AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Put it down,” Torrian ground out.
Marcos stared at the screen, a wide grin on his face. “I didn’t know you were the type, man. Sexy.”
Torrian stiffened. “What are you talking about?”
Marcos tapped the screen. “The black girl. Oh, I mean African American. Have to be PC. She’s pretty sexy, and she’s sending you pictures like this? I wouldn’t mind getting a piece of—”
Torrian tried to rip Marcos’s fingers off as he grabbed his phone. He stared down at the screen to find a picture of Jaz. She had sent it through text, and obviously the nosy Marcos had downloaded it. No words, just her in the Halloween outfit, posed in a suggestive way that set his blood boiling. Who took the picture, he wondered jealously and then remembered her sister or maybe a girlfriend? He doubted she would send the picture to him if she had a new boyfriend. Longing washed over him. Yes, he wanted her body, but he also desired to talk to her, to hear her laugh.
That night after he dropped her at her apartment, he had called the next day to tell her the truth. He had no intention of seeing her again, not with the threat of Kenny or one of his friends hurting her. Jaz had argued with him, but then quickly told him if he couldn’t stand up to his cousin, he wasn’t the man she thought he was. That had pissed him off, and he hadn’t spoken to her since. Stand up to Kenny? How many times had he done so? Hell, he’d put Kenny on his ass plenty of times. That didn’t solve his problem. What would, he had decided, was knowing his place. That place was here.
An ache tightened his chest as he glanced at Marcos, who had switched to telling him about the last woman he had been with and how he had tossed her aside because she got clingy. Somehow Torrian doubted that, but who knew. He wondered if it was time again to talk to Marcos about his mouth. How many times did it make? Should he order training for the man? Probably. Torrian sighed and stood.
“I’m hitting the shower,” he said. Marcos jumped to his feet.
“I’m going to—”
Torrian glared him silent and walked away before he did something he would regret. The shower did nothing to improve his mood, so he followed through with his earlier decision—leave the office. Rattling around in his house gave him more of a feeling of isolation. Why couldn’t he just enjoy all of this? He scanned the room in the cellar of his house. A CNN newscaster droned on the ninety-inch TV, and Torrian sank onto the couch. He’d been staring more at his phone than at the screen for the last couple hours. As he rubbed his hand over his face, his phone dinged, and he nearly dropped it on the carpet.
An e-mail this time, he noted, and he opened it. Various pictures were attached, charity event photos—an old guy eating, kids playing basketball at the center, Jaz sorting clothes, other junk in boxes, and more kids sitting in chairs while a frumpy guy spoke to them. He shook his head. In the body of the e-mail, she had written one line. You need this.
Torrian hesitated and then switched over to the favorites on his contacts list. Once he had added her number, he had never removed it. Anticipation made him punch at the button with his thumb, and line began ringing.
“Hello?” she said. His heart raced, but he breathed in deep, forcing himself to play it cool.
“So what did the e-mail mean?” he said.
“Just what I said.”
He grinned for no other reason than he was speaking to her. “I thought you don’t chase men.”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“No,” he rushed to say. “Uh, it’s work, right?” He didn’t want her to think she’d broken her own rule, even if she did. He understood the need to see her and speak to her, and it blew his mind and flattered him all at the same time to think the craziness in his head was mutual.
“Yeah, it’s work,” she agreed. Relief sounded in her tone. “Um, did you get the other picture?”
This time she hesitated. Torrian shut his eyes. He imagined her in the outfit. Oh hell, yes, I got it. “What other one?” he teased.
“Never mind.”
He wouldn’t tell her even if he never saw her again, that picture was his. In fact, the second he got off the phone, he would e-mail it to himself to make sure he had it for eternity. “So what are you wearing now?”
“A muumuu.”
He frowned. “What?”
She laughed. “I’m about to go into a painting class for elderly women, and I’m wearing this muumuu so I don’t mess my clothes up. It’s pretty hot, let me tell you.”
“I’m sure it is.” He shook away the unflattering picture she’d produced in his head and tried to bring the kitten back. “Do you always do that?”
“Wear a muumuu?”
“Jazara.”
She grew quiet.
“Are you there?”
