Adrianne Byrd - Tender to His Touch

Hell, he deserved it.

However, Atlanta’s Friday bumper-to-bumper traffic delayed his plans for a carefree weekend. While surrounding cars engaged in an endless game of cutting each other off, honking and tossing a few middle fingers in the air, Lucius slipped in his old The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill CD. Ten years ago, his senior year in college, this disc stayed on repeat. His boys loved it and, more importantly, so did the ladies.

When his favorite jam, “Ex-Factor,” came on, a broad smile carved across his lips as he bobbed his head. This was just what he needed to get in the ’99 mood. An hour later, he finally arrived at the Hilton and met businessman Mitch Paulson in the hotel bar.

“Ah, right on time,” Paulson said as he stood to shake Lucius’s hand. “Can I get you a drink?” He waved and caught a waitress’s attention.

Lucius glanced at his watch. “Actually, I—”

“Ah, c’mon.” Paulson gestured for him to take a seat. “It’s the least I can do after having you deliver those papers on such short notice.”

Lucius hesitated, glanced at his watch. No way would he make it over to Cork for the school’s private cocktail party on time. Then again, maybe it was better to show up fashionably late.

“Don’t be rude, Lucius. Have a seat,” Paulson insisted and then added a boisterous laugh. “You know businessmen don’t like drinking alone.”

Lucius relented with a chuckle. “Maybe just one drink.”

Their waitress popped up the moment Lucius took his seat. “Whiskey on the rocks,” he ordered.

“Make that two,” Paulson corrected, giving the pixie blonde a flirtatious wink.

However, the waitress’s blue gaze was busy assessing Lucius. She was cute, but Lucius would most likely always crave the touch and love of a curvy sistah. That was just how he rolled.

When the waitress saw that she wasn’t getting any play, she drifted away from the table.

“Ah, well,” Paulson huffed and reached inside his jacket and retrieved a cigar case. “I guess I’m losing my touch.”

Or you shouldn’t try to pick up someone young enough to be your granddaughter.

“Just as well, I suppose. It’s not easy keeping up with these young girls,” he said, laughing at his own joke. “I damn near threw my back out last year with an eighteen-year-old hell-bent on turning me into a pretzel.”

Lucius laughed along, though he picked up on a few notes of sadness.

“Who knows? I probably should’ve stayed married,” Paulson continued. “But…well, back when I was your age I was married to my job more than I was to Sheila.”

This always happened when Lucius shared drinks with his male clients. Alcohol loosened tongues and Lucius found himself cast in the role of a pseudopsychiatrist.

“You married, Lucius?” Paulson asked just as their waitress returned with their drinks.

“Divorced.”

“Hmmph.” Paulson shook his head. “Big mistake.”

“I don’t know. It seemed to have worked out for the best.”

“Sure you say that now. Let a few more years roll by.” He took a sip of his drink. “Seeing anybody?”

Lucius shifted in his chair as he took a few sips of his whiskey. “Let’s just say that I’m keeping my options open.”

“How many hours are you putting in at the firm?”

“What is this, an interrogation?”

“Let me guess,” Paulson went on, sizing him up. “You look like a workaholic. I’d say about 85 to 90?”

Their gazes locked.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Paulson flashed him a lopsided grin. “Tell me. Have you noticed how cold a house gets at night yet?”

Lucius didn’t answer.

“Hmmph.” Paulson shook his head. “Believe me. It gets a lot colder. Thing is, I don’t ever remember it being that way when I was married. A house is meant to be a home.” He leveled his gaze back on Lucius. “And man was never meant to be alone—that’s the one passage I remember from the Bible.”

Lucius quickly took another sip of his drink.

“A career is great, but a good woman is even better.” Paulson scanned the room. “Are you a breast or leg man?”

“I, uh—”

“Aww. Maybe you like a woman with a little junk in the trunk?” He winked.

Lucius would never get used to old white men trying to talk hip. “Yeah. I guess you can say that I like it all.”

Paulson’s drink stopped midway to his lips. “Then it looks like you’re in luck. Check out who just walked through the door.”

Curious, Lucius turned around and nearly dropped his glass when his gaze zeroed in on a tall, gorgeous woman in red with deep brick-house curves and a smile that lit up the whole room. Spellbound, he watched her as she strolled over to the bar. Her big breasts sat high and were like—pow! Her firm, but still bouncing backside was like—ka-pow!

To maintain some semblance of cool, Lucius sipped a little more of his whiskey, but his eyes never left the seductive sway Paulson so elegantly called junk in the trunk.

“Better close your mouth and go make a move,” Paulson chuckled. “I’d say you have about five seconds before someone else beats you to the punch.”

Lucius tossed down the rest of his drink in one gulp and sprang out of his chair without a backward glance. Halfway over to the bar, he realized that he didn’t have the slightest idea what to say. His pickup lines were a little rusty.

Across the room, he saw another brother stand up; his eyes locked on the same mysterious woman. Lucius picked up his pace and settled onto the empty stool beside the lady in red, whose soft floral perfume worked like an invisible hook. Before he could speak, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

“Hello,” she greeted in a velvety smooth voice that dripped with sin.

Lucius responded with the first thing that popped into his head. “Marry me?”

Beverly laughed. The question had been so unexpected that she couldn’t do anything but. The handsome stranger next to her joined in. His intriguing hazel eyes were so bewitching her heart skipped a beat. She estimated him to be six-two, lean but well muscled. His medium-brown skin had a healthy glow, and he had short-cropped hair that was well-groomed. She fought the sudden impulse to run her fingers through it to see if it was as soft as it looked. Bottom line, he was a good-looking man with a smile that took her breath away.

“Okay. I admit that was a pretty cheesy pickup line,” the handsome devil admitted.

“But very effective,” she said, throwing him a bone. “Maybe I should be asking how many wives you have stashed away.”

He held up his bare right hand. “I’m as free as a bird.”

She arched a brow at him. Did he think a missing ring meant anything these days?

“I’m divorced.”

“What a coincidence,” she said.

“Now what idiot let you go?” he countered, shaking his head and hitting her with his sexy dimples.

“I know, right?”

They laughed.

“Mind if I buy you a drink?” he asked.

“Well, I don’t—”

“C’mon. Just one.”

The bartender popped up out of nowhere.

“What’ll you have?” her handsome admirer asked.

“Whoooo, boy. It’s, um, been a while.” She hesitated, not knowing what to order. She was more of a wine connoisseur and didn’t know any of the latest cool alcoholic concoctions so she stuck with an old staple. “I’ll just have a Long Island iced tea.”

“And I’ll have another whiskey on the rocks,” the stranger said and then turned his attention back to Beverly. “By the way, I’m Lucius Gray.” He extended his hand.

“Beverly Clark—well, Turner, actually.” She laughed at the slip. “I can’t believe I still make that mistake.”