Hollington Homecoming, Volume Two. Pamela Yaye
forward, hand poised to strike, she calmed her nerves. Losing to Terrence wasn’t an option, so she smacked the buzzer before the host even finished reading the question. “Nineteen fifty-five!” she shouted, high above the din. “Martin Luther King received his doctorate in nineteen fifty-five.”
“Correct! The winners, for the third consecutive week, are the Foxy Cleopatras!”
Shaunice cheered, whooping and hollering like the missing member of the Village People. Kyra followed her friend to the front of the restaurant and burst out laughing when Shaunice snatched the prize money out of the emcee’s hands.
They were back at their table, sharing a complimentary slice of chocolate raspberry cheesecake when Terrence sidled up to their table with two dark, equally attractive men.
“That was some game,” Terrence said, after introductions were made, “but just for the record, I knew the answer to the last question.”
“Too bad your hand isn’t as fast as mine!”
The group laughed.
“Terrence, what’s it like being back in the A after all these years?” Shaunice asked, setting down her cocktail glass. “Did you miss it?”
“Definitely. I grew up in Pittsburgh, but Hollington will always be home. I played ball, received my degree and fell in love for the first time, too.”
Kyra coughed.
“We saw your first NFL game,” Shaunice told him.
“Really? I’m flattered.”
“When you ran out onto the field, Kyra screamed so loud I spilled soda all over my jeans.” Shaunice tugged on her earlobe. “I still can’t hear properly out of this ear!”
Eyes wide, mouth ajar, he turned to Kyra. “You saw my debut game?”
“Oh, yeah, she’s a sports nut,” Shaunice explained. “She likes the Falcons, but the Cowboys are her favorite team.”
A grin on his lips, Terrence turned towards his cousins. “I think Shaunice deserves a celebratory glass of wine, don’t you think so, fellas?”
“For sure,” Damon agreed. “Winning is tough work.”
Under the table, Kyra clutched Shaunice’s hand. Speaking through the side of her mouth, she begged her to stay. “Please don’t leave me alone with him.”
“You’re a big girl,” she whispered, “I can’t pass up this opportunity! His cousins are single and hot!”
Then, in the likeness of Jezebel, she rose from her seat, linked arms with Neal and Damon and waltzed off as if she were the belle of the ball.
“So,” Terrence began, taking a seat in the now vacant chair, “you’re a fan.”
“A fan of football, not one of those insane Franklin Fanatics.”
“Oh, so you’ve been on my website, too.” His smile was ridiculously wide. “Ky, I have to admit that I’m shocked. You gave me the impression that you didn’t care.”
“I don’t.”
“You do. Why else would you be keeping tabs on me?”
“Keeping tabs on you?” she repeated. “You’re joking, right? I loved football long before we ever met. I have two brothers, remember?”
He didn’t answer, but his smile said he wasn’t buying it. Resting his elbows on the table, his gaze more devastating than a four-alarm fire, he watched her intently. “What time should I come by tomorrow?”
“For what?”
“A deal’s a deal,” he drawled. “I’m your handsome landscaper tomorrow.”
She started to protest, but he interrupted. “Pick a time or I will.”
“Anytime after ten will be fine,” she replied, prying the words out of her mouth.
“Great. Then I’ll be there at noon.”
Kyra laughed.
“I have a hell of a time waking up in the morning.”
“I bet. Parties at the Playboy Mansion never end before sunrise, do they?”
“I’d much rather spend an evening with you than watch a bunch of blondes play-fighting in a pool of chocolate pudding.”
“Is that what happens at those parties?”
“Why don’t we talk about us?” he proposed. “What are you doing later?”
Good question. What was she doing? Feeling dry-mouthed and woozy, Kyra gripped the side of her chair to keep from passing out. No more piña coladas, she decided, shifting nervously in her seat. “I don’t know. It’s up to Shaunice.”
Terrence stared deep into her eyes. Kyra looked away, but she could still feel the heat of his gaze. Wondering where Shaunice was, she searched the overcrowded room. Being alone with Terrence, even in a public place, was risky. He was openly flirting with her, trying to seduce her right then and there in The Tavern.
“Being here with you is just like old times.” Voice full of longing and regret, he leaned forward, brushing his fingers against her hands. “Can I ask you something?”
He looked serious, but Kyra felt the strange compulsion to laugh. Noting the hitch in his voice, she lifted her head and pressed her back flat against her chair. Terrence was moving closer and was just inches away. Worried her mouth smelled like onions, she discreetly checked her breath. Kyra didn’t want Terrence to kiss her, but if he did, she didn’t want him to recoil in disgust.
“Do you think you could ever date a guy like me?”
His voice fell gently on her ears. It was rich and soulful, the sweetest sound she had ever heard. She stared at him, wondering what it would be like to feel him inside her again. Back in university, they’d been inexperienced lovers, but now, at thirty-two, Kyra knew how she liked to be loved. Gaining control of her thoughts, she said, “I did date a guy like you, remember? And it nearly broke me.”
When Terrence didn’t respond, she continued. “We shouldn’t be discussing this,” she began, lowering her voice so they couldn’t be overheard. The strength of his gaze worried her. Nothing drove Terrence like failure, and she feared what he might do if she rejected him. If she wanted to keep their relationship pleasant, she had to handle him with kid gloves. “If you take the coaching position, we’re going to be coworkers, Terrence. I don’t want us to start the year off on the wrong foot.”
“I’ve achieved success beyond my wildest dreams and now I want what every man wants. Someone strong and sexy to come home to at the end of the day.”
“Have you considered placing an online ad?”
His eyes shone with jollity. “You mean on one of those dating sites?”
“I can help you to set up your profile.” Kyra had to calm down to finish her sentence. Giggling, she dug into her purse and produced a pen and notepad. “How does Sleepless in Atlanta sound?”
“I’d let you fix me up,” he confessed, slipping an arm over her shoulder and giving her an affectionate squeeze. “I’ve always thought you had great taste. Still do.”
He made a move as if he was going to kiss her, and Kyra froze. Panic flooded her body. Her tongue was heavy and she felt like her lips had been wired shut. She wanted to protest, but couldn’t find the words. Heart thumping wildly, she parted her lips, frantically gulping mouthfuls of air.
“Sorry I’m late.”
The sound of Aimee’s voice yanked Kyra from her daze. “Oh, hey, girl,” she greeted, glancing up at her friend. “What took you so long to get—”
“Terrence?”
He