Tulips for Tonica: A GSO Story Read online

  “Ah, thank you for joining me,” he said, standing up to get the chair for Tonica. He hoped the table blocked his partially hardened cock. With quick movements, he risked her glimpsing it to help her into her seat. He couldn’t keep his eyes from watching her round, tight bottom, clad in a pair of soaked jeans, slide down into the chair. Lucky wooden chair. When he returned to his seat, he exhaled a bit, trying to ease the ache she caused in him.

  “Tonica, this is my bodyguard, Tre Alexander. Tre, this is Tonica Faye.”

  Tonica cast Tre an appraising glance, before moving her eyes back to Carte.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  The aroma of fresh sushi and soft cherry blossoms wafted along the heated air. The notes of Japanese music danced along the aromas. Tonica crossed her legs. She mixed her tea, adding in sugar and a touch of milk. She seemed perfectly comfortable.

  He hadn’t ever felt so uncomfortable in his life. He’d defended some of the biggest clients in the Triad area and faced down some of the most vicious prosecutors, but a casual conversation with Tonica Faye caused his palms to sweat and his heart to race. Why did this little chocolate beauty cause such a visceral reaction? He’d watched her as she interned at Graves & Yang Law Offices as a UNC-G student. As a graduate of one of the area’s top law schools, he had worked at the same law offices, watching her like some anthropologist—from afar. She worked in one department and he, another. She spent a lot of time completing investigations, so she probably didn’t remember ever seeing him. They didn’t work or play in the same circles. Still he enjoyed their interactions, albeit brief. Five years older, Carte had made it a point to monitor her progress at the firm, but whenever he worked up the courage to talk to her, something intervened.

  That had been nearly six years ago.

  “So, Carte Seay …” she said and then sipped her tea.

  “Tell me about yourself, Miss Faye? What do you do?”

  “I do a little this and that.”

  “So do I.”

  She laughed. “Riiight.”

  “If you can be ambiguous, so can I.”

  Her eyebrow quirked. “Touché.”

  When she smiled, his cock twitched. Her teeth seemed white and perfect in her mouth. He wanted to know how they would feel nipping along his arm, around his neck and down his stomach. Her sinfully long lashes batted at him.

  “Tre, excuse us, please.” Carte reached for his own cup of saki to keep his hands busy.

  Tre’s muscles bunched and relaxed under his suit jacket, making the fabric bunch up before he stood. He nodded and stepped away from the table. Carte waited until the man had cleared the section before resuming his conversation with Tonica.

  “What types of this and that do you do that brings you out on such a drab day?”

  Tonica bit her lip. She blushed, but not so much with the flushing of her smooth, chocolate skin, but in her demeanor.

  He knew good and well who Tonica Faye worked for and he knew why she ended up at Wasabi’s Sushi. The reporters, paparazzi, and now private investigators had been trailing him for months—going through his trash, calling his law office and trying to get whatever dirt they could on him for Shae’s paternity claims and ratings.

  Yes, he knew why Tonica followed him for nearly six hours today.

  “I was out seeking something beautiful and naughty,” she said, hitching her chin and meeting his gaze.

  Heat broke out across his shoulder blades. In his opinion, something beautiful and naughty sat directly across from him.

  “Is that so? Was it so important you forgot your umbrella?”

  Another smile. “Oh, you have jokes. Well, I’ll have you know I got caught in the rain.”

  The curve of her cherry-tinted lips conveyed something words couldn’t ever truly capture. The fire in those depths threatened the tight control Carte had on his carnal desire. Women often flirted with him, but Tonica’s long lashes, sensual smile, and dangerous curves circumvented his defenses. He allowed himself to drink her in, letting his mind run off with its own fantasies. She smelled nice—a heady mix of lavender and rain. Her skin looked soft and warm under the Japanese lantern’s glow.

  Clearing his throat, he adjusted the pressure his slacks had on his growing arousal. She didn’t seem to notice, and thankfully, the sushi arrived to block out his efforts.

  Tonica had a fierce determination that he adored. It made her incredibly exciting.

  Once the waitress had left, he reclined in his chair. He loved sushi, but he delayed appeasing his appetite in lieu of satisfying his yearning.

  “Really? Beautiful and naughty? A strange combination. What were you looking for?” He fingered the edge of his chopsticks.

  Tonica shrugged. “Not really strange. Some people’s beauty masks their naughty—dangerous habits.”

  “You aren’t referring to me, are you?” He arched his eyebrow. Using the chopsticks, he placed a delectable bite of eel into his mouth.

  “Are you dangerous, Mr. Seay?” She leaned in, her breasts inches above her California roll. Strands of her dark brown hair slipped over her shoulder making her more alluring.

  “I’m harmless. I don’t mask anything to people I care about.” The saki’s warmth coursed through him, forcing him to unwind. He leveled his gaze at her.

  “That’s not what I heard.” As soon as the words escaped her lips, she sat upright in her chair, her hand over her thick bee-stung lips. Embarrassment on her face, Tonica averted her eyes from him.

  “You don’t strike me as the type of woman who would become bogged down in rumor and gossip.”

  He popped another piece of eel into his mouth. Its greasiness made it glide down faster. Did she believe the media’s portrayal of him? He didn’t sleep with women who were unprotected or who acted carelessly. He hadn’t slept with Shae. The woman wanted his money and she didn’t care how she got it. Often than not in relationships, he had become the prey and the women, predators, seeking his fortune or his so-called celebrity—sometimes both.

  “Aside from Stephen Silver, you’re probably the most popular bachelor in all of the Triad. It’s common knowledge you have fathered children and left many a woman crying at your prowess,” Tonica whispered.

  Carte gave her a closed-lip smile. “Common, but inaccurate. There’s more to me than the cardboard cutouts the media uses as stand-ins of me.”

  He’d lived the bachelor’s life on a grand scale. At parties, he selected a woman to take to his bed. Nothing permanent or long-lasting grew out of those encounters. Barren, broken, and boring, the dating scene stretched out into nothingness like the Sahara desert.

  Carte longed for something living, breathing and invigorating. He’d almost resigned himself to permanent bachelordom.

  Until he saw Tonica at a charity event. He remembered her and sought to fulfill a longing he hadn’t been able to previously. As soon as he saw her, all those dreams of growing old with someone and truly loving another seemed possible again.

  “Besides, Stephen’s not a bachelor anymore.” He prayed his envy didn’t show in his tone. Stephen had managed to secure a good woman, one worth more than gold. Carte wanted the same thing—what man didn’t? Despite the hoopla and drama movies depicted of men coveting their bachelorhood, Carte knew it to be a farce. He didn’t like his bed empty and his mornings hollow.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Tonica agreed with an added nod.

  “You obviously know who I am, so I would like to know more about you. How about over dinner tomorrow night?” Carte internally winced at the huskiness of his tone.

  Tonica bit her lip. She put down her chopsticks, and put both her hands on the table’s edge. With wide eyes, she swallowed so loud he heard it from across the table.

  “That wouldn’t be a good idea.” She cleared her throat.

  “Friday? Are you willing to find out for yourself if the rumors are true?”

  “Oh, look at the time. I’ve got to go.”

  “Wait, wait, please.” Ca
rte shot of his seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tre move in anticipation of a problem. He waved him off and then turned his attention back to Tonica.

  “Please, there’s something else I have to tell you.”

  If he confessed now, would it make her stay or run? He had to go with it.

  Tonica hesitated, shot a look over at Tre, and then eased slowly back down into her chair. She sat on its edge, like a rabbit—ready to bolt at the first indication of a threat. His plan had gone all wrong. Damn Stephen Silver for even suggesting it!

  “Look, Mr. Seay…” Tonica began.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” he asked, sitting back down. “From Graves & Yang?”

  She peered at him. “What?”

  Slowly, she eased out of her seat.

  “I worked there while you did your internship,” he explained, his gut tightening. “I handled bankruptcy cases.”

  Tonica’s hand went to her chest. She looked at him like she was seeing him for the first time.

  “I never knew you worked in that office.” She crossed her arms. Her body language spoke more than her words.

  His plan derailed and he couldn’t do anything about it.

  “You got a bouquet of tulips every day…”

  “Yes, I, I did…” Her face twisted in confusion. “That was you?”

  Carte’s fear inched into his throat. “Yes. And when I saw you again…”

  “You sent me a dozen fresh cup tulips that entire summer…Why?”

  “You stood out…”

  “Something about my name, right?”

  “More than your unusual name, Tonica. I admired your hard work, your enthusiasm for life, and I still do.” He coughed to clear the hoarseness.

  “I’ve really got to go.” She pushed her chair back.

  Her trembling voice pinched his heart. This wasn’t what he wanted. Snatching her purse onto her shoulder, she tossed down a twenty dollar bill.

  “Thanks for dinner,” she quipped before fleeing.

  Chapter Three

  Later that night

  “…the tulip, is scarlet, while the centre of its glowing cup is black, is used to express warm affection; and, when sent by a lover, will convey to the object of his attachment the idea that like this flower, his face is warm and his heart is consumed as a coal.”

  —Anne Pratt

  “I have to get her back,” Carte explained to Stephen Silver a few hours later.

  He stood in Stephen’s sleek modern-designed office. Full of dark ebony and metallic accents, the office failed to communicate the warmth Stephen had underneath his media smile and ready handshake. Long after hours, all the employees of C.A.K.E. had gone home. With disgust burning in his chest, Carte had come over to hash out a secondary plan to bring Tonica to his bed and his heart. Using Stephen as his sounding board, he had ranted for nearly forty minutes before he caught himself. Sick with the knowledge he may have ruined his chance with Tonica, he’d drove himself here. His good friend sat in one of the two caramel-colored leather chairs and watched him pace back and forth with concern wrinkling his face. Across the chair’s arm laid his tie. He’d unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

  “Why didn’t you just tell her?” Stephen asked, with a smirk and shake of his blonde head.

  “I don’t know. She took me off my guard. Everything about her disarmed my logical train of thought.” He’d been asking himself that for the last two hours.

  “Obviously.”

  “I wanted to tell her, but how do I say that I’ve been stalking her for weeks without her taking out a restraining order?” Carte ran a hand through his hair. “It makes me sound like a pervert.”

  Stephen shrugged. “I don’t know, but I warned you about this goofy plan in the first place.”

  Carte stooped abruptly. “No. You told me to go ahead with the plan.”

  “I did, but I also said that not being upfront with her could backfire on you.”

  “That was your warning?”

  “Yes.”

  Carte laughed. No wonder he hadn’t heard or heeded it.

  “I’ve got to talk to her. I’ve got to find a way to her heart. To at least get her to go to dinner, a movie, a play? Triad Stage is performing Macbeth…”

  “Focus, Carte!” Stephen said.

  “Right. So, any other ideas?” Carte asked. His muscles ached and his eyes burned. Sleep had avoided him and he hadn’t been able to rest. So he would get up and jog on his treadmill for hours.

  “Chocolates.”

  Carte shook his head. “She hates the stuff.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Cree eats it like it’s manna from heaven,” Stephen said of his fiancée. He stroked an invisible beard along his chin as he thought.

  “When she interned at Graves & Yang, I had tulips sent every day,” Carte explained. He’d hear via the office grapevine how Tonica got flowers again and how excited she was. The mystery of her admirer plagued her a bit, and several others had tried to claim they’d sent them. Somehow, she knew they lied. Carte would watch her verbally rip apart the posers’ attempts to lie about the flowers. Her instincts nailed them every time. It’s what made her such a good investigator. Those instincts kept her alive, safe, and also aided in her cases.

  “Flowers? A bit lame. It’s been done to death. Every man that’s been put in the doghouse buys his woman flowers as an act of forgiveness. It’s cliché. When Homer Simpson does it, it’s time to let the practice die. Valentine’s Day commercial machine also cheapened flowers to the point of useless. Even those fruit basket are getting stale. You need something big and bold. Something that will get her attention…”

  “Big. Bold. A statement,” Carte repeated. He shook his head as an idea formed.

  Stephen slapped the chair’s arm. He sat up and a small grin spread across his face. “Oh no, Carte. I’ve seen that look before.”

  Carte waved him off. “I’ve got just the thing to impress Tonica.”

  Stephen put his face into both hands and mumbled, “Lord, help us.”

  Chapter Four

  The Next Day

  A gift of tulips is a sure delight, enchanting in its beauty and simplicity.

  —Unknown

  Tonica pushed through the thick oak door and right to Olivia’s finely crafted desk.

  Olivia shot out of her seat and paused but a brief moment before she slipped around its curved corners, across the square, tile floor and to the equally exquisite and deeply decorated door. She closed it gently before turning back to Tonica, who sat in one of the visitor’s chairs.

  “Hey, Tonks. Your cell phone goes straight to voicemail. Nearly gave me a heart attack. I tried to call you all night.”

  Olivia sounded winded as she returned to her desk and sat down. Olivia’s sunglasses had been pushed into her hair—a curly crown of chestnut picked out to an afro.

  Tonica closed her eyes and sighed. She remembered the claustrophobic feeling that threatened to overwhelm her yesterday as she fled Wasabi’s Sushi. Outside on the street, she recalled snatching in damp, cool gulps of air. Call her a coward, but she had to get out of there. Thankfully, Seay hadn’t chased after her. Sure, most women in the Triad would sell their mothers for a date with Carte Seay. Her body throbbed in her craving for him, but she had a job to do. His shimmering eyes held her fast, but she couldn’t escape them, even now.

  “Tonks? You okay??”

  Tonica swallowed and slowed her breathing. Carte had been with her at Graves & Yang. It seemed surreal. She could still see how crestfallen he’d become when he asked if she remembered him. The lines of his perfectly sculpted face pointed downward in disappointment. How dare she miss such a stunning man? She hadn’t, but then life during that time had been polluted by class work and a nutty boyfriend. The demanding internship blotted out a lot of her life back then. It had to be, to totally hide a striking man like Carte. She hadn’t been so attracted to a man in a good long while. Oh what
to do? A frustrated growl rumbled low in her throat. Damn. She couldn’t jump his bones, not when the agency’s client wanted dirt on him.

  Goodness, Olivia may still murder her for disobeying her orders. She’d made a mistake. Now, Carte knew of her existence, and she wouldn’t be able to fool him. How good of a job could she had done when he knew her? They’d worked at the same place, for goodness sake. She’d definitely erred. Carte had opened a wound she’d long since abandoned.

  Something needful and deep inside her yearned for him. For years, she’d been divorced from her emotions in terms of relationships. Dealing with cheaters, thieves, and scumbags had only served to widen the chasm between true love and singledom. The warmth of love hadn’t shined on her face in so long, she’d forgotten how wonderful it could feel. Teetering on the edge of indecision, Tonica had lived like it didn’t exist.

  Until Carte made her feel again.

  “Sorry, Olivia. I’m here to apologize,” Tonica said.

  Olivia leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. Dressed in jeans, stiletto leather boots and an ivory, cowl neck sweater, she didn’t look like a badass P.I. But she was.

  “Sit down.” Olivia screwed her face up and drummed her fingers on the desk. Her customary hard tone turned soft. Her usual breathing fire demeanor had disappeared.

  Unsure, but trusting her gut and her boss, Tonica sat down in the chair facing Olivia.

  “I told you not to go in to see Carte Seay. I told you to abandon it,” Olivia began and then stopped. Something outside her office’s floor to ceiling windows seemed to catch her attention.

  “Yeah, I know, but he was there. It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Tonica said. “Still, I came in today to apologize for my misbehavior.”