Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Sweetheart, would you just make a move?”
Kennedi glanced up from studying the chessboard. “Pop, I’m thinking.” Any move would expose her king. “I don’t know how I always manage to get stuck.”
Thunder and lightning roiled and danced through the pelting rain outside the window. Checking her watch, she saw that seven o’clock was fast approaching. Her meeting with Trenton for their conference call with the investors would begin at eight thirty sharp. It would take at least an hour to get to his place, not considering the storm adding to the travel time.
Be on time. She could hear him now, and that rebellious part of her considered, for a moment, purposely strolling in late. But this wasn’t about Trenton and his bossy ass. It was about returning her father’s company to good health. These investors could help make that happen.
She pushed back from the table. “Pop, we’ll have to finish this next time.”
“You’re leaving already? We haven’t had dinner. We always have dinner.”
Not always, but there was no point in disputing it. “I’m due on a call with investors to discuss the Miami and Hong Kong deal that you started. In the case of Miami, is there anything I should know that would help me explain the shortfall?” She studied him as he got up and retied his thick black bathrobe while moving to the sink for a glass of water.
He gave a look at her over his shoulder, then turned to face her, a strain of tension crinkling his forehead. “I’m not much help in these areas.” Padding over to her in his black cotton ankle socks, he enveloped her in a comforting hug. “You’ll do fine. It’s picking up out there. Drive carefully, my angel.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“The blueberry scones. You’ll bring a fresh batch from the boutique?”
Aside from a few boxes left behind that she needed to pick up, Chase Confections was no more. Her heart heavy, she forced a smile. “Yes, of course.”
Idling at the red light, Kennedi watched pedestrians hurrying along in the beating downpour. Her attention shifted to the sidewalk where a young couple suddenly stopped walking and came in intimately close. They started kissing. Not a peck, but a deeply passionate joining of tongues, heads angling, nipping, licking, devouring as if their very being in that moment rested on that kiss.
Wow! Talk about hot. The man’s hands went into her well-soaked hair. Her arms snaked around his neck, both of them completely undaunted by the pounding wind and rain. The kiss suddenly ended just as fast as it had begun, and hand in hand, huddled close, they continued their path onward.
They’d likely go home and make love all night long with the storm’s symphony beating against their window. How romantic. The happy couple.
She thought of Trenton, and their intimate, breathless, sweaty, hip-to-hip, lips-smashed-and-tongues-mating-greedily-until-dawn-broke-their-rhythm night of passion. It’d been magnificent. Though they hadn’t pinned the traditional labels to it, she was pretty certain they were starting down the relationship path, one she hadn’t traveled for quite some time. Was she ready for it, and all the messy bits that usually came with it?
The car horn from behind startled her out of her musings. Driving on, her mind still in a fog of thoughts, she didn’t see the large pothole. The car jolted, narrowly missing a Capital Bikeshare guardrail. The right passenger side wobbled. “Shit.”
She pulled over, grabbed the umbrella and got out to assess the damage.
“Just great.” The front passenger tire had pancaked. A sudden gust of wind and rain caught hold, whipping the umbrella inside out. After a pointless struggle with the damn thing, she claimed defeat, freeing herself from its grasp. She rushed back inside the car and cranked the heat to combat the shivers, snatching tissues from her purse to dry her face. It was just about the worst day for this to happen. “Damn it all.”
Giving a look in the rearview mirror, she saw heavily drenched coils drooping over her forehead and shoulders. The navy-blue rayon and spandex dress clung to her skin. Her black leather pumps swooshed around on her soaked feet. Damn unpredictable D.C. weather. Just that afternoon, people were congregating on the National Mall, basking in the sunny, balmy day. Tonight, she sat soaked through her new Victoria’s Secret black lace bra and panties.
Closing her eyes, dog-tired, she gripped the steering wheel and slumped her cool forehead upon the backs of her hands. A hot shower and comfy sheets after a long day—was that asking too much following her meeting with Trenton? Her stomach growled, a blatant reminder that her last meal, which had consisted of plain Greek yogurt and strawberries, had long since burned off.
Seven forty-three. Looking around, she saw she’d made it a little over three miles out from Trenton’s place. Her attempt to show up early wouldn’t happen, and she’d surely be late for their meeting now. Might as well let him know it. Braced for a battle, she pulled up his number on her car’s Bluetooth. The line picked up after the first ring.
“You’re going to be late,” he reeled off.
Though his tone was level, she’d prepped for an argument and didn’t cage the beast. “Yes, but it’s not my fault, so before you decide to take an attitude with me, don’t. Because I’m tired, soaking wet, and not in the mood.” Clicking on the emergency flashers, she fished around in her purse for the number of roadside assistance. “There’s no way I’ll get there by eight thirty. Have the meeting without me.”
“Why are you soaking wet, Kennedi?”
The double entendre of those words cut through the haze of her irritation as a warm streak ran through her from head to toe. “It’s raining, or haven’t you noticed?” she said, voice clipped, then sighed for calm. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. I have a flat tire.”
“Where are you?”
“Not far, but far enough that I won’t make it. Like I said, have the meeting without me.”
“Kennedi, where?”
“On South Capitol Street, just shy of Nat’s Ballpark, so not far, but—”
“I’m on my way.” The line disconnected.
Well, that went a bit better than expected. He sounded surprisingly calm, a complete one-eighty from the morning.
She looked around. Except for the occasional swiftly bustling vehicles, the area was otherwise quiet. She spent the time trying to read over her notes for the conference call under the front interior dome light and hoped she and Trenton would be able to convince the investors to come on board. Everything was riding on it for her.
The rap on the glass gave her a start. It took a moment to swallow the knot that jumped in her throat before bringing into focus the figure standing beneath the dark umbrella beside her driver’s side door. He leaned in. Trenton. She brought down the window. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” It came out gruffer than intended, still working through her jolt of alarm. “How’d you get here so fast?”
“I was on my way home when you called.” He surveyed her vehicle. Rain gushed down, and wind beat at his suit coat as he strode to the passenger side and gave a look, then returned.
“I don’t have a spare.”
He frowned. “You don’t have a spare? Why not?” Before she could answer, he pulled open the car door. “Come.”
“What about my car? I can’t leave it. It’ll get towed for sure in this area.”
“Get your things. I’ll see to your car.” He whipped out his cell phone.
She turned off the flashers, grabbed her purse and portfolio, got out and hit the key remote lock. He quickly ushered her to the idling car where his driver stood beneath an umbrella at the opened rear passenger door. Trenton all but pushed her inside and followed as he spoke on his phone. Tossing his umbrella on the floor, he ran fingers through his wet hair and swept a hand down his face.
“Who did you call?” The car started moving. “Wait!” She looked out the window and shifted to the edge of the seat. “Trenton, I said I can’t leave my car.”
“Relax. I called my mechanic. He’ll take care of it and have it brought to my place.” He answered his ringing cell phone without preamble, “I have to reschedule the call. I’m aware of the repercussions, Vin. No, I told you I want to be present for the discussion. I know that but… Yes, I expected she’ll want to adjust the terms. It’s how she retaliates. Just reschedule the call.” He disconnected.
She? Kennedi wondered who the unreasonable woman was that he’d been scheduled for a conference call. Whatever the purpose for his meeting, having to postpone brought a severe crinkle to his smooth brow. “You didn’t have to come to get me, especially if it interfered with the meeting you had tonight.”
His lips pursed, but before he could speak his cell phone rang again. She relaxed against the comfortable leather seat and listened to his side of the conversation as he talked about financial projections and stock matters with the other party, nothing of real interest to her. The call ended just as they pulled into the garage beneath his apartment building and came to a stop a few steps from the elevator. They got out, and the ride up took them to the top floor that opened before the familiar set of glossy black double doors.
She followed him inside and set her purse and portfolio upon the glass side console. Their gazes seemed in sync, drawn to the right wall where they’d practically fucked their brains out that night. Her teeth chattered from the sudden warm chill brought on by the memory of being pinned by his big body, combined with the soaked-through clothes clinging to her skin.
“I’ll be right back.” He quickly took the three steps down into the spacious open floor plan, crossed it and went up the floating staircase.
She followed but remained in the living room. Giving a look around, she took in the dark hardwood floors, gray walls, tone-on-tone gray furnishings and heavy, dark polished wood tables. Large, tasteful photography artwork hung where appropriate on the walls. Across the room, stainless-steel appliances and dark wood cabinetry marked the kitchen. The décor was evidence of his bachelorhood and especially to his lack of design skills—there were no female touches. She unexpectedly found that pleasing.
“Here you go.”
She turned to see him padding in his bare feet down the stairs carrying a bundle under his arm. He’d changed out of his suit. Arms, chest, and thighs bulged beneath a white T-shirt and lightweight gray sweatpants. Man, oh man, the guy had such a great physique. And was a great kisser. And amazing in bed…
“This is about the best I could do.”
Shaking herself loose from the sudden desire to ride that massive part of him that surfaced at the forefront of her brain, she took the bundle and wrapped her wet hair in the T-shirt, then draped the towel at her shoulders. “This is all I need. Thanks.”
His head slanted, stare quizzical. “The shirt was meant for you to wear…unless you intend to wear the towel. Not that I’m opposed.”
Tilting her head, mirroring him, she returned a small smile. “Am I the first black woman you’ve da…had in your home?” That label. Here she was, a strong, independent woman, yet in that moment she felt like an insecure teen, wanting him to be the first to say they were dating.
“You’re the first I’ve had to rescue out of the rain with a flat tire.” He grinned.
She smiled back. “The T-shirt fabric is gentler on my hair.”
“Kennedi, you’ll catch cold if you keep on those wet clothes. Look at you—you’re shivering.”
“That’s because you have the air-conditioning blasting below zero in here.”
“The person who cleans my place must have adjusted the temperature. She tends to like it cold.” He stepped over to a digital pad sitting on a side table, made a few quick taps upon it and the air-conditioning shut off while the fire glass that reflected like diamonds within the stone hearth roiled, quickly offering warmth. He handed over the boxers, then took from his pocket a small white pouch. “I believe these are yours.”
Opening the drawstring, she pulled out a pair of pink satin panties. The man had taken her underwear and had it laundered, no less. “Panties. So that’s your thing?”
“I’ll get you another shirt. You know the bathroom’s in the entryway on the left. Or you’re welcome to change in one of the bedrooms upstairs. I’ll hang your clothes in the laundry room.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ll need to dial in when I return.”
Dashing off to the entryway, she scooped her purse off the table before stepping into the bathroom. Getting a look at herself in the mirror, her hair had turned into a damp, frizzy bird’s nest. She dug out her comb but decided to try and salvage what was left of her two-strand twist-out, finger-combing the thick mane and quickly gathering it into a pineapple atop her head.
A tap came at the door. “Yes?”
“Give me your wet clothes.”
She peeled out of the dress, opened the door a crack, and they made an exchange.
“Your bra and panties also…unless you’re not wearing any.” A hint of amusement played in those gray-blue eyes.
“Of course I’m wearing them.” She glowered, feigning annoyance, though it hadn’t been lost on her that he’d avoided her earlier questions about his little panty fetish. “I’m good.”
“Kennedi, either you take them off and put on the dry pair I gave you or I’ll do it for you.”
No humor that time. “Fine.” She stripped and stuck the black lace set through the small opening and closed the door.
“I’ll dry them.”
“No, they hang dry.” Hearing his light footsteps fade, she took a moment to respond to a group text from Evie and Tabitha—their nightly hello check-in while Tabitha was still away visiting her family—then slipped on the panties. The T-shirt just about swallowed her up, and the boxers slid down her legs. Giving up, she gathered everything and stepped out.
Trenton wasn’t back in the living room. Placing the bundle on the barstool at the kitchen island, she padded over to the terrace windows. They gave a gorgeous picturesque view of the city lights across the river. Strolling about the room, the large photographs hanging on the wall behind frameless glass were breathtaking. Brilliant sunsets. Ocean waves at perfect crests. Cityscapes catching shadows at dusk. Each image captured just the right amount of light. A door creaked. She turned her head to find Trenton exiting the glass French doors of a room that appeared to be an office. His stride drew up short, his gaze transfixed on her across the wide space.
She glanced down at herself and ran a hand over her frizzy upswept hairdo. “What?”
“You in my shirt, your hair arranged like that, bare feet. I like that look on you.”
She didn’t feel attractive by any stretch, yet he eyed her like she wore the hottest lingerie. “The boxers were a fail.”
“I figured as much.” Fanning a hand toward the office, he said while walking off, “They’re waiting.”
Her eyes widened. Anxiety squeezed in her chest. She jerked a look down at herself again. “My dress isn’t dry. I can’t meet them looking like this.”
“It’s not a video conference.”
“Oh. Right. Wait, I need my notes.” She hurried off to the foyer for her portfolio, then met him in his office. Seated behind a big, black distressed-wood desk, he gestured with a nod at the black leather chair stationed before it and tapped the button on the landline phone.
“Good evening, everyone.” He jumped right in. “As stated in the proposals you all received, Shaw Enterprise is now partnering with Chase Investments. Kennedi Chase, President of Chase, is here on the call with us.” He looked her way.
“Good evening.” There was a quick sound-off of salutations in return from the group.
She started taking notes and jotting questions as Trenton picked up the discussion, saying, “We all will win big.”
“Yes, the numbers in these projections look very promising. And Trenton, I appreciate Shaw Enterprise acting in good faith by making Hagen Group whole from the previous deal,” Leonard Hagen remarked.
“I second that,” Jon Anders of Anders and Lockwell Corp. added.
Kennedi’s eyes just about bugged out of their sockets. She had no idea Trenton had done that. He in essence had set Chase free and clear of the debt.
Staring at him in utter astonishment as he skillfully volleyed the negotiations back and forth, appreciation filled her chest to bursting.
He looked up from his papers. “Kennedi, do you agree?”
She blinked, having lost track of the talks, in complete admiring awe of him. Damn it. So unprofessional. “I’m sorry?” He pointed to the document in her hand. “The overhead cost strategy. The first year and a half are substantial but will balance by the beginning of year three.”
“Yes, I agree. After which, there will be a need to transfer those costs to other areas such as maintenance and upkeep.” She went on to explain other areas where expenses would level and switch over to profit. No one disputed her projections, and they continued discussing the numbers.
Trenton cut a small smile at her, and she soaked up his approval like her mom’s delicious cinnamon biscuits with maple syrup, realizing how much it meant to her.
A little over two hours later, the group verbally accepted the terms with a few changes, and the call came to a close.
Smiling, she sat back and released the weighted pressure in her chest, feeling she could finally breathe again. Across the desk, Trenton was scribbling on his papers. “Trenton?”
“Just a minute.”
She used the time to make a few notes of her own, relieved the meeting went far better than she’d expected.
“Kennedi?”
She looked up to find him holding out a document to her. “What’s this?”
“Read it.”
Within the first few sentences her head sprang up, her chest seized tight. “Is this a joke? Because if it is, it’s downright cruel.”
He sat forward, fingers linked upon the papers in front of him. “I rarely joke when it comes to business. I’d like to offer you space at my hotel and casino to reopen your store. The location is big enough to have a coffee lounge area with electronic device plug-in capability, and of course, Wi-Fi. You’d be tied in to Shaw clientele, which could help to grow your custom cakes side of the business. There would be an outside entrance. This way your patrons wouldn’t have to enter the casino to gain access to Chase Confections.” He came to his feet. “It’s all written in the agreement. If what’s there interests you, have your attorney review it and get back to me by this time next week. I’ll need signatures. My August first construction start date is set. The docs must be filed beforehand.”
Staring at him, bowled over, a jumble of emotions struck her. Shock, joy, and relief scorched the back of her throat, but she forced the feelings away to mimic his all-business attitude. “I’m interested. I’ll have my attorney take a look.”
A faint nod, then he left the room to catch his ringing cell phone over in the living room.
She placed the papers on the desk, completely overwhelmed by his generosity. He’d bailed out her father’s company, paid her balloon note, and now offered her a storefront. Granted, he’d been the one to strip it away from her in the first place. Not completely true. The bank would’ve taken it had he not paid off the balloon note. Now she’d get to stay on the Wharf, within mere steps of where her mom first opened Chase Confections’s doors. It was all simply too good to be true.
He was too good to be true. She’d been so wrong about him and had to swallow deep breaths to fight the squall of tears trying to crest, her happiness so profound, the feeling seeped all the way down to her marrow. For the first time in a very long time she felt a tremendous, crippling weight leave her shoulders. And all because of Trenton Shaw.
Over at the kitchen’s dark marble island he stood filling two glasses with red wine, then came forward and handed one to her. Staring up into those radiant gray eyes tinged with blue, she wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his remarkably soft lips. “Thank you…for everything. Regarding the investors’ acceptance of the proposal, I hadn’t expected it to go so smoothly.”
“I’d had prelim talks with them. Considering your father’s mismanagement, they wanted to meet you, the new, permanent CEO of Chase to gain reassurance before giving a final yes.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in irritation that he’d kept that very important tidbit from her. But it only lasted a second. “I thought we were partners. Shouldn’t you have let me know that you’d pretty much sealed the deal?”
Shrugging a muscled shoulder, he rotated and crossed the room to the couch. “I needed you on your game. I knew you could handle it.”
She stood there staring at the back of his head as he scooped the TV remote from the center table. A small part of her wanted to argue the point, but given the outcome of the meeting she let it go. “I’ll get out of your hair once my clothes dry.”
“Until then, come have a seat.” His cell phone, resting on the side table, chimed a text. She noted that he swiped the message away into delete oblivion without reading, then set it back where it’d been.
“I like your pictures. Who’s your photographer?”
“Dom.”
Kennedi paused on her stride forward. “Really?” He nodded. “They’re really beautiful.”
Placing her glass on the center table, she settled into the deep cushions, curled her legs up and dragged the plush black throw blanket off the back of the couch. Her knee brushed his thigh and he shifted away, hemming himself against the corner armrest.
Oookay, that was peculiar.
His reaction stung a little. She didn’t know what to make of it. In contrast, heat surged up her thigh, and her sex clenched, but she dialed back the desire.
After watching him fly past a host of decent TV shows, she took the remote. “Let’s watch 'Peaky Blinders.'” His dark brow lifted. Damn if that expression didn’t always make him look even more devilishly handsome.
“Peaky what?”
“It’s a show about gangsters post-World War II. I’ve seen the series, but I’ll start you off at the first episode. You’ll love it.” Pulling her gaze from his, she turned on the program. They settled in to the show while easily finishing off the bottle of wine and started in on a second one.
As he sat wedged into the corner of the couch, there was a coldness, a barrier he’d erected, one she could see he didn’t want her to cross. His behavior was the polar opposite of the night before. Mixed signals. Had she been wrong about where things stood between them?
As they started in on episode two, her eyelids drooped. She’d been up since five a.m. Looking at him, his attention fixed on the flat screen, he appeared enraptured in the TV series, wide awake, all in. “Why haven’t we heard from your mechanic?”
“Hmm?” His head angled in her direction, but his eyes stayed focused on the flat screen. “Right, I’ll give him a call.” Pausing the show, he grabbed his phone as well as the empty wineglasses and went into the kitchen.
She stretched out beneath the warmth of the blanket. I’ll just close my eyes until he returns.
Trenton came back to the couch. Kennedi lay sound asleep. He considered carrying her upstairs to one of the bedrooms but thought better of it.
Her car was in the garage; he needed to wake her. Instead, he found himself easing down at the corner of the couch, slouched against the throw pillows at the armrest. He brought her head upon his lap. Eyes closed, she squirmed up into a snuggled ball close to his chest and murmured what sounded like “Yes,” on a gust of a sigh. The woman took on so much. He admired her strength, her determination, her perseverance.
He shifted her enough to slide his left leg against the backrest and stretched out his frame along hers, situating them together within the limited confines. One smooth thigh came up and rode his hip. An arm circled his waist. Her cheek rested in the crook of his shoulder. The soft pillow of her breasts pressed against his chest in time with each expressed exhale.
When he was certain she’d fallen into a deep slumber and wouldn’t stir, he pressed a kiss featherlight upon her forehead. Holding her in his arms, contentment washed over him. For in the moment, he allowed himself the pretense that they were a regular couple curled up on the couch on a rainy Wednesday night.
I love her. It was as simple as those three words. But he wasn’t in a position to fully have her. Stealing a few precious minutes cradling her close would have to be enough for now.
He lowered the volume and took the show off pause.