Other People's Business. Pamela YayeЧитать онлайн книгу.
had been overjoyed when she had discovered her daughter was dating one. A shiver whizzed up Autumn’s spine. She could only imagine what Evelyn would do when she returned home and learned the truth.
“I can understand that,” Yvette conceded, “but if that’s all you want—someone to take you to nice places and foot the bill—then stay with him. But if you want a lasting relationship with a man who’s going to be there every step of the way, quit wasting your time with Tyrell.”
“For months now, I’ve been the one fighting for this relationship. I did the calling, I planned the dates and I was the one making sacrifices so we could spend time together. And for what? So Tyrell could bail on me when I need him the most? He’s not the right man for me and I can see that now.” When Yvette raised her eyebrows and crinkled her nose, Autumn insisted, “I’m serious this time. It’s over.”
“We’ll see,” Yvette said distrustfully, “because Lord knows I’ve heard that one before.”
The chalk-white tent, outfitted with drapery, opulent ceiling fans and shiny brass chandeliers, lent an air of glamour to the event. Twenty round tables, each seating ten, were dressed in white tablecloths, gold napkins and heart-shape flower arrangements. Three sphere-shape gold candles sat on flat mirrors on each table, reflecting light throughout the tent.
Peeking through the curtain, Autumn couldn’t help thinking the evening looked more like a wedding reception than a dinner party for the engaged couple. Well-dressed guests seated on lawn chairs were listening to the colorful banter of Edgar Grisbey, awaiting the arrival of the bridal party.
Autumn turned back around and checked her impulse to laugh. Mrs. Grisbey was fussing all over her adult daughter as if it was her first day of preschool and Melissa was eating it up.
“Your father is going to conclude his address by thanking everyone for coming and then he’ll introduce the bridal party.” Mrs. Grisbey adjusted the ultra-thin straps of her daughter’s topaz chiffon dress. “Walk in with your head high, your back slightly curved and don’t forget to smile at the photographers. Now, where is everyone?”
Melissa fluffed her hair. “The girls went to freshen up and the guys ducked into the game room. But Peter promised they would be right back.” Right on cue, Melissa’s fiancé, Peter, and a half dozen men of varying shades and heights emerged from the rear patio door.
“I’m going to give them some final instructions.” Mrs. Grisbey rushed over to the all-male group.
Shante, Melissa’s cousin and a bridesmaid, pointed a lengthy, acrylic nail straight ahead. “Now here comes a piece of chocolate I wouldn’t mind tasting. Hot damn! That brother has the most kissable lips I’ve ever seen,” she finished, low murmuring sounds further emphasizing her point. Then, she turned to her cousin. “Who is that and why haven’t I been introduced?”
Melissa stared at the posse of black men that had encircled her mother. “You need to be more specific, Shante. There are a dozen pieces of ‘chocolate’ over there,” she joked, laughing lightly.
“The bald hottie in the tan suit.” She added with a toothy grin, “The one with all those muscles, the wide strapping shoulders and the tight, brick-hard butt.”
Autumn tried not to gape. Not only was the hunky stranger a walking billboard for GQ but he also had a smile that could melt the wax off a slow-burning candle in the blink of an eye. Mr. Tan Suit can light my fire any day of the week! Autumn felt her face warm. It was bad enough she was openly lusting, she didn’t want to add swooning to the equation, too, so she forced her eyes to look away.
Yvette whistled. “Now, that’s what I call fine. Long limbs, heavy lips and a body so hot it could thaw a block of butter. Yum-m-y.”
Autumn chuckled. Sometimes Yvette was just too much. She kept her voice natural and her facial expression non-chlant when she asked Melissa who the stranger was. “Is he one of Peter’s co-workers? A family friend? A distant relative or something?”
A self-righteous smile curved Melissa’s lips. Autumn was trying to appear uninterested, but desire shone clear in her eyes. Melissa turned from her cousin to her best friend. “Remember last week when you said no to a blind date with the best man?”
“Yeah…” Autumn murmured.
“That’s him. Peter’s best man, Larry,” Melissa explained slyly.
“Larry?” Autumn and Yvette bellowed in unison.
“That’s the guy you were trying to hook Autumn up with?” Yvette asked dubiously. “The country bamma from Mississippi?”
Melissa looked as though she wanted to laugh. “The one and only. Now, pick your jaw up from off the pavement, put your eyes back in your head and smile, Autumn. Here he comes.”
Autumn gathered her wits about her. She tightened her slack jaw, smoothed the creases out of her cheeks and plastered what she thought was a welcoming smile on her face. She could do this. He was just a man. An incredibly gorgeous man whose very presence suddenly made her very nervous. But still just a man.
“Ready to make your grand entrance?” Peter asked, kissing his bride-to-be.
Melissa twined her arms around his slim torso. “I’m ready now that you’re here.”
Shante looked on in amazement as the ridiculously happy couple retreated to a just-the-two-of-us world. They hugged and kissed and whispered as though they were alone in their bedroom, rather than among family and friends. Shante straightened her slinky black dress. She didn’t have time to wait for the lovebirds to sober up and make the necessary introductions. There was no telling when they would resurface from their fantasy world, and time was of the essence. She had to make a move on the Jet centerfold before Autumn sank her claws into him. A year ago, Little Miss Perfect had swiped Tyrell right out from underneath her. But not this time. She refused to be outshone and outsmarted again.
Shante raked a hand through her waist-length hair, flashing a sly smile the stranger’s way. She took a bold step forward, primed to fire off her best pickup line. But before she could part her lips, he focused his eyes on Autumn, and asked, “Did you make it home okay this afternoon?”
The sound of his husky, late-night voice snapped Autumn’s mind to attention. “Excuse me?”
He smiled, revealing perfectly straight teeth. “I can’t believe the fifteen minutes we spent together meant absolutely nothing to you.” His hundred-watt smile dimmed. Then he threw his left hand over his chest and grinned mischievously. “I’m hurt by how little you care.”
Autumn exchanged a baffled look with Yvette.
“You’ve met?” Melissa inquired, suddenly interested in their exchange. “How come you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t know we had.”
“I guess our brief meeting meant more to me than it did to you,” Larry said, taking off his sunglasses. “I never forget a face, especially one as pretty as yours.”
Autumn gave him the once-over, staggered by her intense reaction to him. She had never been this taken with a man before. Never. She couldn’t remember the last time she had agreed with Shante, but there was no disputing the man-eater’s claim—the man had kissable lips. Autumn was nothing if not disciplined, and in the three years she had been celibate, she had never once stumbled. But than again, Autumn had never met a man who made her body shake, rattle and roll with just one smile. His bedroom eyes taunted her and his sultry five o’clock shadow made her heart do the cha-cha. He had the kind of extraordinarily long eyelashes that drag queens would kill for, and his brown coloring reminded Autumn of caramel—rich, smooth and creamy.
Autumn flipped through her mental address file of all the men she had met recently and came up blank. No Ebony Hunk. It wasn’t possible that they had met and she couldn’t remember. He wasn’t the type of man a woman forgot. Her eyes lingered on his lips. She could just feel the heat of his mouth as his lips blazed a trail from her neck to her breasts.