Playing for Keeps Page 9

  “Then fine,” Malik replied. “If you’re not with me, you’re against me.” He wasn’t surprised Sage would take Quentin’s side. He’d always been her favorite. “And you, Dante? Where do you stand?”

  Dante was furious that he was being put in this position. He looked at both his longtime friends. “I’m with Sage on this. It’s his job, Malik. I’m sure Quentin will do everything in his power to help. Won’t you, Q?”

  “Of course I will,” Quentin replied. “That goes without saying.”

  “Hmmm,” Malik rubbed his chin. “For some reason, I don’t believe you, because lo and behold, your word, Quentin Davis, is worth squat.” And with that said, Malik stormed out of the bar.

  “Wow!” Dante turned to Quentin and Sage. “He sure is pissed at you, Quentin.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, what are you going to do to fix this?” Sage asked, walking toward him. She was torn between a desire to smack some sense into Malik and support Quentin at the same time. “You’ve got to fix this, Q. We can’t let discord fracture our family.”

  “I wish I knew, Sage,” Quentin said, sagging onto a bar stool. He had the sinking feeling that he’d made a huge mistake and destroyed a long friendship for money and his reputation.

  Avery didn’t realize she was nervous about dinner at Quentin’s loft until she felt her pulse beating at the base of her throat as the elevator made its way up to the fourth floor of Quentin’s building on Friday night. It was just dinner after all, but as she knocked on the door, she couldn’t will her jittery stomach to calm down. Quentin answered, looking as sexy and handsome as ever in a Sean John T-shirt and jeans. Avery’s stomach somersaulted.

  “Looks like you’ve been busy,” she said, nodding to the apron wrapped around his middle.

  “I’ve been preparing a great meal for you,” Quentin said. “C’mon in.” He stepped aside to allow her to enter and shut the door behind her. While Avery perused the loft, Quentin immediately went back to the kitchen to check on the tapas he’d picked up from Dante’s which were warming in the oven.

  Avery loved Quentin’s spacious and well-lit loft. The large windows facing the street, exposed brick and ductwork, stainless-steel kitchen and state-of-the-art entertainment center made for a remarkable environment. There was a gigantic living area and kitchen on the first floor, and stairs leading to what she presumed housed the master suite on the second floor. Framed photographs of his travels abroad in Iraq, Life and Time covers, and various celebrity photographs lined the walls. It was no secret that Quentin had talent, and the photographs and awards were a testament to his amazing eye.

  “What made you choose photography?” Avery asked when she finally made her way to the kitchen. She found him opening a bottle of Riesling.

  “I hope you like white,” Quentin said, twisting open the cork, “because it will go perfectly with our fish.” He poured generously and handed her a glass.

  “White’s fine,” Avery said, accepting the wine-glass.

  “I had a great teacher,” Quentin finally answered her question. “Someone kind and patient, who took a knucklehead like me under his wing. Mr. Webster taught me not only the mechanics of cameras, but what to look for.”

  Avery smiled. “Sounds like he was a good influence.”

  “More than that,” Quentin said seriously. “He was a father figure.” He watched her with a critical squint. Avery Roberts was a beautiful woman who clearly had no idea just how beautiful she was. She didn’t dress sexily to show off her assets even though she had the figure for it. Instead, she dressed conservatively, albeit in the best designer fashion, as she did tonight. She wore a white tunic tied at the waist and navy-blue ankle pants. She was like a butterfly that was still trapped in the cocoon and needed to be let loose so she could be free and fly. Quentin wanted to be the person to release her of her inhibitions. There was a sexual being lying dormant underneath that smooth, polished exterior and carefully applied makeup. And Quentin intended to find her. But first, he would feed her and allow her to get comfortable before making his move.

  He pulled a cookie sheet out of the oven filled with tapas and placed it on a rack to cool.

  “Mmm, that smells delicious.” Avery’s mouth watered after she saw the decadent little bites. “Did you make those?”

  “Afraid not. They’re from my friend Dante’s tapas bar.”

  “A tapas bar. That’s a unique idea. Can I try one?” Avery leaned over the breakfast bar.

  “Sure, but be careful, they’re hot,” Quentin said. He watched Avery take a delicate amuse bouche in her mouth and savor the flavor. He was immediately aroused at the sight of her eating, and the way her tongue flicked out to lick her lips was completely erotic. He could feel his manhood straining against the jeans he wore. It was a good thing he was standing behind the bar and she couldn’t see how hard he was.

  “Wow!” Avery said. “If dinner is as good as that, then I am in for a feast.”

  “You most certainly are,” Quentin groaned.

  Conversation was stimulating throughout the entire meal of lemon-dill salmon, Parmesan mashed potatoes and roasted asparagus that Quentin prepared. Avery was rather surprised by his prowess in the kitchen, but thoroughly enjoyed every bite. And she let him know as much. “I hate to say it because I wouldn’t want to give you a big head,” she commented once they were seated on his leather sectional enjoying a cappuccino and tiramisu, “but dinner was wonderful.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Quentin rasped huskily. “You’ll enjoy dessert even more.”

  Avery put her fork down and set her saucer on the coffee table. Was he coming on to her? Because she’d heard a distinct sexual overtone in Quentin’s statement and when she turned to him, she wished she hadn’t. Those dark eyes of his were resting firmly on her and the intensity of his concentrated gaze made her tremble. He looked like a tiger ready to pounce and Avery had the feeling she was his prey. When he reached over and pulled one of the pins out of her hair, and then the other, she balked.

  “What are you doing?” she cried, trying to keep her hair in place, but it was no use.

  “That’s better.” Quentin grinned at his handiwork. Now her glorious mane of hair had fallen generously to her shoulders. He’d been dying to do that since the first time they’d met. Avery was much too reserved for her own good.

  “Why did you do that?” she said, running her fingers through her disorderly mane.

  “You should wear your hair like that more often.”

  “Really?” She always wore her hair up. She felt she appeared more professional that way. She didn’t want to be the type of woman who played on her looks.

  When Quentin saw the sour expression on her face, he realized he’d skipped a beat. “Listen, there’s nothing wrong with wearing your hair up, just not all the time. You need to let loose, Avery,” he said. “And I’m just the person to help you do it.”

  Quentin walked over to his entertainment center and flicked on his CD player, and immediately some up-tempo tunes flooded the air. Next, he opened a drawer and pulled out something, which Avery couldn’t see from behind his back. She was shocked when he returned with a game of Twister.

  “Are you serious?” she asked. Twister was a child’s game.

  “Yes, I am,” Quentin replied, opening the box and pulling out the mat and spinner. “C’mon.” He motioned for her to join him. “You’ll see. It’ll be a lot of fun.” When she didn’t move, he rushed over and pulled her off the couch toward the mat.

  “You’re crazy!” Avery couldn’t resist laughing at his spontaneity. He continued to challenge her to venture outside her comfort zone.

  “Yeah, I am, but I have a feeling you like it.”

  She didn’t reply to his knowing comment; instead she said, “Spin the wheel.”

  Twenty minutes later, they were all tied up in a mess of limbs and arms. Somehow Quentin had maneuvered himself to be directly underneath her, while Avery had one hand over his head an
d her leg between his thighs. How had she found herself in such a compromising position? Quentin didn’t make it any better because he was smiling up at her as if he knew something she didn’t. He couldn’t know she shared his attraction, could he?

  When her hand needed to go underneath him, Avery lost her balance and so did Quentin, causing them both to tumble on the floor with her on top. Avery kept her head low, staring down at his Adam’s apple, afraid to look at him.

  Quentin tried to remain still to see what Avery would do next, but he just couldn’t stop himself, he had to touch her. He slid his hands through her hair and brought her toward him until their faces were inches apart.

  His gaze was fixed on her for what seemed like an eternity before he finally kissed her fiercely and passionately. When he trailed his hands down over her body, smoothly and deliberately, Avery could feel her breasts firming and rising; she didn’t know why until he rubbed the tip of his thumb over her nipple and she realized they ached for his touch.

  “Oh, yes,” Avery moaned her pleasure as each second built with intensity. And as the kiss deepened, he boldly parted her legs, propelling her closer to him so she could feel the hard jut of his erection. She whimpered with raw delight as a familiar heaviness took over the lower part of her body.

  His lips brushed her brow, eyelids and cheekbone before coming back to her lips. His tongue thrust deep inside, exploring every inch of her mouth, and as he suckled her tongue relentlessly, his hands shaped and caressed her slender bottom.

  Before Avery could even register what was happening, he was attacking the buttons on her shirt with furor and then she felt his warm hands sliding behind her back to unsnap her bra. After Quentin relieved her of her shirt and bra, he tossed them aside as if they were nothing but an inconvenience. Seconds later his hot, wet tongue was fastening onto her naked breast, sending shock waves right through Avery. His teeth tugged at the dark nipple, bringing it to a ripe peak, while his hand cupped and caressed her other breast. She moaned her pleasure as he took her to new heights.

  When Quentin gruffly said, “Let’s take this to the bedroom,” it was as if he’d splashed cold water on her face and woken her out of a haze. Avery realized although she desired him greatly, she wasn’t ready to take their relationship to the next level. At least not yet.

  “Quentin, no.” She pulled out of his embrace and sat up on the floor. She turned her back to him, embarrassed that she’d let things get this far. She’d been so caught up in the moment, in the passion he’d brought out in her that it scared the living daylights out of her.

  “Why not? What’s wrong?” Quentin asked, slowly sitting up. He’d thought everything was going rather well. He’d finally released the inner sexy beast in Avery and she’d responded to him with the same ardor as the first time he’d kissed her. It hadn’t just thrilled him, it had turned him on and he had a hard-on to prove it.

  “Quentin, this is wrong.” Avery reached across the floor for her discarded blouse and bra.

  “How can it be wrong when it feels so right?” he asked. “I wasn’t alone, I felt you responding to me.”

  “B-because,” Avery stammered as she tried unsuccessfully to snap on her bra. “This isn’t me. I’m not some sex-crazed teenager.”

  Quentin scooted over and fastened her bra in place for her. “Is that what you think we were?” he asked, peering into her green eyes. “Because I strongly disagree. We were two grown adults acting on an attraction.”

  Avery slid one arm into her blouse and then the other. She was mortified by her scandalous behavior. What must he think of me? So she tried to clear the air. “I don’t have casual sex.”

  “I am not asking you to have casual sex,” Quentin said. “I just want you to allow yourself to let go. Do you have to be in control all the time?”

  Those were the words Avery remembered during the cab ride from Quentin’s loft. Why was it so hard for her to let go? She’d wanted Quentin as much as he wanted her. So why had she run like a scared schoolgirl back to her apartment? She was a grown woman after all and shouldn’t have been afraid of going after what she wanted. When had she become so scared of taking risks? Avery vowed that if the opportunity presented itself with Quentin again, she would not be so quick to run away. Instead, she would take all he had to offer and then some.

  Chapter 8

  Although Quentin had enjoyed Avery’s company the night before, he had more pressing business to attend to and that was making up with his longtime friend, but Malik would not return any of his calls.

  “Any luck?” Sage asked the next day when she met Quentin at Dante’s for a quick brunch because she had to get back to work and clock in more hours. They pretty much had the place to themselves because the lunch crowd hadn’t descended.

  “No,” Quentin said forlornly. “Malik won’t return any of my calls. Do you guys have any suggestions?” He looked back and forth between Sage and Dante. He felt terrible that he was at odds with Malik.

  “I’m afraid not,” Dante replied. “When I asked him to join us to clear the air, he declined.” He shook his head. “Malik is really blowing this way out of proportion.”

  “He’s acting like a child is what he’s doing,” Sage added. She didn’t appreciate him putting her and Dante in the middle. “He wants us to take sides and I just won’t do that.” Quentin would never have taken the assignment had he known who the client was. Malik should respect Quentin’s career just as he expected Quentin to respect the center. Sage knew what it was like to try to fight for the respect you deserved. She did it every day at the law firm, and she wouldn’t let anything or anyone jeopardize that either. Sage knew about that kind of passion because they’d come so far from their humble beginnings.

  “I appreciate your support,” Quentin said, “but I don’t want it at the expense of your relationship with Malik.”

  “No, Quentin,” Sage said, swiveling around on her bar stool to face him. “I will not be railroaded. I know what it’s like to have to put your career first.”

  Quentin was disappointed. “So that’s what you think I’m doing? Putting my career above my friendship with Malik?”

  “That’s not what she’s saying,” Dante interrupted. “She’s saying that she understands that your career is dependent upon your professionalism.”

  “Exactly. It wasn’t like you did this on purpose and that’s what Malik is failing to see. He’s being really pigheaded.” Sage was furious with him. She’d called him half a dozen times and he’d refused her calls, too.

  “Yeah, but you know Malik…” Quentin said. His voice trailed off as he stared down at his glass. Ever since they’d been teenagers, Quentin had known Malik to have anger issues. Malik had been abused as a child, and now he was trying to make up for all the wrongs against him by helping other people and children in need. That was why he took it as a personal affront that Quentin wouldn’t help the center. “I should just tell Jason that they need to find another photographer.”

  “And what will that do to the career you’ve spent years to build?” Sage asked. “You know as well as I do that you’re hot right now. You’ve got to ride this wave until it ends, which hopefully it won’t. Or do you want to go back to being poor?”

  Quentin remembered all too well what it was like growing up with nothing except the hand-me-downs he’d been given to wear from Goodwill. “No, I don’t. But he’s family!” Quentin rubbed his bald head. He was torn between a fierce need to survive at all costs and doing the right thing for a friend who was like a brother to him.

  “I understand and eventually he’ll get over it.” Sage was adamant.

  “You do remember what happened that time Tiffany asked me to the spring dance even though Malik had a thing for her?” Dante piped in. “Malik wouldn’t talk to me for weeks.”

  “And eventually,” Sage emphasized, “he got over it.”

  “I appreciate all of your advice,” Quentin said, “and I’ll do it your way and give Malik a little time to cool off
, and if that doesn’t work I’m going to go see him and squash this myself.”

  “Whew!” Dante wiped his brow. “I’m glad that’s over. Now I can get back to the kitchen and get ready for lunch.”

  “So, now that Dante’s gone,” Sage said, “let’s get down to basics. What’s up with you and the art-gallery woman? How’s the bet going?”

  Quentin thought about it for a moment. Avery Roberts had become more real to him than just some bet. She was a vibrant woman and one he wanted tremendously. “Everything is going just fine.”

  Sage peered into Quentin’s dark brown eyes. “Are you holding out on me, Quentin Davis?”

  “Of course not, Sage,” he said, sipping on his iced tea. He could be honest with Sage and tell her what was on his mind without fear of being razzed like with Dante or Malik. “We had a great first date at that Moroccan restaurant I took you to when I visited last year.”

  “Oh yeah.” Sage nodded. “I remember that place. Great ambience.” She recalled the beautifully decorated interior.

  “It got even better when Avery belly danced for me.” Quentin smiled. He couldn’t forget the sway of her hips as they’d twisted and gyrated to the music. His groin even tightened in response.

  “Get out! You got Ms. Priss to actually loosen up and belly dance?” Sage chuckled. “Wonders never cease!”

  “I sure did and she rode on my motorcycle,” Quentin said. “And did I mention that she came over to my loft for dinner last night?”

  “And?” Sage knew there was more to the story.

  “And nothing. We had a great time.”

  “I’ve got to hand it to you, Quentin. You have a way with the ladies. I’m sure she has no idea what’s in store for her, does she?”

  Quentin rubbed his goatee. What he had in store for Avery Roberts would not only please her but be pleasurable for the both of them. Had she not run away the other night, Quentin was sure they would have become intimate. He was curious to see what else lay beneath that cool exterior. If last night was any indication, he was in for a wonderful surprise.