At First Kiss Page 4

  “What’s the matter with you, girl? You can’t call nobody?” This guy affected the voice of Martin Lawrence’s infamous “Jerome, the original playa from the Himalayas” and at least got a chuckle out of her before she deleted the message.

  “Jazz, why is it I had to hear from someone else that you’re moving? I mean we went out a few times, and don’t I even warrant a—” Delete.

  She sighed as she half listened to the rest of the calls, making quick work of deleting them.

  “Seriously, guys think just because you let them take you out a few times they have the right to blow up your phone and tie up your answering machine. I swear, when I move to Detroit, I’m going to stop being cheap and get an unlisted number. And I won’t be giving out my main number. I need a cell phone just for this.” She turned to Troy. The way he ran through the female species, he could probably understand her pain.

  He was frowning.

  “What’s with that look? Don’t tell me you don’t have women blowing up your phone? And I’m sure they’re calling because they gave you a little more than these guys have given me.”

  “And just what have those guys given you, Jasmine?”

  “Ooo, that would be none of your business, Stud Bud.” She laughed. “Seriously, if they’re calling the phone asking why I haven’t called, then they probably took me out a few times, dinner, movie, dancing, a show, nothing serious. I can usually tell after a few dates if it’s going to be worth my time. And few men are worth my time. I’m a serial dater and proud of it. I’ll date anyone a few times. And if the chemistry and connection isn’t there, don’t expect a call back. There are just too many men out there to waste time with Mr. Wrong—not that I’m looking for Mr. Right, no matter what my mother’s stupid will demands.”

  She plopped down on the couch next to him.

  Troy swallowed back his burning questions about all those damn messages from all those guys. Who was he to judge? His cell phone had been vibrating ever since he turned it back on when they got off of the plane, and he knew it wasn’t family making all those calls. His father was probably still pissed at him. His mother couldn’t be bothered. And his sister was probably good for about five of the phone calls. He made a mental note to call Sonya and let her know he was okay and back in the States. But he couldn’t get Jasmine’s many messages out of his mind…

  He shook his head. It was not his business how many guys Jasmine had apparently enticed, entranced and evicted. He just hoped she didn’t come to Detroit running those same games. He didn’t know about Boston guys, but the brothers in Detroit didn’t play that. And he would hate to have to knock someone out because they came at her the wrong way after she jilted them.

  He shook his head again. Where was all this I-must-protect-Jasmine stuff coming from?

  Change the subject, that’s all, just change the subject, he thought as he cleared his throat.

  “What does you finding Mr. Right have to do with your mother’s will?”

  She looked stunned for a minute, as if she hadn’t even realized what she had just said. She tilted her head and just looked at him. “I so-oo didn’t want to bring that up. Can we just ignore it and move on?”

  “Now I’m really curious. Don’t tell me your mother made some crazy clause in her will that you settle down and get married or something like that. That sounds like something my demanding father would do. He just threatened to take me out of his will unless I settle down. And he wants me to give up my spot as the host of our media company’s top-rated show, Detroit Live, in order to be a part of the business side of things. Can you believe that?”

  “At least your dad is only making threats. Apparently, my mother managed to save $500,000 as an inheritance for me, but only if I get married in six months. And if I don’t get married in six months then the money goes to my deadbeat dad. Can you believe that?”

  “What? Get out of here! Your mother has my father beat. Although I wouldn’t put it past my father to put some kind of marriage clause in his will. Mr. Divorced and never met a woman he didn’t flirt with thinks that the only way for me to prove I’ve grown up and left my wild days behind is to get hitched, put on a suit and tie every day, and sit behind a desk instead of in front of the camera. He just doesn’t get it.”

  “Why do I feel like channeling the Fresh Prince and belting out ‘Parents Just Don’t Understand’?” She giggled, and it was good to see her smile.

  Troy shook his head. He and Jasmine were both in the entertainment business and loved music. It always tripped him out that she thought in songs just like he did sometimes. No matter what the topic, he could think of a musical reference, and Jasmine had that same knack. But there was no need to point out any similarities between them.

  “Because you’re a sarcastic brat and you’re a nut,” he offered instead, and chuckled.

  “Not that I don’t feel your pain, Stud Muffin, but this was kind of about me. My own little pity party…” She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “Recently deceased mother and actual horrendous marriage clause that threatens to ruin life as I know it no matter what I decide trumps nagging father any day. I’m just saying… It’s not always about you.” She laughed again.

  “I’m trying to be empathetic here, Jasmine. I feel your pain.”

  “Yeah, feel it, don’t co-opt it, Stud.” She smiled and took the folder full of menus off of his lap. “Anyway, enough of that. I have six months before I either have to find one of my exes to enter into a marriage of convenience with or see the deadbeat get paid. I’m hungry now. Chinese or Mediterranean?”

  Troy mulled it over. “How about pizza?”

  “Pizza is always good. Toppings? I like veggies supreme.”

  “I like lots of meat.”

  “Half veggies, half meat it is,” she said with a grin.

  As she placed the order for their dinner, Troy couldn’t help but wonder how he could help her with the situation surrounding her mother’s will and why he even thought he should help her in some way.

  The next morning, Jazz was awakened by the most annoying voice on the planet, followed by shaking. Before she opened her eyes, she realized that she should have locked her bedroom door. Better yet, she should have made the pest spend the night at a hotel.

  “Wake up, Jasmine. We have a flight to catch.”

  “Man… G’long and left muh yuh hear. Leave me alone!” She pulled the cover over her head and groaned.

  He had the nerve to pull the cover off of her then and she realized that he was getting a peep of her in her pink stretch lace boy shorts and camisole. She sat up and glared at him.

  “Give me back the cover or die.”

  He gave her an appreciative once-over and laughed. “Sexy and she has fire. It might not be so bad after all being married to you. Get up and get dressed. We have a flight out to Vegas in two hours. We’re getting married, Jasmine.”

  She jumped up out of the bed and all sense of modesty and decorum was gone. At that moment she knew she was Carlyne Stewart’s daughter, because even though she had left Barbados when she was a toddler and she’d grown up in Boston, her Bajan dialect really came out with a vengeance.

  She gave her teeth a long, hard suck, what the island folk called a steups, and placed her hand on her hip. “What de France yuh tellin’ muh dis early in de morning? Yuh mus’ done loss what little bit of mind yuh have, nuh?” She sucked her teeth again. “C’dear! Man left me and g’long, nuh. I does look like I crazy to you? I mus’ look mad as de hatter if yuh think I’m flyin’ to somebody Vegas to marry you. Gimme back mah cover, nuh?”

  “Wow, you really are an island girl at heart. I like it when you do that.” He had the nerve to laugh. “Anyway, hurry up and get dressed, Jasmine. We don’t have all day. You don’t want your deadbeat dad to get your mother’s hard-earned cash, do you?”

  Frowning, she sat down on the bed. She felt like Alice in Wonderland, through the damn looking glass or down the damn rabbit hole.

  Thing
s just kept getting curiouser-and-curiouser…

  He sat down on the bed beside her. “Listen, the way I see it, we can help each other. You can fulfill your mother’s marriage clause and I can show my father that I’ve settled down. That way, when we get divorced, I can say that I can’t possibly ever get married again. I’d be too heartbroken. And Dad would have to back off. You’d be helping me just as much as I’d be helping you. You’d give me settled-down respectability for…how long would you want to stay married for anyway?”

  “The clause gives me six months, and after that the money goes to the deadbeat. If I get married in six months and remain married two years or more I can keep the money. If I remain married less than two years but more than six months half of the money goes to me and half goes to a charity for single mothers and their children, less than six months and half goes to the deadbeat, half to the charity and none to me. She has me over a barrel because I don’t want even half of her hard-earned money to go to him. But I wouldn’t mind sharing it with the charity.”

  He sighed. “Then marry me, Jasmine. We can last two years and then you can still donate part of the money to the charity and keep the rest. You’re moving to Detroit anyway. It would take you more than six months to find a husband in a new city. I’m already there. Marry me.” He stood up and held out his hand.

  “We’d have to live together for two years, Studalicious. We’d kill each other in two months.” She chuckled softy as she let herself think about what it would be like to be married to Troy. Did she even dare?

  “No, we wouldn’t. We could do this. It’s the best solution for both our problems.” He laughed. “And I never thought I’d be getting married, let alone begging a woman to be my wife. Just get dressed already. The car will be here in an hour.”

  “What car?”

  “The airport service. I told you I’m not getting back in that little soapbox car of yours again. We can get breakfast in the airport before we take off.”

  She mulled it over. It seemed like the answer to all her problems. She looked at Troy.

  Fine didn’t even begin to describe the tall drink of water standing in her bedroom exuding a heady cocktail of confidence, arrogance and just-do-the-damn-thing sexiness.

  Being married to him would be the most difficult thing she had ever done. Because—as much as she loved to irritate him and work his last nerve—he had the power to push her buttons in ways that no man ever had. And if she married him and he was as angry as she knew he would be when he found out all about her new job in Detroit, it would be as good as giving her father half of the money. But at least the charity would get the other half…

  Troy would want a divorce for sure.

  But maybe, just maybe he would be understanding and would keep to their deal anyway.

  “Are you sure about this, Stud? I mean, it would be two years where we would have to live together, and I’m not sure how your many women would feel about that.”

  “They wouldn’t matter. I wouldn’t see other women while we were married, Jasmine. And I would hope that you’d be able to ward off your many admirers for two years. We’d have to keep up appearances if it’s going to fool my dad. And if you are all over Detroit serial dating then he’s going to think I’m cuckolded and can’t control my woman.” He did that cocky half smile, half smirk thing of his and she willed the goose bumps not to pop up all over her body.

  “Yeah, well, I hope you remember appearances when your women keep throwing themselves at your feet, Studman. I don’t want to look like the poor little woman whose man can’t keep it in his pants.”

  He laughed. “Fine, then get dressed. Throw some stuff in a bag and let’s do this.” He was still standing there holding out his hand. “Let’s go to Vegas and get married.”

  She stood up and shook his hand. Her knees almost went weak and she felt a strange tingling in the pit of her stomach. Touching him felt too nice to be right, and she let out a long sigh.

  Goose bumps popped all up and down her arms as she looked into his serious and sensuous eyes. She suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to be honest with him.

  “Before we do this I should tell you about my new job, Troy.”

  “Didn’t you sign a confidentiality clause?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But nothing. You better keep that information to yourself. I can’t promise I wouldn’t break the story on Detroit Live before you even moved to Detroit. If it’s entertainment news in my city, people expect Troy Singleton to be on it. I don’t want to betray your trust. So, I’m willing to find out with the rest of Detroit. I just want you to know, if our competition has hired you to host some show meant to compete with Detroit Live, you being married to me isn’t going to stop me from slaughtering you in the ratings, Jasmine.”

  Her shoulders reared back and she sucked her teeth with a steups that would have made any Bajan proud. “Well all right den! Yuh mus’ know better dan me. G’long and we’ll see who gwan reign supreme once I get to Detroit. Yuh wan’ a wife. Yuh gone get a wife. But don’ be mad when yuh find out what dis wife come to Detroit to do, yuh hear?”

  He laughed. “I love it when you do that. Hurry up and get ready, girl. The car will be here in forty minutes.” He walked out and she sighed.

  She hoped she was doing the right thing, because it could all blow up in her face. And she wasn’t just thinking about what could happen when Troy found out about her new job.

  No, she was thinking about what could happen to her after being married to a man that funny and fine and caring and almost perfect for her for two years.

  Could her heart take such a test in temptation?

  Troy stared at Jasmine and wondered why he wasn’t wondering if he was doing the right thing.

  His resolve to marry her had gotten stronger and stronger from the moment he thought of the idea as he lay awake the night before in her guest bedroom, to the time it took him to make the arrangements that morning while she slept, to the limo ride from her house, to the airplane ride to Vegas and finally the limo to the hotel.

  And now that he was standing across from her in the small wedding chapel just off the Vegas Strip, he felt an even firmer resolve.

  This was the right thing to do.

  Even the sure and steady beat of his heart and the spreading warmth in his chest that he had decided to ignore told him he was doing the right thing.

  And then the funniest thing happened. The entire time they listened to the minister and they repeated their vows he told himself that he would only give her a peck on the lips or cheek when it came time to kiss the bride.

  It wasn’t a real marriage, after all.

  There was no need to get it twisted.

  It was just a marriage of convenience so that she could get her inheritance and he could get his father off his back for a little while.

  But then he looked at her with her pretty face, wearing just enough makeup to bring out the glow in her cinnamon-toasted skin and just enough lipstick to make him want to smudge it or try and see how much of it he could kiss off of those luscious lips. And he remembered the first time he’d been crazy enough to taunt fate and kiss her. Her mouth was like the sweetest ambrosia.

  He also remembered what her body looked like in those lacy undergarments she slept in and the way his heart and other parts of him sprung awake when she touched his hand.

  Later he might be able to rationalize that all of those things and the thought of really getting married must have been the reason why he turned crazy and kissed her.

  But at that moment, when the minister said, “You may now kiss your bride,” all Troy could think was mine.

  He pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with great speed. Her lips felt plush and were sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted. Her lips parted in shock and he used that opening to allow his tongue to devour her even more.

  He let his arms feel her all over and caress her in ways that he knew he would always remember and would be hard pressed
to not want to do more of, over and over again.

  She felt good in his arms. She felt right. Her pert and proud breasts pressed against him and he could almost swear he felt her nipples poking him. He kept kissing her until she was suddenly kissing him back. Her hands reached up to his shoulders and pulled him closer.

  She moaned, and he knew he was in trouble.

  Jazz relished the feel of Troy’s strong, steely arms holding her; his fever-inducing hands trailed over her body and turned her insides into a molten pool of lust. Her tongue tangled with his as if it didn’t know any better, as if it weren’t attached to her brain and her heart, both of which seemed to be willing to chance whatever kind of wild ride Troy Singleton was taking her on.

  And her hands?

  The traitorous little things might just as well be tearing down the wall she had built over the years to protect her heart and keep herself safe from just this kind of thing, the way they were roaming all over Troy’s big, strong, sexy body.

  She sucked his lower lip and nipped it.

  Mmm…tastes delicious…so damn good! She groaned.

  Oh, this has to stop. But…wow, I had no idea a tongue could even do that! I wonder what else he can do with that tongue.

  Oh. My. God. Okay. Enough.

  She pulled her mouth away from his with much effort. It took everything in her not to go back for seconds. The husky minister was grinning up a storm and his petite and perky assistant was smiling as well.

  “Nothing warms my heart more than seeing two people in love. May God bless your union and you keep that love and passion for one another through the years,” the minister said with all the force of a decree.

  Jazz stared up at the man who spoke the words. It should have felt like a curse instead of a blessing. The minister’s words should have sent her running from the chapel. Instead all she could do was look at Troy…look at her husband and whisper, “That cannot ever happen again.”

  Troy took a deep breath and let it out. He closed his eyes and shook his head like he was trying to shake off a fog. When he opened them he ran his hand down his face.