Page 4 of Sun Kissed Moments

“Oh, I’m not. Hannah is light work compared to some people I’ve worked for.”

I grinned. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

Zamya laughed as she left my office. Hannah and light work didn’t belong in the same sentence. My sister was an athlete at heart. After playing college basketball, she graduated and moved on to modeling. I loved that for her, but she belonged on a basketball court. Which was why Shacar Birmingham was on her trail. He owned the Orlando Wildcats WNBA team and wanted Hannah on his squad. My sister had a jump shot that rivaled the greats. Between her tenacity in the paint, and her passion for the game, she was every team’s dream. She had to sit down with the fucking owner first.

Zamya appeared at my door again, crashing through my thoughts.

“ETA two hours and thirty minutes, Cousin. I suggest you get a move on if you plan on getting there in time.”

I stood from my desk, collected my things, then shot out of there like missing one minute with Justina was too much.

My first stop was thirty minutes from my office. I pulled onto the side of the road, gathered the bouquets, a small dusting brush, and a polishing towel. I closed the door to my truck, and just a few steps later, I was at my destination.

“Hey, Gorgeous,” I spoke to the wind as I stooped down and brushed a few grains of dirt off the base of my mama’s headstone. I polished the smiling picture of her and replaced the flowers I brought her two weeks ago with a new, fresh bouquet.

“I’ll be gone for a minute, aight, baby.” I always talked to her like she was sitting here with me and could answer me back. She’d been gone for two years now, and time hadn’t been kind to a nigga. I missed the fuck out of her and hated that she left this earth without experiencing life with her first grandchild. She never got to see me get married, and she missed my little sister’s college graduation. Donna fucked us up by leaving us the way she did.

“Would you believe I finally have a chance to get my girl, Ma. Say a prayer for me ‘cause I have a feeling she’s gon’ fight before she falls. Which I’m cool with. As long as she falls, right?”

Of course, Mama didn’t answer. I swallowed hard, angry that I couldn’t save her. Cancer was a bitch ass, hating ass muthafucka. My mama was living a good life, happy as hell, and full of life. Cancer came along and snatched everything from her. From her skin to her smile, cancer snatched it all. That was what I hated most. It took my mama’s zest for life. She was never without a smile, a prayer, or a sweet set of words that made anyone stop and listen.

She was the reason I loved to write. From the time I could form sentences, I loved putting words in form and allowing them to create audible pictures. A lifetime of growing in the presence of a poet would do that. Donna was the best mother a man could ever want.

“I’m sorry,” I told her for the thousandth time. There were so many things I was sorry for. Sitting at the top of the list was shunning the idea of having my own family. Now that my mama was gone, all I could think about was settling down. I had unlimited money, several houses, too many cars to count, and a list of other shit that didn’t keep me warm at night. I wanted my one.

That was where Justina came in. I had her in my line of sight, and I wasn’t letting up no matter how tough she curved me.

My flight landed right on schedule, and a driver waited on the tarmac for me. Hat and shades in place, I quickly sashayed from the jet to the back of the waiting sedan. The driver closed the door behind me, enclosing me in the cool interior. North Florida’s weather wasn’t much different than South Florida, but it sure as hell felt like it.

As requested, the driver had some music on. One song ended, fading into another. Inwardly, I groaned. Dane Richards seemed to be following me every damn where. First, it was his voice on the ride to the airport. Then it was a picture of him on the cover of one of the magazines I flipped through as my flight took off. Now, it was his voice riding with me to Onyx Cove Resort.

His lyrics never failed to make me stop and listen. I knew every line, every ad-lib, and every beat drop like the back of my hand. Dane’s music was truly in a caliber all its own. A few rappers tried to go up against him, but he always had a bar or two to shut them the fuck up.

I guessed that was one of the things I liked about Dane. He was lowkey, rarely addressed these niggas, and let his numbers do the talking. Dane was a walking billboard for how to achieve billionaire status from the work of his own pen, life experiences, and imagination. Truthfully, if he wasn’t someone in the industry, he would be a potential partner for a woman like me. Well, if he wasn’t community dick and all.

Although Dane was lowkey, the women he dealt with weren’t the least bit lowkey about it. It was like they waited for the opportunity to sleep with him just so they could post about it. Of course, he never confirmed or denied whether he’d actually slept with all those women. If I had to guess, I’d say that many of the stories were true.

That wasn’t my business, though. As the chauffeur pulled into the winding entrance of Onyx Cove Resort, I marveled at the towering palm trees, lively brush, and magnificent waterfalls, then decided that Dane and his dick weren’t my problem and never would be…

My breath paused inside my throat as we grew closer to the resort’s entrance. Standing outside, hands in the pockets of white linen shorts, locs dangling past his chest, and arms out, showing off the muscles and ink across his toasted brown skin, Dane Richards rendered me speechless.

Even though I’d been in the industry for seven years, the first and only time Dane and I came face to face with each other was at the Music in Black Awards. He received his fourth album of the year award and stood on that stage looking like a dream I was ready to fall asleep and have. Presenting him that award was still fresh in my mind. Shit, it dominated my mind. Dane was nineties fine and had the voice of someone who could talk a woman through it many times over. At thirty-seven, he was in his twentieth year in the industry, with six albums under his belt, and he wasn’t slowing down. He stayed on top of his game all the time.

Abruptly, my door opened, shining a hefty amount of sunlight on my skin and snatching me back to the present. I’d been staring with my mouth open.

A large hand fitted with intricate skeletal bones and clean, nicely manicured nails reached for me. His cologne reached for me too, pulling me up by my panties and tweaking my clit as I took his hand. Ashamed of myself, I blushed, just like the last time Dane touched me.

As if he didn’t realize I was in the throes of a mini orgasm, Dane smiled, showcasing his perfectly dressed teeth. The diamonds in his mouth were brilliant and even brighter in person than they were on television.

“Miss Justina…”

Oh, shit. Why would he say my name, my government name, like that?

“Welcome to Onyx Cove Resort,” he practically crooned. That was what the hell he sounded like.

I found my own voice and replied, “Hi, Dane.”

Standing so close to him was akin to standing between the sun, a volcano, and Niagara Falls. I was hot all over, boiling over, and wet as hell at the same time. I wasn’t sure why the hell he was here, but Dane had to get out of my presence before I did something stupid, like ask him to meet me in my suite. I didn’t know this man personally, and if this was the way my body continued to react to him, I could see how women fell into bed with him for no damn reason other than his aura was that seductive and strong.