Dare to Love, page 1
Dare to Love
Copyright © 2013 by Yahrah St. John. All rights reserved.
First Smashwords Edition: January 2013
Cover Design and Formatting: Streetlight Graphics
All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the original purchaser only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are a work of fiction or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Chapter One
Adrian and I are through,” Lexie declared as she stormed into her mother’s catering shop on Main Street in Highland Park, Illinois. Lexie was livid. She’d just come from an embarrassing interlude with her ex-boyfriend Adrian Turner, in which he’d begged and pleaded for her take him back, all because her mother had set up an ambush date.
How dare the woman interfere in her private affairs? Tossing her purse and suede Dolce & Gabbana jacket on a nearby chair, Lexie strode to the counter. The jacket missed and fell to the floor instead. Oblivious, Lexie stepped over it as she prepared for a face-off.
“Listen up, mother.” Lexie spoke firmly and prayed her message got through. “I live my life according to my terms. And I will not be told how to live it. Especially not by you.”
“Who’s doing that?” Isabel Thompson fired back. Leaning down, she picked up Lexie’s jacket and placed it on the back of the chair.
“You are!” Lexie huffed with arms folded across her chest. “You seem to think you know what’s best for me, better than I do.” She reached out and snatched one of her mother’s freshly baked goodies. “Well, I’m telling you, Mom, the days of you telling me who I can and cannot date have come and gone.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Her mother handed her a napkin to prevent crumbs from falling. “All I’m saying is that Adrian was the perfect man. He’s everything a woman your age should be looking for: good-looking, intelligent, charming, and stable. Girl, he was exactly the kind of man you need.”
Lexie rolled her eyes in frustration. At twenty-eight, she already knew exactly the kind of man she needed and wanted. Her mother was using her breakup with Adrian as an excuse to focus on a larger issue: her job as a junior fashion buyer for Bentley’s department store. Isabel had a problem with the choices Lexie had made, including those about her daughter’s career. But that wouldn’t change the fact that Adrian was not Lexie’s soul mate.
Boring was what he was. She should have never brought him to dinner because in a few short months, Adrian Turner had managed to endear himself to the entire Thompson family. He always showed up with flowers for her mother or brought his wealthy investment and developer buddies to her brother Sebastian’s showings. His cronies alone helped keep Sebastian’s photography studio afloat. Her family loved the man. So what was the problem?
Plain old chemistry.
There were no sparks between her and Adrian. When they’d made love, Lexie tried hard not to think of other more exciting lovers. She’d had her share of men who knew how to please a woman in the bedroom. And Adrian wasn’t one of them. Several times, she’d had to fake an orgasm just to get him off her.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she was just too much woman for him.
Blessed with smooth mahogany skin, almond-shaped brown eyes, exotically high cheekbones, and a size-six body, Lexie could easily pass as a model. At five-foot-ten with killer long legs, she was strikingly beautiful; with her sex appeal, men lined up at her door. And Adrian knew it, which could explain why he’d piled on the charm and the gifts. He knew she was way out of his league.
“Mother,” Lexie replied, with a mouthful of one of her mini cakes, “I know how much you like Adrian, but we were not meant to be and you’re just going to have to accept that.”
“I don’t have to do anything, young lady.” Her mother stood her ground, all the while rolling delicate pieces of crust together for one of her French pastries. “You best remember who you’re talking to.”
A mere five feet with long black hair in an up-do twist, her mother was a force to be reckoned with. Barely a wrinkle touched her fifty-four-year-old, nutmeg-colored skin, and she still retained a size-ten figure by eating right and living well. Isabel Thompson was the model of success, whether she was in the kitchen baking pastries or out selling clients on Sunset Catering.
Dressed in Capri pants and a peasant shirt, her mother was more sophisticated than anyone Lexie had ever met. Lexie rarely went toe-to-toe with her.
“Oh, I remember,” Lexie muttered underneath her breath.
“You could stand to learn a lesson from Nia, Lexie Rose Thompson. That girl has a good head on her shoulders. She’s found a good man to settle down and have a couple of babies with.” Her mother patted her daughter on the back. “I would sure like a couple of grandchildren before I die, you know.”
“Don’t wish some little crumb-snatchers on me just yet. Kids will come eventually. All in due time.”
Her mother laughed at the comment. “Time’s a-wasting.”
“Oh, Mom, please. Women my age are having kids later and later. Right now I am focusing on my career. I don’t want to be tied down.”
Her mother shook her head in amazement. “Why did both my children have to inherit their father’s creative gene?”
“Thanks a lot.” Which parent is the one in the kitchen coloring pastries? She wanted to ask. Sometimes Lexie couldn’t believe her mother could be so cruel. Her mother had to know how much Lexie’s design career meant.
Besides, she wouldn’t be a fashion buyer forever. Someday she would see her own designs on a Paris runway.
Hours later, Lexie sashayed into the Park Avenue Cafe along Chicago’s Magnificent Mile for lunch. Nestled among Chicago’s elite department stores, the cafe served a great lunch or brunch and was one of Lexie’s favorite places. Plopping down in a wrought-iron chair on the patio, Lexie waited for the arrival of her best friend, Nia Taylor. Recently engaged, Nia had a laundry list of details for Lexie to complete to launch the wedding of the season.
Wearing the latest Bentley’s suede skirt, with a chocolate crocheted sweater and matching suede fringed boots; Lexie looked every bit the fashion queen. She had to; her job required her to look the part. A five-day regime in the gym with a trainer on cardio and weights, a brisk swim three times a week, and her staple diet filled with salads and no carbs assured that Lexie maintained a size six.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d indulged in a juicy cheeseburger; she couldn’t afford it. She might gain weight. The fashion business was a tough, take-no-prisoners game and Lexie would not be left at the back of the pack.
Nia joined her several minutes later on the patio.
Five-feet-four with a curvaceous shape, short curly hair—her new look—and a vibrant smile, Nia was as cute as a button. And she finally knew it. Suddenly Lexie’s once-shy best friend was showing off her fabulous, voluptuous, God-given shape in form-fitting designs, and giving Lexie tips on how to keep a man. How could that be? Meeting Damon Bradley, a wealthy banker, had been the best thing to ever happen to Nia.
After giving the waiter her order of mandarin chicken salad, Lexie turned to face her best friend. “So, tell me, sister girl,” Lexie asked, “What do I have to do in my role of maid of honor besides throw you an off-the-chain bachelorette party and bridal shower?”
“Well..” Nia twirled her napkin around in her hand. “There’s nothing to it, really. You just have to help me pick out my wedding dress and finalize the invitations, the hall, the food, the photographer, flowers, and the guest list.”
“Wait a second!” Lexie exclaimed, holding up her hand. “What have I signed up for?”
“Girl, I need all your support and fashion sense. This is going to be quite an affair if Damon’s parents have anything to say about it.”
“Don’t worry.” Lexie leaned over to give Nia’s shoulders a firm squeeze. “I won’t let you down. You know I’ll hook you up and design you the most fabulous wedding dress you’ve ever seen. Look no further for your photographer because Sebastian is by far the best around and my mom would be more than happy to cater your big day. See, girl,” she said as she patted Nia’s hand, “the Thompson family has got this whole wedding sewn up.”
“What would I do without you?”
Lexie raised her shoulders. “I wouldn’t know. Some of us aren’t so lucky to meet our Mr. Handsome, Rich, and Successful right off the bat. Some of us have to work at it.”
The waiter returned with their salad plates and set them in front of the women.
“I’m sorry, Lexie. I didn’t mean to monopolize our lunch conversation with all this talk of weddings and the like, especially since you just broke up with Adrian.”
“Ain’t nothing but a thing, Nia.” Lexie put a forkful of mandarin chicken salad in her mouth and munched. “On paper, Adrian was perfect. But he just didn’t thrill me. You know how you get butterflies in your stomach with the right man? How you light up when you’re around them? Well, Adrian
“You need a man that can challenge you,” Nia volunteered, picking at her salad. She hated rabbit food, but she had to eat it. Maintaining her current weight was important if she wanted a killer wedding dress.
“Yes.” Lexie nodded her head in agreement.
“Someone who you’re compatible with intellectually as well as physically.”
“Absolutely!”
“Someone who is confident and assertive, someone who’s completely sure of himself.”
“Hmmm..”
“Someone ambitious and successful in his career. Someone who’s going places.”
“Preach!”
“Someone who can thrill you, please you, tease you.”
“Yes!” How did Nia know exactly the kind of man she wanted, but had yet to find? “Know anyone like that?”
“Maybe,” Nia replied.
Lexie slapped her hand. “Spill the details. Have you been holding out on me? Who is he? And where have you been hiding him? Have you been keeping him on the side just in case things don’t work out between you and Damon?”
Nia laughed. “Lexie, please. Damon is all the man I will ever need.”
“Then who is he?”
“He is Damon’s best friend, William Kennedy. Actually, he prefers to be called Will.”
“Hmmm.” Lexie scratched her chin. “Why haven’t you mentioned him before?”
“I have. You guys just have never met before.”
“I wonder why that is?” Lexie pondered, arching her eyebrow at Nia.
“Well, could it be that every time I’ve tried to set it up for you to meet, you’re always busy with one of your new playthings?”
“Then maybe you should take a hint.” Lexie sipped a glass of water. “Could be fate’s way of telling you it’s not meant to be.”
“Oh, hogwash! I’m sure that once you meet Will, you’ll be mesmerized.”
Lexie sighed. “Nia, darling, it takes a lot to keep me interested, let alone mesmerized.”
“That’s because you’re too hard on men.”
“I’m not hard on them. I just know what I want and I refuse to settle.”
“Trust me. You won’t have to settle with Will.”
Lexie looked at Nia mistrustfully. She knew Nia had the best of intentions—she just wasn’t sure she wanted to be set up on a blind date. But would Nia really steer her wrong? She seemed to know exactly what Lexie was looking for: Mr. Right, who’s perfectly well balanced!
“So you’ll agree to meet him if I set everything up?”
“I don’t know, Nia.”
“Listen, if it’ll take some of the pressure off, we could make this a double date. Damon and I could join you. How about that?”
Lexie’s gaze rested on her best gal. Nia looked like a kid on Christmas morning who’d just come down the stairs and discovered a mound of gifts under the Christmas tree. Nia’s eyes beseeched her pleadingly, so she relented. “Okay, okay. But only if you guys come along to chaperone. That’s the only way I’ll be able to tolerate a blind date.”
“Deal,” Nia said. “I’ll set everything up.”
Famous last words, Lexie thought. What had she gotten herself into?
“Jerome, could you get me tonight’s menu?”
Will’s bartender left the bar, where he’d been wiping out glasses, and disappeared into the kitchen to consult the chef.
Will wanted Chef Gaultier to create spectacular culinary masterpieces for tonight’s specials. Several important athletes planned on stopping by his nightclub, Millennium, and everything had to be perfect. Celebrities required a certain amount of finesse and hand-holding and Will was skilled at providing it. Whether he was talking social issues with a politician, smoking the finest cigars with a wealthy businessman, or dancing the night away with a new starlet, Will had it all under control.
Jerome reentered. “Will, Evan Dubois is on the line. He wants to confirm your dinner appointment. Do you want to take the call?”
“Absolutely.” Will accepted the phone. “Evan, it’s great to hear from you. Are we still on for dinner?”
“Yes, we are,” Evan Dubois responded from the other end. “David and I are looking forward to hearing more on your ideas for a second club.”
“And I look forward to presenting them,” Will replied.
“See you then.”
Hanging up the receiver, Will let out a resounding “Yes!” He was finally on his way.
Later that day, Will got ready to shower and dress for the evening in his loft above the club. The loft was a great investment. It provided him a low overhead as well as all essentials: stainless steel kitchen, living room, bedroom and an adjoining bathroom, and separate entrance for all those late-night rendezvous. Wouldn’t do to have people in my business, Will surmised.
The loft was minimally decorated, as was the case with most bachelor pads. His living room housed a padded leather sofa, lounge chair, and the typical entertainment media setup: a media cabinet held a fifty-inch plasma screen t.v., a home stereo system with surround sound, and an Xbox.
Will’s favorite room was the step-up bedroom with king-size platform bed and royal-blue satin sheets. Will loved the feel of those on his skin. But his most prized possession was the mahogany-stained wine bar he’d ordered from Pottery Barn. It held more than fifty wine bottles and allowed him time to slowly build his collection of chardonnays, merlots, Rieslings, pinot noirs, and cabernet sauvignons.
The loft’s best feature was the hidden window in the living room. It gave him a bird’s-eye of the club and from what he could tell; it already was filled to capacity. The warm weather in Chicago always caused natives to get restless after a long cold winter.
When Will turned on the shower and then went to call downstairs to his bouncer to confirm, Lawrence indicated that folks were already lined up around the block, eager to be one of the select few allowed entry into one of the hottest clubs on Chicago’s North Side.
A mixture of high-end supper club and hot dance club, Will always wondered what kept people coming back for more. Was it the food all hand-selected by the best chef in Chicago Jean Paul Gauthier, or the music on the high-quality sound system, or the ambience from the fine interior lighting, or the crowd of beautiful people that frequented? Whatever the reason, Millennium was one hundred percent class. And Will would continue to keep it that way by trying out new entertainment avenues, be it poet or new comedians.
Will smiled inwardly. He’d come a long way from the rough-and-tough West Side. Raised by a single mother, he could easily have become a product of his environment and ended up in a gang, jail or worse. He chose not to end up another statistic. Instead, he graduated from high school and even went onto Harvard with a scholarship. Majoring in finance, he’d earned his bachelor’s and made his mom proud. But being a Wall-Street type wasn’t in the cards for him.
Sure, he’d tried the nine-to-five routine, but found it completely unfulfilling. After two years, he’d chucked his career in the fast pace world of trading to head out on his own. And as luck would have it, he had a little bit of business acumen.
The club had fallen into Will’s lap after the previous owner defaulted. He got the place at an auction and never looked back. In a short time, Millennium had become a major success and was still going strong. Will couldn’t be prouder of his little baby.
After the shower, Will stepped out and passed a mirror on the way to his bedroom, pausing to admire himself. Tall and lean, he wasn’t too bad to look at. The free weights and five hundred crunches every day helped. Turning side-to-side, he didn’t see an inch of flab on his slim waist and tight abs. And the face -- Will gave himself a wink as he stared in the mirror -- was perfection. The ladies loved the dark eyes, roguish goatee and stylishly short haircut.
Walking naked to his bedroom closet, Will allowed himself to air-dry. When he stepped inside he immediately found what he was looking for: tailored black slacks, a black silk shirt with diamond cuff links, and his Armani watch. The finishing touch of cologne would have the women panting.
