London.”
“Beautiful name,” the man named Mark said, her hand still caught in his as he held on to the handshake a touch longer than necessary.
“Thank you.”
“So what brings you here this evening?” Charles asked.
Talisa’s grin widened. “It’s my birthday. I thought making a donation to a worthy cause would be a great way to celebrate.”
The man chuckled. “Ahhh. A woman comfortable with being alone, enjoying her single lifestyle, and not desperate for a man to spend the rest of her life with. A woman here for the larger cause. That’s refreshing,” he said, a wealth of sarcasm tainting his tone.
Talisa gave him a wry smile. “Yes, it is. It’s also nice to be in the company of men who are interested in supporting those in need and not just needing to inflate their overly excessive egos with what they think will be a quick, one-night booty call on someone else’s dime.”
The man laughed. “Touché,” he said.
An awkward silence fell between them as Talisa pushed the food from one side of her plate to the other.
The man named Mark grinned at the obvious dislike his associate and the stunning woman had taken to one another. “Do you participate in these things often?” he asked politely, making a second attempt at conversation.
She shook her head. “No, this is my first time. So why are you two participating?”
Mark shrugged. “I don’t know about my partner here, but I’m desperate for a date.”
Talisa laughed. “I’m sure it’s not that bad for you.”
Smiling wryly, the man shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe just how bad it is.”
“So, what do you do?” Talisa asked, suddenly wishing she’d spent more time studying her auction brochure.
Mark smiled. “We’re both anchors on Good Morning, Atlanta. Charles does the news and I do the weather. I take it you don’t watch much television.”
Talisa shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. “Sorry.”
Charles winced, his feelings clearly bruised by her lack of knowledge about who he was and what he did. “Figures,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to either of the two standing beside him.
They all looked toward the door as the lights flashed on and off. The ticket taker was gesturing for their attention. “Excuse me. If I can have your attention, please.” She paused for a quick second, her gaze skating across the faces in the room. “We’re about to start the auction in a few minutes. We’re going to ask our ladies to please return to the ballroom and take your seats so our guests can have a few minutes to get themselves ready. Thank you.”
Talisa smiled as the duo suddenly appeared anxious. She tossed Mr. Charles Barrow a look that let him know clearly that she had no intentions of pursuing any further time in his company. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Mark,” she said, placing the china and half-eaten canapé onto the tray of a passing waiter. “Good luck this evening. Oh,” she added as an afterthought, “and you, too, Charlie.”
Charles winked. “Same to you, babe.”
As Talisa turned toward the door, a tall man standing off in the corner caught her attention. His expression was pensive as he stood alone, knee-deep in thought. From the stern expression, his eyes narrowed to thin slits and his jaw locked hard and tight, the lines chiseled in his face, one could have mistaken his demeanor for brooding. But Talisa sensed that there was something more going on inside the man’s mind, something deeply personal and consuming. His face was familiar and she stopped short in her tracks as she stared blatantly in his direction.
The good-looking man suddenly jumped as if startled, his gaze locking tightly with hers. He stared at her boldly, appraising every inch of her with obvious appreciation before lifting his mouth in a deep smile, nodding his head slowly in greeting. The silent exchange of eye contact spoke volumes, whispering promises Talisa suddenly found disconcerting. As a wave of recognition swept over her, nervous energy filled the pit of her stomach. She stood frozen, staring intently as the man slowly crossed the carpeted floor in her direction. Turning a quick gaze to the door, Talisa saw Leila and Mya waiting at the entrance, both staring curiously. Benita still stood chatting with the football player on the other side of the room.
Jericho Becton stopped directly in front of Talisa, smiling warmly. Standing well over six feet tall, he was dressed in an expensive black tuxedo. With his long and lean stature, the formal suit fit him to perfection. His thick hair, the color of black licorice, was pulled into a neat ponytail that hung down his back, stopping just below the line of his shoulder blades. Contrasting nicely against his rich, caramel complexion, his bright white smile washed over her, and Talisa suddenly found herself tongue-tied.
He extended a well-manicured hand. “Hello, my name’s Jericho Becton. Have we met before? You look very familiar.”
Talisa smiled back and shook her head, her gaze sweeping over the man’s face. Her name being called pulled at her attention and she glanced from Jericho to Mya and back again. She stammered, searching for her words, lost in the sensation of her small hand lost in the soft, warm palm of his.
“I…I was just…thinking the same…thing,” she finally managed to say, the room seeming to spin in a slow circle around her.
The man nodded, his head slowly bobbing up and down against his broad shoulders. “You didn’t look like you were having a good time,” Jericho said, his gaze flitting toward the newscaster and back.
Talisa smiled, a sweet bend to her mouth that made Jericho suddenly want to kiss the sugar from her lips. The sudden thought sent a chill throughout his body, a quiver of energy that set his nerve endings on fire.
“You were watching me?” Talisa asked coyly, her own excitement shining brightly from her dark eyes. Her hand was still lost beneath the clasp of his.
“I couldn’t help myself,” the man answered, his voice dropping into a seductive whisper.
Talisa finally pulled the appendage back, dropping her palm to her abdomen. The deep tone of his voice seemed to swallow her whole, her control lost somewhere in the depths of his intense stare. She inhaled a quick breath, willing the oxygen to calm her nerves.
The woman at the door flicked the lights for a second time, once again directing them back to the ballroom. Jericho nodded, his intoxicating smile still caressing every nerve ending in her body. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Miss…?”
Talisa’s own head bobbed up and down. “London. Talisa London.”
Jericho’s gaze brushed warmth over her. Talisa felt as if she were on fire beneath his stare. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss London. I hope we’ll get an opportunity to talk more later.”
Talisa continued nodding, then turned on her very high heels to catch up with her friends. Behind her, she could feel Jericho still staring, his ocean-blue eyes calling her back to him.
Back at the table, the four friends were talking over each other, concentrating more on their personal thoughts than each other’s conversations. Talisa flipped quickly through the pages of her catalog,
