Excerpt from Unhinged by his Fiery Touch, Book #3 in
the Unhinged Romance Series
Tari entered the
ice-cream shop an hour later, her gaze sweeping over the interior. At the table in the center of the room, a
mother inspected the menu. Her two sullen teenage daughters glared at nothing
in particular. In the corner, a man and woman huddled together, gazing into
each other’s eyes.
Moving further inside
the air-conditioned room, Tari’s eyes met those of a man in his late twenties
with a shaven head and dark chocolate eyes, sitting opposite an empty chair by
the window.
His glance met hers and
he grinned. Rising to his feet, his lean torso covered in a pale yellow Polo
T-shirt and his lightly-bowed legs in black jeans, he said, “Hello beautiful.”
Tari smiled. “Hello Hot
Chocolate.”
He laughed and then
wrapped his arms around her in a hug.
Despite the fact that they both worked in the same media company, Glow
Force Media, it had been almost a month since they had last set eyes on each
other, although they spoke on average two times a week on the phone. She was
based in the Abuja office, and he in Lagos.
“Mmm, you smell as great as ever.” Dare DaSilva said, his face in
her curls.
“Thanks, but don’t ever
let that paranoid fiancée of yours catch you smelling my hair. She’s unhinged.”
“Come on, Tari… Wumi’s
the kindest person I know.” Dare stepped
out of Tari’s arms to draw the second chair out. He said, “Sit, sit. I’ve
missed you.”
“And I you.” She slid
into the chair, looking up into his face. “You’re the perfect gentleman, as
always.”
He returned to his
seat. Inclining his head toward the service people at the counter, he said, “I
try. I’ve ordered for us. For you, Red Velvet Cheesecake… and for me, Coffee
Addiction. It’ll be here soon.”
“Ah, you remembered
that I love cheesecake.”
“Of course.”
Tari sank into the
plush leather seat, shutting her eyes briefly. “It’s so easy with you. Why
isn’t it this easy with Joe or even with Dubem?”
“Because we are just
friends but Joe is your… what do I call him... your lover? And Dubem is… one of
your numerous suitors.”
“Gosh, Dare, Joe was
talking about marriage again. Very annoying.”
Dare shrugged. “You
can’t blame him. Look at you… you’re one of the most beautiful women on this
planet.” He cleared his throat, his glance flying around the room. “Of course
my Wumi is also on that list.”
Tari rolled her eyes.
She said, “Of course she is. You
never know she may have bugged you and could be listening to our conversation
at this very moment. I’m sure she still thinks that you and I are having an
affair.”
“No, she doesn’t. She
knows nothing happened between us.”
“Not for lack of you
trying.” Tari quipped, lifting an eyebrow.
Dare grinned, his
glance darting away to the waiter approaching their table with a tray.
The waiter, a dark man
in his early twenties, smiled at Tari, his smile lingering for long seconds
before he turned to Dare. He said, “Good day to you both. Here’s our Red Velvet
Cheesecake for the pretty lady…”
Tari struggled to keep
her eyes from rolling.
He continued, “…it’s a
vanilla bean cheesecake sandwiched between layers of rich moist red velvet
cake, topped with our signature cream cheese frosting and white chocolate
shavings…”
Her mouth salivated.
Gosh, it looked as delicious as it sounded.
“…and a Coffee
Addiction for the gentleman.”
“Thanks.” Dare said.
The server nodded and
departed.
Wielding her spoon,
Tari said, “You notice he didn’t say much about yours.”
Dare said, “I noticed.
So how was Friday lunch with Senior Pastor Joseph Etim and his ex-wife?”
“Mhhmmm… this is phenomenal.” Tari murmured, through a mouth of
cheesecake. After swallowing, she said, “The ex barely said a word to me. She
stared at me like I was the snake in the Garden of Eden. But the children more
than made up for her unfriendliness. They were great. But this morning, after
sex, Joe launched into his marriage sermon for the umpteenth time. Can’t he get
that I don’t want to marry him or anyone?”
Dare licked the
ice-cream off his spoon. He said, “We men usually want what we can’t have. But
Tari, you know you can’t keep playing Joe and Dubem against each other.”
“I’m not sleeping with
Dubem, only Joe. For now.” She
muttered darkly.
“Well… one day you’re
going to meet the guy who’ll melt that heart of yours.”
Tari scoffed, “It’ll
never happen. Anyway, I’m done talking about me. What’s the latest between you
and your former model-slash-superstar fiancée?”
“We’re fine. As usual.”
“And she isn’t sending
assassins to off your ex-girlfriend from Canada… Emem, is it? …who returned
last year to woo you and is now your friend?
I’m surprised and impressed.”
Dare glared at Tari.
“Why should she? Wumi knows I love her and only her. Emem and I just hang out.”
“The girl that nearly
broke you when she left to travel to Canada… that’s the one you’re hanging out
with? Dare, she’s not your friend.”
Polishing off half of
his Coffee Addiction, he didn’t meet her gaze. A minute later, he muttered,
“We’re friends.”
“No. You and I are
friends. You can’t be friends with a woman you’ve slept with, who you were in
love with. I can’t imagine that Wumi is okay with this.”
He breathed in air,
wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I-I haven’t told Wumi about that yet. But I
will.”
“Dare, you better leave
Emem alone.”
“Yes mother.”
“Gosh, I hate it when
you say that.”
“I know.”
“I’m only six years
older than you. And I’m not your mama.”
“Thank God.”
Their eyes met and they
both guffawed.
Dare put down his
spoon. His eyes narrowed. “How’s your campaign against Onyeka for the top job
in the Abuja office progressing?”
“I think we’re neck and
neck.”
“I hate that guy.” Dare
blurted out, frown lines marring his smooth forehead.
“I hate him too.”
“He had me demoted and
transferred from Lagos to Abuja.”
“Yes, but there’s a
silver lining… because of your transfer, we met.”
Dare grinned at her.
Stretching a hand across the tabletop, he grasped her right hand. “For that, I
no longer hate him that much.” Releasing her hand, he pushed his face closer.
“I heard that he’s probably going to be the one picked for the job.”
It was her turn to
frown. “Really? Where did you hear that?”
“From here and there.
I’ve been keeping my ears open and that’s what I heard. He has friends in high
places. One of the owners of Glow Force Media. You need a bold, strong move to
put your over the edge.”
“I know.” Tari nodded.
But what could she do though? Onyeka was a greasy SOB but he had a lot of
connections within the company. He had transferred from the Lagos branch office
to Abuja late last year in preparation for his campaign for the job. Yes, he
had built up a strong network of supporters. But she wanted the COO Job. Heck,
she deserved it. She had worked hard for that position and nobody would take it
from her. She would be the first female head in the history of Glow Force
Media, Nigeria.
Dare muttered, “One of
the owners, Onyeka’s supporter, our boss, Fela… I heard he’s not in favor of
women holding top jobs.”
“Really?” Tari’s
eyebrows lifted.
“Yes. Ever since his
divorce from his wife, who heads a major conglomerate herself, by the way, he’s
become tougher on women. I heard he wasn’t pleased with your application but
couldn’t deny that you had the right credentials.”
“And it helps that the
other owner, Remi, is on my side.”
Dare grinned. “Yes,
that helps too.”
Tari sneered. “Fela’s
just bitter because of his divorce. The rumor going around is that he dates
only women fifteen to twenty years younger than him.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that
too.” Dare shrugged. “I also heard about the attack.”
“Yes, five of our
foreign visitors were assaulted by armed robbers on their way to a club last
week in Abuja. The robbers stole three of Glow Force Media’s brand-new jeeps
and killed nearly all the mobile policemen in the convoy. Management is
frothing at the mouth about this incident.”
Eyes glinting, Dare
said, “This could be it. The bold move you need. You could do a presentation as
a motivation to hire better security people.”
She stared at him, the
cheesecake forgotten. “That’s brilliant, Dare. But one problem; I have no clue
about anything security-related.”
“Have you heard of Kema
Constantino?”
“Yes. Everyone has
heard of her. She’s the first female private investigator in Nigeria, probably
in Africa.”
Dare looked very
pleased with himself. “She’s married to one of the owners of an elite private
security firm, Olympus Security. Oh—and she’s Wumi’s best friend. I know today
is a Saturday and you’ll be returning to Abuja on Monday but if anyone can get
an appointment with her today, my fiancée can. Hold on, I’ll call Wumi now and
ask her.”
***
It had taken a tiny bit
of cajoling on Dare’s part but eventually Wumi had agreed to help. She had sent
Dare a text a few minutes later saying that Kema had consented to see Tari
today at the Olympus Security main office in Victoria Island. Tari had up till
one P.M. to arrive there.
Dare had urged Tari to
leave for the office immediately to be able to catch up with Kema. He had
promised to handle the bill. They had embraced and she had rushed out and into
the Pastor Joseph’s silver Toyota jeep.
Now, at twelve-fifteen,
the driver pulled the car up to massive, forbidding steel-gray gates, at the
address Wumi had sent. Tari peered up through the window at the glass and
concrete structure. The gates were high; she could see only three floors and
the roofs. On either side of the gates, two cameras glared down at the car.
From the guardhouse
built flush into the left wall by the gates, a young man in a white and dark
purple uniform stepped out and approached them.
Tari wound down her
window. He came up to her, all cold eyes and polite smiles.
“Good afternoon, ma’am.
May I help you?”
“I’m Tari Johnson. I
have an appointment with Kema Ekwueme.”
“Tari Johnson for
Kema.” He called out to another guard inside the small house and then turned
back to her.
“It’ll just take a
minute. Meanwhile, may I search your vehicle?”
Like
I have a choice. Tari nodded.
Quickly and
efficiently, he scanned under the jeep and then looked through the back.
A second after he had
completed his task, the gates drew apart, revealing a long driveway made of
interlocking stones.
Flashing another polite
smile, the guard said, “Go straight. To the end. Have a good day, ma’am.”
“You too.” Tari
muttered as the driver started the car and drove in and up the road, flanked on
either side by narrow, grass-lined pavements. In the distance, on the right,
two bungalows stood side by side. On the left of the pavement were rows and
rows of parked black SUVs.
They moved on to the
top of the road. Another guard in white and purple waited there, positioned in
front of a tall building. He waved at the driver.
The car stopped.
Another polite smile. “Please come down, ma’am.” He pulled her door open. Tari
climbed down.
“Go inside, ma’am.”
As she mounted the
short flight of stairs leading to a set of glass double doors, she heard the
jeep drive off, probably to park somewhere in this vast compound.
Her wedges hit the mat
in front of the doors and they slid open. A rush of almost freezing air
welcomed Tari into the foyer. On the left, one guard perched behind a long desk
and in front of some monitors. Directly opposite the doors was a group of
security turnstiles and beyond them, a bank of elevators.
Another guard met her.
“Sign in, please.” He gestured to an open notebook on the desk with a pen lying
beside it. She wrote down her name, her
address, her phone number, the reason for her visit—personal—and the time. He passed her a temporary ID.
“She’ll be here
shortly.” He said.
Tari nodded, moving to
a collection of silver-grey metal chairs on the right of the glass doors.
Sinking down onto one of them, she straightened the hem of her dress over her
knees.
The chime of an
elevator bell. Someone came out; a small woman in black. Using a security card,
she passed through a turnstile and came forward.
Tari stared up at her.
This was Kema. She had seen photos of her but—Gosh—in the flesh; she was tiny,
maybe five-two or three, a UK size eight—and young. Probably early thirties.
Kema wore a fitted
black silk shirt over her small torso and black jeans over very wide hips. On
her feet were black ankle boots. Her hair was cut Mohawk-style and dyed
honey-blond. Three diamond studs per ear, a Pierre Cardin watch plus a
solitaire diamond ring above a platinum wedding band on the third finger on her
left hand made up her jewelry.
The men stiffened,
murmuring, “Ma’am.”
Kema nodded at them and
stuck out a hand to Tari. With eyes as cold as the guards, and a smile almost
as polite, she said, “Tari Johnson.”
“Yes.” Tari rose.
What’s it with this place? The cold eyes; the fake smiles. Arghh.
Gripping Kema’s hand,
she shook it.
“You’re Dare’s best
friend, right? Nothing more?”
What
the hell? Tari’s eyes constricted but she replied, “We’re
just friends. I have never had anything more
with Dare and I never will.”
For a moment longer,
the two women stood there, hands clasped, staring into each other’s eyes.
Suddenly, Kema grinned. A grin that reached her eyes and warmed her up.
“That’s wonderful. His
fiancée, Wumi Osoba is my best friend and I get a little over-protective
sometimes. Welcome to Olympus Security.”
Tari dropped her
hand. Wow. What a change.
Kema smiled again and
said, “Wumi explained to me what you need. I’ll be happy to help. But, I’m
flying out to New York tonight to join my husband, Oliver… he’s one of the
owners of the company… and I won’t be around to follow up with you. But not to
worry, I reached out to the other owner, Steven. He’ll be here in a minute.”
A dull roar reached Tari’s
ears through the glass doors. She glanced outside.
The roar appeared to
have come from a fancy motorbike parking in front of the building. A cherry-red
and white Ducati. Hmm, impressive.
The man astride it had a red helmet with a black visor on his head. He
clambered off the bike with a fluid grace.
Tari raised her head,
eyes glued to him. Who was he?
He was tall,
broad-shouldered, slim-waisted, wearing a light blue shirt, arms rolled up to
his elbows over blue jeans and chestnut-brown suede ankle desert boots on his
feet.
“Ah, Steven’s here.”
Kema murmured.
That’s
one of the owners? Tari stared.
He dragged his helmet
off and handed it to the guard outside and then glided into the lobby like a
sleek panther.
Up close, he was
beautiful, more beautiful than any man should be. He was mixed-race, with
brown, almost reddish curly hair, tawny eyes flecked with gold and lips that
were pink and ripe. He beamed at Kema and dimples creased his cheeks and white,
white teeth gleamed.
The guards inside
straightened even more. Almost simultaneously, they called out, “Good
afternoon, sir.”
“Good afternoon.” He
responded, nodding at each man, one after the other. He had an American accent.
Gazing at him, Tari’s
pulse began to skip. What? What was
happening to her? He was handsome, yes, but she had known lots of handsome men.
Her eyes zoomed in on his fingers. Only one ring, a gold band with an emerald
stone, on his right hand. Not a wedding ring. Not that she cared whether he was
married or not, of course.
“Kema, darling.” He
bent down to kiss Kema’s cheek.
“Steven, thanks for
coming in. This is Tari Johnson. I told you about her.”
Those eyes glanced at
her, cool and blank. “Welcome, Tari.” And then, he returned to Kema.
What?
Tari couldn’t believe it. For most of her life, men meeting her for the first
time stared at her, eyes wide or they did a double-take. But this, this blank one-second glance was… was galling. It was like he had
sucker-punched her ego. Who the hell did he think he was?
“Tari, meet Steven
Braithwaite, CEO of Olympus Security.”
Tari nodded. He made no
effort to catch her eyes. Grrr.
Kema glanced at Tari.
She said, “Did you sign in?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, we can go up.”
Steven led the way,
followed by Kema and Tari, through the turnstiles, into the elevator to the
third floor. Pushing open a wooden door adjacent to the elevator, Steven
stepped into a mid-sized room containing wine-red chairs and couches and a
chocolate-brown coffee table.
Waving Tari to an
armchair, Kema settled into the couch opposite. Steven sat beside her, legs
splayed, one hand on his thigh and the other on the seat.
Tari tried to keep her
eyes from training on the spot between his legs. She sank into the chair,
focusing on Kema.
“Do you want something
to drink? There’s juice, wine, tea, coffee, water…”
“No thanks, Kema. I’m
fine.”
“Do you have your
business card?”
“Yes.” Tari dug into
her nude-colored bag and extricated one card. Only for Kema. Kema took it,
scanned it and then passed it over to Steven.
Come
on,
Tari groaned inwardly.
He didn’t glance at it.
Pulling out his phone from his jeans pocket with the other hand, he eyed his
Breitling watch.
Who the hell did he think he was? There was
nothing special about him. Yes, he was rich, powerful, and overwhelmingly
good-looking but everything about him screamed BAD BOY, including his
occupation. The owner of a security company. Didn’t that mean he was dangerous?
No, no, no. Not her type.
“The way I think we
should play it is that we send you information about us, about what we do to
your email address and then you can compile the data and make your presentation
to your bosses. And then, maybe next week…” Kema paused to glance at Steven,
“He’ll come to your office and talk to them and answer any questions.”
He was coming to Abuja!
No, why him?
Raising his head from
his iPhone, he whispered to Kema, “You know how busy we are. Are you sure we
should handle this?”
“Yes. For Dare.”
“That kid? Come on,
Kema.”
Tari couldn’t help
herself. “Excuse me?”
Kema smiled at her.
“Don’t mind us.” She whispered to Steven. “We’re doing it.” Facing Tari, Kema
continued, “I’m sorry but I have to leave now. I haven’t packed and there are
lots I need to finish before my flight. Steven will take care of you.”
Kema jumped up. Steven
automatically did the same.
Rising to her feet,
Tari bit her lip trying to hide a grin. This bad boy was a gentleman.
Kema and Tari shook
hands once more. “Thank you, Kema.” Tari
said.
“No big deal. Take
care, Tari.” Kema ambled toward the door, muttering to Steven, “Be good now.”
Leaving him alone with
her. Arghh. Tari’s palms moistened.
For the first time
since she had met him, Steven stared down at her, straight in her face. And
then he smiled. His dimples flashed, his
tawny-gold eyes softened.
In her core, Tari felt
an answering tug. Body, behave yourself.
This one’s not for you.
Replacing his phone in
his front pocket and the card in the back, he said, “I’ll send you the email on
Monday and then after you can get back to me on when you need me in Abuja. But
for now, let’s have lunch.”
What?
Frowning, she muttered, “Lunch? To discuss my presentation?”
He grinned. Said, “No.”
“As… a date?”
He laughed and said.
“Not quite. You’re here via Kema so I’ve got to be on my best behavior and
also… you are a potential client.”
She shouldn’t ask this
but she just had to know. He had been ignoring her for the past half-hour. Was
it because she was a potential client and also because of Kema’s presence? “So…
if I wasn’t a client… and if I didn’t come here through Kema…”
His smile disappeared
but his eyes glowed. Inching closer, he whispered, “I would have taken you to
dinner and after, we would go to my place and fuck.”
Tari’s eyes rounded.
Did he just say what she heard? She glowered into his face. He was trying to
shock her. She could see the beginnings of laughter on those perfect pink lips.
Living up to his bad boy image. Well, she wouldn’t play into his hands. After
all they were both adults.
Shrugging, she
murmured, “Well, unfortunately for you, we won’t fuck. I’m a client. I’m
returning to Abuja in a day or two. And I have a boyfriend.”
His gaze on her lips,
he whispered, “I like how you mentioned your boyfriend last.”
Damn.
Tari bit her lip.
Steven smiled. Her
reaction sparked his interest. Other women would have feigned shock and horror
at his words, even while their eyes gleamed with desire. But she didn’t. Nice.
He peeked at her body. Damn, he yearned to explore with his mouth those parts
of her well-proportioned body wrapped by her blue dress. He had had loads of
skinny, model-type girls but he also enjoyed a woman with some meat on her
bones. And also, the bronze color of her skin meshed very nicely with the afro
of brown curls that framed her heart-shaped face. That face, with the high
cheekbones and the mole by the right side of her nose. Stunning. He couldn’t
wait to meet up with her in Abuja.
“If we’re done, I’ll
like to leave now.” She stated, mouth pursed.
“Okay. I’ll walk you to
the lobby.”
“No, I can manage.”
Being closeted with him in the elevator? No thanks.
Steven wagged his head,
chuckling. He said, “It’s company policy.”
“Alright.”
Side by side, they left
the room and entered the lift, Tari ensuring a decent distance between their bodies.
She didn’t want to spontaneously combust. This guy was affecting her in ways
she hadn’t expected.
Staring straight ahead
as the elevator descended, she took in short, sharp breaths of air. Was air
leaking out somewhere? How come she was finding it so hard to breathe? Hurry
up, lift. How long did it take to go down four floors?
Without warning, he
leaned over. His heated breath fanned her neck. Her nipples stirred. “You smell
divine.” He drawled.
Before she could say
anything, the doors opened and Tari sprang out, sucking air into her lungs.
Hallelujah, saved by the door. With him behind her, she raced through the
turnstile and halted at the desk.
“Sign out, please,
ma’am.” The guard said, aware that his boss was standing right beside him.
She did so, keeping her
eyes on the book.
“You’ll let me know
when I can come over?” Steven asked, his voice all professional and calm.
“Yes, of course.” She
didn’t look at him. “Thanks for your help.”
Keeping her gaze
forward, Tari staggered out of the building and to her car, legs quivering. What the heck was going on? Body, behave! Note to self: never, ever be
alone with Steven Braithwaite.