Page 10 of Can't Get Enough

“Here’s Chapel,” she cuts in, plastering a smile on her face, waving and drawing the attention of a woman I vaguely recognize. Petite with closely cropped hair tinted pink. Zere grabs her hand and draws her forward. “Chapel, I want you to meet… this is my… uh… this is Maverick Bell.”

“Hmmmm.” Chapel is mid-swallow, gulping and passing a slim hand over her mouth to catch the drink spilling over. “Sorry! Hi! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say. “Congratulations on winning. That’s really cool.”

“Thank you.” She beams, her expression brightening even more if possible. “And thank you for having us.”

“Where’s Hendrix?” Zere asks, glancing around.

“Girl, you know Hen.” Chapel shakes her head, a smile coming easily to her lips. “She out there taking over.”

She nods to the backyard where guests dance and cluster in conversations.

“I should have known.” Zere laughs beside me and points to a group assembled near the firepit. “Hendrix is the life of every party.”

I follow the direction of her gaze and narrow my eyes to focus. A woman stands on the stone wall surrounding the pool, which slightly elevates her over maybe twenty guests gathered around. The DJ is playing “Candy” by Cameo. From her perch this woman stands on the dais and leads the small crowd of dancers in the electric slide.

Her face is lit not just by the late-setting sun or the pool lights that have already come on as darkness approaches, but illuminated by somethinginside. She is luminous with skin the color of rich cocoa. The flash of her pink tongue is delicately clenched between the boldness of a smile built from straight white teeth and absolute radiance. A cloud of coiling natural curls halos her striking face, the Afro dark and full and luxuriant. She’s tall, maybe matching Zere, but where Zere is slender, almost fragile, Hendrix has a homegrown thickness that is tight in some places and voluptuous in others. She is long lines and deep curves. Lush and ripe like summer fruit.

A handful.

The description makes me grin because she would overflow a man’s hands with the cursive swell of her breasts and hips and ass, yes, but the energy she’s emitting, stepping and hopping and twisting as she leads everyone through the slide, hints that she would be a handful. She would be… a lot.

“Who is she?” I force myself to look away from her and return my attention to Zere and Chapel.

“Hendrix?” Chapel answers with a grin. “She’s my manager.”

“Seems to be having fun,” I reply, keeping my tone and expression indifferent, though one glimpse of this Hendrix manager person leaves me wanting to stare.

“Always does,” Zere says with a wry smile. “Chapel, there’s someone I want you to meet. It’s this executive from the network. He’s really excited about the potential of your show.”

Zere’s glance my way is a tangle of reserve and reluctance. “You’ll be fine if I mingle a little, Mav?”

“Of course. I should mingle some, too, I guess, huh?”

She knows stuff like this, sometimes people like this, bore me, and some of the stiffness melts at the edges of her eyes and mouth. She leans over and kisses my cheek, letting her lips rest against my face for an extra beat, before pulling away. Her smile goes stiff again, rigid withhiding her emotions. Since she’s shit at hiding from me, I’m glad she turns away so I don’t have to see what’s there. There’s an ache in my chest knowing I’m the cause of it.

“Go,” I tell her softly, patting her hip with a fond smile before turning to Chapel. “It was really nice meeting you.”

“Great meeting you, too. I guess we’ll see more of each other soon,” Chapel says, “since Zere and I will be working together.”

My gaze snags briefly with Zere’s over the secret we only have to keep one more night. And then the world will know what we have for some time.

That this—that we—are over.

CHAPTER 3

HENDRIX

Whew!” I swipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand and aim a grin at the bartender. “I need a drink.”

“You worked up a thirst out there.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the bar, his blue eyes raking appreciatively over me. “What’ll you have?”

I lean forward a little, too, letting him look his fill, cleavage on display in the fitted white top that doesn’t quite meet the waistband, baring a strip of my stomach. I know I look good tonight, but damn. This white boy is looking at me like I’m a Hershey’s Kiss. Drooling and shit.

“Your call,” I tell him, flashing a flirty smile that won’t go anywhere. He’s cute, but I needswagger. This guy wouldn’t know what to do with all this. “What’s your favorite drink tonight?”

His smile broadens. “Golden Cadillac.”

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