Pamela Yaye - Hollington Homecoming, Volume Two

Terrence shook his head. Aimee hadn’t changed one bit. The personal chef was still looking for someone to take care of her. And not just anyone, either. It had to be someone famous and ridiculously wealthy who could use their celebrity status to open doors for her. Though she’d once ditched him and hooked up with a hot-shot baseball player with a fleet of luxury jets, Terrence harbored no hard feelings toward her. Why would he when he had Kyra? Aimee had perfected the naughty-but-nice look and had the longest legs outside of Nevada, but Kyra was the type of woman he’d been looking for. Authentic, straightforward and more beautiful than words, Terrence knew that he could always count on Kyra to tell him the truth. Aimee had the loyalty of a stray cat, and though she was an attractive woman, she couldn’t be trusted.

“Aimee, you’re still here?”

Terrence stepped around Aimee and pushed open the door. Without makeup, Kyra barely looked legal, and the fuchsia bandana covering her hair enhanced her youthful appeal. Her extra-long tank top and shorts were loose-fitting, but her beauty was unmistakable. It shone from within, from her core, from the depths of her soul. Aimee was decked out in white, but Kyra was the one who looked innocent. And when she greeted him with a cheery wave, his heart thumped louder than a hundred conga drums.

He held up the bags. “I brought brunch.”

“Something smells delicious.” Aimee pointed a jeweled finger at the bag. “Do you have poached sausages in there?”

Terrence nodded. “I have breakfast enchiladas, too. They’re Kyra’s favorite.”

Groaning, Aimee rubbed a hand over her stomach. “I wish I could stay, but I have a meeting downtown with a potential client.”

“Then you better get going. Traffic’s thick heading south.” Terrence didn’t mean to be rude, but when Aimee stomped off, he knew she’d taken offense. An eye roll, a flick of her hair, and she was gone. Not wanting to appear eager, he waited until he heard the door slam, before setting his sights back on Kyra. “Great house,” he said, glancing around. A marriage of classical and urban architecture, the two-storey home featured an arched opening, cherrywood furniture and generous shelf space. “The decor’s very cool. Eclectic but modern. I like it.”

“Your place is probably ten times this size.”

“It’s not the size of a house that makes it a home,” he told her. “It’s the people who live there and the love and respect they share.”

“Uh-oh. Someone’s been watching too many Jimmy Stewart movies.”

“Who?” Terrence scratched his head. “Is that the guy in all those old movies you used to force me to watch?”

Her laughter filled the room. It was a soft, almost musical sound and her eyes were sparkling. Terrence felt his heart inflate. Finally, something was going right. Kyra was laughing, and that was always a good thing.

“I forgot, you never liked the classics. Baby Boy is more your style, isn’t it?” Kyra wore a coy, closed-mouth grin and if it wasn’t for the distance between them, he would have kissed her. He’d never been one to push up on a woman, but he was only human. How could anyone withstand that delicious smile? Desire consumed him and the more he fought it, the more he wanted her. It was that age-old cat and mouse game; he was enjoying the chase.

“So, what were you and Aimee talking about?”

“Nothing.” To put her mind at ease, he decided to tell the truth. “Kyra, I don’t know what she told you, but we were never a couple. We went out a few times, but nothing happened between us.”

Kyra shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I was just curious.”

“I’m going to set up brunch out on the patio,” he said, anxious to distance himself from his past. “Why don’t you meet me outside with a pitcher of your famous watermelon lemonade?”

“But—”

“Ky, don’t argue. Just let me do something nice for you.” In four long strides, he was in her personal space. She smelled like orchids and her lips looked sweet. Terrence was a quick study and though he’d only been back in Hollington for a week, he had a good picture of who Kyra Dixon was. The PR director was a woman of incredible poise and strength, but beneath all of her admirable qualities was someone who was hurting. Terrence had to show her how special she was. With that thought in mind, he slipped a hand across her shoulders and led her through the French doors.

* * *

Chuckling, Terrence put down his glass and sat back in his wicker chair. “Come on, Kyra. Everyone knows women lie more than men. Weaves, acrylic nails, five-inch heels to make you taller.” He lifted the tablecloth and paused when he saw her red painted toes poking out of her sandals. “It’s all part of the female conspiracy, and every time a guy buys a woman and her girlfriends a round of cocktails, he feels like a sucker.”

Kyra giggled. “We get all dolled up to go out because that’s what you men like. You guys drool over curvy centerfolds and we sisters are just trying to stay in the game.” She pointed a finger at him. “And just so you know, no one wakes up looking like a sex kitten. Eva Menendez has bed head and bad breath just like the rest of us!”

Their laughter floated on the afternoon breeze.

“Sounds like someone has a touch of celebrity envy,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “God, I hope you don’t have a secret aspiration to be an actress or something because I’m sick of meeting women whose life goal is to be on the big screen.”

“I couldn’t handle all the scrutiny that comes with being famous. Hell, I’d get a tummy tuck, too, if I was dissed on one of those gossip Web sites.”

“I’d die before I’d let you do that. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

“And all natural!” she added, laughing.

“That you are, baby. That you are.”

Kyra took a bite of her four-cheese omlette. Chasing it down with water, she noticed the defiant slope of his jaw and the odd look on his face. She wanted to know what he was thinking, but didn’t have the courage to ask. Steering the conversation to a safer topic, she asked about his plans for the weekend. “Are you going to Snoop Dogg’s party? It’s all Aimee could talk about during our workout.”

“That depends. What are you doing tonight?”

He looked deep into her eyes and when he smiled, her heart murmured. Kyra made a point of dropping Charles’s name into the conversation, but every time their fingers accidentally touched, she had an overpowering desire to kiss him. To just lean over and plant one on him. Her face flushed at the thought. She’d obviously lost grip with reality, and if she knew what was good for her, she’d stay on her side of the table. “Charles is taking me to the theater.”

“Mind if I come?”

“Right, like you’d skip the biggest party of the year to see an all-woman play.”

“I would,” he affirmed with a quick nod of his head. “I’m sick of the single scene. If the right woman came along, I’d propose in an instant.”

Her mouth creaked open.

“Don’t look so surprised, Kyra. I haven’t been an Eagle Scout, but I’m not as bad as the media makes me out to be. Pro athletes need love, too!”

“With your wild bachelor lifestyle, I find it hard to believe you’re ready for a monogamous relationship.”

“Having a wife and family is all that really matters.”

Kyra wasn’t convinced. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“There’s nothing sudden about it. I’ve been partying like a rock star since I entered the NFL, and now it’s time to grow up. At least, that’s what Big Mama says!”

His deep, rumbling laugh brought a smile to her lips. He sobered, and spoke openly about the challenges of being wealthy in a country obsessed with looks and celebrity. Kyra listened, enraptured by the sound of his voice. In that moment, Terrence reminded her of the sweet, caring guy she’d fallen for all those years ago. And if she was being honest with herself, he’d never, ever left her heart. In spite of their acrimonious breakup, he still represented everything she wanted in a man. Sincere, down-to-earth, chivalrous. In her book, Terrence was still one hell of a guy and the more he talked about family and community, the more she fantasized about kissing him.