my eyes and straightened my spine, but I never knew why I bothered. Even with my high heels on, I barely reached Kyle mid-chest. Then again, it was still an unbelievably fine view. Damn him for looking impeccably delicious in a Tom Ford suit.
He shoved his fingers in his luscious, silky chestnut hair, looking as if he was ready to pull it out by the roots. Kyle expelled a harsh breath and then surprised me once again by reaching for me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I tried to push him back with my hands, but he was like a marble statue. Immobile and unyielding.
“Fucked up with you, Samantha,” he muttered, resting his lips on the top of my hair. “Shouldn’t have left the way I did after the night we had together.”
My hands, which had been on his chest in an attempt to get him away, now balled up into fists, my eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to quell my reaction to his small confession.
In a soft voice, I asked, “So why did you?”
He pulled away from me, and just as he opened his mouth to respond, I heard a woman’s voice. A really peeved and whiny woman’s voice.
“ Kyle , what the hell are you doing over here with that woman?”
I whipped my head around to see the same woman I had seen with him on TV. His latest divorce client. She had one hand on her hip, jutted out to the side in an exaggerated manner, with eyes turned into laser-focused slits, looking up and down the length of me. Her dress was definitely a size too small and her silicon-enhanced breasts were about to make an escape out of her deep V. She was also just a shade lighter than Willy Wonka Oompa Loompa Orange. It was a shame because the woman was actually very pretty and didn’t need the whole Real Housewives tacky franchise look. It was also obvious that she wasn’t a longtime DC resident either, because the women of the area didn’t dress like her. They were into subtle elegance. Didn’t mean they didn’t get a lift or tuck, but it was all meant to look timeless. Ageless.
Not like the train wreck in front of me now, who had obviously taken her beauty cues from the porn industry. So sad.
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” I said, my pensive coming out more than my sass, “he’s all yours.” Then I stepped aside in time to see Patrick walking up to us with two drinks in hand. I grabbed my clutch off the table.
“Sorry it took so long, baby girl. The line was forever!” His eyes moved toward my handbag. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Huh,” the woman huffed. “Looks like you’re trying to collect all the hot men tonight. Take yours and back off of mine!”
Kyle grabbed her by the upper arm and practically growled in her face, “Damn it, Yasmine, we are not together. You asked me to accompany you tonight as a favor and that’s it.”
Patrick put the drinks down and came over to me, wrapping his arm around me. “You okay?”
“She’s fine ,” Kyle spat out, “and we were in the middle of a private discussion.”
“I’m not fine,” I retorted, glaring back at him, “but I am done.” Then, turning back to Patrick, I said, “I’ve got to go, sweetie. I’m sorry.”
His face immediately softened. “Sam…”
I plastered on a fake smile, which I just knew didn’t reach my eyes. “Everything’s fine, Trick. Really.” I was trying too hard and it showed. So I sighed, gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll call you later.”
And without looking at Kyle or the divorcée or anyone else in the eye, I bolted straight for the exit. I could hear Kyle calling for me, but I didn’t look back. My hands slammed onto the metal handles of the double doors, and, as soon as they opened, I was practically blown sideways by a harsh, cold wind. Luckily the doors emptied right by a cabstand, and I was immediately whisked off, back over the Key Bridge and home to the place that had become both my salvation and my prison.
Chapter Six
Out with Henry. Don’t wait up! Insert squeaky girly noise here. :-)
See ya
He shoved his fingers in his luscious, silky chestnut hair, looking as if he was ready to pull it out by the roots. Kyle expelled a harsh breath and then surprised me once again by reaching for me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I tried to push him back with my hands, but he was like a marble statue. Immobile and unyielding.
“Fucked up with you, Samantha,” he muttered, resting his lips on the top of my hair. “Shouldn’t have left the way I did after the night we had together.”
My hands, which had been on his chest in an attempt to get him away, now balled up into fists, my eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to quell my reaction to his small confession.
In a soft voice, I asked, “So why did you?”
He pulled away from me, and just as he opened his mouth to respond, I heard a woman’s voice. A really peeved and whiny woman’s voice.
“ Kyle , what the hell are you doing over here with that woman?”
I whipped my head around to see the same woman I had seen with him on TV. His latest divorce client. She had one hand on her hip, jutted out to the side in an exaggerated manner, with eyes turned into laser-focused slits, looking up and down the length of me. Her dress was definitely a size too small and her silicon-enhanced breasts were about to make an escape out of her deep V. She was also just a shade lighter than Willy Wonka Oompa Loompa Orange. It was a shame because the woman was actually very pretty and didn’t need the whole Real Housewives tacky franchise look. It was also obvious that she wasn’t a longtime DC resident either, because the women of the area didn’t dress like her. They were into subtle elegance. Didn’t mean they didn’t get a lift or tuck, but it was all meant to look timeless. Ageless.
Not like the train wreck in front of me now, who had obviously taken her beauty cues from the porn industry. So sad.
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” I said, my pensive coming out more than my sass, “he’s all yours.” Then I stepped aside in time to see Patrick walking up to us with two drinks in hand. I grabbed my clutch off the table.
“Sorry it took so long, baby girl. The line was forever!” His eyes moved toward my handbag. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Huh,” the woman huffed. “Looks like you’re trying to collect all the hot men tonight. Take yours and back off of mine!”
Kyle grabbed her by the upper arm and practically growled in her face, “Damn it, Yasmine, we are not together. You asked me to accompany you tonight as a favor and that’s it.”
Patrick put the drinks down and came over to me, wrapping his arm around me. “You okay?”
“She’s fine ,” Kyle spat out, “and we were in the middle of a private discussion.”
“I’m not fine,” I retorted, glaring back at him, “but I am done.” Then, turning back to Patrick, I said, “I’ve got to go, sweetie. I’m sorry.”
His face immediately softened. “Sam…”
I plastered on a fake smile, which I just knew didn’t reach my eyes. “Everything’s fine, Trick. Really.” I was trying too hard and it showed. So I sighed, gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll call you later.”
And without looking at Kyle or the divorcée or anyone else in the eye, I bolted straight for the exit. I could hear Kyle calling for me, but I didn’t look back. My hands slammed onto the metal handles of the double doors, and, as soon as they opened, I was practically blown sideways by a harsh, cold wind. Luckily the doors emptied right by a cabstand, and I was immediately whisked off, back over the Key Bridge and home to the place that had become both my salvation and my prison.
Chapter Six
Out with Henry. Don’t wait up! Insert squeaky girly noise here. :-)
See ya
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