slicing the beautiful dessert.
“Derrick told me you loved chocolate. So I got you something a little different: molten chocolate cake. The center is filled with raspberry jelly.” Isabella beamed and clutched her hands together. “I found this wonderful new shop downtown. The owner is a master.” She glanced around. “Where is she?” Isabella grabbed his hand. “I can’t wait for you to meet her.”
Charlie selected a corner and gently cut a slice. “Here you go,” he said, grabbing a paper plate and serving her. After handing it over, he noticed a smudge of frosting on his finger and licked it off.
“Hmm.” His eyes bulged in shock at the sinfully delicious chocolate as it melted in his mouth.
Isabella lit up. “Wonderful, isn’t it?” She grabbed a fork and then held out a piece of the cake for him to taste. “Here, try it.”
“Heeey!” Derrick stepped forward and draped a possessive arm around his wife’s waist. “I’m the only man you’re supposed to be feeding cake to.” He even managed to look wounded.
Charlie ignored Derrick’s fake jealousy act and took a bite of the cake Isabella offered. “Hmm. Damn!” Hands down, it was the best cake he’d ever tasted. He better not tell his mother that.
Isabella’s excitement grew. “Fantastic, isn’t it? I swear this woman is going to be the next big thing,” Isabella gushed and then turned toward her husband. “I’m telling you we need to invest in her shop.”
Derrick sighed dramatically, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. Where Isabella was concerned, Charlie’s best friend would deny her nothing. After a year of marriage, the couple still behaved as though they were coasting on an extended honeymoon—probably to the dismay of Isabella’s father, who had his mind and heart set on his only daughter marrying a prominent political ally and another Kappa Psi Kappa brother named Randall Jarrett.
No one ever mentioned how Isabella was once, technically, engaged to two men at the same time, or how her father had arranged to have Derrick held hostage while trying to force her to marry someone she didn’t love. But they did talk and laugh every chance they could about Derrick, Randall and Reverend Williams falling headfirst into a Lady Justice water fountain and duking it out in front of Washington’s political elite moments before Isabella was to walk down the aisle.
“Where’s Stanley?” Charlie asked.
The group looked around.
“He’s gotta be around here somewhere,” Taariq said, frowning. “He better not bother the DJ. I keep telling that boy that white men can’t rap and I better not catch him on the mic. I have a rep, you know.”
“What about Eminem?” Charlie asked.
“I reserve judgment until I see the man’s daddy. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“All right, all right.” Charlie popped his collar. “I know you have some Cristal floating around here.”
Taariq reached out and grabbed two flutes from a passing server. “Yo, here you go, bro.” He handed a glass to Charlie. “Cheers!”
“Check it. One, two. One, two,” Stanley rapped into the microphone. “I’m a white boy and a frat boy—”
“All, hell naw,” Taariq cursed. “They gave Stanley the mic. “Charlie—”
“Yeah, I’m cool. Handle your business.” Charlie chuckled and waved him off.
People in the crowd started booing.
Charlie sliced himself a piece of cake. As he chewed he couldn’t stop moaning. He tried to stop, but damn. What exactly is in this stuff?
“Oh, there she is,” Isabella said, glancing over Charlie’s shoulder and waving.
Turning, Charlie froze as a stunning cinnamon-brown sister navigated her way through a throng of dancing people. Her long brown hair fell in loose curls across her shoulders while her deep sable eyes twinkled with excitement and two raisin-sized dimples grooved into her apple cheeks. Entranced by the angelic vision, it took Charlie longer than normal to take notice of her statuesque curves.
He smacked his lips, but it had nothing to with the lingering taste of chocolate in his mouth and everything to do with a sudden longing to taste her strawberry-colored lips. Absently, Charlie pulled at his collar and wondered who in the hell turned up the heat.
In Charlie’s mind, the woman was moving in slow motion—like a classier version of Bo Derek in the movie 10. The beauty’s breasts had a slight jiggle as she walked and her hips swayed in a strange, but hypnotic, rhythm.
“Happy birthday to me,” Charlie mumbled under his breath while his erection pressed hard against the inseam of his pants.
Isabella looped an arm around the mysterious woman’s waist and then led her to their small circle. “Gisella, I’d like for you meet the man of the hour, Charles Masters—but everyone calls him Charlie. Charlie, this is Gisella Jacobs, the owner of Sinful Chocolate. She made your cake.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” Charlie said, offering to take her hand. “The cake is delicious.”
“Likewise.” Gisella’s accented voice was musical yet husky, a heady combination. “You have a lot of friends,” she added, glancing around. “I hope you don’t mind my crashing and networking for new business. Isabella assured me that you wouldn’t mind.”
Charlie cocked his head while the corners of his lips curled with open pleasure. “You’re French,” he announced, moving closer. “How erotic.”
Gisella’s arched brows rose in amusement. “Erotic?”
Even the way she said the word sent pleasure rippling down his spine and added a sweet ache to his throbbing hard-on. “Come on now,” Charlie said, erasing the last remaining inches between them. “Surely I’m not the only red-blooded American man who’s been enslaved by your…” His eyes roamed yet again. “Accent.”
“Oh, he is good,” Isabella whispered, turning toward her husband.
Charlie had forgotten about their audience.
Derrick nodded and proceeded to pull his wife away. “Let me get you out of here before you fall under his spell and I have to fight for you all over again.”
Taariq and Hylan also didn’t linger for a brick wall to fall on their heads. They quickly turned their attention to a couple of other women floating by.
Gisella looked stunned at how fast everyone disappeared and left her alone with a man with predatory eyes and a wolfish smile. Maybe she should grab one of the white napkins from the table and wave it as a flag of surrender.
“I’m glad Isabella told you to come. I like making new friends.” Charlie couldn’t stop his gaze from roaming again. By his shrewd calculations, her measurements were a perfect 36-24-36. Lord, this was shaping up to be one hell of a birthday.
“Interesting party favors.”
“Huh?” Charlie followed her line of vision to the condoms
