Deadly Satisfaction (7 page)

D
ONETTA

D
onetta had been in the produce section leafing through collard greens and talking to Geneva on her phone, when she saw the handsome man from the restaurant standing just a few feet away. She felt a jolt of excitement at the sight of him. But her sense of caution quickly kicked in. She knew from past experience that good-looking, sexy men like him couldn't be trusted any further than she could see them. And by the looks of this one, he was especially dangerous.

She'd caught him staring at her a few times while she'd been waiting for her food at Sebastian's, but she'd ignored him. Then Geneva had called, sounding worried and afraid, causing her to turn her complete attention to her dear friend, relegating the handsome man to an afterthought.

Now she was face-to-face with him again in, of all places, the grocery store. Her first thought was that he must be following her. She didn't want to become alarmed, but she also didn't want to discount the fact that she knew people were capable of just about anything.

Donetta tried not to look at him, but he was so tall—at six foot, four inches—and handsome—with the right combination of classic features and rugged sexiness—that she couldn't help herself. His faded Levi's were casual, with a well-worn vintage look, as if they'd been custom-made for him. She liked the way his broad chest and muscular arms outlined the black cashmere sweater that hung perfectly on his frame. She could spot style when she saw it, and he wore it as if he'd been born into it.

Donetta knew she needed to stop thinking about him and get back to doing what she'd come there to do. She was getting ready to place her bundle of collards into her shopping cart when she made the mistake of glancing his way. It was as if he'd been waiting for a cue because he smiled and waved a friendly hello.

“Damn it!” she whispered under her breath. She braced herself when she saw him walk toward her with a casual comfort, as if they were old friends. She steadied herself, put her hand on her hip, and stared him in the eyes. “Are you following me?”

The man looked startled and slightly offended as he lost his smile. “No, I'm not.”

“Then why're you here?”

He chuckled. “I guess for the same reason you're here . . . to buy food.”

“Oh, so you didn't get your order from Sebastian's?”

He gave her a puzzled look. “No, I mean, yes, I did. But it won't do anything for an empty refrigerator.” He glanced down at the collard greens in her cart. “I guess you're in the same boat, too.” He picked up a big bundle of greens and put them in his cart.

Donetta could see that he had no idea what he was doing, and she had the urge to tell him that the greens he'd chosen had too many spots and weren't as fresh as the ones in the back. He looked like he didn't know the difference between collards and cabbage.

“I see you like collards, too,” he said with a smile. “Nothing like a good pot of well-seasoned greens for a holiday dinner.”

There he goes again, trying to make conversation,
she thought. Donetta ignored his last remark, rolled her eyes, and began to push her cart past him. But when she did, she got a whiff of his incredibly sexy scent and it made her stop in her tracks.
Damn, he smells good!
She loved colognes and perfumes, and she knew virtually every fragrance—male and female—upon first whiff. But she couldn't place what kind he was wearing. He smelled like a combination of Irish Spring soap, tangerines, and fresh pine needles. She knew she should have expected that a sophisticated man who looked as good as he did, would smell good, too. She had the urge to rest her nose against his neck and inhale deeply, but instead she quickly regained her composure and began to push her cart again.

“Hey, wait a minute,” the man said playfully.

As much as Donetta knew she needed to keep walking, she found herself slowing her pace. His deep, velvety smooth voice sounded like pure seduction, and she wondered why she hadn't noticed it in the restaurant. She was intrigued, but she didn't want him to know that, so she stopped and turned around. “What?”

“Are you always this rude?”

She rolled her eyes again.

“Your attitude doesn't become a woman as beautiful as you. And rolling your eyes, which, by the way, are so hypnotic I could get lost in them, seems like such a waste when you do that. I think you're much, much better than the vibe you're giving off.”

Donetta had been prepared to launch a sarcastic comeback to whatever the sexy stranger might say, but the words that fell from his mouth made her hold back. He'd managed to set her straight about her funky attitude while giving her what sounded like a sincere compliment. She looked into his eyes again and felt something stir inside her. She was a good judge of character, and she'd always followed her gut, which was now telling her that the man standing in front of her was a good one.

But just as quickly as she'd allowed herself to soften her hard stance, she turned cold again. A childhood full of hurt and an adulthood filled with pain had left her weary and cynical. And the last two years in particular had taught her just how cruel some people could be. It had taken Donetta a long time to climb out of the fog of dysfunctional and abusive relationships she'd experienced in her life, and only recently had she been able to lay old demons to rest. She'd made a promise to herself after her surgery a year ago that she would protect her heart at all costs, and she had no intention of breaking it.

Donetta cleared her throat as she pulled her long, silky hair behind her ear. “Since I'm so rude,” she said with a slight smile, “I'll exercise what little home training I have by saying thank you for that backhanded compliment. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some shopping to do.”

The handsome man chuckled again and shook his head. “There was nothing backhanded about what I said. My compliment about your obvious beauty and lovely eyes was sincere, as was my comment about your attitude.” He folded his arms. “I don't think you're as rude or as hard as you're trying to come off . . . so why don't you drop the barbed wire, which really doesn't suit you, and have a conversation with me.”

Donetta looked down at her pink Uggs as the pit of her stomach fluttered. She knew she needed to resist the alluring sound of his voice and the welcoming smile that was spread across his face, which nearly made her smile back. She softened her tone. “You don't know a thing about me.” She slowly pushed her cart past him. “Have a good evening.”

She knew he was watching her walk away, and she fought the urge to turn around to make sure. The farther she walked, the more she could feel his eyes on her. When she rounded the corner at the end of the aisle, she glanced back, and sure enough, he was still staring at her with a smile on his face. Donetta quickly darted down the breakfast aisle, pushing her cart like she was on a mission.

With the holidays approaching, she planned to be out of the salon through the early part of next week, so she combed the aisles, placing items in her cart that she would need to tide her over. She strolled down the baking aisle, and there he was again. The handsome man was looking at his phone and then at the shelves in front of him. Just as she'd thought before, he didn't have a clue about what he was doing. She figured his girlfriend, fiancée, or possibly his wife had probably texted him a list of things to pick up on his way home.

Donetta immediately became pissed. Here he was, out shopping for his woman, who was waiting for him at home, while he was hitting on a complete stranger, flirting and giving out compliments like a seasoned player. She took a deep breath and began placing more items into her cart, ignoring him as if he wasn't even there.

“Excuse me,” the man said. “If you help me with this, I promise I won't bother you again.”

She continued to ignore him.

“Miss, I know you hear me talking to you. I'm not asking for your number, I just need to ask you a question about an item on my list.”

Donetta pushed her cart close to his. “What are you looking for?”

“Baking powder, self-rising yeast, and something called cream of tartar.”

She looked at his cart and saw that he'd managed to find sugar and flour on his own. “Excuse me,” she said as she reached in front of him, pulling the three items from the shelf.

“You must really know your way around the kitchen.”

“And you obviously don't.”

“You're a regular ray of sunshine, aren't you?”

She was about to roll her eyes again, but she caught herself.

“Actually, I'm pretty good in the kitchen,” he said confidently. “But I don't bake at all, so I'm completely out of my element here.”

Donetta walked back to her cart. “Your wife will be very happy that you found the things she needs to do her baking.”

He smiled and leaned against his cart. “I'm not married, I don't have a fiancée, and I'm not dating anyone.”

Donetta shrugged her shoulders, trying to appear unaffected. “That's not my business, or my concern.”

“No, but that's what you were thinking, otherwise you wouldn't have made the comment.” He smiled. “I'm running errands for my mother. She's making a big Thanksgiving dinner, and I told her I'd get everything she needs to start cooking tomorrow. She works really hard and this will save her some time.”

Donetta nodded her head and watched him as he looked down into her cart and then back into her eyes.

“Looks like you're cooking a big Thanksgiving feast, too.”

“I thought you said after I helped you, you wouldn't bother me again.”

“I won't . . . I'm not bothering you, I'm talking to you. There's a difference.”

“Depends on who you ask.”

The man had been smiling up until now, then he became very serious. “Miss, I don't know who or what has hurt you, but whatever it is, I hope you can move beyond it. Life is too short to be so hostile and angry all the time. It's ironic, too, because if you're this beautiful with a bad attitude, I can only imagine how stunning you'd be if you let down your guard and allowed yourself to be happy.”

The handsome man's words stung because they were right, and for the first time in a long time, Donetta was speechless. The things he'd just said sounded eerily similar to many of the lectures Geneva had given her over the years, especially in the last few months. “You need to stop acting like the stereotypical angry black woman,” Geneva had said. “If you act ugly, that's exactly what you're going to attract.”

Donetta swallowed hard, struggling with what to say. “Um, listen, I apologize for my rudeness and my funky attitude. I had a very long day that didn't end too well.”

His smile came back. “You're in luck because the day hasn't actually ended yet, so the way I see it there's a very good chance that you can turn things around.”

“You think so?” She gave him a hint of a smile.

He nodded. “Absolutely. You have to have hope.”

“I guess you're right.”

“No, I'm Phillip,” he said with a smile. “And you are?”

She giggled and cleared her throat again. “I don't usually give my name to strangers.”

“I'm not some pervert who's gonna hunt you down or anything. I'm just a good brother who wants to know the name of the beautiful young woman who's gonna help me find the rest of the things on this list so I can get the hell out of this grocery store and head back home to eat my dinner from Sebastian's before it freezes out in my car.”

“My chicken marsala is calling my name,” Donetta said. Her stomach fluttered again, and she didn't know if it was because of hunger pangs, or the man standing in front of her.

“Wow, that's the same thing I ordered for my mom. It's her favorite dish from there.”

Donetta raised her brow. “You got dinner for you and your mother, and now you're getting groceries for her. You're a good son.”

“Thank you . . .” he paused and then held out his hand. “It sure would be helpful to know your name.”

She looked into his eyes again, and she believed what he'd said about getting dinner and groceries for his mother, and she also believed he was a good man. For the first time tonight, she looked at him with a genuine smile and placed her hand in his for a warm shake. “I'm Donetta. Now, let's finish getting the things on your mama's list.”

P
HILLIP

P
hillip had always been told he had the Midas touch. Everything he set out to do resulted in success, whether it was being voted most valuable player on his high school basketball team, graduating at the top of his class from Stanford, or being the youngest associate ever to be considered for partner at his law firm, he always came out on top. So when he stood in the grocery store and spotted the beautiful woman from the restaurant standing in the same aisle, he couldn't deny his good fortune.

Phillip had hoped that fate would bring him face-to-face with the mysterious, beautiful woman again, but he had no idea that ten minutes later she'd be standing just a few feet away, carefully mulling over a bin of collard greens, inspecting each leaf as if she'd grown them herself. Although her body language made it pretty clear that she didn't want to be bothered, he had other plans in mind.

She seemed to have a power over him that drew him in and made him want to get to know her better. As a lawyer, he was trained by profession to ask questions and look for nonverbal clues that could explain one's motives and actions. He'd mastered the art of paying close attention to people's body language, because it spoke volumes, even if they refused to open their mouths. When he watched the beautiful woman, he saw that her body had been tense and that her eyes longed for something. The more he engaged her, the more he broke down her walls of defense, until she finally gave him a genuine smile that opened the door for more.

For the past thirty minutes, Donetta had been helping him find various items on the long grocery list his mother had texted him. After he'd broken through her hard shell, he found that not only was she much nicer than she'd acted, she was smart and had a wickedly biting sense of humor. Donetta was unlike any woman Phillip knew, and that alone put her in a special category. She cursed like a sailor—which was normally a turnoff for him—but coming from her delicately shaped lips, four letter words sounded almost melodic. And he could see that she had no filter because she said whatever came to her mind. In his experience, most women tried to be diplomatic in their approach, especially in the early stages of getting to know someone. But Donetta was just the opposite.

“My mouth is dry,” she said, picking up a container of salt. “I'd love a dirty martini right about now.”

Phillip laughed. “Experts say that water is the best thirst quencher.”

“Fuck the experts. I'm an expert on me, and my throat is saying a dirty martini would set me straight.”

As they pushed their carts from aisle to aisle, picking up boxes, cans, and containers of food, he learned that Donetta was quite the cook because she knew where everything was located in the store. He paid close attention to the little things about her, like the way she held her head to the side when she was questioning something he said, the way she put her hand on her hip when she was trying to make a point, and the way every move she made was graceful, like a ballet dancer's, and smooth like flowing water, and it turned him on. But most of all, he paid attention to her eyes. They were large and expressive, and looking into them he realized that the longing he'd seen earlier was actually sadness. He didn't know what had happened in her life to make her that way, but he hoped she would give him the opportunity to find out, and possibly to change it.

Phillip purposely tried to prolong their shopping adventure because he knew they were nearing the end of his list. He'd added a few items that his mother didn't need in order to spend more time with Donetta.

“We should get in separate lines so we can check out faster,” Donetta said as she pushed her cart toward the checkout lanes.

Phillip nodded, reluctantly. “Okay, that makes sense.”

He stood in line and glanced over at Donetta in the next aisle. She'd picked up a chocolate candy bar and then put it back down as she shook her head, no doubt talking herself out of the delicious indulgence in favor of watching her slim waistline. He smiled to himself and noted that she had a sweet tooth. He could see that her checkout line was moving much faster than his, and before he knew it she'd paid the cashier and was pushing her cart full of groceries toward the exit door.

She was walking slowly, and it made him think that maybe she was contemplating whether to stay or go. Slowly, she turned around, smiled, and waved good-bye before walking out of the store.

“Damn it!” Phillip said out loud, drawing a few stares from other customers. He'd hoped that he and Donetta would finish at the same time so he could get her number, and if he was lucky, continue their conversation later tonight over drinks. While they'd been browsing the aisles, he'd learned that she didn't have a boyfriend, which had been hard for him to believe, and that she hadn't been on a date in more than six months, which was nearly impossible to imagine. When he'd asked her why, her short response had been, “It's complicated.” He'd wanted to know more, but now that she was gone, so was his chance.

Phillip's thoughts were interrupted when he heard a text alert come through on his phone.
It's probably Mom wondering how much longer it's gonna take me to bring home her chicken marsala,
he thought. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and frowned when he saw that the message was from Sabrina, an attractive anesthesiologist he'd been seeing on and off since last summer.

Dr. Sabrina Matthews was a cultured woman, and well-known among the who's who of DC's young urban professional sect. She had the right credentials, came from a prominent family, had a lucrative career, and was easy on the eyes. But for all her seemingly great attributes, she couldn't hold Phillip's attention for long, because everything about her screamed of a life he didn't want—proper, dull, and devoid of passion. He needed something more than simple window dressing.

He also didn't like the fact that Sabrina was overly concerned with outward appearances and social status, and that she was trying to pressure him into a deeper commitment. He'd told her from the very beginning that he wasn't interested in a serious relationship, but he could tell she had other plans. Last month she'd even hinted that she was ready to settle down and start a family, to which he'd told her he wasn't. Phillip knew that Sabrina was the type of woman who was willing to use anything at her disposal, including her body, to get what she wanted, so he had to be careful with her. He had to admit that sex with her was good, but not good enough to claim his heart, let alone warrant an engagement ring.

“I'll deal with her later,” Phillip said as he slid the phone back into his pocket and looked out the exit door. He hoped that Donetta was still within sight, but she wasn't. He looked through the large glass window in front of him that provided a view of the parking lot, but he didn't see her out there, either. He figured she must have parked on the side of the building because if she'd been out front she'd still be loading her car with grocery bags right now. Phillip didn't want her to slip away for a second time. He looked at the cashier, who was moving as if he was stuck in quicksand. “Hey, man, can you speed it up? I'm trying to get out of here.”

After the bag boy put the last item in Phillip's cart, he paid the cashier and quickly pushed his cart toward the exit. He walked out the door, and a smile returned to his face when he saw Donetta leaning against the side of the wall with her shopping cart in front of her. “You're still here,” he said in a low, sexy voice, happy to see her.

She smiled back at him. “You didn't think I'd leave without saying a proper good-bye, did you? After all, I'm not a rude person . . . at least not anymore.” She laughed and it made him laugh, too.

He moved his cart next to hers. “I'm glad you didn't leave.”

“Five more minutes, and you would've missed me because it's freezing out here.” She shivered, rubbing the sides of her arms to keep warm. “The temperature dropped while we were inside.”

“Yeah, I think you're right. I wish I had a jacket to offer you.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Thanks, but once I get to my car I'll be fine.”

Phillip wanted to wrap his arms around her to warm her up, but he knew he couldn't do that . . . at least not yet. “I'll walk you to your car. Where are you parked?”

She hesitated, and then pointed her slender, perfectly manicured finger. “Over there. Follow me.”

Now Phillip was certain that Donetta didn't want their time together to end, either, because instead of briskly walking to get out of the cold, she was taking her time, pushing her cart at a snail's pace. When they finally reached her car, he wasn't surprised to see that she drove a sleek BMW, similar to the one he owned that was parked in the garage of his town house. “I'll put your bags in your trunk while you sit inside and warm up,” he offered.

Phillip quickly loaded her bags and then returned her cart to the stand in front of the store. As he walked back to her car, he could see that Donetta was staring at him, the same way he imagined he'd been staring at her in the restaurant. When she realized that he could see her watching him through her windshield, she averted her eyes. He knew that was a good sign. When he came up to her driver's side door, she had the window rolled down and the heat turned up high.

“You getting warm yet?” he asked.

“Yes, but I can't say much for my food. It's going straight into the oven when I get home.”

“The oven? You don't microwave your food?”

Donetta tilted her head and flipped her long tresses to the side as she spoke. “Not with chicken marsala. The sauce they make it with is delicate and the chicken breast can dry out in the microwave. It's best reheated, on low, in a conventional oven. That way it retains its moistness and flavor.”

Phillip loved that she was a woman who knew a lot about food. He was a firm believer that one of the best ways to a man's heart was through his stomach. “You sure do know a lot about cooking.”

“It's my second passion. My customers at the salon rave about my cakes and pies.”

“I bet they're delicious.” Phillip paused, then licked his lips. “I'd love to taste them one day.”

There was a short moment of silence that passed between them. He could see that Donetta wanted to say something, but instead she remained silent. He paid attention to her eyes, which darted around, trying to find a comfortable place to land. Even though he could tell she was unsure of what to do next, it was clear to him that Donetta was just as interested in him as he was in her. He was a decisive man of action, and he didn't want to stand in the cold hemming and hawing when he knew what he wanted, so he told her. “Donetta, I enjoyed meeting you tonight, and I'd like to get to know you better. I want to see you again. Do you think that's possible?”

Donetta looked down and then back up to him. “Anything's possible.”

 

Phillip drove back to his mother's house feeling as though he'd just won a big case. He couldn't believe he'd been so persistent with Donetta. Normally, he didn't have to be aggressive in his pursuit of a woman because they flocked to him. But with Donetta, things were different. It wasn't just her striking beauty and unchecked boldness that made her stand out, it was the fact that she was one of the most genuinely authentic women he'd ever met. She didn't try to put on an act to impress him, which he found refreshing.

As he turned into his mother's driveway, Phillip's mind went back to the question he'd asked himself back at the restaurant, and was now begging to be answered.
What would his mother think of Donetta?

In all the years that Phillip had been dating, and of all the women he'd been with, what his mother would think of them was a question he'd never really pondered because he'd never had a relationship that he thought was serious enough to consider. But he also recognized the strength and comfort of what it could mean to have the right person by your side.

After two trips back and forth from the car to the house, Phillip had unloaded all the bags and was now putting the food in the pantry and the refrigerator. He was surprised that his mother hadn't answered back when he announced that he was home, or that she hadn't come to help him put things away. He could see that the light was still on in the family room, which meant she was probably so involved in whatever movie or documentary she was watching that she didn't hear him. He reached into the cabinet and pulled out two dinner plates. “Mom, are you ready to eat?” he called out in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the entire downstairs. She still didn't answer, so he walked into the family room, where he'd left her sitting earlier this evening.

Phillip was startled when he surveyed the scene before him. His mother was stretched out on the coach—still wearing her tailored skirt, silk blouse, pantyhose, and jewelry—fast asleep. His eyes roamed over to the empty bottle of wine sitting next to an empty glass. He couldn't believe she'd drank an entire bottle by herself, let alone that she'd fallen asleep, fully clothed.

“Mom,” he said gently. “I'm home.”

She didn't move a muscle, and he realized she was out cold. He knelt beside her and gently put his hand on her shoulder. “Mom, I'm going to take you down the hall to your bedroom, so I need you to stand up, okay?” He tried to gently nudge her to help her get up. But instead of rising from the couch, she simply repositioned herself to get more comfortable.

Phillip knew his mother needed the rest, so he decided to leave her where she was. He walked over to the decorative basket she kept in the corner and retrieved a soft, chenille blanket. He knelt beside her again and gently covered her with the warm throw. He leaned in and kissed her on her forehead, the same way she used to do to him when he was a little boy. “Good night, Mom.”