head and smile, Autumn. Here he comes.”
Autumn gathered her wits about her. She tightened her slack jaw, smoothed the creases out of her cheeks and plastered what she thought was a welcoming smile on her face. She could do this. He was just a man. An incredibly gorgeous man whose very presence suddenly made her very nervous. But still just a man.
“Ready to make your grand entrance?” Peter asked, kissing his bride-to-be.
Melissa twined her arms around his slim torso. “I’m ready now that you’re here.”
Shante looked on in amazement as the ridiculously happy couple retreated to a just-the-two-of-us world. They hugged and kissed and whispered as though they were alone in their bedroom, rather than among family and friends. Shante straightened her slinky black dress. She didn’t have time to wait for the lovebirds to sober up and make the necessary introductions. There was no telling when they would resurface from their fantasy world, and time was of the essence. She had to make a move on the Jet centerfold before Autumn sank her claws into him. A year ago, Little Miss Perfect had swiped Tyrell right out from underneath her. But not this time. She refused to be outshone and outsmarted again.
Shante raked a hand through her waist-length hair, flashing a sly smile the stranger’s way. She took a bold step forward, primed to fire off her best pickup line. But before she could part her lips, he focused his eyes on Autumn, and asked, “Did you make it home okay this afternoon?”
The sound of his husky, late-night voice snapped Autumn’s mind to attention. “Excuse me?”
He smiled, revealing perfectly straight teeth. “I can’t believe the fifteen minutes we spent together meant absolutely nothing to you.” His hundred-watt smile dimmed. Then he threw his left hand over his chest and grinned mischievously. “I’m hurt by how little you care.”
Autumn exchanged a baffled look with Yvette.
“You’ve met?” Melissa inquired, suddenly interested in their exchange. “How come you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t know we had.”
“I guess our brief meeting meant more to me than it did to you,” Larry said, taking off his sunglasses. “I never forget a face, especially one as pretty as yours.”
Autumn gave him the once-over, staggered by her intense reaction to him. She had never been this taken with a man before. Never. She couldn’t remember the last time she had agreed with Shante, but there was no disputing the man-eater’s claim—the man had kissable lips. Autumn was nothing if not disciplined, and in the three years she had been celibate, she had never once stumbled. But than again, Autumn had never met a man who made her body shake, rattle and roll with just one smile. His bedroom eyes taunted her and his sultry five o’clock shadow made her heart do the cha-cha. He had the kind of extraordinarily long eyelashes that drag queens would kill for, and his brown coloring reminded Autumn of caramel—rich, smooth and creamy.
Autumn flipped through her mental address file of all the men she had met recently and came up blank. No Ebony Hunk. It wasn’t possible that they had met and she couldn’t remember. He wasn’t the type of man a woman forgot. Her eyes lingered on his lips. She could just feel the heat of his mouth as his lips blazed a trail from her neck to her breasts. His strong, manly hands would grab a handful of her… Whoa! Get a grip! This is not how a celibate woman behaves. Autumn cleared her throat. She was crossing the line. Jumping over it was more like it. If Regina or any of the other group members could see her now, they would ban her from attending any more group sessions.
“Are you sure you don’t remember me?”
The man reeked of charm, which made him all the more appealing. Autumn stared on as he licked his lips with more finesse than LL Cool J, then set his mouth in a broad grin. Did he work in her building? Had they met at Rawlins and McGill? Autumn thought back to earlier in the day. She had handed the file to the Mr. Whithers’s receptionist, Eugenia, and after a few minutes of polite conversation, returned to the parking lot and collected her car. She hadn’t even been in the law firm a full five minutes. “I’m quite certain we have never met before,” Autumn replied, her mind working overtime. She tried desperately to place him. Something about the man was oddly familiar and he was eyeing her as if they shared a secret.
“I’ve always had a soft spot for a damsel in distress. I guess my mom read me one too many fairy tales as a child,” Larry acknowledged good-naturedly. “So when I spotted a young woman…”
Suddenly everything clicked. It was him. The Good Samaritan who had changed her flat tire. Her eyes narrowed. Autumn could hardly believe that the hunk standing before her was the same foul-smelling man who had helped her just two hours ago. But he was. Giving her eyes free rein, she subtly checked him out. He had cleaned up nicely. Clean, trimmed nails, no traces of mud or dirt anywhere, and he smelled like lemon and coriander, not spoiled milk. The stained white T-shirt and shorts had been swapped for a fitted suit, stylish leather dress shoes and a few pieces of simple jewelry.
Autumn couldn’t believe her luck. If this wasn’t one of fate’s twisted jokes, she didn’t know what was. Over seven hundred thousand people lived in Washington, D.C. Anyone of them could have come to her aid, but she had been rescued by the very man Melissa wanted to set her up with. Larry. Larry Saunders. This had made-for-TV movie written all over it. Autumn tilted her head to the side. Melissa was grinning from ear to ear like someone who had pulled off the con of all cons. Autumn’s mouth settled into a deep frown. If she didn’t know any better, she would think Melissa had rigged her tire and then sent Larry to come and save her. Autumn almost burst into wild laughter at the absurd workings of her mind. She was definitely losing it.
“When I saw shapely legs peeking out of the passenger door, I almost drove off the road,” he confessed in a hushed voice.
Larry examined Ms. Flat Tire closely. His eyes traveled down her curvy frame and back up again before she could label him a creep. “So we meet again.”
“I guess so,” was all Autumn could say.
This time, when her knight in shining armor extended his right hand, she took it, in part to keep from keeling over onto the grass and in part to prove to herself she wasn’t the least bit affected by being in such close proximity to him. Even if her body was telling her otherwise.
“Larry Saunders. But like I told you before, my friends call me L.J.”
“What does the J stand for?”
“Jeremiah. And what’s your name? Little Miss. Reckless Driver?”
Autumn couldn’t hold back her smile. His eyes were alive with laughter when she said, “For your information, I’m an excellent driver, Jeremiah, and I have the merit points to prove it.”
No one called him Jeremiah except his grandmother, but L.J. loved the way it sounded rolling off this woman’s lips. Strong. Powerful. Herculean even. He had adopted the moniker L.J. in the fifth grade after his cousin, Dominick, said it sounded a hundred times cooler than Larry or Jeremiah. But his abhorrence for his middle name dissolved as soon as Ms. Flat Tire said it. With a lovely face and a body to match, the woman could call him Chewbacca for all he cared. Titillated by the silkiness of her voice and wanting to hear more, he squeezed her hand. “Now it’s your turn. What should I call you?”
Ready and willing, Autumn thought. Acutely aware that they were still holding hands, and that they had a band of nosy spectators behind them, she pulled away. “Autumn. Autumn Nicholson. And thanks again for this afternoon.”
