that would probably turn most men
to stone. But he wasn’t most men.

“
I was explaining to
Marlowe that LaReesa Jones left some property to her.”

Blondie gasped. “LaReesa!”

Damn, why did everyone have this reaction
when he said that name?

“
What kind of property?”
she asked.

“
I’m really not at liberty
to discuss it with anyone but Marlowe.”

Gray Eyes jumped in. “I’m her cousin, Toye.
Whatever you can tell her can be said in front of me.”

Jeez, if I’d known the crowd would be this
tough, I would have sent Gator!

Roque picked his card up off the ground and
handed it to Toye. “I represent Coleman Developers,” he told her.
“We’d like to buy a section of property that incudes a house and
land now owned by Marlowe. It was left to her by LaReesa Jones. By
the looks on your faces, I’m assuming you all know her. Let’s give
her a call. Maybe she can clear all of this up.”

All three women gasped aloud at the same
time.

When Marlowe finally
spoke, she scowled at him as if he’d committed a crime.
“LaReesa was my mother.
She’s been dead for almost twenty years.”

“
I can’t believe that fine
ass man was the bearer of bad news,” Toye complained. “He actually
had the nerve to track you down at a wedding. Talk about ruining a
fantasy.”

Marlowe sat on a chintz print sofa beside
her cousin in her posh condo near downtown Miami. It was only
yesterday when the stranger delivered the news that still had her
reeling. The cool March air blew through the sheer curtains of an
open window. She wrapped her fingers around a warm mug of hot apple
cider.

“
Are you talking about
your fantasy or Olivia’s?”

Toye pursed her lips. “You know what I
meant. Did you tell Ronnie and Candace?”

“
How could I? I didn’t
want to ruin their special day. I figure I’ll tell them when they
get back from frolicking in the sun.”

Candace and Gabe were honeymooning in Fiji.
Ronnie and Vic chose The Greek Isles. Marlowe wished she were
vacationing somewhere exotic instead of agonizing over her dead
mother. Right now, she needed her sisters most, but she had to
handle this burden alone for at least a week.

She barely remembered driving her shiny, new
red Acura to the reception hall yesterday. In between interrupting
her sisters’ eating and dancing, she’d briefly spoken with them,
but she didn’t bring up the subject of their deceased mother. She
had the good sense to know it was not the day to burden hers
sisters with that news. Especially not Ronnie. Her relationship
with “Reesa” as everyone referred to their mother had been tenuous
at best.

Marlowe was only eight years old when her
absentee mother passed away. She wished she knew more about the
woman who gave birth to her, but she’d learned over the years that
asking questions only irritated Candace and Ronnie.

“
You made the right
decision,” Toye said. “Ronnie ain’t trying to hear nothin’ about
Reesa right now.”

“
Tell me about my mother,
Toye. You were thirteen when she died.”

Toye sipped from her cup of tea. “You know,
all I remember was Reesa did some pretty outrageous shit. Like the
time she joined a biker gang and sold all of y’all’s furniture to
buy a used motorcycle—when she had no clue how to ride it.”

“
She was a
biker?”

“
More like a biker’s
side-piece. She only did it for some married dude she was sleeping
with. But they broke up three weeks later, when he stole the bike
from her and totaled it in a high-speed accident.”

“
That’s crazy.”

“
That was mild compared to
some of the other stuff she did. One time she got fired from her
job working at a mental health hospital for smoking weed with the
patients.”

“
Oh, come on. You’re
making this up.”

“
I wish. Why do you think
Ronnie gets all riled up whenever you mention your
mother?”

Marlowe shrugged. “I figured it was because
Reesa was a free spirit.”

“
It was more than that.
She practically abandoned you guys. Leaving you to fend for
yourselves for days on end. She really was a shitty mother, just
like mine.”

Marlowe sighed. Reesa’s sister was Toye’s
mama. Both of their mothers were wild. They treated their children
like the inconvenient by-products of having a good time. That’s why
Marlowe vowed never to have any kids. She didn’t want to inherit
any of her mother’s bad habits.

“
What I don’t get is how
she could be living in that house and none of us knew about
it.”

Toye’s face grew serious. “Only Ronnie can
tell you that. All I know is the two of them had a conversation and
the end result was not good. She can tell you all you need to know
about your mother.”

That meant waiting a whole week for Ronnie’s
return. But if there was one thing about Marlowe, it was that when
she wanted instant gratification, nothing short of pneumonia could
stop her. “Nope. I’m going to find out on my own,” she said. She
jumped up and retrieved a business card from her purse.

“
What are you doing?” Toye
asked.

“
That guy gave me his
card. I’m calling him to help me put the pieces together.” She read
the name aloud. “Roque Coleman. CEO, Coleman Developers. He spells
his name R-O-Q-U-E. It’s pronounced ‘rock.’”

“
Roque,” Toye repeated. “I
like it. Sounds hard. Strong. Virile.”

Marlowe smirked. “You should see your face.
Your eyes are glazed over like you’re giving a testimonial for
Viagra.”

“
I wish. It’s been a
minute since I’ve been tightened up.”

The two women laughed. Marlowe had to admit
the man’s rough sounding name made her think all kinds of nasty
thoughts.

“
But on the real, you need
to go on and hook me up with his number,” Toye said. “You’re having
sex on the regular. It’s not like you don’t get enough.”

“
Excuse you.” Marlowe
twisted her lips. “First of all, I’m not trying to hook up with
this man. It’s strictly business. And second, there’s no such thing
as
enough
sex.
Shit, there’s always room for more.”