Theirs to Play by Kenya Wright Page A

because it sounds more like you’re spying on me than worried about my well-being. I already have a rich guy stalking me. I don’t need anymore.”
    He moved in closer. “Dinner, please. I promise to behave. Come on. You have to be hungry and at the least curious about why I’m here.”
    I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why are you here, Freddy?”
    He tilted my way. “Say my nick name again, please.”
    I couldn’t help myself. “Freddy.”
    He trapped my lips to his, taking his time with his tongue and sucking in the right moments. Kids giggled. A few adults gasped. I jumped back with my mouth open and eyes wide.
    Of course, Freddy has me doing things without thinking. You sneaky man.
    “Leave.” The word came out more shaky than I intended.
    “No.”
    “This is a library. You can’t just make out with me in here.”
    He dragged his gaze all over my body. “If you don’t leave with me right now, I’m going to pick you up and take you on this table.”
    “There are kids around.”
    “Then if you don’t leave with me, you’ll be traumatizing them because I can’t control myself. Just dinner for one hour, nothing else. I’ll bring you back here and won’t bother you anymore today.”
    “Just dinner.” I gathered up my books. “Nothing else.”
    Freddy moved my hands away. “My guy can do this for you. Let’s go.”
    The black man appeared again and began picking up each book. God, this is probably a big mistake. Freddy and I walked off. A limo waited outside. The driver opened the door and gestured for us to come in. Freddy waited for me to get in, before following.
    “So do you want to know why I’m here?” Freddy asked.
    “Yes.”
    “I registered for Miami Culinary Institute. I’ll be starting in the fall.” He nudged my arm and chuckled. “I guess we’ll both need to study in the library this summer, right?”
    “Very funny. Are you serious?”
    “Yes.”
    I smirked. “I’m not interested in playing more games. I’m serious.”
    “Me too. I thought about what you said. Why not learn how to cook? I love doing it and go crazy when the chef let’s me in the kitchen.”
    “Let’s you?”
    “Chef Michel is a God to culinary arts. He’s the only one on that yacht that can boss me around. If he says leave the kitchen, I’m out of there and won’t return until he says its okay.”
    He leaned down and grabbed a huge binder next to his foot. “Look at this.”
    I read the page. It was a welcome letter from the Miami Culinary Institute. I glanced at his name and then handed the paper back to him. “If this is true, then I’m excited for you. It’s going to be a lot of fun.”
    He played with the strands of hair outlining the side of my face and slipped his fingers around the curves, twirling my hair around his finger. “If this is true? You still don’t believe that the game has ended.”
    He stared at my hair, instead of me.
    “I bet you’ve played these types of mental games before. Why would I think that this is real?”
    “Because I’m telling you it is.”
    “I don’t know. How can I trust you? I bet every women that fell for you thought you were telling the truth too.”
    Letting go of my hair, he turned away, but didn’t look defeated. “Eventually, you’ll believe me. We have nothing but time.”
    “Oh really? You think I’m going to give you my time?”
    “Most definitely.” He rubbed his hands together. “How do you feel about leaving the country this weekend? I want to show you something. Have you ever skied? You’ll need to pack for three days.”
    Again, he shocked me. I blinked a few times. “I’m not just going to leave the country with you this weekend.”
    “You’ve already gone to Cuba with me. Why not let me take you on a surprise?”
    “Because I’m still suspicious of you. What is this, Freddy? What are you trying to gain from taking me out?”
    “I want to spend time with you.”
    “Why?”
    “Because you’re all I think