Recipe for Desire

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Authors: Cheris Hodges

BOOK: Recipe for Desire
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Their eyes locked momentarily and a rush of heated desire rippled through them both.
“You should put me down,” Marie said, her voice barely above a whisper. “At some point, I’m going to have to learn how to use my crutches, unless you’re going to carry me around until I don’t need them.”
“No, I’m not going to do that, but your shoes and your crutches aren’t going to work, and when you traverse this parking lot with one shoe on and the other inside your purse, you’re going to say, ‘Devon Harris could’ve helped me inside, damn it.’”
Marie laughed as Devon leaned into her and their lips touched briefly, gently, sending a jolt of electric yearning coursing through her system ...
Also by Cheris Hodges
JUST CAN’T GET ENOUGH
 
LET’S GET IT ON
 
MORE THAN HE CAN HANDLE
 
BETTING ON LOVE
 
NO OTHER LOVER WILL DO
 
HIS SEXY BAD HABIT
 
TOO HOT FOR TV
Recipe
for
Desire
CHERIS HODGES
Kensington Publishing Corp.
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Acknowledgments
There are so many people I’d like to thank on my journey to completing this novel and I hope I don’t miss anyone. First, I’d like to thank all of the readers who have reached out to me through social media and e-mail. Your kind words often brighten my day. I especially want to thank Tamika Robinson, Yolanda Gore, Tiffany Strange, Wendy Covington, LaSheera Lee, Altonisha Johnson, Illai Kenney, Tasha Martin, Tashmir Parks, Connie Banks Smith, Keehanna Williams Avinger, and you, holding this book in your hands.
To the book clubs: Without you this would not be possible. Thank you. Especially SistahFriends Charleston, SistahFriends Atlanta—SistahFriends worldwide! The PWOC of Jacksonville, Lavender Lilies Book Club, and Round Table Readers Literary Book Club.
I’m thankful for my friends and family who listen to my rambling about ideas and characters. Beverly McDuffie, thanks for being my Starbucks buddy and listening to me reading to you. Amesia Huntley; Erica Singleton; Adrienne Hodges-Dease, the best big sister ever!; Briana Dease, my favorite and only niece; and my parents, Doris and Freddie Hodges: Thank you just doesn’t seem to be enough.
Author’s Note
My Sister’s Keeper is a fictional place, but in Charlotte, North Carolina, there is a place for homeless women. It’s called My Sister’s House. Their mission is powerful, yet simple: “To stabilize and strengthen our sisters through counseling, stability in living arrangements, and education as we guide them on the path to self-reliance.”
In these times, anyone can find herself in need of help. Learn more about My Sister’s House by logging on to
www.friendshipcdc.org/mysistershouse.htm
.
Chapter 1
The only thing Marie Charles enjoyed more than being the center of attention at someone’s party was hosting one of her own. Either way, she was instantly the center of attention. Charlotte’s resident party girl was always on the cutting edge of fashion, dressing in clothes that were always tailored especially for her svelte body. And she knew how to keep everyone’s attention—by either walking into a venue exchanging air kisses with the most high-profile man or woman who caught her eye so that she could get her picture snapped, or by dating the hottest ball player, singer, or actor she wanted. She was a professional public-relations maven, so it was her business to be in the know. But if you asked the right people, Marie Charles—daughter of civil rights attorney Richard Charles III—was just a girl seeking the wrong kind of attention.
Tonight, she was playing hostess at Mez, where her public-relations and event-planning company, M&A Exclusive Events, was sponsoring a party for the Charlotte Bobcats’ second playoff win in franchise history. She’d checked the VIP list and kissed a couple of the players on the cheek, telling them congratulations. And, of course, she basked in the compliments the men lavished on her and how she filled out her gold Alexander McQueen dress. As Bobcats center Drayton Neal reached out and grabbed Marie so that they could take a picture, she turned to her intern, Hailey, and said, “This is how you host a party.”
Hailey, a shy Central Piedmont Community College student, offered her boss and the six foot nine basketball star a slight smile as the
Carolina Nightlife
photographer snapped photos.
“Have some bubbly,” Drayton said to Marie as he held out a glass of Ace of Spades Champagne Blanc de Blancs. She happily accepted the flute of six-hundred-dollar champagne and sipped with Drayton. He palmed her bottom as if it were a basketball and brought his lips to her ear. “You know you’re sexy as hell. What do I have to do to make you my good-luck charm?”
“Get your hands off me,” she replied through her smile. While most women would’ve welcomed the advances of an NBA baller, it was just another night on the town for Marie. “I’m not a trophy.”
“Umm,” he said, taking a step back and watching her sip her champagne. “You look like one to me. You are wearing that gold, baby.”
Marie drained her glass and turned to Hailey. “We all look amazing when they’re drunk.”
“Okay.”
Marie took Drayton’s bottle and refilled her glass. “Thanks for the bubbly and good luck in New York,” she said with a flirty wink. As she and Hailey walked away, she told the intern, “When you’re hosting an event, don’t spend too much time with one group of people. You have to make everyone feel special so they’ll come to your next event. I need you to check the table and make sure everyone has drinks. Have you seen Adriana?” Marie glanced at her watch and fingered her curls. It was almost time for DJ Chill to start his set.
“She was talking to the DJ,” Hailey said. Marie nodded.
“I’m going to check on the bartenders and make sure they’re making the Bobcat rum punch,” she said, then strutted downstairs to the wraparound bar. Marie had carefully selected the drink menu and had worked with the bartenders to make sure everything was perfect. Landing the Bobcats as a client had been a huge get for M&A.
Tonight has to be perfect,
she thought as she crossed over to the crowded bar. Smiling, a half an hour into the party, Marie was sure that everything was going to be ... wait. Was that William Franklin, her fiancé, walking in the door with
that woman
!
William was holding hands with his ex-wife, Greta Jones, looking at her as if they were still together. “Oh, hell no,” she mumbled. She started to stalk over to them, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“Marie,” Adriana Kimbrell, the
A
in M&A Exclusive Events, said. “Please don’t trip.”
“Do you see this? He came to
my
party and brought her!” Marie hissed.
“DJ Chill is about to start and we don’t need to have a scene,” she said. “Let’s just sit down, and you need to calm down.”
“I simply don’t believe this bull,” Marie snapped as they sat down at the bar.
Adriana waved for the bartender. “Patrón and two glasses. Leave the bottle.” Turning to Marie, she said, “Ignore them. She’s only sniffing after him again because you two are together,” Adriana said as she poured Marie a glassful of tequila. “She can’t beat you in any other way, so she wants her loser ex back. Let her have it.”
Marie downed a shot and then snatched the bottle off the bar and took a big swig. “If either of them thinks that I’m going to let this go, then they don’t know who the hell I am.”
“Marie, this isn’t just about you and Willie. Our name is on this event. Do you know what I had to do to get Mez to agree to let us have this party here after what you and Tia did during the last event we hosted here?”
Marie took another swig. “We had a good time and got all kinds of press for this place, so they need not trip. I made Mez a hot spot.”
“Neither should you,” Adriana said as she tried to take the Patrón away. Marie quickly moved the bottle out of her friend’s grasp.
“I’m cool,” she said. “Look at this outfit.” Marie stood up and twirled. “Not trying to mess this up by slapping that slut silly.” She glanced out on to the dance floor and watched as William and Greta danced closer than close, but when they kissed, she felt a tug of embarrassment. Everyone knew that was her fiancé, and there he was pretending that she didn’t exist. Sure, she wasn’t in love with him; her relationship was simply a means to an end. Respectability in her father’s eyes. But the longer she watched him, the more the alcohol began to kick in. Marie took a shaky step, with the liquor bottle in her hand, toward the dance floor, shaking off Adriana’s hand and ignoring her as she said, “Don’t do it, Marie!”
Marie thought she’d saunter over to William and Greta, but the Patrón made her stumble, bump into patrons, and cause quite the scene before she grabbed Greta’s shoulder.
“Oh, shit, Marie,” William said. “Look ...”
“This is pretty cozy,” Marie slurred. “Funny that you’re kissing her when I’m wearing your engagement ring.” She threw her left hand up in the air.
Greta shook her head and giggled, which infuriated Marie to the point that she took a swing at her. But, in her drunken state, she stumbled and landed on the floor flat on her bottom.
William bent down and helped her up. “You’re embarrassing yourself and you’re drunk.”
“And you’re kissing this bitch as if you’re still married,” Marie shouted, bringing the music and movement around them to a halt.
Greta shook her head. “And this is what you left me for? Have you gotten it out of your system?”
William turned to Greta and shot her a look that cried for silence. “Marie, I wanted to tell you that Greta and I had been seeing each other, but ...”
“You know what! Go to hell. Both of you go straight to hell!” Marie yelled. She fumbled with the ring on her finger, trying to pull it off and toss it in William’s face. But the ring slipped off and flew across the dance floor. “It was a cheap-ass stone anyway. It wasn’t even flawless. So, kiss my flawless ass good-bye, loser!” Marie turned on her heels and nearly lost her footing as she pushed her way through the crowd. As she passed the bar, Adriana grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“You’re not driving.”
She snatched away from Adriana. “I’m fine and I can drive myself home. It’s three blocks.”
“Marie, you need to sit down, drink some coffee, and sober up,” she warned as she frantically waved for Hailey. “You’re only going to make matters worse if you try to drive.”
The intern walked over to the bar and glanced from Marie to Adriana. Before she could utter a word, Marie launched into a rant.
“And I’m supposed to sit here and watch them?” Marie nodded in Greta and William’s direction. “I will not. He doesn’t even realize he needs me more than I need him.”
Adriana rolled her eyes and then reminded her friend, “You said you were going to dump him anyway. Why are you acting like a donkey?”
Marie tore her gaze from William and Greta. “Because I was supposed to dump him! I messed up. I thought getting engaged would get my father off my back, but it hasn’t worked and that ...”
“Hailey,” Adriana said, “you’re going to have to drive Marie home.”
“Bu-but,” she stammered as Adriana pressed Marie’s car keys into her hand. Marie glared at the women. “I said I can drive,” Marie slurred.
“Right,” Adriana retorted. “Hailey, don’t let her talk you into allowing her to drive. As a matter of fact, go get the car now.” Turning to Marie, she continued, “I can’t leave because I have to smooth things over after that scene you just caused. You’re going to be all over the blogs, again.”
Hailey tore out of Mez to get Marie’s Jaguar. Marie sighed and shook her head. “Do what you have to do,” she said as she took a last look at William and Greta.
Marie furrowed her eyebrows and pointed her index finger at Adriana, “You’d better hope that damned girl knows how to drive. I just got that Jag.”
Adriana sighed. “Don’t do anything
else
stupid.”
Marie threw her hands up and stomped outside, feeling as if she was sobering up. As she stepped out into the cool night air, hot tears streamed down her cheeks. How was she going to show her face on the party scene again? Losing her man to Greta Jones, a nobody who didn’t have an outfit that fit her chubby frame?
“I can’t believe what happened in Mez,” Marie heard a woman saying. “Marie Charles looked like a damned fool out there. Drunk as a damned skunk and she tossed her ring. William Franklin isn’t worth anyone making that big of a fool over.”
Marie turned and faced the woman, who was reporting her business over her cell phone as if she was a correspondent for CNN.
“Girl, I got to go,” the woman said as she locked eyes with Marie. Marie started to say something, to read Miss Information the riot act, but she didn’t have time for that. She was going home. Marie stumbled down the stairs as she spotted Hailey pulling out of the parking deck. She looked over her shoulder and saw a small crowd had gathered and was watching her every move. Trying to put more glide in her wobbly steps, Marie crossed over to her car and opened the passenger-side door of the Jaguar XK. “All right, Hailey,” she said. “Thank you for driving me home. I’ll make sure a car comes and gets you.”
“Marie, I’m not sure if I can do this,” Hailey said. “This car is expensive.”
“Just drive, Hailey, it’s only three blocks,” Marie said as she leaned her seat back and closed her eyes. Her mind wandered to her relationship with William and why she’d even agreed to marry him. She’d only wanted to satisfy her father’s archaic notion that a proper Southern woman should be married and starting a family by thirty.
She was twenty-seven and still young enough to have fun. That’s why she had the job that she created. That’s why she spent her time at every party on the East Coast that she could get into—and that was every one of them that wanted press. Marie knew how to make a scene, good or bad. Tonight was bad. She’d make up for it tomorrow. Maybe even have a bachelorette auction for some needy group and put herself on the block as a way to announce to Charlotte that she was back on the market. That’s right, Marie Charles would be back and William would be a distant memory.
Marie had closed her eyes for only a moment when she felt the car jolt and then a hard impact. Her eyes flew open as Hailey screamed. The car hopped the curve and slammed into a one-hundred-year-old oak tree. The explosion of the airbag shocked Marie and knocked the breath out of her.
“Oh my God,” she and Hailey screamed. Marie struggled to undo her seat belt as Hailey scrambled from the car. “Are you all right?” Marie called out as she kicked the door open and stumbled out of the car.
“I’m so sorry,” Hailey said.
“Were you drinking too?”
“No, no. But I don’t have a driver’s license,” Hailey cried. Tears ran down her cheeks. “I can’t get in trouble. I have to get out of here.”
Marie crossed over to Hailey as well as her drunken legs would take her. She placed her hands on the young girl’s shoulders. “Calm down,” she said. “You take off. I can talk my way out of this.”
“But what about your car?” Hailey asked as she wiped her eyes.
Marie shook her head. “That’s what insurance is for,” she said. The last thing Marie wanted was to get her intern in trouble. She’d taken Hailey under her wing because she saw a lot of herself in the twenty-year-old. Hailey, like Marie, had grown up without her mother and wanted to go into public relations. Marie had met her when she’d spoken to a group of marketing students at the college. Seeing her standing there sobbing uncontrollably, she knew that she couldn’t allow Hailey to face charges. Besides, she was Marie Charles; she could possibly talk her way out of this mess.
“Get out of here; I’ll handle this,” she told her.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Marie replied. “Hurry up.” She noticed a few passersby pulling out cell phones and she assumed they were calling 911. As Hailey dashed away, Marie headed back to the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. She tried to back the car up, but it wouldn’t move. Before she could get out of the car, swirling blue lights and sirens froze her in place. This was going to be bad. Inhaling deeply, Marie hoped that she knew the officers who were approaching her; maybe she could just talk them into calling a tow truck for her and this accident nastiness could be put behind her.

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