Книга - Sinful Chocolate

Sinful Chocolate
Adrianne Byrd


Charlie Masters, playa extraordinaire, has no plans to change his heartbreaker ways. Then some bad news from his doctor gives him pause for regret…and six months to make things right with all the women he's wronged. Most don't believe him; a few are cooking up revenge; and one has a knockout sister offering him a taste of heaven.Gisella Jacobs is busy launching her new shop, Sinful Chocolate, when delectable Charlie knocks at her door. Her friends warn that he's trouble, but his kiss is richer than her finest Belgian cocoa, his touch as velvety smooth as her lightest truffle. And when something so wrong feels so right…how can a woman resist?









Turning, Charlie froze at the sight of a stunning cinnamon-brown sister navigating her way through a throng of dancing people.


Her long brown hair fell in loose curls across her shoulders while her deep sable eyes twinkled with excitement and two raisin-sized dimples grooved into her apple cheeks. Entranced by her angelic face, it took Charlie longer than normal to take notice of her statuesque curves.

He smacked his lips, but it had nothing to do with the lingering taste of chocolate in his mouth and everything to do with a sudden longing to taste her strawberry-colored lips. Absently, Charlie pulled at his collar and wondered who in the hell had turned up the heat.




Sinful Chocolate

Adrianne Byrd





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This book, as always, is dedicated to my loyal

Byrdwatchers Group. I couldn’t have asked

for a better group of women to cheer me on.

Best of love,

Adrianne


Dear Reader,

I hope that you enjoy Sinful Chocolate. Charlie and Gisella were fun characters to create. This is the second book in the ALPHA PSI ALPHA series. I hope you checked out the first book, Two Grooms and a Wedding. The fun never stops with these fine brothers.

Charlie Masters was actually the first character to come to me a few years ago, but I couldn’t quite figure out how not to make this story about two people instead of about him and the legions of broken hearts he’d left in his wake. Hopefully I’ve succeeded.

Gisella is definitely my fantasy self. I’d love to create sinfully delicious chocolate treats and drive men wild with an exotic accent. Maybe next lifetime. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy Sinful Chocolate and then visit my Web site at www.adriannebyrd.com to drop me a line.

Adrianne Byrd




ADRIANNE BYRD


is a national bestselling author who has always preferred to live within the realms of her imagination, where all the men are gorgeous and the women are worth whatever trouble they manage to get into. As an army brat, she traveled throughout Europe and learned to appreciate and value different cultures. Now she calls Georgia home. Looking back, Adrianne believes her passion for writing began at the ripe old age of thirteen. It was also the age that she was introduced to romance novels by a most unlikely source: her fifteen-year-old brother. The book was probably given to her to keep her out of her brother’s hair, but it was a gift that changed her life. In books, Adrianne found a way out of her awkward teenage years and into a world of fictional friends that would stay with her for a lifetime. It wasn’t long before her imagination took flight and she was writing her own love stories. Within a year, she completed her first book, which she vowed would never see the light of day. Writing remained a hobby until 1994, when a co-worker approached her with an article on Romance Writers of America. Who knew there was an organization of women just like her? By 1996 she had sold her first novel, Defenseless, to Kensington Publishing. Her first release received rave reviews from Romantic Times BOOKreviews and fans. Her other novels were consistently selected as the magazine’s top picks. In 2001, Say You Love Me, was nominated for Best Romance at Romance Slam Jam. Her 2003 release Comfort of a Man won the Romantic Times BOOKreviews Best Multicultural Romance Award; Romance in Color’s Readers’ Choice awards for Favorite Book, Favorite Hero and Favorite Heroine; a Shades of Romance award; Slam Jam’s Emma Award for Favorite Traditional Romance; and Romance in Color’s Reviewers’ Choice Award for Author of the Year, Book of the Year and Best BET/Arabesque Book. Lastly, Comfort of a Man was a 2003 Georgia Romance Writers Maggie finalist for best Contemporary. In 2004, Adrianne released her first romantic-suspense novel, If You Dare, with HarperCollins. In 2006, her novel Measure of a Man was nominated for Best Multicultural Romance while her Harper Torch novel Deadly Double was nominated for an Emma Award. In 2007, she won an eHarlequin.com Joey Award.




Contents


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue




Chapter 1


“Surprise!”

Charlie Masters clutched a hand over his heart and jumped back from his front door. Before his mind could register what was happening, the large crowd of people crammed into his Buckhead high-rise broke out in song.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!”

At last a smile broke wide across his full lips as he finally crossed the threshold into his apartment where black-and-gold balloons showered down on his head. “You guys shouldn’t have,” he said in the middle of their song.

His smiling and jubilant friends parted like the Red Sea to allow a magnificent four-tier, circular chocolate cake to be rolled out to the center of the living room.

Charlie moved forward, taken aback by the decorative dessert. Each layer showcased multiple ribbons of dark and white chocolate. On top, the ribbons looked more like a gigantic Christmas bow with the number thirty-four sparkling in the center.

Impressed and touched by the gesture, Charlie blushed like a prepubescent teenager until his friends finally ended their song and erupted into a thunderous applause.

“Thank you, guys. Thanks. You’re the best.”

“Are you just going to stare at it all night, or are you going to make a wish and blow out the candles?”

Charlie turned to his right and beamed a smile toward his best friend and fraternity brother Derrick Knight and his wife Isabella. “Hold your horses, man. Can’t a brother just enjoy the moment?”

The guests laughed heartily.

Derrick rolled his eyes, but his smile remained as wide as Charlie’s.

To his left, his other three Kappa Psi Kappa brothers cut in, “C’mon man. Make a wish.”

“Yeah. You’re holding up the music,” Taariq added.

Make a wish. Wouldn’t it be great if he could fix his mounting problems by simply making a wish? Feeling the weight of everyone’s stare, Charlie played the good sport by closing his eyes, leaning forward and finally blowing out the candles.

Another round of thunderous applause ensued and a second later, Rick Ross poured out of his surround-sound speakers, and most of the crowd paired off to get their grooves on. The rest of them crowded around Charlie and pounded his back in congratulations. It felt like most of the guys were trying to break his spine in half.

Before Charlie could ask his Kappa brothers how they’d managed to plan this whole thing without him catching wind of it, Hylan moved up behind him and jammed him into a headlock and razed the top of his head with his knuckles.

“Hey, old man. What did ya wish for?”

Charlie chuckled despite his inability to breathe.

“He can’t tell you that,” Isabella said, coming to his defense. “If he tells, then it won’t come true.”

Hylan grunted, but released Charlie before he passed out.

In retaliation, Charlie popped Hylan on the back of the head, and then the two raised their dukes as if they were really considering squaring off for a fight.

Taariq rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth. “You two cut it out.”

Still smiling, Hylan and Charlie dropped their fists and instead gave each other a shoulder bump.

“Happy birthday, man,” Hylan said. “You’re…” Their conversation trailed off when a Halle Berry look-alike strolled past laughing and shaking her romp to the hard bass pounding all around them. “Excuse me, fellahs,” Hylan said, adjusting an invisible tie. “But booty calls.”

Charlie and the gang laughed as Hylan strolled off in a George Jefferson-imitation strut.

“A steak dinner says he’ll strike out,” Charlie said, sliding a hand into his pocket and rocking back on his heels.

Taariq frowned. “You know her?”

Charlie nodded. “Yvette. I tried to hook up with her a couple of years ago, but her girlfriend, if you know what I mean, nearly took me out.”

The fraternity brothers chuckled then swung their heads back in Hylan’s direction to watch in giddy anticipation of his crash and burn.

Yvette beamed a beautiful smile at Hylan and even fluttered a hand across her heart.

Taariq leaned toward Charlie when Hylan’s mack game seemed to be working. “Maybe she’s swung back to our side of the fence,” he whispered.

“Oh ye of little faith.” Charlie smirked. “Three, two, one.”

Right on time, a three-foot-eleven woman rushed onto the scene and managed to work her way in between Hylan and Yvette.

Isabella gasped. “That’s her girlfriend?”

Hylan stared down at the small woman in open confusion…right up until the time the woman dealt a deadly left hook into the family jewels.

“Ooooh.” Charlie and the Kappa boys cringed and covered their own packages in union as they watched their brother double over in pain.

The angry little woman snatched her girlfriend’s hand, and together they marched off into the dancing crowd.

Isabella couldn’t help but join in. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that in my entire life.”

“Been there, done that.” Charlie shook his head. “I wore a cup to the clubs for a full year after Mighty Mouse dealt me the same blow.”

Taariq, Derrick and Isabella laughed.

A crouched Hylan returned to their intimate circle in defeat.

“So how did it go?” Derrick baited, wrapping an arm around his wife. “Get the digits?”

“I don’t think she’s my type,” Hylan croaked. “Damn. Is it just me, or is the room spinning?”

“It’s just you,” the gang responded and then burst out laughing again.

Still chuckling, Charlie gave a quick scan of the room to survey the selection of beauties his buddies had rounded up for the evening. If anyone knew his type it would be his Kappa brothers.

After a week of battling to keep his company, Masters Holdings, from plunging into bankruptcy, Charlie needed a distraction. Burying himself into something along the lines of five-foot-nine with a lot of curves was right up his alley. The thicker the better.

Judging by the number of female gazes that drifted his way, Charlie was going to have a good night. A very good night.

Taariq threw the best damn parties in Atlanta, and it was clear he’d spared no expense for Charlie’s thirty-fourth birthday bash. Actually, calling them merely women was a serious disservice. They were more like works of art.

“I know that look.” Taariq laughed, swinging another hard pound against Charlie’s back. “I guess that means we can give you our gifts early.”

Frowning, Charlie faced the group again. In sync, they each rolled out a sleeve of gold-packaged condoms.

Isabella couldn’t stop herself from giggling.

“Try not to use them all in one night,” Derrick chuckled.

“Funny.” Charlie rolled his eyes when the gang draped the condoms around his neck like Mardi Gras beads.

“You know I’ve been waiting hours so I can have a slice of this cake,” Isabella said, drawing his attention from his search of women in the room.

Charlie took another look at the elaborate cake, once again impressed with the intricate details. “Chocolate. My favorite.” He picked up the knife but hesitated slicing the beautiful dessert.

“Derrick told me you loved chocolate. So I got you something a little different: molten chocolate cake. The center is filled with raspberry jelly.” Isabella beamed and clutched her hands together. “I found this wonderful new shop downtown. The owner is a master.” She glanced around. “Where is she?” Isabella grabbed his hand. “I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

Charlie selected a corner and gently cut a slice. “Here you go,” he said, grabbing a paper plate and serving her. After handing it over, he noticed a smudge of frosting on his finger and licked it off.

“Hmm.” His eyes bulged in shock at the sinfully delicious chocolate as it melted in his mouth.

Isabella lit up. “Wonderful, isn’t it?” She grabbed a fork and then held out a piece of the cake for him to taste. “Here, try it.”

“Heeey!” Derrick stepped forward and draped a possessive arm around his wife’s waist. “I’m the only man you’re supposed to be feeding cake to.” He even managed to look wounded.

Charlie ignored Derrick’s fake jealousy act and took a bite of the cake Isabella offered. “Hmm. Damn!” Hands down, it was the best cake he’d ever tasted. He better not tell his mother that.

Isabella’s excitement grew. “Fantastic, isn’t it? I swear this woman is going to be the next big thing,” Isabella gushed and then turned toward her husband. “I’m telling you we need to invest in her shop.”

Derrick sighed dramatically, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. Where Isabella was concerned, Charlie’s best friend would deny her nothing. After a year of marriage, the couple still behaved as though they were coasting on an extended honeymoon—probably to the dismay of Isabella’s father, who had his mind and heart set on his only daughter marrying a prominent political ally and another Kappa Psi Kappa brother named Randall Jarrett.

No one ever mentioned how Isabella was once, technically, engaged to two men at the same time, or how her father had arranged to have Derrick held hostage while trying to force her to marry someone she didn’t love. But they did talk and laugh every chance they could about Derrick, Randall and Reverend Williams falling headfirst into a Lady Justice water fountain and duking it out in front of Washington’s political elite moments before Isabella was to walk down the aisle.

“Where’s Stanley?” Charlie asked.

The group looked around.

“He’s gotta be around here somewhere,” Taariq said, frowning. “He better not bother the DJ. I keep telling that boy that white men can’t rap and I better not catch him on the mic. I have a rep, you know.”

“What about Eminem?” Charlie asked.

“I reserve judgment until I see the man’s daddy. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“All right, all right.” Charlie popped his collar. “I know you have some Cristal floating around here.”

Taariq reached out and grabbed two flutes from a passing server. “Yo, here you go, bro.” He handed a glass to Charlie. “Cheers!”

“Check it. One, two. One, two,” Stanley rapped into the microphone. “I’m a white boy and a frat boy—”

“All, hell naw,” Taariq cursed. “They gave Stanley the mic. “Charlie—”

“Yeah, I’m cool. Handle your business.” Charlie chuckled and waved him off.

People in the crowd started booing.

Charlie sliced himself a piece of cake. As he chewed he couldn’t stop moaning. He tried to stop, but damn. What exactly is in this stuff?

“Oh, there she is,” Isabella said, glancing over Charlie’s shoulder and waving.

Turning, Charlie froze as a stunning cinnamon-brown sister navigated her way through a throng of dancing people. Her long brown hair fell in loose curls across her shoulders while her deep sable eyes twinkled with excitement and two raisin-sized dimples grooved into her apple cheeks. Entranced by the angelic vision, it took Charlie longer than normal to take notice of her statuesque curves.

He smacked his lips, but it had nothing to with the lingering taste of chocolate in his mouth and everything to do with a sudden longing to taste her strawberry-colored lips. Absently, Charlie pulled at his collar and wondered who in the hell turned up the heat.

In Charlie’s mind, the woman was moving in slow motion—like a classier version of Bo Derek in the movie 10. The beauty’s breasts had a slight jiggle as she walked and her hips swayed in a strange, but hypnotic, rhythm.

“Happy birthday to me,” Charlie mumbled under his breath while his erection pressed hard against the inseam of his pants.

Isabella looped an arm around the mysterious woman’s waist and then led her to their small circle. “Gisella, I’d like for you meet the man of the hour, Charles Masters—but everyone calls him Charlie. Charlie, this is Gisella Jacobs, the owner of Sinful Chocolate. She made your cake.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Charlie said, offering to take her hand. “The cake is delicious.”

“Likewise.” Gisella’s accented voice was musical yet husky, a heady combination. “You have a lot of friends,” she added, glancing around. “I hope you don’t mind my crashing and networking for new business. Isabella assured me that you wouldn’t mind.”

Charlie cocked his head while the corners of his lips curled with open pleasure. “You’re French,” he announced, moving closer. “How erotic.”

Gisella’s arched brows rose in amusement. “Erotic?”

Even the way she said the word sent pleasure rippling down his spine and added a sweet ache to his throbbing hard-on. “Come on now,” Charlie said, erasing the last remaining inches between them. “Surely I’m not the only red-blooded American man who’s been enslaved by your…” His eyes roamed yet again. “Accent.”

“Oh, he is good,” Isabella whispered, turning toward her husband.

Charlie had forgotten about their audience.

Derrick nodded and proceeded to pull his wife away. “Let me get you out of here before you fall under his spell and I have to fight for you all over again.”

Taariq and Hylan also didn’t linger for a brick wall to fall on their heads. They quickly turned their attention to a couple of other women floating by.

Gisella looked stunned at how fast everyone disappeared and left her alone with a man with predatory eyes and a wolfish smile. Maybe she should grab one of the white napkins from the table and wave it as a flag of surrender.

“I’m glad Isabella told you to come. I like making new friends.” Charlie couldn’t stop his gaze from roaming again. By his shrewd calculations, her measurements were a perfect 36-24-36. Lord, this was shaping up to be one hell of a birthday.

“Interesting party favors.”

“Huh?” Charlie followed her line of vision to the condoms draped around his neck. “Oh. Well. You want one?”

Gisella blinked and took a step back.

“Okay. That didn’t come out right.” He laughed.

Gisella took another precautionary step back. The man looked as if he was going to devour her right there in front of everyone. “Well, like I said. I’m just trying to drum up new business,” she said, trying to swallow her nervous tremor.

“You’re not going to have a problem with that once everyone tastes this wonderful creation. How long have you been baking?”

Her smile brightened again. “All my life. My mère and grandmère still run a shop in Paris.”

Gisella’s accent enraptured Charlie.

A woman to their right emitted a low moan of orgasmic pleasure. “Oh, my God, this cake is off the chain.” The woman turned to her companion. “Here, taste this.”

Gisella’s cheeks blushed a rich sienna. “I love baking and cooking. Food is life, no?”

Charlie just smiled. “Have you ever heard that the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?”

Eyes twinkling, Gisella’s lips turned up into a sly smile. “If I wanted your heart, I would just take it.”

Charlie cocked his head with a bemused grin, but when he opened his mouth for a quick retort, a pair of hands slipped over his eyes.

“Guess who.” A high-pitched feminine voice floated over the shell of Charlie’s ear while a small set of breasts pressed into his back.

Not now. He controlled his irritation while he forced a smile. “Let me see now,” he said, wondering how to get out of a potentially sticky situation. “Could this possibly be my favorite woman in the whole wide world?”

“And who would that be?” the woman asked with attitude edging her voice.

Charlie reached to uncover his eyes. “Dear ole Mom, of course,” he answered, pulling away the small hands and turning around with his ready-made smile still hugging his lips.

“Hey, you.” He still didn’t know the name of the smiling beauty, with a short spiked haircut and eyes the color of maple, but he was determined not to go down in flames. “You came!”

The woman’s face lit up with pleasure. “I wouldn’t have missed your birthday for the world.” She inched closer and lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper. “Especially after that wonderful weekend last month.”

Charlie was still clueless to the woman’s identity. After all, that was four weekends ago, and he was never without company on any of them.

“Well, I’m glad you made it,” he whispered. His mind scrambled for a way to get rid of her so that he could get back to Gisella.

“I hope you’re saving one of those for me,” she cooed, pulling one sleeve of condoms from around his neck. “In fact—” she leaned in close “—why don’t we slip away upstairs and I give you your birthday gift?” She grinded her hips against his to ensure he caught her meaning.

Charlie’s brows jumped at the suggestion. “Why don’t you meet me up there in about twenty minutes? I gotta say hi to a few more people first.”

The beauty sucked in her bottom lip and gave him a wink. “Don’t leave me waiting too long.” Still holding the sleeve of condoms, she turned and switched her hips as she moved through the crowd.

Charlie sighed and then turned back to address Gisella.

She was gone.

Glancing around the perimeter of the room, Charlie’s heart pounded in double-time. He moved through the crowd, searching.

“How about a dance?” a new woman asked, looping her arms around Charlie’s neck.

“Not right now.” He tried to pry the woman’s arms away but she locked her hands together and kept him ensnared between her arms. “I’m looking for someone,” he confessed.

“Another woman?” she asked, inching up an eyebrow.

Charlie glanced down and recognized Lexi—another fling from last month. “Oh, hey.” He changed up his program. “How are you? I’ve been meaning to call.”

“I just bet you have,” she said, smiling though her tone held a lethal edge. “I should have listened to my girlfriends and stayed away from you.”

Charlie’s lips curled wickedly. “Then why didn’t you?”

Lexi hesitated and then allowed her eyes to roam down the front of his body. “Because I wanted to see whether you’d live up to your reputation.”

He arched an eyebrow, his ego expanding. “How did I do?”

She flashed him an incredibly white smile. “You’re a cocky sonofabitch.”

“That is what makes me so adorable.”

“One of these days…”

From the corner of Charlie’s eyes he caught sight of Gisella heading toward the door. He finally pulled Lexi’s hands from around his neck and winked at her. “Hold on a second.”

“Yeah. Right. I won’t hold my breath.”

Charlie plowed back into the crowd and tried to maneuver his way to the door. But every few steps another woman would grab him by the arm, the neck and even his crotch to ask why he hadn’t called them in such a long time.

At the door, Gisella stopped and kissed Isabella on each cheek and then waved goodbye to her.

“No. Wait,” he called after her, but the loud music swallowed his voice and a throng of women kept pulling at him. By the time he made it to the door and then glanced down the hallway of his Buckhead high-rise, Gisella was long gone.




Chapter 2


“He’s not my type,” Gisella repeated to herself. No matter how many times she made the declaration, a part of her rebelled at the notion. The thought just kept coming to the forefront of her mind how handsome-no-how fine Charlie Masters was. From the moment that six-two, golden brown Adonis strolled inside his high-rise apartment, Gisella could hardly take her eyes off of him.

The man exuded confidence and possessed an undeniable sexual prowess that dampened his fair share of panty liners whenever he walked by. And those eyes—playful hazel green—that sparkled if you were fortunate enough to hold his attention.

No wonder every woman in the room was practically drooling and shamelessly throwing themselves at him. It wasn’t surprising that he looked as if he was reveling in his element.

From the moment she’d slipped her hand into his, there was a powerful magnetic pull toward him, which was right on course since she had an affinity for bad boys, the very habit that she’d promised herself to break.

With a determined shake of her head, Gisella erased Charlie’s image just as she arrived at her car in the high-rise parking garage. “Forget about him,” she mumbled under her breath as she unlocked the car and slid in behind the wheel.

But that was easier said than done. After moving over four thousand miles to get away from the last playa extraordinaire who’d broken her heart, Robert Beauvais, she swore her next man would be the more stable kind—the marrying kind. When his name and image floated across her head, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Of all the men she could have fallen for, she had to fall in love with an international male model.

If there was one life lesson learned, it was to never trust a man who’s prettier than you are.

Gisella laughed at herself as she pulled out onto the highway and headed toward her half sister’s apartment in downtown Atlanta. The distance wasn’t too far, but with so many one-way roads, it was easy for her to keep getting turned around.

By the time she made it to Anna’s place, it was beyond late, and her sister had already gone to bed for the night. It was just as well because the last thing she wanted to do was play Twenty Questions.

Since Gisella’s move to America, Anna had taken her role as protector a bit too seriously. Gisella suspected it had a lot to do with Anna’s obsession with police shows and forensic files. For her, trouble lurked around every corner, especially if there was a man involved. Where Gisella had one ugly breakup, Anna had a string of them.

Despite being beautiful, men had lied to, stolen from, beaten up and slept around on Anna. You name it, she had been through it, and when Gisella called her crying about Robert’s infidelity, Anna convinced her to leave France and start over with a new life in Atlanta.

Nine months later, Gisella wasn’t exactly sorry she’d made the move, but she realized that she had underestimated just how broken and bitter her sister really was. Once a month, Anna and a handful of her college girlfriends would host the Lonely Hearts Club. It was supposed to be a book club, but its real function was for the women to get together and gripe about men.

At first Gisella welcomed the sisterhood meetings as a place to vent over the demise of her engagement, but at what point were these women going to move on?

Gisella used the meetings as the first step in healing.

Anna used the group as a monthly soapbox.

After tiptoeing to her sister’s room, Gisella slowly turned the knob and opened the door, then eased her head inside. Under the soft glow of light from the nightstand table, Gisella found Anna’s sleeping form curled up on her side with a thick book next to her. Smiling, Gisella eased into the room and made it over to the bed to gently remove her sister’s reading glasses from her face.

Anna moaned and stirred, but she didn’t wake. “Good night, big sis,” Gisella whispered, leaning down and placing a kiss against her sister’s forehead before turning off the light.

Gisella crept to her bedroom and quickly kicked off her heels and slid out of her clothes before heading toward the adjoining bathroom. In the short time it took for her to make it to the shower, Charlie Masters had eased into her thoughts, and a smile had curved its way back onto her lips.

Humph. Humph. Humph. It really should be a crime for a man to be that hot, that fine, that sexy.

Without meaning to, Gisella made a few calculations and realized it had been more than a year since she had last experienced the touch of a man. Never mind the whole seduction of kissing and…well, just getting laid.

Sighing as she stood underneath the spray of hot water, Gisella allowed her active imagination to take flight. Still smiling, she pretended Charlie had joined her in the bathroom’s billowing steam and that it was his hands instead of the mesh sponge massaging liquid soap across her soft skin.

Gisella moaned and lolled her head back as if giving her imaginary lover full access to her slender neck.

“You taste like strawberries and chocolate,” murmured Fantasy Charlie, nibbling on her ear. His slick hands now roaming around her body and then cupped her full breasts. Instantly, her dusky brown nipples puckered and then throbbed for attention.

Charlie’s rich laughter bounced off the bathroom tiles before his head dipped low and took a hardened nipple into his mouth. Despite knowing this whole thing was just a fantasy, Gisella’s knees still went weak as the shower’s hot droplets substituted for Charlie’s mouth and talented tongue.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

She barely managed to croak out a “Yes” while an army of strawberry bubbles roamed and marched toward the springy black vee of curls between her legs. Charlie’s fingers followed the sudsy front line and then penetrated her with smooth gentle strokes.

Gisella hiked up one leg onto tub’s ledge and gave her fantasy lover better access to her pulsing cherry. There was also no mistaking the change in her breathing. Soon her temperature rose and it had nothing to with the hot cascading water.

Long strokes.

Short strokes.

Gisella’s moans climbed higher and higher. In her ear, Fantasy Charlie kept urging her to, “Come for me, baby. That’s it.”

“Ooooh, yes,” she sighed, her body tingling.

“That’s a good girl.”

Toes curling, Gisella’s sighs and moans continued while she imagined the feel of Charlie’s rock-hard erection pressed against her round bottom.

“You comin’ for me?”

“Y-yessss.”

“What’s my name, baby?” he asked, his fingers now plunging deep into her core.

“Ch-Charlie.” The moment his name crested her lips, her inner muscles tightened while she buckled against his hand. When her orgasm hit, her imaginary world exploded behind her closed eyelids, and her face was momentarily submerged under the shower’s steady stream.

It was at that moment the heat disappeared, Fantasy Charlie vanished along with the shower’s rolling steam, and the water turned into stabbing icicles. She jumped back and nearly tripped over the shower mat. Equilibrium restored, Gisella laughed at herself as she rushed to shut off the water.

Once out of the tub, she wrapped a plush towel around her body and made a second one into a turban over her wet hair. Walking back into her bedroom, her teeth chattered, and her skin pimpled with fresh goose bumps when the cool breeze from the air conditioner kissed her skin.

One thing was for sure: Gisella was a hell of a lot more relaxed after her session with Fantasy Charlie.

She giggled and then fell into a heap across the bed. The clock on the nightstand read one o’clock a.m. Gisella sighed contentedly and promised to get up in a moment to slip into her nightclothes and dry her hair, but before she knew it, she unfurled a few wide yawns and curled against her pillow.

Immediately, Charlie Masters resurfaced in her mind. “I’m not supposed to think about him,” she mumbled. A man like Charlie was dangerous.

Plus, how desperate must she be to fantasize about a man she’d just met and had talked to for less than five minutes?

But what a man.

Burrowing herself into the bedsheets and comforter, the devil on her left shoulder argued with the angel on her right. In the end, Gisella saw nothing wrong with carrying on with her fantasy lover. As long as she never acted on her impulse or actually tried to hook up with the handsome playboy, what harm could it do?

“No harm at all,” Fantasy Charlie whispered as he brushed a kiss against her satiny shoulder.

Gisella rolled onto her back and stared up into his hypnotic hazel green eyes.

“I have a question,” he said, reaching beneath her pillow and then withdrawing her hidden vibrator. “Mind if we play with this?”




Chapter 3


Charlie woke up early Sunday morning the same way he woke up every Sunday morning: completely satisfied and with a curvaceous beauty at his side. What was the girl’s name again—Marcia, Jan or Cindy? Maybe he was thinking of The Brady Bunch. Blair, Jo, Tootie—no, that was the Facts of Life.

The woman moaned softly as she turned and wiggled her rump against his hip—a silent invitation and a coy way of letting him know that she was no longer asleep. Hard and ready, he was more than willing to RSVP her invite when the phone rang.

Mentally, he wrestled with whether he should answer, but then relented when his gaze read the digital clock. Groaning, he snatched up the phone. “I’m up, Taariq.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re late,” he said, irritation dripping through the phone line. “It’s bad enough you dissed us at the party last night for that Beyoncé wannabe. By the way, how was she?”

Charlie glanced out of the corner of his eyes to skim over the woman’s voluptuous form imprinted beneath the silk sheets. “A gentleman never tells.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re one lucky S.O.B? You eased up on her two seconds before I did.”

“You snooze, you lose.” He smiled and sat up. “Give me about an hour, and I’ll be right over.”

“One hour.” Taariq huffed. “I’m going to hold you to it.”

“Whatever.” Charlie hung up and turned his attention back to—Penny? No, that was Good Times. Well, when in doubt, he relied on his favorite pet name. “Hey, baby girl.” He eased a hand beneath the sheet and caressed her soft skin. “I really hate to have to do this, but I, um, I’m afraid it’s time to get up.”

She emitted another soft moan, but then gracefully rolled over to her side to face him. Big, beautiful cat-shaped eyes fluttered open to reveal an intriguing shade of gray.

“Do we really have to get up?” she inquired, curling the corners of her full lips.

Charlie stared at the nymph in his bed as though it was the first time he’d seen her. Her face was devoid of makeup except the slightest hint of red lipstick. She was stunning. “Denise,” he murmured.

“You remembered. I’m impressed.”

“How could I ever forget? Denise just like in The Cosby Show,” Charlie covered smoothly.

“Do you always try to do name associations with TV shows?”

Charlie blinked. “Not always.”

“Then I guess the rumors are false.”

“Rumors?”

Denise’s tinted lips widened across her face. “C’mon. You have to know you’re a man with quite a reputation.” Her eyes traveled down his chest and settled on his erection. “Not all of it bad.”

Charlie’s ego inflated. “Glad to hear it.”

Something stirred at the foot of the bed and since Charlie didn’t have any animals, he jumped, but then quickly relaxed when the covers lifted and Samantha’s—like in Sex and the City—tussled head peeked out. “Are you sure it’s time to get out of bed?”

Charlie’s smile slid wider. “Did you two have something else in mind?”

“As a matter of fact—” the beauty tossed the sheet back from her body to give him a clear view of what she was offering “—I have a few things in mind.”

His erection throbbed and robbed him of sufficient oxygen for him to think clearly. At last a smile rolled across his lips. “To hell with Taariq.”



“You let her meet Charlie Masters?” Nicole, Anna’s busybody best friend roared incredulously. She pretended to rub wax out of her ears. “Please tell me I’m hearing things.”

A bored and sleep-intoxicated Anna struggled to rake her fingers through her frizzy hair before turning her attention to her large mug of coffee. “Gisella is a grown woman and more than capable of keeping her legs closed.”

Nicole’s eyes narrowed. “No woman can think straight when Charlie is on the prowl. How many times have I told you girls that?” She glanced around the four-member Lonely Hearts Club.

“At least a million,” Anna droned.

“Exactly.” Nicole crossed her arms and glared at her best friend. “I knew this was going to happen. I swear Charlie has like this radar whenever a beautiful new woman moves into this city. Hell, I’m surprised it took him nine months to find her.”

The other women snickered at the joke, which only encouraged Nicole to stay perched atop her soapbox. “Wake up, Anna, your sister is exactly Charlie’s type, and he’ll be all over her like white on rice.”

Jade, one of the founding members of the group frowned. “What’s Charlie’s type?”

“Anything with breasts and a pulse,” Nicole shot back.

“Damn. I better hide Sasha, too.” Anna bent down and picked up her orange-and-yellow tabby cat that kept mewing at her ankles.

“She’s telling the truth,” said Emmadonna, a plus-size beauty with a mountainous chip on her shoulder, nodding in agreement. “I met the famous dog at a club a couple of years back, thinking I was safe since he spent half the night dancing with the same old anorexic-looking chicks until he brushed up on me.”

“Ooh?” the other women chorused.

“Next thing I know, he was all up in my ear, saying only a dog wants to play with some bones.”

The women laughed.

“Girl, I played it cool for about two minutes before I jumped him and showed him how us big girls worked it out. Nahwhatimean?” She held up her hands and received a train of high fives while the room filled with new squeals of laughter.

“If you didn’t see the devil horns and tail then you weren’t looking hard enough,” Nicole said, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, I was looking, all right,” Emmadonna said. “All I saw was a tall brother with money, class, sophistication…and if I’m not mistaken, a dash of thug in him. Every girl needs a little thug in their lives.”

“That man has a trail of broken hearts that stretches halfway around the globe.” Nicole’s hands settled on her thick hips. “Charlie’s a diehard playa, and any woman who thinks she can change him, which is every woman he’s ever come in contact with, is just kidding herself.”

“Including you,” Jade said, easing back into the leather couch with a knowing smile.

“Yes, including me.” Nicole squared her shoulders. “Of course, I never became a notch on his bedpost. I had a little more sense than that.”

Anna rolled her eyes and yawned. “Anyone want some more coffee?” She shuffled toward the kitchen. “If I have to wake up, I might as well do it the right way.”

“I could’ve slept with him if I wanted,” Nicole said to Anna’s back.

“I hope you like Folgers.”

“Ignore if you want, but back in college I was considered a fine catch myself,” Nicole reminded her.

“Of course, I think we might have some Taster’s Choice in here,” Anna kept on, unfazed.

Nicole rolled her eyes. “Folgers is fine.”

Anna rustled through the cabinets for a few minutes and then fumbled with the coffeemaker. All this talk about Charlie was hitting a little too close for home. She had her own history with the infamous playa and she’d rather just forget the whole incident. She certainly didn’t want to talk about it.

Nicole glanced down at her watch. “It’s noon. I bet you anything, Charlie is lying next to some chick right now trying to figure out the best way to get her out of there.”

“Okay, now you’re creepin’ me out.” Anna hit the Brew button. “You know just a little too much about the man’s modus operandi.”

“All playas have the same M.O. Hit and run.”

“I still say Gisella is smarter than that. She was just hired to make the man’s cake. She’s hardly looking to leap back into another relationship after what her ex just put her through.”

“Charlie doesn’t do relationships.”

“And Gisella doesn’t believe in one-night stands.”

Emmadonna, with supersonic ears for all things gossip, cackled from the living room. “Girl, please. Every woman has had at least one.”

Anna and Nicole rejoined the women in the living room.

“I say,” Nicole continued, “the only way a woman can avoid getting caught up in Charlie Masters’s dog trap is to run the other way when you see him strolling down the sidewalk.”

“Amen” circled around the room along with another series of high fives before the women burst out laughing.

Curious about the commotion in the apartment, Gisella finished dressing and joined her sister’s friends in the living room. “What’s so funny?”

The minute she walked into the room, all the laughter was suddenly sucked out of the air and everyone began straightening and fidgeting in their seats.

Gisella cast her gaze around the room as suspicion crept up her spine. “Parlez-vous de moi?”

Anna shooed Sasha off her lap and stood up. “Don’t be silly, Gisella,” she said, shuffling over and draping her arm around her shoulders. “We weren’t talking about you—exactly.”

“No, we were talking about your birthday boy last night,” Nicole said, piping up.

Gisella’s face flushed. Had her sister heard her in her room last night? Oh, Lord, hadn’t she called out his name a few times?

Nicole pointed. “Look at her face. Something did happen last night.”

Anna’s arm fell from Gisella’s shoulders. “You didn’t!”

“Didn’t what?” Gisella asked, thoroughly confused.

“Sleep with the enemy,” Anna said. “Charlie Masters is the biggest man-whore in Atlanta.”

“And that’s putting it nicely,” Nicole agreed.

Gisella groaned before she could stop herself. Didn’t these girls ever give it a rest? Men were not the enemy. “Relax,” she huffed. “Nothing happened. I went to network, remember?”

Unconvinced, Nicole planted her hands on her hips. “Did you meet the birthday boy?”

Four sets of eyes locked onto Gisella and waited.

“I met him.” Gisella shrugged. “He said he loved the cake, and then I took off.”

Anna smiled as her arm magically reappeared around her shoulder. “See? I told you she knew how to handle herself.”

Ivy, the petite and soft-spoken member of their group, voiced her suspicions. “You mean Charlie didn’t even try to hit on you?”

Gisella shook her head, even though the memory of their light flirting replayed in her head. “Nope.”

“Damn.” Emmadonna chuckled and eased back into her seat. “We really are living in the last days.”




Chapter 4


Life had gone from bad to worse.

It was the only way Charlie could explain it. His company, Masters Holdings, continued to edge toward bankruptcy. Hopefully, his upcoming trip to South Africa would change all of that. His bid for a lucrative government contract was all that stood between him and financial ruin. The housing market combined with the credit crisis had formed the perfect storm to sink his financial ship. He was going to lose everything. The high-rise. The cars. The boat. The plane. His lifestyle.

To make matters worse, Charlie had been less than forthcoming with his frat brothers. How could he be, when they were still very rich and very successful in their own right? The last thing he wanted was to be labeled the failure of the group, nor did he want anyone’s sympathy.

After all, he did have his pride.

No. Charlie shook his head. He was going to rebound from this. He had to.

First, he had to survive this basketball game. Hylan and Taariq were running rings around him today, and Derrick looked ready to kick him to the curb and pick Stanley as his partner.

But something was changing. Charlie felt it the moment Hylan passed Taariq the basketball and he launched into trying to block the next shot. Sure, he was in shape. He worked out five days a week at his local gym. Pumped iron, practiced kickboxing and swam like a fish in their indoor pool. And every Sunday afternoon, like today, he and his frat brothers got together on the half-court at Derrick’s spacious estate in Stone Mountain for a few friendly games.

Bottom line: he was in shape.

So what was this change he was feeling in his body? The same change he’d been feeling since the moment he blew out the candles on his birthday cake.

I’m getting old.

Charlie frowned at the continuous thought circling his mind. Trying to dispel the notion, he pushed himself a little harder, ignored a few straining muscles and wiped the pouring sweat off his forehead with the back of his arms like windshield wipers in the midst of a thunderstorm.

Still, he didn’t feel as aerodynamic as he had in college. Why weren’t his other frat brothers struggling?

Taariq faked a shot, Charlie jumped and a collection of muscles in his lower back throbbed in protest. Recovering, he jerked to his left, intersected Taariq’s running dribble for a clean steal.

“Yeah!” Derrick shouted as he did his best to clear the perimeter for Charlie to take his shot. Some people who’d watched them play in the past thought it was a bit odd for the teams to be divided as three on two. Those same people quickly understood when they saw how Stanley epitomized the term: white men can’t jump…or shoot, dribble, block or run.

“Take your shot!” Derrick shouted. “Take your shot.”

Charlie took aim and then launched the ball. Everyone stopped to watch its perfect arch. Taariq, Hylan and Stanley groaned when it swished beautifully inside the netting.

The game tied, Charlie and Derrick whooped in excitement and pumped their fists in the air.

Charlie took a moment to bend at the waist and chugged in a few deep gulps of air.

“You okay, hot shot?” Taariq asked, eyeing him up and down.

“Never better.” Charlie righted himself and forced a smile.

Taariq shrugged off his concern and turned back to wait for Stanley to toss the ball back into play.

Charlie’s resentment toward the other guys’ boundless energy returned. Of course, they could be faking, too, he realized. He couldn’t see any of them admitting to the pull of aging.

Kicking it into overdrive, Charlie tapped into the energy reserves he had left and started zigzagging in between the fellahs. But somewhere along the line, he lost his mind.

That was the only explanation for his delusion of being like Michael Jordan in 1989 and launching across the court with the song “I Believe I Can Fly” playing in his head.

Flying wasn’t the problem.

It was landing.

The ball swooshed through the hoop, giving him and Derrick the winning two points. However, when Charlie’s feet hit the concrete, his ankles folded like paper.

“Ooh, damn!” the Kappa brothers chorused and winced at the same time.

“Owww!” The sound that erupted from his throat wasn’t unlike a roaring lion. But when Charlie looked down and saw the odd angle of his foot, his deep bass disappeared and he sounded like, what Derrick would later call, a wailing banshee.



“Oh, my God, I’ve died and gone to heaven,” moaned Waqueisha, Isabella’s good friend and Delta Phi Theta sorority sister, as she bit into another one of Gisella’s chocolate truffles. “I know you said the girl was good, but damn!”

Waqueisha was the epitome of the round the way girl. She wore a lot of hair weave, tight clothes and was still rockin’ bamboo earrings. Despite all that she was a very successful entertainment publicist.

“Everything just tastes so fantastic,” said Rayne, another soror and a timid elementary schoolteacher. “I want two dozen of these chocolate coconut nuggets. Make that three dozen.”

Gisella beamed at the women. “Isabella, I can’t thank you enough,” she gushed, rushing to fill the ladies’ orders. “It’s been crazy since that birthday party, and every day I’m getting calls and orders from people that say you’ve recommended my shop.”

“You can thank me by agreeing to let me be your business partner,” Isabella said. She’d given up tax law when she became Mrs. Derrick Knight and searched high and low for a career change. Since she found her courage and stopped being the person her parents wanted her to be, she’d spent the last year doing some much needed soul searching. She wanted to be involved in something that inspired her and elicited her passion.

“I’m flattered,” Gisella said, shaking her head. “But going national just seems so grand, oui? I just like things simple. I bake and make treats because I like making people happy. I don’t like making a big fuss of everything.”

“You won’t have to,” Isabella said. “You bake, and I’ll fuss over the big stuff.”

“Yeah,” Waqueisha said. “No one out-fusses our girl Izzy.”

Isabella frowned and Waqueisha shrugged. “What? I was just trying to help you make the sale.”

Isabella raced behind the counter and draped an arm around Gisella’s shoulder. “Just picture it.” She swept one hand up toward the ceiling as she described her vision. “Sinful Chocolate being packaged and sold in shops just like this one all across America, your grandmother’s recipes putting smiles on millions of faces,” she waxed enthusiastically.

“And depositing an insane amount of money into your bank account,” Rayne added.

Gisella smiled and shook her head. “Je ne pense pas. Money is not the most important thing in the world.”

Waqueisha and Rayne’s mouths fell open.

“What?” Gisella asked, frowning at the two women.

“You really aren’t from around here, are you?” Waqueisha said.

Gisella finally laughed. “Am I really all that different?” She glanced around. “I’ve seen you with your husband. Can you really tell me that the things that truly make you happy are attached to how much money he makes or what kind of car he drives?”

Isabella’s face flushed a deep burgundy. “No.”

“You see?” Gisella gave a smug smile to Waqueisha and Rayne. “Material things are what distract people when they’re not following their hearts. Things like family, laughter, food and love are the real keys to happiness.”

Waqueisha blinked. “Damn. That sounded like it should be on a Hallmark card.”



Charlie and his frat brothers soon discovered that the emergency room was no place for an emergency. Bored and in no hurry, the E.R. nurses were more interested in exchanging gossip than helping the sick and injured. Instead, Charlie was stuck watching a bunch of unruly children run around hyped up on sodas and vending machine snacks while a loop of the same news from T. J. Holmes and the rest of the CNN weekend crew played every fifteen minutes.

Finally, Hylan had to ask. “Man, what the hell were you thinking?”

Derrick, Taariq and Stanley all covered their mouths and snickered.

“Charlie, you were really feelin’ yourself,” said Hylan, continuing to tease.

Taariq jumped into the fray. “I tried to tell you those Air Jordans will get a brother caught up each and every time.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

Another round of snickering and elbowing ensued.

After two hours of waiting to see a doctor, Charlie’s patience neared an end. He’d almost convinced himself that he would rather go through life with a limp than to sit another minute in the E.R.’s hard plastic chairs.

“Charles Masters?”

“Over here,” he called, struggling to his feet.

A shapely Latina nurse smiled when her eyes landed on him. “The doctor can see you now. Would you like for me to get you a wheelchair?”

That was like asking a starving man if he wanted a cracker.

A few minutes later, Consuela, according to her name tag, wheeled him through the crowded hallway behind the reception desk. Getting a room was too much to hope for apparently. Instead, the nurse rolled him behind a makeshift divider and told him that the doctor would see him in a few minutes.

It was another hour.

“Well, well. Sorry to keep you waiting,” a voice boomed as the divider was pulled back, which jarred Charlie awake.

“Dr. Weiner?” Charlie asked, startled.

“Ah, Charlie!” A stunned smile spread across his personal physician’s face. “What a surprise.” He looked down at the paperwork Charlie had filled out at check-in. “I must be tired. I didn’t really make a connection when I read your name on the folder.”

Charlie squared his shoulders and felt a little better about being in the care of his primary doctor. “I didn’t know you worked here at the hospital.”

“Well, I fill in from time to time.” Dr. Weiner closed the folder and leveled a serious look at Charlie. “You know my office has been trying to reach you.”

Charlie instantly recalled the number of messages left on his home answering machine. But with all the trouble going on at the office, he kept putting off returning the doctor’s calls. Besides, they probably just wanted to give him the results of his lab work for his upcoming trip.

“Tell you what,” Dr. Weiner said after an awkward beat. “Let me take a look at your foot, and let’s just have you come into my office in the morning.”

“Tomorrow?” Charlie frowned. “Is there something wrong?”

Weiner hesitated again. “I don’t have your chart from my office with me, so let’s just go over everything then?”

Charlie’s gaze lingered on the smiling doctor. He didn’t like the sound of that at all.




Chapter 5


Charlie hated doctors. No doubt. His resentment went back to the day he was born, when some heartless doctor smacked him on the butt. Since then, he despised anyone wearing a white coat. Since that first day, medical professionals had put him through an endless ordeal of sharp needles, horrible-tasting prescription medicines, and as he got older, even subjected him to invasive finger-probing in unmentionable areas.

Now with an important business trip to South Africa coming up, Charlie had to deal with a lot of blood work, updating vaccinations and loading up on antibiotics. But it all needed to be done if he was going to save his company.

“Ah, Mr. Masters. You kept your appointment.”

Charlie gave an odd-angled smile as he strolled into Dr. Weiner’s office leaning on a cane to protect his sprained ankle. His brain quickly scrolled through his mental Rolodex for the name of the cinnamon-brown beauty at the check-in desk, but luckily he was rescued by her name tag. “Tammy, how are you?”

The roll of her eyes told him she knew he didn’t remember her. “So what’s the excuse this time? You lost my number? You had another death in the family—the dog, perhaps?”

“I don’t own a dog,” he said, unruffled by her irritation. He leaned over the counter and smiled into her eyes. “Besides I’ve been under the weather and have been laid up for a little while.”

A spark returned to her disbelieving gaze. “Then maybe I could come over to your place and play nurse?”

“Now that sounds like a plan.”

“Humph!”

Charlie glanced over his shoulder and then smiled at the nurse glaring at him. “Ah, Lexi.” Embarrassment heated his face. “I didn’t see you standing there.”

Lexi shook her head. “You’ll never change, will you, Charlie?”

He gave her his best puppy dog expression while his smile turned sly. “Can I help flirting when this office is filled with such beautiful women?”

“Sign in right here,” Tammy instructed, her lyrical voice now flat.

Determined not to let the women see him sweat, Charlie scribbled his name and handed over his insurance card before Lexi led him to a room to wait for Dr. Weiner. A playboy at heart, Charlie couldn’t stop thinking about Tammy’s idea of playing nurse—especially if she wore a tight white dress, white fishnet thigh-highs and high-heeled shoes.

Thinking about the fantasy nurse uniform gave Charlie an instant hard-on just as he was sitting down on the doctor’s table, giving Lexi a good eyeful.

“Um.” She cleared her throat. “The doctor will be with you in a minute.”

Charlie nodded and pretended not to notice her distraction as she walked backward. When she bumped into the wall, he gave her a smile.

“Oops,” he said.

Lexi jumped and glared at him again before racing out of the room.

He chuckled. Women never failed to amuse him.

Twenty minutes later, when Charlie had just decided to take a quick nap, Dr. Weiner ambled into the room with his thick, black-rimmed glasses sitting on the edge of his nose.

“Ah, Dr. Weiner. Good to see you again,” Charlie greeted.

The hunch-shouldered doctor came in with a thin smile and lifted his rheumy eyes toward him. “Afternoon, Charlie.”

It was the tone that knotted Charlie’s stomach muscles or maybe it was the fact that the chilly room had suddenly grown stuffy. “What is it, Doc?”

Weiner drew in a deep breath and closed the chart in his hand as he pulled up a stool and sat down.

Charlie could literally hear the blood rushing through his veins. He didn’t like the look of this. He tried to brace himself the best he could, but he couldn’t stop being impatient for the news. “Whatever it is, just tell me. I can handle it,” he lied.

The doctor nodded gravely. “Your lab results came in…”

“And…?”

“And…It doesn’t look too good.” He leveled his serious gaze on Charlie. “You’re dying.”

Charlie stiffened. “Come again?”

“I know this is coming as a surprise, but the lab results—”

“B-but I feel fine.” The doctor’s words hit him like an iron fist. It simply wasn’t true. It wasn’t possible.

Dr. Weiner frowned. “Didn’t you tell me two weeks ago that you’ve been exhausted lately?”

“B-but that’s because of work. I’ve been putting in a lot of hours. I—” Charlie swallowed. “What’s wrong with me?”

“It looks like you have aplastic anemia.”

“A plastic what?”

“Aplastic anemia. It means you have a low count of all three blood cells. I still need to confirm with a bone marrow test—but with these numbers, I’m pretty sure.”

The room roared with silence before the doctor at long last said, “I’m sorry.”

Finally finding his courage, Charlie asked, “Okay, how do we treat it?”

The doctor hesitated. “Well, there’re a few things we can try—all extremely risky but….”

“How long?” Charlie asked.

“I—I can’t just give a date.”

“How long?” Charlie insisted.

Dr. Weiner glanced back down at the chart. “Given these numbers, I’d say five to six months, tops.”




Chapter 6


“I don’t feel right leaving you here like this,” Anna complained, setting her suitcase down by the door. “What if something happens while I’m gone?”

“I’m a big girl.” Gisella laughed. “I think I can take care of myself.”

Anna drew a deep breath. “Nicole and Jade’s phone numbers are on the refrigerator. Call them if you need help with anything. I’m leaving to go to my company’s headquarters in New York, but I’ll call you every day.”

“Yes, Mom,” Gisella sassed, bumping her hip against her sister’s before marching out of Anna’s bedroom. “Sasha and I will be fine.”

Her sister followed her to the kitchen and watched her slip on her Kiss the Chef apron and then pull out a variety of bowls and ingredients from every cabinet. “You really do love doing this stuff, don’t you?” she said, folding her arms and leaning against the kitchen’s door frame. “You’d live in a kitchen if you could.”

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it,” Gisella joked, measuring out flour and vanilla extract. “I’m still trying to crack grandmère’s famous recipe for her Amour Chocolat.”

“Why don’t you just ask her for it?”

“Now that’s a novel idea.” Gisella smacked her palm against her head. “Why didn’t I think of it?”

“She won’t give it up, eh?”

“She claims the recipe is top-secret because its effects can be dangerous for those who don’t respect its power.”

“Dangerous?” Anna repeated skeptically. “We’re talking about chocolate, right?”

“Ah, but not just any kind of chocolate.” Gisella waved a finger at her sister. “There is what you might call a culinary urban legend about grandmère’s Amour Chocolat. It is said that just one bite of the decadent treat ignites passion.”

“What? Like an aphrodisiac? C’mon, people have been saying that about chocolate for years. It’s not true.”

“But ah! This recipe is the real deal. Trust me. I know.”

Anna lifted a single brow. “You’ve had it before?”

Casting her eyes down, Gisella bit her lower lip and tried her best not to look like a blushing fool.

“Gisella! Don’t tell me there’s a wild side to you.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” she sassed with a shrug of indifference. “Anyway, I’m no closer figuring out the recipe now than when I first started a couple of years ago, mainly because I have to rely on memory. But I will figure it out,” she vowed.

“So whose bones did you jump when you ate this magical stuff?”

Gisella’s smile faded when her mind tumbled back. “Robert’s.”

“Oh.” Anna sobered. “There I go shoving my foot into my big mouth.”

“Don’t,” Gisella said, waving off the apology. “The past is the past. All I can do is learn from it and move forward and create new memories.”

Her sister’s eyes narrowed on her. “Do you already have someone else in mind?”

“What? No!” Gisella lied, her face heating up with embarrassment. “I’m just saying that you never know what’s in the future. That’s all.”

“Humph!” As usual, Anna rolled her eyes at Gisella’s romantic fancy. “I already know what my future holds—a lot of romance novels and gallons of ice cream.”

Gisella laughed guiltily as she turned toward the refrigerator and took out the milk, butter and eggs. “As much fun as that can be, I’d much rather curl up to a warm body at night.”

“You’ll learn. Men aren’t worth half the trouble they cause. All a woman needs to be happy is a great career, some nice toys and a hearty stock of copper-topped batteries. Trust me.”



Masters Holdings now operated with a skeletal crew. Commercial and housing construction in Atlanta had slowly ground down to a complete stop in the last four years. While puffed up economists, Wall Street analysts and the same tried-and-true politicians argued whether the nation was in a recession or not, companies like Charlie’s were hemorrhaging money at a record pace.

When the first signs of trouble emerged, Charlie foolishly believed that his company could survive an economic slow down. But this was like a financial drought that was on the verge of wiping him out.

Not that it should matter anymore.

Charlie’s gaze drifted to his computer inbox and noted the number of messages from Dr. Weiner’s office in the last week. He sighed and waffled again over picking up the phone. Why was he putting off making the appointment for the bone marrow test?

He leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk. Maybe he just didn’t want to know the truth. He didn’t know how to go about the business of dying.

How was that for denial.

“Mr. Masters,” Jackson Boyett, Charlie’s executive assistant chirped over the intercom. “You have a call on line one.”

Charlie reached for the receiver, hesitated and then asked. “Who is it?”

“It’s your mother.”

Charlie’s heart dropped. He’d been avoiding his mother’s calls like the plague. Though a part of him was feeling incredibly guilty about it, another part of him knew it was vital not to let his mother even suspect that something could be wrong. But Arlene Masters’s intuition was always sharp as a tack.

Today was Tuesday, and Charlie and his mother had a standing Tuesday night date. If she didn’t have something planned at the senior center, his mother would usually cook him dinner. What was he going to tell her? What should he tell her? If he told her about his aplastic anemia, he knew she would move into his apartment before the end of the workday.





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