Passion Overtime Read online

  “I’m here to see Kyra.”

  “She’s busy.” Her tongue clicked against her teeth, making a loud, annoying sound. “You really should have called first. Showing up uninvited is in poor taste, Terrence, even for you.”

  “You don’t understand. I—”

  “Oh, I understand perfectly,” she snapped, making a face that could rival Ugly Wanda. “Don’t think for a second that I’m going to let you play my best friend, Terrence. I know your MO and I’m onto you, so don’t even try it.”

  The devil doesn’t wear Prada, he thought, she wears Apple Bottoms. Like a menacing-looking security guard at a gated mansion in the Hollywood Hills, Aimee was barring his entrance into Kyra’s house and seemed to take great pleasure in insulting him.

  “Kyra’s expecting me,” he told her, annoyed that she was spoiling for a fight at this ungodly hour. “If it wasn’t for the accident on Ninth, I would’ve been here an hour ago.”

  After five miserable hours of sleep, he’d dragged himself out of bed and made the hour-long trek to East Point to have brunch with Kyra. He wasn’t here to listen to Aimee run her mouth. That was one of the reasons he’d stopped calling her. She talked constantly and had something to say about everything. In her mind, silence was the enemy, and if there was a break in the conversation, she felt it was her duty to fill it with mindless jibber-jabber. “Are you going to go and get her for me?”

  Aimee shook her head, her ponytail swishing back and forth. “She’s getting dressed and I’m on my way out, so call her later,” she suggested, gathering her purse. “Now, get out of my way. I’m running late.”

  “No problem. You go about your business and I’ll wait for Kyra in the kitchen.”

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Arms folded, she sneered at him with open contempt. “There’s another man in Kyra’s life and I don’t think he’d like you sniffing around.”

  “It’s not like that. Kyra and I went to Hollington together. We’re old friends.”

  Surprise colored her cheeks. Her green-eyed glare spoke of her malevolence, but she loosened her grip on the door handle. “You’re not interested in Kyra romantically?” she asked, her tone accusatory. “Last night at The Tavern, you sure looked interested. You had your arms around her and you were drooling like my brown lab!”

  Appearing nonchalant, he hung his thumb off the front pocket of his jeans. “We’re old friends,” he told her, producing a smile. His mother had taught him nothing good could come from lying, but if he wanted to get past Aimee, he had to tell her what she wanted to hear. “Kyra’s seeing someone and I’m not looking to catch a beat down. I’m just landscaping her yard. Nothing more than one friend helping another.”

  Aimee’s frown fell away and was replaced with a smile so bright it could power the entire state of Georgia. Eyes centered square on his face, she twined one leg behind the other and wet her lips with more flair than Marilyn Monroe. It was like letting the air out of a balloon. Her face softened, the tension in her shoulders receded and she looked like she’d been worked over by a masseuse.

  Terrence thought he heard movement behind her and peered inside. The shutters were open, and the sun was making mosaic shapes on the mahogany floors. Cool blue walls blended easily with the opulent, crystal chandelier, the oak staircase and luxurious draperies. He felt connected to Kyra and Aimee—or any other temptress who tried—wasn’t going to come between them.

  After a nasty spill off his motorcycle a few years back, he’d heeded his coach’s advice and cleaned up his act. No more late nights at the club, no more bar fights, and no more girls like Aimee Phillips. He wanted more than just another pretty face and a bangin’ body. He wanted the total package. Someone thrilling and fun who wasn’t concerned with where he ranked on lists of richest athletes.

  “Oh, I see. Well in that case, we should definitely hook up while you’re in town. I’m moving down here soon, and I could really use a friend.” Aimee asked if he needed a date for Snoop Dogg’s album release party and thrust her breasts in his face for good measure. “Are you game?”

  Terrence shook his head. Aimee hadn’t changed one bit. The personal chef was still looking for someone to take care of her. And not just anyone, either. It had to be someone famous and ridiculously wealthy who could use their celebrity status to open doors for her. Though she’d once ditched him and hooked up with a hot-shot baseball player with a fleet of luxury jets, Terrence harbored no hard feelings toward her. Why would he when he had Kyra? Aimee had perfected the naughty-but-nice look and had the longest legs outside of Nevada, but Kyra was the type of woman he’d been looking for. Authentic, straightforward and more beautiful than words, Terrence knew that he could always count on Kyra to tell him the truth. Aimee had the loyalty of a stray cat, and though she was an attractive woman, she couldn’t be trusted.

  “Aimee, you’re still here?”

  Terrence stepped around Aimee and pushed open the door. Without makeup, Kyra barely looked legal, and the fuchsia bandana covering her hair enhanced her youthful appeal. Her extra-long tank top and shorts were loose-fitting, but her beauty was unmistakable. It shone from within, from her core, from the depths of her soul. Aimee was decked out in white, but Kyra was the one who looked innocent. And when she greeted him with a cheery wave, his heart thumped louder than a hundred conga drums.

  He held up the bags. “I brought brunch.”

  “Something smells delicious.” Aimee pointed a jeweled finger at the bag. “Do you have poached sausages in there?”

  Terrence nodded. “I have breakfast enchiladas, too. They’re Kyra’s favorite.”

  Groaning, Aimee rubbed a hand over her stomach. “I wish I could stay, but I have a meeting downtown with a potential client.”

  “Then you better get going. Traffic’s thick heading south.” Terrence didn’t mean to be rude, but when Aimee stomped off, he knew she’d taken offense. An eye roll, a flick of her hair, and she was gone. Not wanting to appear eager, he waited until he heard the door slam, before setting his sights back on Kyra. “Great house,” he said, glancing around. A marriage of classical and urban architecture, the two-storey home featured an arched opening, cherrywood furniture and generous shelf space. “The decor’s very cool. Eclectic but modern. I like it.”

  “Your place is probably ten times this size.”

  “It’s not the size of a house that makes it a home,” he told her. “It’s the people who live there and the love and respect they share.”

  “Uh-oh. Someone’s been watching too many Jimmy Stewart movies.”

  “Who?” Terrence scratched his head. “Is that the guy in all those old movies you used to force me to watch?”

  Her laughter filled the room. It was a soft, almost musical sound and her eyes were sparkling. Terrence felt his heart inflate. Finally, something was going right. Kyra was laughing, and that was always a good thing.

  “I forgot, you never liked the classics. Baby Boy is more your style, isn’t it?” Kyra wore a coy, closed-mouth grin and if it wasn’t for the distance between them, he would have kissed her. He’d never been one to push up on a woman, but he was only human. How could anyone withstand that delicious smile? Desire consumed him and the more he fought it, the more he wanted her. It was that age-old cat and mouse game; he was enjoying the chase.

  “So, what were you and Aimee talking about?”

  “Nothing.” To put her mind at ease, he decided to tell the truth. “Kyra, I don’t know what she told you, but we were never a couple. We went out a few times, but nothing happened between us.”

  Kyra shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I was just curious.”

  “I’m going to set up brunch out on the patio,” he said, anxious to distance himself from his past. “Why don’t you meet me outside with a pitcher of your famous watermelon lemonade?”

  “But—”

  “Ky, don’t argue. Just let me do something nice for you.” In four long strides, he was in her personal space. She smelled like orchids and her lip
s looked sweet. Terrence was a quick study and though he’d only been back in Hollington for a week, he had a good picture of who Kyra Dixon was. The PR director was a woman of incredible poise and strength, but beneath all of her admirable qualities was someone who was hurting. Terrence had to show her how special she was. With that thought in mind, he slipped a hand across her shoulders and led her through the French doors.

  Chuckling, Terrence put down his glass and sat back in his wicker chair. “Come on, Kyra. Everyone knows women lie more than men. Weaves, acrylic nails, five-inch heels to make you taller.” He lifted the tablecloth and paused when he saw her red painted toes poking out of her sandals. “It’s all part of the female conspiracy, and every time a guy buys a woman and her girlfriends a round of cocktails, he feels like a sucker.”

  Kyra giggled. “We get all dolled up to go out because that’s what you men like. You guys drool over curvy centerfolds and we sisters are just trying to stay in the game.” She pointed a finger at him. “And just so you know, no one wakes up looking like a sex kitten. Eva Menendez has bed head and bad breath just like the rest of us!”

  Their laughter floated on the afternoon breeze.

  “Sounds like someone has a touch of celebrity envy,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “God, I hope you don’t have a secret aspiration to be an actress or something because I’m sick of meeting women whose life goal is to be on the big screen.”

  “I couldn’t handle all the scrutiny that comes with being famous. Hell, I’d get a tummy tuck, too, if I was dissed on one of those gossip Web sites.”

  “I’d die before I’d let you do that. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

  “And all natural!” she added, laughing.

  “That you are, baby. That you are.”

  Kyra took a bite of her four-cheese omlette. Chasing it down with water, she noticed the defiant slope of his jaw and the odd look on his face. She wanted to know what he was thinking, but didn’t have the courage to ask. Steering the conversation to a safer topic, she asked about his plans for the weekend. “Are you going to Snoop Dogg’s party? It’s all Aimee could talk about during our workout.”

  “That depends. What are you doing tonight?”

  He looked deep into her eyes and when he smiled, her heart murmured. Kyra made a point of dropping Charles’ name into the conversation, but every time their fingers accidentally touched, she had an overpowering desire to kiss him. To just lean over and plant one on him. Her face flushed at the thought. She’d obviously lost grip with reality, and if she knew what was good for her, she’d stay on her side of the table. “Charles is taking me to the theater.”

  “Mind if I come?”

  “Right, like you’d skip the biggest party of the year to see an all-woman play.”

  “I would,” he affirmed with a quick nod of his head. “I’m sick of the single scene. If the right woman came along, I’d propose in an instant.”

  Her mouth creaked open.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Kyra. I haven’t been an Eagle Scout, but I’m not as bad as the media makes me out to be. Pro athletes need love, too!”

  “With your wild bachelor lifestyle, I find it hard to believe you’re ready for a monogamous relationship.”

  “Having a wife and family is all that really matters.”

  Kyra wasn’t convinced. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  “There’s nothing sudden about it. I’ve been partying like a rock star since I entered the NFL, and now it’s time to grow up. At least, that’s what Big Mama says!”

  His deep, rumbling laugh brought a smile to her lips. He sobered, and spoke openly about the challenges of being wealthy in a country obsessed with looks and celebrity. Kyra listened, enraptured by the sound of his voice. In that moment, Terrence reminded her of the sweet, caring guy she’d fallen for all those years ago. And if she was being honest with herself, he’d never, ever left her heart. In spite of their acrimonious breakup, he still represented everything she wanted in a man. Sincere, down-to-earth, chivalrous. In her book, Terrence was still one hell of a guy and the more he talked about family and community, the more she fantasized about kissing him.

  “I want someone to come home to. Someone who has my back.” Pain filled his dark brown eyes. “You can’t put a monetary value on love, Kyra. It’s a special thing, and hard to find. I want a wife, kids and a happy family. That’s my definition of success.”

  “You really mean that?”

  His gaze pinned her to the chair. “With all my heart.”

  Chapter 10

  Kyra didn’t know when or how it happened, but their fingers had twined. Pulling away, she leaped to her feet. “It’s too late for this conversation. You came to help me landscape, right? Well, we should get started,” she insisted, glancing nervously around the backyard. “Did you notice the evergreen out front?”

  He stared at her for a long, nerve-racking moment. “You want the limbs thinned and the lower branches cut off, right?”

  “Yes. And I have a long list of things to do, but it’s probably going to take you a while to cut and dispose of the branches.”

  Terrence stood. “Two hours max. I’ll be finished by three o’clock, so make sure you have something else lined up.”

  “All right, Mr. Belvedere. Odd jobs coming up!” she joked, trying to put the intensity of their conversation behind her. “Can I loan you out to my friends and family?”

  “I wouldn’t advise it. Two sisters once got into a screaming match because I asked one out and not the other.” He sounded solemn, but his eyes were filled with humor. “Women don’t like to share. Not shoes, not clothes and certainly not NFL running backs.” Terrence winked, then turned and strode towards the shed.

  Kyra tried not to stare, but lust consumed her. Terrence was in tip-top shape and his infectious grin and cool, homeboy strut gave him star power. Do big or go home was his personal philosophy and Kyra wondered if that was the strategy he employed when snagging women.

  The afternoon passed quickly. Every hour, Kyra went to check on Terrence. As promised, he finished at three o’clock and after safely storing the electric chainsaw he zipped off in his truck to dispose of the branches.

  Soaking up the sun and the warm, fresh air, Kyra dropped to her knees and made quick work of unearthing the weeds in the garden. After a long, hot summer and weeks of renovations, she was glad these mundane tasks were getting done. Charles had offered to help, but his schedule left him with no free time.

  Humming to herself, she balanced the vegetable basket on her hips and returned inside. Kyra washed and bagged the tomatoes and stuck them in the fridge. Spotting the jug of iced tea, she decided bringing her landscaper a cold drink was a good idea.

  Kyra didn’t see Terrence when she stepped out onto the porch, but she could hear the chug of her old lawn mower. Her elderly neighbor, Mrs. De La Cruz, was sweeping her walkway and smiled in greeting. The aroma of freshly cut tulips filled the air. It was a sweet, delicious scent that reminded her of her college days.

  Despite the punishing heat, the residents of East Point were out in full force. Children ran through sprinklers, splashing each other and shrieking with delight. Groups of women, decked out in shorts, sandals and smiles, stood clustered on the sidewalk fanning themselves. Terrence rounded the corner, and Kyra felt a rush of extreme pleasure. When he shot her a playful grin, she realized what all the fuss was about. For young, stay-at-home moms, watching a half-naked man mow the lawn was more exciting than watching a high-speed chase.

  Kyra’s hands shook, and for a moment she thought the glass might slip from her grasp. Longing flowed through her, when Terrence shot her a smile. “I thought you might be thirsty,” she said, descending the steps on rubbery legs.

  Grinning broadly, Terrence shut off the lawn mower and strolled across the lawn. He took the drink and finished it in two, long gulps. “Ummm. Think I could get another one of those? I’m dying out here.”

  “Think you could put ba
ck on your shirt?” she blurted, glancing around. “This is a working-class neighborhood with lots of, ah, small children.”

  He screwed his features into a frown, but Kyra knew he was enjoying all of the attention. Unlike other celebrities, the intrusive glare of the spotlight didn’t seem to bother him. “I know I’ve let myself go since I retired, but I don’t look that bad, do I?”

  Let himself go? Her gaze spilled over his shoulders and down his abs. Allowing her eyes to do what her hands couldn’t, she openly admired his super-ripped physique. Terrence put the F in fine and had a body that deserved to be displayed. He was the perfect male specimen. Light eyes, sensuously wide mouth offset by even, white teeth. And that chest! The definition of his arms and the powerful cut of his abs made Matthew McConaughey look flabby. His nipples were round, dark, and looked like a pair of chocolate chips. “Don’t take anything else off,” she warned, peering over his left shoulder. Now, her neighbors were using their camera phones to snap pictures. “I don’t want these women rolling around in my flower bed, fighting over you!”

  Terrence chuckled. “Don’t worry so much, Ky. It’s all good.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not one of those wild, out-of-control types that you seem to gravitate towards. I’m a quiet, small-town girl who’d rather play trivia than party at some overpriced club.”

  “That’s why you’re not happy,” he said, his handsome head cocked to one side. “You’re stuck in a mind-numbing rut of work, work, work. You need some excitement, but don’t worry. I’m here now. I’ll make everything better.”

  He flexed his muscles, and Kyra sucked in a breath. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m very happy.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  His insistence only strengthened her resolve. “Yes, I am,” she countered, drawing out her words to ensure they sunk in. Kyra wasn’t going to get into a discussion about her personal life with Terrence. Why did he care whether or not she was happy? Proud of herself for standing up to him, she met his stare head-on. Terrence wasn’t the only one who could read people. She could, too, and his smooth-as-silk persona wasn’t fooling anybody. Worried about his future, and his fading star, he boasted of his wealth and accomplishments to prove that he still mattered.