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  He was next in line to spar with Ortiz, but he liked to jump rope when he needed to clear his mind. It was Friday afternoon and there were only a handful of fighters in the gym. Only diehard boxers trained in this kind of heat. It was a searing ninety-eight degrees outside and ceiling fans circulated the thick, muggy air drifting in through the open windows.

  Rashawn lined up his feet and started skipping. Pain shot up his calf, but he ignored it. Lately, he’d been pushing himself too hard. Sore arms, an aching back and blistered feet made routine tasks excruciating. If he continued his intense workout regimen, he’d be defeated before he even stepped into the ring with Luis “AK-47” Lipenski.

  His gaze slid to the clock. Yasmin’s session was over, but if he called back and left another message, she’d think he was sweating her. And there was nothing worse than trying too hard. He wanted to see her again, but how? As he racked his brain for ideas, he thought over his conversation with Niobie. He couldn’t believe she’d asked him out. She knew he was checking for Yasmin, so why had she invited him to Food Fest? His face broke out into a slow, lazy grin. He’d never attended the three-day event, but from what his mom told him it was well attended, with plenty of food and live entertainment. Now that he had the venue, all he needed was to persuade Yasmin to go out with him.

  Rashawn returned the rope to the wall. He would finish his workout, then head home. The only question now was whether he should call Yasmin or wait for her to call him back. Deep in thought, he entered the weight room and sank down onto a bench. Across the room, Brody was collecting dirty towels.

  “Where the hell’ve you been?” Brody asked, casting a smoldering look over his shoulder. “Been lookin’ all over for you.”

  “Had a call to make.”

  “Hope you ain’t wastin’ your time callin’ that therapist woman.”

  Rashawn’s head shot up. He should have known better than to trust Kori. “Your daughter has a big mouth.”

  “Why do you think I keep her around?”

  Both men chuckled.

  Brody strode over to the bench, added ten pounds to the barbell and waited until Rashawn was in position before he lowered it. “Who’s this new chick you’re sweet on?”

  “Her name’s Yasmin.”

  “Another island girl?”

  “No, she’s South African.”

  Brody whistled. “Oo-wee! Bet she has booty on her!”

  “Watch it, Brody.” His tone was sharp. “Yasmin’s sophisticated and classy, not like the gold diggers I’ve dated in the past. She has her own therapy clinic, plenty of money and she doesn’t need shit from me.”

  “I hear you, but there’s a downside to dating a successful woman.”

  Rashawn felt a burning sensation in his chest as he pumped the bar over his head. If he didn’t finish the set, Brody would tear into him, and they had been butting heads all week. Rashawn felt he needed more rest; his manager thought he was bellyaching. Brody was the only father he’d ever known and he didn’t want to disappoint him. The pain was unbearable but he pushed past it. “What downside? I can’t think of a single one.”

  “You can’t afford to take her to expensive restaurants and shit. You have a family to take care of. Dating this therapist lady will send you straight to the poorhouse.”

  “I ain’t got anyone to take care of but my mom.”

  The older man stroked his beard. “What about your brothers? Armondo came by here yesterday asking some of the guys for money. Said he was in trouble and—”

  “Armondo can go to hell! I’ve been taking care of him for years and the more I give, the more he wants. I’m sick of his crap.” Rashawn gripped the bar, imagining it was his brother’s neck. “If Vincente and Fenton can work, so can he. At least they’re trying to make something of themselves.”

  “Is this Yasmin woman the reason you shelled out all that money for those tickets? You takin’ her to Hawaii?”

  “No, the Pro Bowl tickets are for charity.”

  “She’s going to leave you high and dry. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ve seen it happen before and this girl ain’t gonna be no different.”

  Rashawn dropped the barbell on the weight rests, the clanging sound underlining his frustration. “Thanks, old man, but I’ll take my chances.”

  “Enough woman talk. Keep your eyes on the goal, you hear me?” Brody chucked a towel at Rashawn. “You have a match to get ready for. You’re fighting Lipenski and in case you forgot he’s a former heavyweight champion.”

  Shrugging, he cleaned the sweat from his face. “I’m not worried. He’s a washed-up boxer who’s out of shape.”

  “True,” Brody agreed, heading for the door, “but he still has that lethal roundhouse uppercut. Back to the ring, champ. We have work to do!”

  “Let’s take pole-dancing lessons.”

  Yasmin’s head whipped up. Propped against her office door wearing a cheek-to-cheek smile was her sister. Dressed to impress in a vermilion pantsuit and heels, Imani looked every bit the part of the tenacious real estate developer at the top of her firm.

  “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “What about capoeira?”

  Yasmin’s forehead creased. “Capahoo?”

  “Ca-po-eira. It’s a high-energy aerobic workout that fuses martial arts and dance with African and Brazilian music,” Imani explained, shaking her hips to an inaudible beat. “It’s the latest exercise craze, Yassie. Everyone’s doing it.”

  “Sounds like fun, but I think I’ll pass.”

  “At least give it some thought. It’s become really popular and the women in my yoga class swear by it.”

  “All right, all right. I’ll give it some thought.” Yasmin beckoned Imani inside. Feeling lethargic, she welcomed the distraction she was sure her sister would provide. “What brings you by?”

  “We haven’t seen each other much the last few weeks, so I figured I’d stop by to see how you’re doing. Want to go for lunch?”

  “Sure, if you don’t mind waiting while I finish up. Tomorrow’s the annual midyear meeting at the community center and I need to present this—” she held up a bulky report “—to the board of directors.”

  “No problem.”

  Buzzing telephones and the hum of the air conditioner didn’t bother Yasmin half as much as the heat radiating from her sister’s eyes. Dean could be married to Imani for fifty years and he still wouldn’t know her as well as Yasmin did. Her sister’s invitation to lunch had nothing to do with food. She was hungry all right. Hungry for gossip.

  Realizing it was impossible to finish her work with Imani the sleuth breathing down her neck, Yasmin set the report aside. “Where do you want to go? I don’t have much time, so let’s make it somewhere nearby.”

  “No problem. Let’s go to the Garden Rose Café. I’m in the mood for their spicy Cajun chicken…Speaking of spicy, I ran into Bianca this morning at Spa Dreams and she told me you brought Rashawn to Katherine’s party. You’ve been holding out on me, Sis. What happened to him being all wrong for you?”

  “I had a change of heart.” She felt compelled to add, “And just because we hang out every now and then doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

  Imani pressed her palms down on the desk. “Every now and then? You’ve gone out three times in a matter of weeks and now you’re lying about it. You wouldn’t be keeping secrets if something wasn’t going on between the two of you.”

  “We went to Katherine’s party, big deal.” Standing, Yasmin shuffled the papers on her desk into one neat pile. “And as for me keeping secrets, that’s ludicrous. I’m not hiding anything. I would have told you, but you haven’t been around.”

  “You can deny it all you want, but I know there’s a lot more going on between you and the boxer than you’re willing to admit.” Imani nudged her sister with her hips. “I’ll let you off the hook this time, but the next time something happens I want to know about it first.”

  “Okay, mother hen. Can we go now?”

  “H
ave you guys done anything besides kissing?”

  “How did you know we kissed?” Yasmin asked, her eyes tapered.

  Imani’s face broke out into a smirk. “I didn’t. You just told me!”

  “You’re intolerable.” Shaking her head, she marched through the open door. “Let’s go, Imani.”

  “Good for you, Sis! It’s high time you got yourself some!”

  Ignoring her, Yasmin approached the reception area, told Niobie to hold her calls and proceeded through the lobby. She opened her purse, found her sunglasses and slipped them on. As she lifted her head, she spotted Rashawn through the front window. What was he doing here? Her first impulse was to hustle back into her office, but Imani was behind her. Before Yasmin could collect herself, he was standing in front of her. “Hey, Doc.”

  “Rashawn,” she said, loud enough for people outside to hear.

  He wore an easy smile. His blue T-shirt and cargo shorts flaunted his solid arms and legs. Shifting her feet, she smoothed a hand over her belted dress. Her mouth was dry and she felt a raging thirst. What was it about him that made her nervous?

  Rashawn leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You look amazing, Doc.”

  Yasmin inhaled his scent. It wrapped itself around her, squeezing her most intimate parts. “What brings you by?” she queried, when he stepped back.

  “I have some news that just couldn’t wait.”

  “Oh, really? What is it?” Why did her voice sound squeaky? Yasmin heard a peal of laughter and groaned inwardly. Obviously, Imani had noticed, too.

  “You’ll have to forgive her, she hasn’t been getting much sleep lately.” Imani spoke in a sultry tone. “Hot, sleepless nights can wreak havoc on one’s mind and body.”

  Rashawn chuckled. He didn’t know this firecracker with the short, chic hairstyle, but he liked her instantly. “I’m a friend of—”

  “Oh, I know who you are,” Imani said, openly admiring him. “And I must admit that I’m impressed. You’ve managed to do something others have tried and failed.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Take Yassie out on a second date.”

  “Yassie?” he repeated, clearly amused. Winking at Yasmin, he dropped an arm casually around her waist. “Cute name. Can I call you Yassie, too?”

  Unsettled by his gaze, Yasmin dipped her hands into her oversize handbag and pulled out her car keys. She wasn’t driving to the restaurant, but she needed a diversion. Rashawn’s dreamy look, coupled with the butterflies in her stomach and Imani listening in, made her temperature soar. Adjusting her purse strap fussily, she said, “You said you had something to tell me? What is it?”

  “Do you have plans tonight?” he asked, sidestepping the question.

  “No, she’s free.”

  Yasmin shot her sister a look that would shatter glass. “Imani, could you give us a minute, please?”

  “There’s no need. I’ll just come by your place tonight, say eight o’clock?” Rashawn gave her his best smile. “And save your appetite.”

  “I’d prefer if we—”

  “Oh, give the man a break,” Imani snapped, examining all six feet of him. He was built to be an athlete, and an aura of sexual confidence surrounded him. Rashawn couldn’t be more right for Yasmin. Her sister needed an adventurous guy who wouldn’t buckle under her strength, and something told her the boxer was the right man for the job. Smiling, she fluttered her long, naturally thick eyelashes. “What do you have planned for my sister tonight, Rashawn?”

  “We’re going to check out Food Fest, then kick it at my place for a while. How does that sound?”

  “Like a date,” Imani replied brightly. “She’ll be ready and waiting.”

  Chuckling, he shifted his attention to Yasmin. “See you later, Doc.”

  Speechless, the Ohaji sisters watched him swagger out the office door.

  Imani rushed over to the window and pressed her face against it. “Good God! Does he ever have a body on him!”

  Chapter 9

  Food enthusiasts strolled around the Tampa Bay Civic Center, sampling international cuisines from over sixty countries. A combination of spices, blends and aromas seasoned the air, arousing the appetites of visitors. Individual tents displayed the name of each restaurant and employees wore vibrant costumes reflecting their nationalities.

  “Let’s check out Chocolate Delights,” Rashawn suggested, leading the way toward a red-and-white-striped booth. Glancing over his shoulder, he winked. “I suddenly have a taste for something sweet.”

  Handing the brunette attendant eight tickets, he draped an arm around Yasmin’s waist. “Let’s try the chocolate fondue.”

  Yasmin stared down at the counter. A container filled with chocolate sat amid tubs of whipped cream, sprinkles, candy and fruit. She had never tried the sexy dessert, but it looked downright sinful. And messy. “I don’t know, I’m wearing white…”

  “No problem,” the attendant said, flashing a friendly smile. She handed Yasmin a bib and a pack of wet naps. Selecting strawberries and green grapes, she set down the platter and poured some of the melted chocolate into a heart-shaped ceramic bowl. “Here at Chocolate Delights we use only the richest dark chocolate imported directly from Berne, Switzerland. Now, the trick to eating fondue is that you have to do it fast. Swirl the fruit around the bowl until it’s completely covered, like this.”

  Demonstrating, she lifted the straw and popped the chocolate-covered strawberry into her mouth. “It’s your turn,” she announced, cleaning her hands on her apron.

  “It doesn’t look hard, does it?” Rashawn secured his bib, then helped Yasmin with hers. “There, we’re all set.”

  “We look like a couple of kids,” she joked, taking a fleeting look over her shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Nodding, he popped a bite-size kiwi into his mouth. “What do you want to try first? Angel food cake, strawberries, banana chunks?”

  Inspecting what was on the platter, she quickly determined what would make the least amount of mess. Yasmin liked trying new things, but she didn’t want to spend the rest of the night walking around the civic center with a giant stain on her blouse. “The angel food cake.”

  While Yasmin waited for him to get further instructions from the attendant, she grabbed some gummy bears from a silver tin. When she had finished what was in her hands, she reached for more.

  “Looks like someone has a sweet tooth.”

  “All my teeth are sweet,” she joked, “I’m a junk-food addict and proud of it.”

  “Then let me hurry up and feed you your cake!” Rashawn picked up a piece of cake and dipped it into the fondue. When he lifted the straw, the cake was gone.

  Yasmin patted him on the back. “I think you need more practice!”

  “Oh, yeah?” Rashawn dipped his finger into the batter and dotted her nose.

  “I’m going to get you for that!”

  “Bring it on, Doc.”

  Behind them, a black elderly couple laughed. Rashawn and Yasmin took turns feeding each other and chuckled every time they lost a piece of fruit in the batter. When they finished their bowl of fondue, they wiped their mouths and continued their promenade. For the next hour, they walked through a park under the glow of the stars.

  Yasmin didn’t know much about boxing, but she liked hearing how Rashawn had turned a hobby into a successful career and commended his future aspirations of returning to the university for his business degree.

  A man of African descent strolled past them and her thoughts turned to Eric. He never would have taken her to Food Fest. He hated crowds and, moreover, he liked to socialize with people of the same socioeconomic background. Although he hadn’t liked all the time she spent at the center, he’d tried his best to be supportive. Sadness threatened to come back, but she shook it off. Rashawn was great company and the least she could do was listen to what he was saying.

  She studied his profile, awed by the creaminess of his skin and the sensual slope of his lips. They m
ade an odd couple and she couldn’t help wondering what people thought as they passed by. Rashawn was a light-skinned Hispanic man and she was a dark, curvaceous African. That made for one hell of a conversation.

  The sat down on a bench, under a tall streetlamp.

  “I don’t understand why you’re still single,” he said, a puzzled expression on his face. “Unless you haven’t been straight up with me.”

  “No, I’m telling you the truth. I’ve never been married.”

  “Engaged?”

  “Once.”

  “What happened?”

  Yasmin swung her legs out in front of her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Did he cheat on you or something?”

  “No. Relationships don’t always end because someone’s been unfaithful.”

  “That’s true. What happened?”

  Rashawn touched her cheek. Sadness flickered in her eyes, communicating the depth of her pain. “Talk to me, Doc.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “There’s no pressure. Tell me as much or as little as you want.”

  Seconds passed, then minutes. Gazing into the sky, she blinked back tears. Yasmin was so used to listening to other people’s problems, she had forgotten how cleansing it could be to unburden the soul. And for some reason, she could open up her heart to Rashawn in a way she couldn’t to anyone else. “Eric and I met at the university. He was with a bunch of friends and I was with mine. The two groups decided to have lunch and after spending the day with him, I knew he was the man I wanted to marry.”

  Rashawn arched an eyebrow. “For real? That’s kinda fast, don’t you think?”

  “When you meet the right person, you just know. At least that’s what happened in our case.” Yasmin sighed, her face losing some of its sadness. “We had a fairy-tale relationship. Eric lavished me with gifts and money and loved showing me off. And I really loved him.”