Zuri Day - Solid Gold Seduction

Halfway to their destination it happened again. She felt him. Strongly. Without a shadow of a doubt she knew that Warren Drake was here. Keep walking, Charli. And don’t fall!

* * *

“Warren, are you listening?”

“Sorry, Rachel. What did you say?”

“Never mind. It’s clear your attention is elsewhere.”

“I’ve been following you mostly, and am impressed that you want to use your degree to, you know...”

“Follow weather patterns.”

“Right.”

“Wrong, Warren! You’re not listening at all.” Rachel’s normally placid face was in full pout. “You haven’t heard a word anyone has said since she walked in.”

“Who?”

“Do you know her?”

“Not really.”

“Well, now’s your chance.” She walked off in a huff.

Clearly, she was perturbed. With good reason. He was acting like a love-struck fool. “Rachel!”

She didn’t stop. He started to follow her, and then thought better of that idea. Best to let her cool off was his first thought. Maybe I’ll get those flowers or chocolates after all, his second. And his third? To make his way over to the reason for Rachel’s frustration. He turned to do so, took two steps and watched as Richard strolled up to Charli. He took her hand and raised it for a gentlemanly kiss. Always the suave one, that Richard, what with the flawless, smooth face, soft curly locks and bedroom eyes framed by girlishly long lashes. He’d been turning on the charm since grade school and at the beginning of college could pull any girl he wanted away from Warren’s once-clumsy clutches.

But Warren was no longer clumsy and this was not college. Lips set in a determined line, he once again prepared to cross the room. And stopped. Wait a minute. A scene played in his mind: him driving over to Charli’s house with news about the gate; Charli’s less than amicable response. All right, it had been downright chilly. His question about her snarly attitude. Her answer that she both knew about it and was not apologetic. She would probably rip Richard a new one in less than thirty ticks. Grinning, Warren took a glass of champagne from a floating waiter, became partially hidden as he leaned against the wall next to a large potted plant and prepared to watch the show.

It was not what he expected.

Where was that perpetual scowl she’d exhibited, the crossed arms and narrowed eyes? As Richard took her hand Charli smiled, actually smiled. Was it indeed possible for her to enjoy herself? This Warren would have doubted just one short day ago. But no, there it was: easy, impish and beautiful—straight white teeth and sparkling eyes. Richard said something to her. She tossed back her head in laughter, which brought Warren’s attention to that long, graceful neck, the one that had invaded his thoughts with more frequency than he’d desired, along with the things he wanted to do to said neck before moving on to other equally tantalizing body parts. He drank her much as he did the champagne and imagined she tasted the same: full-bodied, robust with hints of floral notes and spices. Amazing that this mesmerizingly pretty creature wrapped in silk was the same one he’d observed pulling weeds in tattered denim. Among this posh and polished crowd, she looked as though she belonged. Just who are you, Charli Reed?

“Pulling recognizance?” Niko drawled as he sidled up to his preoccupied sib.

Warren forced his eyes away from Charli, actually turned his back on the way-too-cozy scene and answered his brother. “She’s my neighbor. Quite the sourpuss when I met her. I actually thought Richard was getting ready to get dismissed, but old girl surprised me. They’re getting along.”

“I guess Richard still has the juice?”

Warren didn’t mean to scowl, but his face didn’t get the memo.

“You have a problem with that?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to break up their little tête-à-tête and grab this next dance.”

Chapter 8

On his way over, Warren watched Richard say something to Charli and then head over to the bar, presumably to get drinks.

Perfect timing, my man.

Warren circled around and purposely came up behind Charli, leaving her no time to don a surly mask. “May I have this dance?”

“Do you want to dance—” Charli looked down at Warren’s hold on her “—or arm wrestle?” The smile was still there but her eyes showed fire. “That’s a pretty tight grip.”

He loosened it, but didn’t release her. “You look to be the type who can handle it.”

“Kindly let me go,” she demanded.

“Kindly let me have this dance.”

Charli was just about to jerk away from him when she saw Alice heading their way, with someone she despised even more than the Drakes.

“Charlene!” Alice stopped, her arm looped around the arm of the man who accompanied her. “Look who I spotted just as he was entering the room.”

The man reached for Charli’s hand. “Hello, beautiful.”

She tucked it behind her and stepped closer to Warren. “Hi, Cedric.”

“It’s been a long time, Charlene. You look good.”

“Miss Alice, if you’ll excuse us. We were just heading to the dance floor.”

Once in the throng of dancers swaying to the smooth, soulful sounds of a song about distant lovers, Warren quickly wrapped his arms around Charli’s waist. He was assaulted by many things at once: the smell of perfume, the softness of silk and the feel of this woman’s body next to his own. She felt so right. With her in heels, her temple brushed his chin. If she turned and tilted her head oh so slightly the kiss would be right there. Hot, he imagined. Long, he’d make sure. There was only word for it: heaven. So much so that he was tempted to ignore the reason this morsel had wound up in his arms. But he didn’t.

“Ex-boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Ex-lover?”

“Can we just dance?”

“Certainly.” With the fluidity of one trained in this art, Warren took Charli’s left hand in his right, even as he gently yet firmly pressed her flush against him. “Just follow my lead,” he whispered in her ear. With that he spun them around, swaying smoothly to the beat. He rubbed his thumb across the small of her back, eased his hand precariously close to Charli’s firm, round booty. Close enough to feel the curve, far enough to still be a gentleman. Barely.

* * *

She tried to focus elsewhere: on the decor, the music (though Marvin Gaye seriously was not helping matters), even the bouffant hairdo on the town’s matriarch, Mrs. Gentry. But nothing was proving distracting. Warren’s presence was all-consuming—from his hard chest to his dance moves, from his cologne to the vibration from his chest as he hummed the song. When he pulled her into his arms, her knees had almost buckled. Even now, only sheer willpower prevented her from melting into his powerful frame, teasing the hair at the nape of his neck and resting her forehead against his strong jaw. It had been a long time since she’d felt safe enough to relax, let her guard down, live without worry. Being with someone like Warren could help her feel that way.

Except being with Warren wasn’t a possibility. Ever.

“Is that guy a problem?”

She could feel the strength in his chest as he spoke. God, what that deep voice did to parts of her soul! But it did something else. It took her out of her musings and brought her crashing back down to the reality of where she was and why. Dancing had given her a temporary reprieve from the man she would have been altogether peachy with never seeing again in life. But sooner or later she knew she’d have to deal with Cedric. She told herself there was no fear there, but shivered nonetheless.