her.
She and Leila had been best friends since kindergarten, when Talisa broke the red crayon in her Crayola box and Leila had offered her own in replacement. They’d been inseparable after that, even following each other to Georgia Tech when they graduated high school. Mya had joined the duo when they’d been in the fourth grade. They’d met her in church two weeks after her parents and twin brothers had moved from Baltimore to Atlanta. Mya had captivated them with her vocal cords, bellowing big hymns out of her tiny body that had made them all stop and take notice. She’d also been the more daring of the trio, enticing them to get into more trouble than any one of them cared to remember. Benita had been Mya’s college roommate, evening out their threesome as they’d moved into adulthood.
Leila had graduated college a year early, moving right on to Harvard Law School for her law degree. It had been the first time she and Talisa had been apart, the telephone and e-mail the lifeline between them. Talisa had marveled at her friend’s dedication and commitment to her career, still having no idea what she wanted to do with her own life, despite her degree in journalism.
Benita was working her Spelman College marketing degree by running a small advertising agency. Her business was growing rapidly and Talisa envied her ability to build something out of absolutely nothing. Free-spirited Mya was her sister-friend most intent on marrying well, believing that the right union would lift her well above her family’s days of food stamps and government housing. Talisa sighed as they giggled beside her, energy flowing from one to the other.
As they stepped inside the tastefully decorated suite, handing their tickets to the woman at the door, their excitement level rose tenfold. Forty good-looking, well-dressed men turned their attention to the entrance as the women stepped inside. Scanning the room from one corner to the other, Talisa felt as if they’d just experienced sensory overload, one human confection more delectable than the other. Every nerve ending in her body was tingling with anticipation and as Mya pushed her way past them, extending her hand toward three men who stood in conversation in front of the bar, Talisa looked to Leila for support. The woman stared back at her and grinned.
“Happy birthday, girlfriend.”
Talisa laughed. “I owe you big-time, my friend.”
“Just make sure I don’t have to wear pink ruffles at your wedding and we’ll call it even.”
“Ditto for me,” Benita said before turning to say hello to a man with a linebacker’s build who’d stepped in to greet her.
Talisa suddenly stood alone and nervous as Leila disappeared into the crowd. She followed the clear path toward the buffet table in the center of the room, a smile pasted on her face as she brushed past one good-looking man after another.
“Hello, my name’s Charles, Charles Barrow,” a voice said from behind her as she reached for a clean plate and a canapé.
Talisa turned to stare up into the dark brown eyes of a heavyset, mocha-colored black man. He reached to shake her hand, then gestured to the green-eyed blond beside him. “And, this is Mark Hayes.”
“It’s very nice to meet you both,” Talisa said, nodding ever so slightly. “My name’s Talisa. Talisa London.”
“Beautiful name,” the man named Mark said, her hand still caught in his as he held on to the handshake a touch longer than necessary.
“Thank you.”
“So what brings you here this evening?” Charles asked.
Talisa’s grin widened. “It’s my birthday. I thought making a donation to a worthy cause would be a great way to celebrate.”
The man chuckled. “Ahhh. A woman comfortable with being alone, enjoying her single lifestyle, and not desperate for a man to spend the rest of her life with. A woman here for the larger cause. That’s refreshing,” he said, a wealth of sarcasm tainting his tone.
Talisa gave him a wry smile. “Yes, it is. It’s also nice to be in the company of men who are interested in supporting those in need and not just needing to inflate their overly excessive egos with what they think will be a quick, one-night booty call on someone else’s dime.”
The man laughed. “Touché,” he said.
An awkward silence fell between them as Talisa pushed the food from one side of her plate to the other.
The man named Mark grinned at the obvious dislike his associate and the stunning woman had taken to one another. “Do you participate in these things often?” he asked politely, making a second attempt at conversation.
She shook her head. “No, this is my first time. So why are you two participating?”
Mark shrugged. “I don’t know about my partner here, but I’m desperate for a date.”
Talisa laughed. “I’m sure it’s not that bad for you.”
Smiling wryly, the man shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe just how bad it is.”
“So, what do you do?” Talisa asked, suddenly wishing she’d spent more time studying her auction brochure.
Mark smiled. “We’re both anchors on Good Morning, Atlanta. Charles does the news and I do the weather. I take it you don’t watch much television.”
Talisa shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. “Sorry.”
Charles winced, his feelings clearly bruised by her lack of knowledge about who he was and what he did. “Figures,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to either of the two standing beside him.
They all looked toward the door as the lights flashed on and off. The ticket taker was gesturing for their attention. “Excuse me. If I can have your attention, please.” She paused for a quick second, her gaze skating across the faces in the room. “We’re about to start the auction in a few minutes. We’re going to ask our ladies to please return to the ballroom and take your seats so our guests can have a few minutes to get themselves ready. Thank you.”
Talisa smiled as the duo suddenly appeared anxious. She tossed Mr. Charles Barrow a look that let him know clearly that she had no intentions of pursuing any further time in his company. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Mark,” she said, placing the china and half-eaten canapé onto the tray of a passing waiter. “Good luck this evening. Oh,” she added as an afterthought, “and you, too, Charlie.”
Charles winked. “Same to you, babe.”
As Talisa turned toward the door, a tall man standing off in the corner caught her attention. His expression was pensive as he stood alone, knee-deep in thought. From the stern expression, his eyes narrowed to thin slits and his jaw locked hard and tight, the lines chiseled in his face, one could have mistaken his demeanor for brooding. But Talisa sensed that there was something more going on inside the man’s mind, something deeply personal and consuming. His face was familiar and she stopped short in her tracks as she stared blatantly in his direction.
The good-looking man suddenly jumped as if startled, his gaze locking tightly with hers. He stared at her boldly, appraising every inch of her with obvious appreciation before lifting his mouth in a deep smile, nodding his head slowly in greeting. The silent exchange of eye contact spoke volumes, whispering promises Talisa suddenly found disconcerting. As a wave of recognition swept over her, nervous energy filled the pit of her stomach. She stood frozen, staring intently as the man slowly crossed the carpeted floor in her direction. Turning a quick gaze to the door, Talisa saw Leila and Mya waiting at the entrance, both staring curiously. Benita still stood chatting with the football player on the other side of the room.
Jericho Becton stopped directly in front of Talisa, smiling warmly. Standing well over six feet tall, he was dressed in an expensive black tuxedo. With his long and lean stature, the formal suit fit him to perfection. His thick hair, the color of black licorice, was pulled into a neat ponytail that hung down his back, stopping just below the line of his shoulder blades. Contrasting nicely against his rich, caramel complexion, his bright white smile washed over her, and Talisa