Seduced by Moonlight (8 page)

“You were?” Cherisse asked with a bit of an awestruck tone to her voice.

“I was,” Harry confirmed. “Now that there's nothing standing in our way, don't go inventing obstacles. Whose business is it if we date?”

“It's nobody's,” Cherisse said. She wanted to believe that once the media learned Harry—who was a celebrity in Denver and Vail because not only was he a renowned ex-Bronco but he also owned one of the most successful businesses in this part of Colorado—was going out with the mother of the young woman he'd agreed to back in the 2010 Winter Olympics they would not put a salacious spin on it.

The news wasn't what it used to be. You used to be able to turn on your TV and hear serious news reported by serious journalists. Some of today's news networks thrived on rumor and innuendo. Entertainment in the form of gossip obviously helped pay the bills.

But looking up at Harry, Cherisse decided she was willing to risk it. Honestly, it could go either way: she and Harry could be left alone by the media or the media could fall on them like ravenous wolves. Either way, perhaps they would have something so good between them that they would be able to weather the storm.

“That's right,” Harry said, pulling her closer against him. “It's nobody's business except ours.”

For the remainder of the song, they seemed to float together on the dance floor, eyes locked, with contented smiles on their faces. Two minutes after the Delacroix Brothers finished “Embraceable You” and “It Had to Be You” and announced to their audience that they were taking a five-minute break and everyone else cleared the dance floor, Davis Winters called out, “Um, Harry, in case you hadn't noticed, the music's stopped!”

Cherisse and Harry hurried off the dance floor amid good-natured laughter from all present. “Thank you, Davis,” Harry said.

“Just looking out for you,” Davis said, laughing.

Cherisse blushed to her ears. “Let's get out of here.”

“I was about to suggest that,” Harry whispered.

They went back to their table where Cherisse collected her clutch and her wrap and they walked hand in hand from the restaurant.

Once they were clear of prying eyes, Harry wrapped his arm about her waist, pulling her close to his side. “How would you like to sit by the fire and listen to music while sipping a cup of tea?”

Cherisse smiled at him. “I'd love to.”

Harry's suite was the largest space in the hotel. Like the new condominiums it had two thousand feet of living area. On the top floor, it had the appearance of a loft. Very few walls and miles of hardwood floors with expensive carpets placed strategically around the suite.

Masculine furnishings with muscle, big overstuffed couches and chairs in earth tones accented with rich woods. Once Harry ushered Cherisse into the suite he insisted that she take her shoes off and get comfortable on the couch in front of the fireplace.

He removed his jacket and went to light the fire in the fireplace. This done, he turned to smile at Cherisse and found her looking at him intently. She had taken off her shoes and was sitting on the couch with her feet tucked under her. She would have been embarrassed to admit what she'd been thinking while she had watched him bend over to light the fireplace. Harry Payne had a great butt! In fact, in his shirt-sleeves with the muscles of his arms and chest and stomach easily delineated, and the muscles of his legs and thighs working underneath his dress slacks, he was a treat to behold.

Harry didn't have to ask what she had been thinking. He could see the mischievous glint in her eyes and guessed she'd been checking out his backside. She was a healthy, red-blooded girl, after all.

“Celestial Seasonings tea,” he said. “We get it by the truckload. What kind do you like?”

“Peppermint,” Cherisse told him. “It's good of you to patronize a Denver business.”

“I try to use local businesses as much as possible,” said Harry while strolling over to the entertainment center to select a CD. He picked up one of his favorites. “Do you like Taj Mahal?”

Cherisse looked perplexed. “I'm always open to new artists.”

Harry laughed softly. “He's been around for more than thirty years. He has a kind of rock/blues/country sound. Have you ever heard of Keb' Mo'?”

“Yeah, I have most of his CDs,” Cherisse said.

“Well, now you get to listen to one of the artists who inspired Kevin Moore, otherwise known as Keb' Mo'.”

He put the CD on and soon the sound of a blues guitar filled the air. Taj Mahal launched into “Statesboro Blues,” which had some very funky guitar riffs in it. Cherisse sat back and enjoyed while Harry went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

A few minutes later, he returned with two piping hot cups of peppermint tea sweetened with honey and handed Cherisse one of them.

By this time Taj Mahal was singing “She Caught the Katy and Left Me a Mule to Ride” about his woman leaving on the train and his following behind trying to convince her to come back to him.

Harry sat beside Cherisse. “What do you think?”

“I like him,” she said with a smile. “He sings with a lot of emotion in his voice. I believe him when he says he loves his woman, big feet and all.”

Harry laughed. Setting his cup on the coffee table in front of him, he reached for her right foot and began massaging it. “You have beautiful feet.”

Cherisse was glad she'd given herself a pedicure last night and had generously moisturized her feet before going to dinner tonight. Harry's strong hands felt heavenly on her feet. He even knew how to work the soles of her feet and hit that spot that sent shivers up her spine. Lord, yes, the man had talented hands.

It had been six long years since a man had…Wait a minute. She'd told Harry about her long abstinence from sex the first night they met, thinking that it was perfectly safe to spill her guts to a stranger. Someone she would never meet again.

Now here she was letting him massage her feet, a week after meeting him. Damn, he was good. Or, she was slow. At any rate, she'd come to her senses in time.

She reached down and stayed his hand. “Harry, don't do that.”

He smiled that sexy smile of his. “Doesn't it feel good?”

“It feels
too
good.”

“Then I'm doing it right,” Harry said, still smiling sexily.

She grabbed his hand, removed it from her foot and then, still sitting, put her feet on the floor, searching for her Jimmy Choos with them.

Harry watched, confused. “What did I do?”

Shoes on, Cherisse rose and looked down at him. “Six years, Harry Payne. You know I haven't been with a man in six years. You played me like a fiddle tonight!”

Incensed, she spun around. “Look at me, standing in your love nest.”

“Love nest?” Harry cried, trying his best to contain his laughter. He got it now. Because she had confided in him that she hadn't had sex in six years she thought he was putting the moves on her. Okay, he
was
putting the moves on her, but not with the intention of taking her to bed but, maybe, getting a good-night kiss. That was all. Honestly.

“I was hoping to kiss you, not make love to you,” Harry told her. “I know you're not the type of woman who goes to bed with anyone on the first date, if you can call dinner and a couple of dances a date!”

Cherisse calmed down a bit and eyed him skeptically. “I guess I was letting my lust-crazed thoughts run away with me. It's hell when you meet a gorgeous male and find yourself turned on by him, knowing that you really shouldn't entertain the thought of anything other than a chaste kiss good-night when your body is saying, ‘Hell, girl, you haven't had any in ages. Go for it!'”

Harry guffawed. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to turn you on. Okay, I did mean to do it, but only enough to taste that luscious mouth of yours.”

Cherisse found herself smiling in spite of herself. She walked into Harry's open arms.

“You know, we were never supposed to meet again, that's why I felt my secret would be safe with you.”

“I know,” he whispered, lowering his head. “It's still safe with me.
You're
safe with me.”

“Oh, Harry,” Cherisse breathed, and gave him her mouth.

When she said his name like that, all breathless, Harry's desire for her increased tenfold. Their mouths collided in an orgiastic dance. Harry had meant to be gentle, to make her feel comfortable in his arms until she loosened up and learned to trust him.

Cherisse had meant to test the waters, expecting to be able to maintain some semblance of control.

They were both disappointed.

One taste of her sweet mouth sent Harry on the quest for more of that addictive nectar. He devoured her. The part of his brain that wasn't lost in sensation and was still able to conjugate verbs was pleasantly surprised by Cherisse's lack of reticence.

This was not a shy, retiring celibate. She was doing things with her tongue that he hadn't even learned yet.

Cherisse knew it. The smell of Harry, his strong body and talented hands had all worked together to break down every fortress she'd built around her in the past six years. She had known he was trouble!

Now that she had tasted him, she wanted so much more.

Her feverish brain whispered, “Do it. Do it. Do it till you're satisfied!” Wasn't that from an old seventies song?

Get out of my brain! Then get your tongue out of Harry Payne's mouth and go to your own suite like a good little girl.

With some effort, she was able to tear her mouth from his, but one look into his sultry eyes, and she was kissing him again.

This time it was Harry who pulled away. “Listen, sweetness, I think I ought to walk you home before we both break our vows of celibacy.”

Cherisse laughed. “You've taken a vow of celibacy?”

“Cheri.” He said her name so unlike any of her other friends said it. He said it as if he really were saying “dear” or “darling.” “Cheri, until you invite me into your bed, yes, I'll remain celibate. No matter how long it takes.”

D
anielle couldn't believe it. She'd finally met a boy who could keep up with her on the dance floor! Echo enjoyed more intellectual pursuits, saying dancing was for the mentally challenged. Danielle knew he said that only because he had two left feet.

And Dante not only knew the latest moves, but his energy level also matched hers.

They had danced five straight dances before he suggested they get a drink. The DJ played some of her favorite artists: Rihanna, Beyoncé, Chris Brown, Ne-Yo and Timbaland.

The ballroom was packed. She figured kids from the surrounding area also came to the Saturday night dances. She saw kids who looked younger than she was, and quite a few who were pushing twenty-one, probably, but not that many over twenty-one. She supposed the DJ's emphasis on hip-hop attracted a younger crowd.

As they moved through the throng, trying to make it to the bar, Dante held tightly to her hand. A gentleman, he made sure the way was clear for her. When they reached the bar, he let her have the sole remaining stool on the corner and he stood next to her.

The bartender walked up to them. “What can I get you?”

“Bourbon on the rocks,” Dante joked.

“Don't mess with me tonight, Dante,” the bartender, a young African-American woman with spiky black hair and enormous green eyes said. She was chewing gum and popping it with alacrity.

She smiled at Danielle. “Hi, I'm Roxy.”

“Hi, Roxy, I'm Danielle,” Danielle said. “May I have a cranberry juice over crushed ice?”

Roxy gave Dante the evil eye. “Now that's a drink, smart boy.”

“Okay,” said Dante, eyes twinkling with mischief, “make mine a Singapore Sling, easy on the sling.”

“I'm gonna have you slung right outta here!” Roxy warned. She glanced in the direction of one of the big, burly bouncers. There were four stationed around the ballroom, all wearing black muscle tees with the resort's logo—a skier schussing down a snow-covered mountain—emblazoned across the chest.

Dante laughed. “Fine, Roxy. Give me a Coke, regular, not diet, no ice and a slice of lime, squeeze it once into the Coke, stirred, not shaken, then put it on the rim of the glass. Make sure the glass is chilled, of course.”

Roxy sighed. “Who do you think you are, James Bond? If I didn't need my job I'd tell you where you could put that slice of lime.”

“Leave the lady alone,” Danielle told Dante. To Roxy, she said, “He must have really irritated you last Saturday night if you remember him.”

“Nah,” said Roxy. “During the week, I man the bar at the pool. He has annoyed me out there, too.” She started putting together their drinks, putting crushed ice in a tall glass for Danielle's drink, then bending to open the below the bar refrigerator to retrieve a can of Coke for Dante.

“She loves me,” Dante said, in the way all good-looking teenage boys believe they're adored by members of the opposite sex.

Roxy presented Danielle with her cranberry juice. “You look like a nice young lady. What are you doing with him?”

“He's the only boy who would ask me,” Danielle stated simply.

“Next time wait for a better offer,” Roxy advised.

“Am I invisible?” Dante asked, still smiling.

“If only,” said Roxy.

She put his Coke with a slice of lime on the rim in front of him. “Charge it to your room?”

“Please,” said Dante.

“Done,” said Roxy. She smiled at Danielle. “I was just kidding, he's a good guy.”

She moved away to serve the next customer in line.

Danielle and Dante sipped their drinks. “We didn't get the chance to talk much on the slopes,” Dante said casually. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” said Danielle. “There's a guy I'm interested in but he hasn't given me any reason to believe he likes me.”

“A guy in your class at school, somebody you see only on occasion?”

“No, I see him all the time. He's my best friend. We were texting like crazy earlier tonight.”

“What's his problem?” Dante asked, looking deeply into her eyes. “You, Danielle Washington, are
hot.
”

Danielle blushed. She wasn't used to compliments from cute guys, or any guys. Frankly, even though she knew she was attractive, she was also taller than a lot of the guys in her class, an athlete of some note and on the honor roll. She intimidated guys.

She didn't try to. It just happened. Her relationship with Echo, now a year strong, was the longest relationship she'd had with a guy.

Dante set his drink on the bar and reached over to tilt her head up with a finger. Danielle had been unable to meet his eyes after he'd declared her
hot
. “You're going home tomorrow, aren't you?”

“Mmm-hmm,” said Danielle shyly.

“We're staying until next Sunday,” he said. “Do you think you could come back for the weekend?”

“I doubt it,” she said regretfully. “There is no training session planned for next weekend. Coach Santiago gave me a schedule and my training doesn't start until after Christmas. Besides, your parents may be able to afford to stay at a ritzy place like this but my mom can't on a nurse's salary.”

Dante smiled. “Is that what you think of me, that I'm some rich kid?”

Danielle smiled back. “Is that supposed to be derogatory? Being called a rich kid? I didn't mean it that way. I just thought that since you told me your dad worked in government and your mom is a lawyer, they're earning good salaries as opposed to my mom, who is in one of the worst-paid professions. They work nurses to death but don't pay them what they're worth. And she's a darn good nurse. Went to school and got two degrees. I'm sure you're proud of your parents. I'm proud of my mom, too, but she can't afford this place. I saw the rates online before we came for the weekend and my eyes bugged out!”

Dante laughed. “Yeah, so did mine when I saw them. We kids can sometimes take the amount of money our parents spend on us for granted, can't we? You talk a lot of sense, Miss Washington. I need to appreciate my parents more.”

“And stop being such a rich kid?” Danielle joked.

Dante threw his head back in laughter. “All right, I'm a rich kid. But I'm not a spoiled rich kid. I have to work hard in school and keep up my grades and by God I'm going to college on scholarship!”

“Football?” Danielle guessed.

“How'd you know?” Dante asked, truly amazed. He hadn't told her he played football.

“It's your build,” Danielle told him. “I see guys who look like you every day at school. I see them when I'm working out in the gym, at lunch, at the track. Plus, my dad was a pro football player—Charlie Washington of the…”

“Philadelphia Eagles?” Dante said, beaming. “Wow, he was one of my all-time favorite players. When they went to the Super Bowl my dad took me. Were you there? It was about ten years ago but I remember it like it was yesterday. Man! I even got to meet your dad. He was so cool. He autographed my jersey and everything!”

Danielle suddenly experienced such a feeling of loss that tears threatened. She had missed that game. Oh, she had watched it on TV but she was nowhere near the stadium. That was the year her parents divorced. It was ironic really. Her dad's greatest year in football had also been the worst year of her life.

“No,” she said softly. “I couldn't make it.”

“Oh, you missed a great game,” Dante cried, still high on the memories. Then, he suddenly realized something. “Hey, didn't you say your mother was your sole parent? Where's your dad?”

“My parents got divorced when I was seven,” Danielle said, trying to sound upbeat about it. Kids' parents got divorced all the time. She certainly was not in the minority at school. Apparently, though, where Dante came from, judging from the sorrowful expression on his face, they
were
in the minority.

“I'm so sorry,” he said, and he certainly sounded sorry.

The DJ began playing a Fergie song and Danielle stood up. “Enough of this depressing conversation, we came here to dance!”

Grinning, Dante was happy to sweep her back onto the dance floor.

 

“I thought you were going to walk me back to my suite,” Cherisse said an hour after Harry had declared his inability to keep his hands off her.

Now they were seated on the big couch in front of the fireplace, both with their shoes off, Harry sans his coat jacket, quite winded from kissing like randy teenagers for the past twenty minutes.

“And I meant to,” said Harry, leaning back on the couch and drawing a deep breath. “But I kept thinking about the fact that you're leaving tomorrow and I probably won't be able to see you again until next weekend, and taking you back to your suite became less important.” He smiled at the lovely picture she made, her hair mussed, her lips slightly swollen from kissing him. She was devastatingly attractive.

Cherisse leaned her head on his shoulder and Harry drew her close. “You can always write me,” she said softly, her voice husky.

Harry laughed shortly. “You mean e-mail you?”

“No, write me on paper and mail it the old-fashioned way,” said Cherisse, a smile lighting her eyes. “Write me, and I'll write you back. It doesn't have to be long, a line or two.”

“I haven't written a personal letter the old-fashioned way in ages,” said Harry, intrigued. He liked the idea. It was hard for him to believe but he didn't have any love letters from past girlfriends. They hadn't been illiterate, they just had never thought of it, he supposed. He certainly hadn't sent any of them love letters. “I'll do it. You may not be able to understand my handwriting, but I'll do it.”

The alarm on Cherisse's watch suddenly sounded. She sat up and checked it. It was five minutes till midnight. “Oh, no,” she cried. “I've got to go! I don't want Danielle to get back to the suite before I do.”

“Don't want her thinking you've been making out all this time,” Harry joked.

Cherisse laughed. “I'd never hear the end of it. Sometimes I think she's the mother!”

She said this while she was putting on her sandals. Harry, too, quickly put his shoes back on. “What time are you leaving tomorrow? You don't have to adhere to the eleven o'clock checkout time, you know.”

Cherisse thought his gesture was sweet. Smiling at him as they walked to the door, she said, “I would take you up on that if I could, but I promised a friend who is going through a tough time that I would drop by to see her tomorrow evening.”

Harry held the door open for her. “When can I see you again, then?”

Cherisse paused to look him in the eyes. “Next Saturday is my first day off from work. I work twelve-hour shifts, Harry.”

Harry didn't protest. “Dinner this Saturday night, then?” he asked hopefully.

“Love to,” Cherisse said, and she shot through the door. Harry had to almost run to keep up with her. He smiled. She was determined to make it back to the suite before Danielle did.

They were both out of breath by the time they walked across the lobby and to Cherisse and Danielle's suite. At the door, Harry smoothed an errant hair behind Cherisse's ear. Bending close, he said softly, “Good night, beautiful.”

They kissed briefly, lips only. They both knew from experience how difficult it was to pull away when the kiss deepened.

Cherisse looked starry-eyed when Harry raised his head. He smiled. “Thank you for the most enjoyable evening I've had in a long time.”

Cherisse smiled back. “It was definitely my pleasure.”

The provocative tone in her voice turned Harry on, a first for him. He figured he must really have it bad for her if just the sound of her voice had that effect on him.

He kissed her cheek, still reluctant to leave her side.

Cherisse had to playfully push him away. “You've got to go, Harry. If she sees you here it will have been for nothing! Help me maintain the upper hand in this mother-daughter struggle!”

“Okay, okay,” Harry said, backing away.

Cherisse blew him a kiss and slipped inside the dimly lit suite.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, a voice said, “Where have you been, young lady?”

Danielle was sitting on the couch wearing her pajamas. She reached over and switched on the lamp on the end table so she could see her mother better.

Cherisse walked into the room and sat on the couch. Busted! She couldn't wipe a broad smile off her face in spite of it. “Okay, you got me. I had planned on being here when you got home, but Harry and I started talking and the time just flew!”

Danielle laughed delightedly. “Finally, I've got something to tell Grandma about you. At long last my virgin mother has gone gaga…”

“Gaga!” Cherisse protested. “I am no such thing.”