Feel the Heat Read online

  She nodded. “But if it didn’t at least I could say that I tried. Thank goodness it did work.” They walked to Mimi’s door in silence. Then she turned to him. “You seem as if you pretty much follow the rules all the time,” she said when she unlocked the front door.

  “Well, that’s normally what good lawyers do.”

  “All that time in law school to be a part of the status quo.” Mimi shook her head as she tossed her shoes inside, then turned the light on.

  Mimi watched Brent as he gazed around the living room, taking in the eclectic art and vibrant colors.

  “What’s with the one red wall?” he asked.

  “That’s where I do my vlogs. Red is also the background color of my logo,” she said.

  “So this is the home office?”

  “I guess. I’d like to not think of it as an office, though. Anyway, you can have a tour after you hang my TV.”

  “And you can tell me about your observations tonight.”

  “If you must know, the average woman wants her ego stroked just like a man. It’s just when y’all do it, you have to seem sincere or it comes off creepy. Jamal was brilliant at it. I’m sure when the sister he wakes up with in the morning decides to cook him breakfast, she isn’t going to realize that she’ll never see him again.”

  “And what crystal ball do you see all of this in?”

  Mimi crossed the room and booted up her desktop computer. Then she pulled up her blog site and pointed to Brent. “Please get familiar with my crystal ball,” she said.

  Brent crossed over to her computer and glanced at the website. “This is funny,” he said. “But why would you go to an event like this if you weren’t looking for Mr. Right?”

  “Well, I was invited and it turned out to be false advertising. Remember, I’m also doing a public service. It’s a shame how companies prey on the fact that so many women are looking for love and marriage. I wrote a book about how hard it is to date in Atlanta and then here comes this company that’s promising true love to women, but cheap sex to men. I wouldn’t have been doing my job if I’d allowed this to go without reporting on it.”

  “And you’re not one of those women who’s looking for Mr. Right?”

  “No. That’s overrated. If marriage is the ultimate goal, you’re only setting yourself up for failure.”

  “Cynical much?” he asked.

  “Not cynical, just realistic. Anyway, it’s time for you to put your hands to use,” she said as she smiled at him.

  “Lead the way,” he said. Mimi started for the stairs.

  “Just keep in mind that the TV is all you’re touching tonight,” she said as she looked over her shoulder at him.

  “There’s always tomorrow,” he said with a smirk.

  Mimi turned her head and closed her eyes. If only he knew.

  * * *

  When Brent followed Mimi into her bedroom, she had to silently remind herself that they weren’t going to fall into bed. But her eyes fell to her rose-colored blanket and green duvet. She wouldn’t mind him laying her down on the soft covers and making love to her.

  Stop it, she thought as she crossed over to her walk-in closet and pulled out the TV box.

  “Let me get that,” Brent said from behind her. The deep timbre of his voice sent shivers up her spine. Mimi stepped aside and watched Brent lift the TV as if it weighed three ounces. Underneath his tailored shirt, she could see his bulging muscles.

  “Where do you want it?” he asked as he glanced around the room.

  Mimi pointed to the wall facing her bed. “I had Manny check and make sure I could drill the bracket in place.”

  “Who’s Manny?”

  “Oh, you haven’t met Manny yet? He’s the building super. And if you want something done right, you don’t call him.”

  “Then how do you know he was right about the wall?”

  Mimi shrugged. “I guess if you don’t get electrocuted we’ll know.”

  “That’s cold,” he said. “You lured me up here to risk my life so that you can play Xbox.”

  “PlayStation,” she corrected. “And if I remember correctly, you came willingly.”

  Brent walked over to the wall and drummed on it. “Doesn’t seem as if there’s anything back here that will kill me. Mimi, where are your tools?”

  “Under the bed,” she said, then dropped to her knees.

  * * *

  Brent couldn’t take his eyes off Mimi’s shapely behind as she crawled underneath her bed. She moved with the grace of a panther and when she stretched forward, he got hard. His body reacted in a way that he hadn’t expected. When was the last time that a woman gave him this feeling? Not since he was a teenager. As a grown man, he was supposed to be able to control his emotions and body, not act like a youngster looking at his first copy of Playboy. But damn! As she inched deeper underneath the bed and wiggled her ass, it took every ounce of self-control in him to stop from mounting Mimi from behind.

  “All right,” she said as she slammed the tools on the edge of the bed. “Here’s my toolbox.”

  Mimi was a goddess, Brent decided as he drank in the image of her tousled hair and full lips. When she flicked her tongue across her bottom lip, he nearly lost it.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked.

  “Sounds good,” he said, then unbuttoned his shirt.

  “Cranberry juice works for you?” she asked as she turned away from his shirtless frame.

  “Yes.”

  She released a sigh as she took a quick look at him and then headed out the door.

  Chapter 6

  Mimi gulped down a cold cup of cranberry juice. She thought about adding vodka to the cup, but figured it was a bad idea. Her body was on fire and she had a notion to run up to her bedroom and wrap herself around Brent.

  Another sip of juice. She’d have to get naked first. Mimi looked down at her dress and gasped. Did she really crawl under the bed in this? Was her bra really exposed?

  Final sip. She knew she needed to be sober. Mimi adjusted her dress and poured two glasses of juice and turned toward the stairs. She took two steps and stopped. What if she made a fool of herself and acted on her carnal thoughts? You’re better than this. Brent is installing a TV. He already told you he wants a family-minded woman to fall for and you’re more than a booty call. That would be a great blog post. Oh my goodness, I’m losing my mind here.

  Mimi slowly walked upstairs and reminded herself to keep her hands off Brent. When she saw him with his hands raised above his head, she almost dropped the juice.

  “I thought you’d forgotten about me up here slaving for your right to play games.” Brent shook his head and laughed.

  “How could I forget that you’re in my bedroom?” she asked as she extended a glass of cranberry juice. Half naked and looking like you should be in my bed?

  “Thank you.”

  She smiled. “No problem.”

  “Ooh, that was good.” Brent said, then handed the empty glass to Mimi. “Let me plug this in and make sure I did it right.” He bent over and Mimi downed her cold juice to quell the fire burning inside her belly as she had a flash of Brent taking his pants off and crawling into bed with her.

  “Mimi,” he said. “Are you all right?”

  “What? Yeah.”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  She hadn’t even realized that he’d turned to face her. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Where’s your remote and that PlayStation you can’t wait to play?”

  She fanned her hand at him. She wanted to play a different kind of game and that couldn’t happen. “I’ll hook that up tomorrow. You did all the heavy lifting. I’m good now.”

  “All right, then I’m going to head home,” he said as he picked his sh
irt up from the floor. “Mimi, it’s been a pleasure.”

  She blushed as he headed out of her bedroom. Too bad he was one of those men who wanted serious. She didn’t do serious. Not anymore. Once bitten, twice shy, she thought as she followed him downstairs.

  * * *

  Alone in his home, Brent couldn’t sleep. Mimi filled his mind. Her hips. Her lips. That come-hither look in her eyes when she looked at him. Jamal would’ve woken up with Mimi—or at least tried. But Brent knew a woman like Mimi could be nothing but trouble. Fun, but trouble.

  Sitting up in his king-size bed, Brent squeezed the bridge of his nose. He’d spent his adult life avoiding trouble and crafting an image that could handle all of the scrutiny being Brent Daniels Jr. caused.

  When he’d been in law school, his father—also a lawyer—made the Daniels name infamous when he represented a Mafia hit man in a high-profile murder case. To get his client a favorable sentence, Brent Daniels Sr. attempted to blackmail the judge. When that didn’t work, the judge’s family had been threatened.

  The judge had reported the blackmail attempt and the death threats to the FBI, and Brent Sr. had been arrested, tried and sentenced to twenty-five years in prison. The media had held on to the story about the disgraced attorney like a dog with a meaty ham bone. The details of the story played on the evening news and ran across the front page of local and regional newspapers. Brent left Georgia to finish law school at Tulane in New Orleans. When he’d graduated at the top of his class, his father’s sins came back to haunt him, follow him and make getting a job in Louisiana impossible. So he’d spent the first five years of his career in New York. He’d made such a name for himself that when he decided to move back to Atlanta and open his firm, people knew there was a stark difference between Sr. and Jr.

  In the five years that he’d been in business in Atlanta, Brent had put nineteen young men through Morehouse with his Martha Joyce Daniels scholarship. He named it after his late grandmother after his mother, Yancy Williams, told him she wanted nothing to do with publicity since she’d gone back to using her maiden name.

  Brent wanted to restore some sort of pride to his family name and make sure no one ever confused him and his father. These days, questions about his father only came up around the anniversary of his conviction. Since he’d been sentenced to federal prison, he would never be paroled.

  Brent hadn’t seen his father since he’d been a teenager, and their last meeting ended with Brent Sr. telling him that he’d never amount to anything because his mother made him soft.

  That accusation made Brent work harder than ever. And his success was the greatest way to try to erase the stain on his family name. That’s why he made sure every move he made wasn’t a media moment. Mimi was obviously a media firestorm. Hell, she’d spent the day all over the news.

  He needed to stay away from her, but knowing that she was just across the hall, that was going to be harder than his erection.

  Brent was in trouble, but he wasn’t upset about it.

  * * *

  Mimi jolted awake in her bed, half expecting to see Brent there. When she felt the pillow, she was a bit disappointed. She’d spent the night dreaming of his arms wrapped around her as he thrust in and out of her wetness. Looking down at her thighs, she was reminded of how they trembled in her dream as he licked and sucked her core.

  “Stop it,” she muttered, then swung her legs over the side of the bed. Mimi knew she had work to do, and wallowing in fantasyland wasn’t the move for the day.

  But first, she had to burn off some energy with a run. Mimi grabbed her workout gear and cell phone, then headed downstairs to mix a protein shake. As she looked out over the city, she felt that urge to leave again.

  Mimi tried to pretend that she didn’t want the love she wrote about. Tried to pretend that it didn’t matter, but she did want to fall in love. She wanted a marriage like her mother and father—Adrienne and Melvin Collins—but she’d kissed too many frogs to believe that she’d ever find Prince Charming. They didn’t make men like her dad anymore. What her parents had was special, and her generation of men didn’t want special. They wanted robots with the perfect ass and cooking skills like Bobby Flay, while they offered nothing but lip service, in her opinion.

  Mimi knew her parents’ fifty-year relationship wasn’t something she could have. Especially in image-conscious Atlanta. She didn’t have a high-powered job; she was artsy and a free spirit, something her dad said she got from her grandmother. Her mother encouraged her to think outside the box and do what made her happy. Writing and her blog gave her joy. Unfortunately, her happiness never landed her the love she craved.

  These days, she wasn’t content. Wasn’t feeling creative or as if she was going to further her career just sitting in her comfort zone in Atlanta. She wanted to have some real adventures and do something exciting. The world was calling her and there was nothing to stop her from answering.

  Well, maybe something could be brewing with Brent. Mimi pulled her T-shirt on and took a sip of her protein shake. “Get over yourself,” she whispered as she dumped the remainder of her shake in the sink. Heading for the front door, Mimi paused to put her purple running shoes on, then opened the door. The moment she saw Brent walk out of his place she ducked back inside.

  From her peephole, she watched him pick up his newspaper from his doorstep. Mimi drank in those bare chocolate arms, the way his silky pajama pants clung to his narrow hips. She couldn’t help but wonder if he wore boxers, briefs or nothing at all underneath those pants.

  When Brent looked up, Mimi could’ve sworn that he looked directly at her. Those eyes were penetrating and shook her. She turned away as he closed the door. This was going to be hard.

  Mimi opened her door and headed for the elevator. She was probably going to need a six-mile run this morning to clear her mind.

  * * *

  Brent crossed over to his breakfast nook and dropped his newspaper on the granite counter. He had to get Mimi off his brain, but the glimpse of her he caught awakened his libido more than he expected.

  Why did she act like a deer in headlights when she locked eyes with him? Must be the artist thing. I can’t let this woman get under my skin, he thought as he loaded his coffeemaker with fragrant Kona grounds.

  Before he could read his copy of USA TODAY, Brent’s cell phone rang. When he saw Jamal’s name on the caller ID, he started to ignore it. But he answered the call.

  “Man,” Brent said, “I’m glad I moved to midtown otherwise I’d still be waiting in that bar!”

  “Don’t even act like that. I saw you and Mimi leave together. You thought I missed that. What time did you send her home?”

  “Mimi didn’t come over here. I went to her place.”

  “Damn, you move fast. Did you have a good time?”

  “You have a one-track mind. I hope you have a good lawyer on retainer for the epic sexual harassment lawsuit that’s going to fall on you one day.”

  “Why do you think we’re friends? Anyway, I know how to act in the workplace. You know that. So, you want some breakfast or are you about to get some with Mimi?”

  “There you go assuming. I don’t think of every woman as a conquest.”

  “Nah, just the ones with the right image. You need to stop that and have some fun instead of trying to...”

  “Don’t start this shit right now. It’s too early,” Brent groaned.

  “All right, let’s just get some food and leave this heavy stuff for another day. But I do have one question,” Jamal said.

  “What?”

  “Are you ever going to go see him?”

  “Hell no. That man destroyed my family, damn near ruined my career before it started. I don’t want to see him.”

  “But you know...”

  “I don’t give a damn. Look, I’m going to cool out and
get some work done.” Brent ended the call. He didn’t care that his father was dying; what he did care about was Jamal trying to force this family reunion on him. And why was his friend keeping up with his father’s health and well-being?

  It really wasn’t any of his business how Brent and his father got along. What about his mother, who’d sequestered herself away in South Carolina because she couldn’t take the shame of what his father did?

  Cancer. That’s what was killing him. Brent tried to care, tried to muster up enough emotions to drive to the prison where his father would more than likely die.

  Growing up, Brent Sr. had been his hero, his disciplinarian and the man who’d taught him to be an honest man. All that was shattered, and it would never be repaired in Brent’s mind.

  How could his role model fall hard like that? Brent shook his head, mad that there was still a child inside him missing his father.

  * * *

  In the third mile of her run, Mimi found herself standing in front of MJ’s town house. The only thing that stopped her from knocking on the front door was the car in the driveway.

  Nic was here. Part of her was happy that her friend had finally admitted how deeply she loved him and they’d sealed the deal. Still, she needed her friend! But there was no way that she would just go bang on the door.

  She wondered what her mother would say about her current situation. Would she encourage her to move away and start over or stay in Atlanta and continue the success she was having here?

  And then there was Brent. Something sparked between them, but Mimi wasn’t going to base her future on a maybe. Maybe they would fall in love, maybe they would like each other beyond Sunday morning. She turned her walk into a slow jog. Then as she thought about shirtless Brent and where she wanted him to touch her, she burst into a full-out sprint.

  By the time she made it home, Mimi was a sweaty mess. And of course, Brent was the first face she saw.

  “Good run?” he asked.

  “Amazing,” she said.

  “Maybe we should run together one morning. You look like you go very hard.” He gave her a slow once-over that heated her more than her run.