Other People's Business
Autumn shoved the money into his hands. “If I’d been at the mercy of roadside assistance, there’s no telling when they would have showed up. I wouldn’t feel right leaving without giving you something as a token of my appreciation.”
“I can’t take your money, miss.”
“But, I have to give you something,” she stressed.
“Then give me your phone number.”
Autumn’s eyes flickered. “Pardon me?”
L.J. cleaned his hands on the sides of his shorts again. He put on his most charming smile, stuck out his right hand and introduced himself. “My friends call me L.J.”
Disregarding his grimy hands and his outlandish request, Autumn slipped back on her Jackie O-inspired sunglasses. She was in no mood for idle chitchat, but she couldn’t be flat-out rude, either. After all, he had saved her. “Well, thanks again for your help, L.J.,” she said, trying out his name. “My best friend would have crucified me if I had missed her party.” She started to walk away, but stopped. Glancing over her shoulder, she asked, “Are you sure you won’t take the money?”
L.J. nodded. He didn’t need her money, but he wouldn’t mind taking her out. Nothing fancy. Maybe drinks at a nice bar or a quiet dinner. Not ready to let her go without the possibility of reconnecting, he asked, “What’s your name?”
Annoyed and uninterested, Autumn wanted to say, but instead told him she really had to go. She had an unruly stomach to feed and a party to get ready for, all in the next hour. Anxious to be on her way, Autumn began the trip back to her car. “Thanks. Bye.”
L.J. tugged the tip of his hat forward. He eyeballed her as she rushed over to her car. The swish of her shapely hips was mesmerizing. Ms. Flat Tire had a tight body and a face worthy of gracing magazine covers, but she was much too thin for his taste. L.J. liked his women the way he liked his steak: thick and juicy. But it was the first time in months that a sister, or any woman for that matter, had piqued his interest.
Don’t go there, he chided himself, ripping his eyes away from the curvature of her butt. These D.C. women are all the same. A bunch of uppity snobs. And Ms. Flat Tire was no different. She drove an expensive car, wore enough sparkly jewellery to require her own personal bodyguard and didn’t look like she had worked a day in her life. Probably some poor schmuck’s girlfriend, he decided as her car merged back into traffic.
L.J. didn’t know why he had wasted his time trying to step to her anyway. The last thing he needed was to get involved with someone like her. That was how he had landed himself in troubled waters the last time. Chasing a sister with a pretty face and a banging body without knowing who she was or what she was about, was just inviting heartache and strife.
When L.J. returned to his truck and turned the key in the ignition, it coughed like a senior with a serious case of bronchitis. He pounded the gas until the engine came to life. Two intersections later, he pulled up beside a two-door Infiniti. L.J. couldn’t resist peeking inside. It was Ms. Flat Tire. She smiled politely before returning her eyes to the road ahead.
L.J. didn’t want her to think he was sweating her, so he fiddled with the radio. He bobbed his head up and down as though he was jamming to an infectious hip-hop beat rather than a weepy Whitney Houston song. When the light turned green, her car lurched forward, leaving his sick truck and the other vehicles in her wake. The Infiniti disappeared into the sea of traffic and L.J. couldn’t help wondering where she was racing off to. What do you care? his conscience prodded. He didn’t. Women as a whole were a pain, but the ones in D.C. were a migraine. The opposite sex had caused him nothing but trouble and he’d had enough trouble to last a lifetime.
Chapter 2
The Grisbey estate sat on two acres of impeccable grounds in the most desirable and prosperous neighborhood in all of Washington, D.C. The breathtaking landscape of Kalorama, which sat upon a rugged hill above Dupont Circle, housed attractive and luxurious homes. Tree-lined streets, broad sidewalks and the relative peace and isolation from the rest of the city made Kalorama home to Washington’s most privileged families. The residents were as refined as age-old china and the stench of new money hung in the spring air like a November fog.
Autumn trailed the procession of luxury cars crawling through the wrought-iron gates. The sight of the ten-bedroom, eight-bathroom palatial home never ceased to amaze her and she had been visiting the Grisbey home for years. The modern-day castle had every imaginable comfort: a world-class, fully equipped gymnasium complete with a workout room, a fifty-seat theater and game room, a commercial elevator and an Olympic-size swimming pool. Melissa’s mother, Janet, was the most sought-after interior decorator on the east coast and she had converted her home to a showcase of the best decor money could buy. The sumptuous furniture, the light fixtures and marble flooring had been imported from Venice; the warrior sculptures and vibrant oil paintings shipped from a tiny South African village and the outsized Oriental hand-made rugs purchased in Hong Kong. The Grisbey estate, which had recently been featured on Martha Stewart Living, was rumored to be in the ballpark of ten million dollars.
After parking on the outskirts of the sprawling lawn, Autumn locked the car doors and headed into the backyard. The smell of freshly cut grass and the gracious chatter of fashionably dressed guests greeted her as she proceeded down the walkway. Autumn accepted a fruity cocktail from one of the suit-clad servers and made her way over to Yvette Albright, the third member of Autumn and Melissa’s friendship trio.
Yvette was unhappily married to a police detective whom she claimed to still love. Her nine-year marriage had produced three adorable daughters, ranging in age from four to seven.
“You’re late.” Yvette gave Autumn a peck on the right cheek. “Why do you look as if you were in a street brawl? Fix your face into a smile before Melissa sees you,” she warned. Noting Tyrell’s absence she queried, “Where’s your man?”
Autumn didn’t answer.
“What did he do this time and how long will it be before you go running back to him?” Yvette asked sourly.
Autumn didn’t know if she could discuss what had happened with Tyrell without getting worked up, but she could always count on Yvette to be straightforward and that was precisely what she needed—straight advice. Concerned that someone might overhear them, Autumn steered Yvette over to a sheltered spot near a grove of trees.
“Do you think I overreacted?” she asked after telling Yvette an abbreviated version of what had happened that afternoon. “You know better than anyone that I have a tendency to blow things out of proportion. I jump to conclusions, tell people off then discover I didn’t have all the facts. Give it to me straight, Yvette. Am I wrong?”
“Hell, no!” Yvette paused to regain control before continuing. “Tyrell left you high and didn’t even have the decency to call and make sure you got home safely. You have every right to be furious! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Tyrell Wellman’s a self-absorbed momma’s boy who doesn’t deserve a woman as devoted and loving as you are. Why do you keep putting up with his mess? For the last time, cut that brother loose.”
Autumn twirled the glass in her hand as she weighed Yvette’s advice.
“Tyrell thinks he’s the salt of the earth just because his parents have money and he has a few fancy sports cars. Big deal! There’s a lot more to making a woman happy than just buying her nice things. He constantly disrespects you and your relationship. Don’t you see that, Autumn? Do you need me to remind you of all the messed-up things he’s done since you started dating? Where should I begin?” Yvette tilted her head to the right, as if deep in thought, then stuck out her right thumb. “First of all, the man lies through his teeth. Remember when he told you he couldn’t come to your birthday dinner because he had the flu, and then we ran into him later that night at the club? What about when he stood you up at the theater? He arrived an hour late to your parents’ anniversary party and didn’t even apologize. What about when he…”
Like darkness giving way to light, the truth of her injurious relationship with Tyrell became clear to Autumn. As Yvette rattled off a list of his most recent infractions, she reflected on that afternoon. On the drive over to the Grisbey estate Autumn had wrestled with her conscience. I lost control again. It’s not his fault he’s sick. Maybe I need to be more understanding. Maybe I should quit nagging him. Maybe I need to loosen up. Just because I revile the party scene, doesn’t mean I have the right to make him feel guilty every time he hangs out with his friends, right?
Autumn had struggled for answers. But after a few seconds with Yvette, everything became clear.
“You’re right, Yvette. That’s just what I needed to hear.”
Yvette’s nose wrinkled as though she had just gotten a whiff of some old garbage. “Enlighten me, Autumn, because I’ve been trying to figure out what the attraction is. What keeps you hanging on? Tyrell mooches off his parents instead of standing on his own two feet, he’s deathly afraid of commitment and he has roving eyes. Your devotion to him can’t be attributed to something as heady as mind-blowing sex, because y’all ain’t having any. So what is it?”
Autumn elbowed Yvette sharply in the ribs. “Don’t go there, Yvette.”
“What?” Yvette shrugged, an innocent smile playing on her lips. Reading the terse expression on Autumn’s face, she wiped it away. “Fine, but I’m just trying to make sense of this mess you’ve gotten yourself into.” After a pause, she asked Autumn a tough question. “Are you in love with Tyrell?”
Autumn felt as though a spotlight was shining on her. It was as if a microphone had been thrust in her face and the whole world was listening in. She had never had weak-in-the-knees feelings for Tyrell, but he was a decent guy and kind of cute. “I guess so.”
“Autumn, either you’re in love with him or you’re not. From what I’ve seen, I’d venture to say it’s the latter. And I bet Tyrell would say the same thing. He hasn’t exactly been discreet about his other women and the word around town is he’ll sleep with anyone with big boobs.”
Autumn avoided the hazel eyes staring back at her. She didn’t want to hear any more gossip about Tyrell. She had heard it all before. And although his once flawless character had revealed pothole cracks, it was still hard for her to believe that he would cheat on her.
Autumn sipped her drink, trying not to think about what she had had planned for later on that evening. Tyrell was such an accomplished smooth-talker that she had actually believed him when he’d said the problems in their relationship were a direct result of their nonexistent sex life. He had made her feel guilty for not “taking care” of his needs and assured her that sex would bring them closer together. Autumn shook her head slowly. She had been up-front about her values from day one, and Tyrell had led her to believe he could handle it. What a joke.
“I’m not interested in a physical relationship,” Autumn had confessed, adopting an assertive tone of voice. She had sounded less like herself and more like her pastor’s wife, Regina Carrington-Nelson. The bubbly, thirtysomething clinical psychologist had invited Autumn to a session for single women and, initially, she had spurned the invitation. She had better things to do with her free time than sit around with a bunch of single women bashing men. But when Regina had popped up on her doorstep one Wednesday evening and ordered her out the door, Autumn had had no choice but to comply.
Autumn had learned more in the two-hour session than from all the self-help books she had ever read. And after attending a month of sessions, she had made the life-altering decision to become a “born-again” virgin. It had been three years since that fateful night and Autumn had never once regretted her decision. Most men balked when she told them about her pledge, but not Tyrell. She still remembered his reaction after she had told him….
“I find it hard to believe that a woman of your beauty isn’t getting any,” he admitted, tossing back his beer. He finished the bottle, and then rolled his tongue over his lips. He examined the dewy-eyed woman sitting across from him, undressing her in his mind. Sure she looked sweet and wholesome, but her curvy figure and sexy smile told another story. Celibate? Impossible. Sexually frustrated? Definitely. All Autumn needed was a man to show her the ropes. Teach her how sex was supposed to be. Tyrell was more than willing to add another student to his class. But first, there was something he needed to know. “You’re not one of those church girls who thinks sex is revolting or immoral, are you?”
“Of course not!” Autumn answered, the heat rising steadily up the back of her neck. She usually saved this conversation for the third or fourth date, but when Tyrell had suggested they go back to his place to “get to know each other better,” Autumn had determined that was as good a time as any. “I’m not scared of sex and I’m not ashamed of my body. I’m just not ready for the emotional baggage that sex creates, so I have committed to put my future happiness and emotional well-being ahead of the fleeting needs of my body. The next man I make love to will be my husband, and if you can’t respect that, I need to know now.”
Tyrell didn’t even blink. “Believe you me, I can handle it.” His probing eyes held hers and in a sickly sweet voice he gushed, “I’m interested in getting to know the real you, Autumn. That’s it. Sleeping with you is the furthest thing from my mind.”
But in the last three months, it had been the only thing on his mind. In recent weeks, Tyrell had become more agitated about her unwillingness to “put out.” He’d found ways to work sex into every conversation they had and had even gone as far as sending Autumn long, pitiful e-mails on the subject. After weeks of his incessant badgering and “Baby, baby, please,” she’d caved in. Tonight was supposed to be the night. Autumn had sauvignon blanc chilling on ice, Teddy Pendergrass waiting to lend his voice to the occasion and white rose petals sprawled across her candle-laden bedroom.
Autumn sighed deeply. Tyrell had turned out to be just like all the other guys. He was caught up in the game. The pursuit. The challenge. He was spirited and competitive, and luring her into his bed was just another one of his conquests. Tyrell thought that once he finagled his way into her heart, she would be putty in his hands. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Autumn polished off her cocktail. When a lanky, wide-faced server offered her another glass, she politely declined. “Tyrell always had an answer. He—” Autumn searched for the right words. When none came, she paused a moment longer. “I believed Tyrell when he told me I was the only woman in his life. He took me to nice places, treated me like a lady and he is from the wealthiest African-American family in D.C. The fact that my mother adored him made it easy for me to overlook some of his questionable behavior.” Autumn ran a shaky hand through her hair. She was already dreading her face-off with Evelyn. Her mother was enamored with the Wellmans and had been overjoyed when she had discovered her daughter was dating one. A shiver whizzed up Autumn’s spine. She could only imagine what Evelyn would do when she returned home and learned the truth.
“I can understand that,” Yvette conceded, “but if that’s all you want—someone to take you to nice places and foot the bill—then stay with him. But if you want a lasting relationship with a man who’s going to be there every step of the way, quit wasting your time with Tyrell.”
“For months now, I’ve been the one fighting for this relationship. I did the calling, I planned the dates and I was the one making sacrifices so we could spend time together. And for what? So Tyrell could bail on me when I need him the most? He’s not the right man for me and I can see that now.” When Yvette raised her eyebrows and crinkled her nose, Autumn insisted, “I’m serious this time. It’s over.”
“We’ll see,” Yvette said distrustfully, “because Lord knows I’ve heard that one before.”
The chalk-white tent, outfitted with drapery, opulent ceiling fans and shiny brass chandeliers, lent an air of glamour to the event. Twenty round tables, each seating ten, were dressed in white tablecloths, gold napkins and heart-shape flower arrangements. Three sphere-shape gold candles sat on flat mirrors on each table, reflecting light throughout the tent.
Peeking through the curtain, Autumn couldn’t help thinking the evening looked more like a wedding reception than a dinner party for the engaged couple. Well-dressed guests seated on lawn chairs were listening to the colorful banter of Edgar Grisbey, awaiting the arrival of the bridal party.
Autumn turned back around and checked her impulse to laugh. Mrs. Grisbey was fussing all over her adult daughter as if it was her first day of preschool and Melissa was eating it up.
“Your father is going to conclude his address by thanking everyone for coming and then he’ll introduce the bridal party.” Mrs. Grisbey adjusted the ultra-thin straps of her daughter’s topaz chiffon dress. “Walk in with your head high, your back slightly curved and don’t forget to smile at the photographers. Now, where is everyone?”
Melissa fluffed her hair. “The girls went to freshen up and the guys ducked into the game room. But Peter promised they would be right back.” Right on cue, Melissa’s fiancé, Peter, and a half dozen men of varying shades and heights emerged from the rear patio door.
“I’m going to give them some final instructions.” Mrs. Grisbey rushed over to the all-male group.
Shante, Melissa’s cousin and a bridesmaid, pointed a lengthy, acrylic nail straight ahead. “Now here comes a piece of chocolate I wouldn’t mind tasting. Hot damn! That brother has the most kissable lips I’ve ever seen,” she finished, low murmuring sounds further emphasizing her point. Then, she turned to her cousin. “Who is that and why haven’t I been introduced?”
Melissa stared at the posse of black men that had encircled her mother. “You need to be more specific, Shante. There are a dozen pieces of ‘chocolate’ over there,” she joked, laughing lightly.
“The bald hottie in the tan suit.” She added with a toothy grin, “The one with all those muscles, the wide strapping shoulders and the tight, brick-hard butt.”
Autumn tried not to gape. Not only was the hunky stranger a walking billboard for GQ but he also had a smile that could melt the wax off a slow-burning candle in the blink of an eye. Mr. Tan Suit can light my fire any day of the week! Autumn felt her face warm. It was bad enough she was openly lusting, she didn’t want to add swooning to the equation, too, so she forced her eyes to look away.
Yvette whistled. “Now, that’s what I call fine. Long limbs, heavy lips and a body so hot it could thaw a block of butter. Yum-m-y.”
Autumn chuckled. Sometimes Yvette was just too much. She kept her voice natural and her facial expression non-chlant when she asked Melissa who the stranger was. “Is he one of Peter’s co-workers? A family friend? A distant relative or something?”
A self-righteous smile curved Melissa’s lips. Autumn was trying to appear uninterested, but desire shone clear in her eyes. Melissa turned from her cousin to her best friend. “Remember last week when you said no to a blind date with the best man?”
“Yeah…” Autumn murmured.
“That’s him. Peter’s best man, Larry,” Melissa explained slyly.
“Larry?” Autumn and Yvette bellowed in unison.
“That’s the guy you were trying to hook Autumn up with?” Yvette asked dubiously. “The country bamma from Mississippi?”
Melissa looked as though she wanted to laugh. “The one and only. Now, pick your jaw up from off the pavement, put your eyes back in your head and smile, Autumn. Here he comes.”
Autumn gathered her wits about her. She tightened her slack jaw, smoothed the creases out of her cheeks and plastered what she thought was a welcoming smile on her face. She could do this. He was just a man. An incredibly gorgeous man whose very presence suddenly made her very nervous. But still just a man.
“Ready to make your grand entrance?” Peter asked, kissing his bride-to-be.
Melissa twined her arms around his slim torso. “I’m ready now that you’re here.”
Shante looked on in amazement as the ridiculously happy couple retreated to a just-the-two-of-us world. They hugged and kissed and whispered as though they were alone in their bedroom, rather than among family and friends. Shante straightened her slinky black dress. She didn’t have time to wait for the lovebirds to sober up and make the necessary introductions. There was no telling when they would resurface from their fantasy world, and time was of the essence. She had to make a move on the Jet centerfold before Autumn sank her claws into him. A year ago, Little Miss Perfect had swiped Tyrell right out from underneath her. But not this time. She refused to be outshone and outsmarted again.
Shante raked a hand through her waist-length hair, flashing a sly smile the stranger’s way. She took a bold step forward, primed to fire off her best pickup line. But before she could part her lips, he focused his eyes on Autumn, and asked, “Did you make it home okay this afternoon?”
The sound of his husky, late-night voice snapped Autumn’s mind to attention. “Excuse me?”
He smiled, revealing perfectly straight teeth. “I can’t believe the fifteen minutes we spent together meant absolutely nothing to you.” His hundred-watt smile dimmed. Then he threw his left hand over his chest and grinned mischievously. “I’m hurt by how little you care.”
Autumn exchanged a baffled look with Yvette.
“You’ve met?” Melissa inquired, suddenly interested in their exchange. “How come you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t know we had.”
“I guess our brief meeting meant more to me than it did to you,” Larry said, taking off his sunglasses. “I never forget a face, especially one as pretty as yours.”
Autumn gave him the once-over, staggered by her intense reaction to him. She had never been this taken with a man before. Never. She couldn’t remember the last time she had agreed with Shante, but there was no disputing the man-eater’s claim—the man had kissable lips. Autumn was nothing if not disciplined, and in the three years she had been celibate, she had never once stumbled. But than again, Autumn had never met a man who made her body shake, rattle and roll with just one smile. His bedroom eyes taunted her and his sultry five o’clock shadow made her heart do the cha-cha. He had the kind of extraordinarily long eyelashes that drag queens would kill for, and his brown coloring reminded Autumn of caramel—rich, smooth and creamy.
Autumn flipped through her mental address file of all the men she had met recently and came up blank. No Ebony Hunk. It wasn’t possible that they had met and she couldn’t remember. He wasn’t the type of man a woman forgot. Her eyes lingered on his lips. She could just feel the heat of his mouth as his lips blazed a trail from her neck to her breasts. His strong, manly hands would grab a handful of her… Whoa! Get a grip! This is not how a celibate woman behaves. Autumn cleared her throat. She was crossing the line. Jumping over it was more like it. If Regina or any of the other group members could see her now, they would ban her from attending any more group sessions.
“Are you sure you don’t remember me?”
The man reeked of charm, which made him all the more appealing. Autumn stared on as he licked his lips with more finesse than LL Cool J, then set his mouth in a broad grin. Did he work in her building? Had they met at Rawlins and McGill? Autumn thought back to earlier in the day. She had handed the file to the Mr. Whithers’s receptionist, Eugenia, and after a few minutes of polite conversation, returned to the parking lot and collected her car. She hadn’t even been in the law firm a full five minutes. “I’m quite certain we have never met before,” Autumn replied, her mind working overtime. She tried desperately to place him. Something about the man was oddly familiar and he was eyeing her as if they shared a secret.