Adrianne Byrd - Sinful Chocolate

“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.”

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.”