kissed Sabrina, then Layla. “Remember we have hair appointments this afternoon.”
“Yes!” they said in unison.
Griffin shook his head. He didn’t know what it was about women getting their hair and nails done that elicited so much excitement. He got his hair cut every two weeks, but he didn’t feel any different after he left the hair salon than when he entered.
“Girls, please wait outside for me. I’ll be right out after I talk to your aunt.”
Belinda didn’t, couldn’t move as Griffin approached her. The sensual scent of his aftershave washed over her, and she was lost, lost in a spell of the sexy man who made her feel things she didn’t want to feel and made her want him even when she’d openly confessed that she hadn’t found him appealing.
She’d lied.
She’d lied to Griffin.
And she’d lied to herself.
“What do you want, Griffin?” Her query had come out in a breathless whisper, as if she were winded from running.
He took another step, bringing them only inches apart. “I just wanted to say goodbye and hope you have a wonderful day.”
She blinked. “You didn’t have to send the girls out to tell me that.”
“But I couldn’t do this in front of them,” he said cryptically.
“Do what?”
“Do this.” Griffin’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his body at the same time his mouth covered hers.
Belinda didn’t have time to respond to the feel of his masculine mouth on hers as she attempted to push him away. Then the kiss changed as his lips became persuasive, coaxing and gentle. Her arms moved up of their own volition and curled around his neck, and she found herself matching him kiss for kiss. Then it ended as quickly as it had begun.
Reaching up, Griffin eased her arms from around his neck, his gaze narrowing when he stared at her swollen mouth. Passion had darkened her eyes until no light could penetrate them. Belinda had called Sabrina prissy, when it was she who was prissy. And underneath her prissy schoolteacher exterior was a very passionate woman, and he wondered if her boyfriend knew what he had.
“Thank you for the kiss. You’ve just made my day.” Turning on his heels, he walked across the kitchen, a grin spreading across his face.
“I didn’t kiss you, Griffin,” Belinda threw at his broad back. “Remember, you kissed me.”
He stopped but didn’t turn around. “But you kissed me back.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, you did. And I liked it, Miss Eaton.”
Belinda wanted to tell Griffin that she liked him kissing her. But how was she going to admit that to him when supposedly he didn’t appeal to her? The truth was she did like him—a little too much despite her protests.
“Have a good day, Griffin,” she said instead.
“Trust me, I will,” he called out.
Looking around for something she could throw at his arrogant head, Belinda realized she’d been had. Griffin hadn’t kissed her because he wanted to but because he wanted to prove a point—that she was no more immune to him than the other women who chased him.
Well, he was about to get the shock of his life. She’d go along with his little game of playing house until she either tired or lost interest. And in every game there were winners and losers and Belinda Eaton didn’t plan to lose.
* * *
Belinda stabbed absentmindedly at the salad with a plastic fork as she concentrated on the article in the latest issue of Vanity Fair. She glanced up when she felt the press of a body next to hers.
“What’s up, Miss Ritchie?” she asked.
“That’s what I should be asking you, Miss Eaton,” said Valerie Ritchie as she slid into the chair beside Belinda. “You didn’t come in yesterday, and when I saw a sub cover your classes this morning I was going to call you later on tonight.”
Closing the magazine, Belinda smiled at the woman whom she’d met in graduate school. Valerie was one of only a few teachers she befriended at one of Philadelphia’s most challenging inner-city high schools. Much of the faculty, including the administration, remained at the school only because they were unable to find a similar position in a better neighborhood. But she and Valerie stayed because of the students.
“The guardianship for my sister’s children was finalized yesterday,” she said softly.
“That was fast.”
“The lawyer and judge are members of the same country club.”
Valerie shook her head. “Why is it always not what you know, but who you know?”
“That’s the way of the world.”
Belinda stared at Valerie, a world history and economics teacher. Recently divorced, Valerie had rebuffed the advances of every male teacher who’d asked her out, claiming she wanted to wait a year before jumping back into the dating game. The petite, curvy natural beauty had caught the attention of the grandson of a prominent black Philadelphia politician who pursued her until she married him, much to the consternation of his family, his father in particular. Tired of the interference from her in-laws, Valerie filed for divorce and netted a sizeable settlement for her emotional pain and anguish.
“I don’t envy you, Belinda.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s very noble of you to want to raise your sister’s kids, especially when you have to do it alone.”
A math teacher walked into the lounge and sat down on a worn leather love seat in a corner far enough away so they wouldn’t be overheard. Belinda had made it a practice to keep her private and professional lives separate.
“I’m not going to raise them by myself.”
Valerie gave Belinda a narrow stare. “Have you been holding out on me?”
“What are you going on about, Valerie?”
“Are you and Raymond getting married?”
Belinda shook her head. She and Dr. Raymond Miller had what she referred to as an I-95 relationship when he accepted a position as head of cardiology at an Orlando, Florida, geriatric facility. They alternated visiting each other—she visited during school recesses and Raymond whenever he could manage to take a break from the hospital.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“We’re just friends, Valerie.”
“Do you think you’ll ever stop being friends and become lovers?”
“I doubt it.”
