Yield to Love (4 page)

Marlowe stepped from the steamy shower and
grabbed a fluffy towel from the heated towel rack. She loved this
bathroom. It was custom decorated from the blue cabochons in the
glass half wall to the Italian palazzo heated tiles in the floor.
That was the beauty of having a brother-in-law who owned a chain of
home improvement stores. She could get her hands on whatever her
heart desired. It also didn’t hurt that her other brother-in-law
was a master carpenter and electrician. He’d single-handedly helped
renovate her bathroom.

When her sisters married, it was almost as
though she were getting married, too. She’d gained so much in the
way of family. She was content to let Candace and Ronnie be the
only ones living in wedded bliss. She couldn’t imagine being tied
down to one guy. So far, no man had managed to keep her
satisfied—especially in bed. Her sisters teased her about how she
ran through boyfriends like water, but if they knew how promiscuous
she was, they’d have a heart attack. It wasn’t as if she was
addicted to sex or anything. She just had a high sex drive. She
kept it a secret, fearful that she’d suffered from the same ailment
as her mother. Toye had said it in so many words—her mother had
been a ho. Well, not in the literal sense of the word, selling
coochie. But she ran after men, and when they didn’t run away from
her, she moved them in.

Marlowe really only remembered one of her
mother’s boyfriends. He’d tried to whip her, with a shoe, no less.
Candace and Ronnie jumped on him and beat him down. LaReesa had
been so pissed off she kicked the guy to the curb. That was the
year before she died. Marlowe had all but forgotten LaReesa. In
fact, she couldn’t even remember her mother’s face anymore. No one
in the family kept any pictures. Her mama didn’t like the camera
anyway.

She stared at her nude body in the
full-length mirror. She wasn’t as tall as Candace. Or as curvy as
Ronnie. But she was pleased with her body. She worked out three
times a week to maintain the firm tone. Someone had once called her
skinny-fine. She was blessed with big titties and fifty-cent piece
nipples, but she got nothing in the ‘ass’ department. That was
okay. She made it work. And she hadn’t had any complaints so
far.

She pulled on a pair of jeans and then
stepped into a pair of open-toed pumps. She’d tried wearing flats.
She just didn’t see how women could do it. She felt low to the
ground with anything less than four inches beneath her feet.

Before she could finish getting dressed, her
doorbell rang. She peered out of the second-story window of her
condo. A limo was parked out front.

“
What the
hell?”

She knew immediately it was for her. She
grabbed a thin, sleeveless black turtleneck and drew it over her
head as she walked toward her front door.

A slight man who wasn’t much taller than her
stood on her doorstep. He was so dark his skin practically matched
that of his black uniform and matching hat.

“
Can I help you?” she
asked.

“
I’m your
driver.”

“
I don’t need a
driver.”

“
Mr. Coleman says you
do.”

Marlowe stomped her foot against the
concrete. “Unbelievable! That is the most hardheaded, presumptuous
man I’ve had the displeasure of meeting. I told him I didn’t need a
car! How dare he?”

The driver shrugged. “You may as well take
advantage of the car. I’m already here, and Mr. Coleman is paying
me for the day. After all, I do have three kids to support.”

Marlowe kind of felt sorry for him. “Well,
it’s not your fault your boss is a jerk.”

“
Yeah, you’re not the
first person to say that.”

“
Okay,” she relented.
“Give me five minutes.”

She dashed back inside, pushed her fingers
through her short hair, and applied a pink gloss to her lips. As an
afterthought, she pulled a chain link belt through the belt loops
of her jeans. Then, she grabbed her purse and locked her front
door.

“
Thank you, sir,” she told
the chauffeur as he opened the back door of the limo with a
flourish.

“
Call me
Gator.”

He smiled and she laughed in reply. The man
was bending over backwards to be nice to her. “Okay, Gator.”

She stuck her head inside the warm interior
and gasped when she noticed another person sitting across from her.
Her gaze darted to the familiar pair of Indigo eyes. “You!”

Roque Coleman sat there looking scrumptious
in his sable suit and aqua tie. Not one hair of his thick locks was
out of place. He was wearing cufflinks again and shoes spit-shined
to perfection. Only he didn’t look like the type of man who would
let anyone spit near him. He looked like the picture of refinement.
The type of man who ate ribs with a fork.

He flashed her a charming smile. “I didn’t
want you to feel like you were riding with a stranger.”

“
And you’re not a
stranger?”

“
You met me
yesterday.”

The faint scent of his cologne filled the
limo. She swallowed hard, trying not to enjoy the aroma. She’d be
damned if she’d enjoy anything about him.

“
That doesn’t mean
anything. I’ve known people my whole life and I don’t know
everything about them.”

“
I’m not sure how to
respond to that.”

“
No response is necessary.
I was being facetious.”

“
Let me know how that
works for you. In the meantime, are you going to get in or would
you like to call even more attention to yourself?”

Marlowe looked around and noticed a few
people gawking at her. She gritted her teeth and slid into the
seat, careful to keep her distance from Roque. She wanted to slam
the door, but Gator was there to shut it behind her.

Roque peered at Marlowe from the corner of
his eye. She looked good. Wearing a black turtleneck and dark
jeans, she could have passed for a cat burglar. But right now, she
was anything but cat-like. She was wedged against the passenger
side door. Her body language indicated she’d rather be anywhere
than in this limo with him.

He felt like he should apologize for some
reason, but he never apologized, unless it was truly warranted. And
most of the time it wasn’t. Instead, he made an attempt to put her
at ease.

“
About yesterday,” he
began.

“
When you bum-rushed my
sisters’ wedding?”

“
Here we go with that
again.”

“
Well, what do you expect?
You have me trapped in a limo with you. You’re my captive audience,
so I may as well say what’s on my mind.” She shot him a cool gaze.
“I always do.”

“
I’ve already figured that
out.”

“
Good.”

He tried again. “At any rate, I realize I
may have come off…somewhat…pushy.”

She huffed. “Like a pain in the ass is more
like it.”

“
But as I mentioned, I’m
working on a deadline and—”

“
And all you care about is
your best interests and, of course, making money off my
land.”

“
Oh, so now it’s your
land?”

She shifted in her seat and faced him
directly. “Isn’t that what you said? Unless there’s another Marlowe
Jones with a mother named LaReesa.”

“
Nope. It’s just that
yesterday you kept insisting I was wrong.”

“
You still could
be.”

He blew out a deep breath. “You’re not
making this easy.”

“
What? Your half-hearted
apology?”

Okay, she’d called him on it. “I admit it
needs work.”

“
I can help. How about we
ride the rest of the way in silence?” She pulled an iPod from her
purse and proceeded to plug the ear buds in.

“
Don’t tell me you plan on
ignoring me.”

“
What’s the matter? No
woman ever ignored you before?”

“
As a matter of fact, no.
Most women find me irresistible.”

“
Hah! Is that before or
after you tie them up in your basement?”

Their gazes collided. For a fleeting couple
of seconds, he imagined himself tying her to the high posts of a
bed. He would take his time, wrapping her wrists and ankles with
his silk neckties. But she wouldn’t be flat on her back. He’d make
sure she was spread-Eagle, lying on her stomach before gently
pulling her ass cheeks apart and sliding into her from behind.

His cock stiffened at the thought, which was
crazy, because Marlowe Jones definitely was not his type. And he
didn’t have bedposts on his California King anyway. He forced the
erotic image away.

“
Perhaps you’re right,” he
said, giving her a patient smile. “Let’s spend the remainder of
this ride in silence.”

She shrugged and then cranked up the volume
on her iPod. He heard the muted sounds of some snappy tune playing.
Once again, he couldn’t help thinking that any man would have a
hard time taming this wild spirit. Thank God, she wasn’t his
problem to deal with. He retrieved his laptop from his briefcase
and began reading contracts for another project he was working on.
If she wasn’t going to talk, he may as well use this time to get
some real work done.

As the sounds of one of
her favorite tunes filled her ears, Marlowe snuck a peek at the man
sitting to her right. Hints of his citrus cologne teased her
nostrils. He smelled clean and fresh. He’d tuned her out now as he
worked on his laptop. She watched his long fingers navigate the
keyboard. His nails were neatly trimmed and buffed. Not only was
this man accustomed to the finer things in life, he
was
one of the finer
things in life.

She hadn’t meant to make wise cracks about
him tying someone up. As soon as she’d said the words, she conjured
up a mental image of him tying her to massive bedposts. He was
solid muscle. He looked every bit of six-foot-three, two hundred
pounds. He didn’t need to tie her up. He could restrain her with
his bare hands—and have her at the mercy of his hedonistic whims.
She wiggled in her seat, trying to ignore the sudden tingling
between her legs. Being tied up was a fantasy she had yet to
indulge in. Perhaps under a different set of circumstances, she
wouldn’t mind taking a walk on the wild side with Roque
Coleman.

She scoffed to herself. Roque was probably a
by-the-book kind of guy in bed. Strictly man on top. He seemed so
buttoned up and professional. She felt sorry for whatever female
was sexing him. Maybe that was his problem. He wasn’t getting any.
She could always tell when someone was having a dry spell. They
were too damn uptight, just like Mr. Coleman.

She hoped this ride was over quick. The
sooner she got this out of her system, the sooner she could get
back to her life. She didn’t want to think about her mother.
Although she hadn’t felt she’d missed much with Candace and Ronnie
raising her, Marlowe was still painfully aware of her mother’s
absence. She wondered what kind of property Reesa owned. As far as
Marlowe knew, her mother had died destitute. Ronnie had just turned
eighteen when she passed. She’d had the body cremated.

Marlowe watched as the scenery changed from
her upscale neighborhood to more modest homes, to finally a seedy
part of town in a low-income area. It was overrun with row houses,
some of them sitting on blocks. The limo drove past a house with
the burned-out carcass of an unidentifiable car parked in what
could have passed for a front yard—if it had any grass. The hood of
the car was removed and the engine was missing.

A dingy gray film settled over the entire
neighborhood. At first, she couldn’t figure why anyone would want
to live in this dump. But she realized it probably didn’t start out
this way. She could understand why Roque’s company wanted to buy up
this land. Without the dilapidated houses, it was prime real
estate. Located minutes from downtown and other attractions, it had
enormous potential. If she were a developer, she’d snap this parcel
up, too.

The limo turned the corner and pulled onto a
street similar to the others they’d passed. An abandoned basketball
goal sagged against a house with peeling paint. The warped rim had
definitely seen better days.

She shuddered. This place reminded her of
where she’d lived with her sisters for a while. She didn’t recall
much. Only that there was a girl who’d bullied her in school. She
and some of her friends put gum in Marlowe’s hair. Long, beautiful
hair that had to be cut off because the gum hardened in multiple
places. After that, Ronnie got a new job and they moved, changing
schools in the process. Marlowe was so glad. She knew from a young
age she was not cut out for fighting. She didn’t understand why the
girls at school didn’t like her. At home, her sisters treated her
like a princess.

Gator parked at the curb of a dilapidated
house that looked identical to all the rest of the homes on the
street. If not for the number 319 on the porch post, Marlowe didn’t
know how anyone could have told them apart.

“
Would you like me to go
in with you?” Roque asked.

For a moment, she was tempted to say yes.
After all, this wasn’t the safest area. But she declined. She
didn’t want him to think she needed his help. She could manage a
crisis on her own.

She shook her head. “I got this.”

Instantly, Gator appeared at the window and
opened the door for her. She slipped out, and made her way up the
battered sidewalk, careful not to get the heels of her designer
stilettos stuck in any of the cracks.