CHAPTER ONE
Ipulled into the parking lot of the local church fifteen minutes after the will reading was supposed to begin.
My perfectly planned day would have given me a one-hour buffer. Plenty of time to change and meet privately with my grandparents’ lawyer before taking a few minutes, at the very least, to wrap my head around this strange day. One of my highest-profile clients got involved in a DUI with a dancer from Magic City. That led to me nearly being late for the fundraiser I’d promised my boyfriend I’d attend—along with Atlanta’s Black elite, including Teddy’s bougie parents. After finally tearing myself away from Teddy, forty-five minutes behind schedule, hoping I could make up the time once I hit the interstate, the universe rewarded me with a flat tire, which I was forced to change myself rather than wait ninety minutes for AAA to show up. After what had to be one of the longest days of my life, which wasn’t over yet, I finally made it to the tiny, rural Georgia town that my mother grew up in, that three generations of myfamily called home, and where, until a few weeks ago, my estranged grandparents lived on a farm.
As far as I knew, I would be the only representative from my family in attendance, and it made me feel terrible to be late. There was no time to dwell on this as I grabbed my things from the back seat and ran through a side door of the church.
After scanning the hallway for the nearest bathroom, I ducked inside. With my makeup bag tossed into one of the sinks, I unzipped my blue dress, which was covered in grease stains from changing the tire. The zipper got stuck halfway down and I tugged on it a couple of times before deciding to give up and pull the dress over my head.
I took hold of the hem and began to peel the dress up my body. It got stuck again at some point, but once I was able to jump and wiggle to get my breasts free, the dress continued to slide up. While in the process of pulling the dress over my shoulders, I heard a deep male voice call out, “Whoa.”
I screamed, still with the dress over my face and completely naked except for my bra and panties. My body was on display to the stranger who’d barged into the ladies’ room, who I couldn’t see because my dress was still covering my eyes. The process of removing it was so far gone that it made more sense to pull it off and wrap it protectively around my front rather than force it back down.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” I screamed before looking up to face the intruder. My anger momentarily abated when I looked up to see one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever encountered. He was tall and muscular but not too built, with sienna-hued skin and silky, shiny dark hair. He was wearing a simple white tunic over matching white pants, making him look like an angel. A thick butneatly trimmed beard and mustache covered the lower half of his face, framing the largeOhis full lips made as he gazed at me. Large, brooding, dark eyes roved my nearly nude body.
The fact that I was wearing lace undergarments that perfectly matched my skin tone, giving the illusion that I was actually naked, probably didn’t help the situation. My skin started to flame with embarrassment. Then, remembering this man barged into a women’s bathroom in a church, my embarrassment turned to anger.
“I could ask you the same question,” he quipped. He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. Why wasn’t he ashamed? And oh, fuck me, his voice was deep. It was the kind of deep timbre that you felt in your belly and other places that you shouldn’t feel the voices of strangers. To top it all off, he had a British accent, making him even sexier.
Focus, Emma.
Ladies’ bathroom. Pervert. (Sexy, British pervert… no, Emma!)
Your grandparents’ will reading. You’re late!
“Excuse me. This is a ladies’ room.” After regaining a little bit of focus, I dug a fist into my hip, which made him momentarily glance down at my waist, making my belly tighten in a way it hadn’t in years. I cleared my throat and his eyes darted back up to mine. “And I’m running late, so I’d really appreciate it if you left so I could finish getting dressed.”
“Well, actually, these are the men’s toilets, and I would appreciate it ifyouleft because I had a few pints that are ready to make a reappearance and I don’t appreciate an audience.” He jerked his chin at the far wall to a row of three urinals that I definitely hadn’t noticed when I ran in here.
Shit.
I really was in the men’s room.
When I turned back to look at him, he looked incredibly smug. He didn’t have to sayI told you so. His expression, his very sexy expression, was doing just fine. I heaved out an annoyed sigh.
“Look, I—” I wasn’t sure how I was planning to end that sentence, but I had to say something in order to get him out of the bathroom long enough for me to forget about his accent and change.
Unfortunately, my sentence was interrupted by one of the stall doors opening with a loud creak. An elderly Black man with long dreads, wearing dress shoes, dress pants, and a tuxedo T-shirt, came shuffling out, heading for the sinks. I clutched my dress tighter around my torso and angled my body in an attempt to hide the fact that my entire lace-clad ass was on display… in a men’s bathroom… in a church… at my grandparents’ will reading.
The man stopped in front of the faucet and gave me a quick glance before tilting his head to the side and furrowing his brow.
“This is still the men’s room, right?” He gave the other man a quizzical look.
“Yup.” The sexy, British not-actually-a-pervert answered with a small smirk and looked at me again. “Still the men’s room, Leonard.”
“Good.” Leonard chuckled and began to wash his hands. “I thought I was gonna have to cut back on Mavis’s magic cookies, but I’m glad I don’t have to.” He dried his hands, gave me a nod in greeting, and shuffled past the younger man, patting him on the shoulder.
We were alone in the bathroom again and the man stood quietly, but at least he’d gotten over the initial shock of seeing apartially nude woman in the men’s room because he was looking at my face.
“Look, I’m in a rush and I guess I didn’t read the doors correctly, but I really need to get changed, so I am going to go into one of these stalls.” I secured my oil-stained dress with one hand and picked up the garment bag containing my black dress with my other. “You’re welcome to do whatever you need to do while you’re in here. It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t heard before.” I backed into the stall and locked it, feeling myself burning from head to toe with embarrassment.
When I’d stepped into the black dress and zipped it up as much as possible, I reemerged to find sexy, British not-a-pervert standing in the exact same place as I’d left him. Not possessing the emotional bandwidth or the time to redo my makeup, I grabbed some tissue, wiped away the dark smudges of this morning’s eye makeup, tapped on some lip gloss, and tried to shuffle out of the bathroom with some of my dignity intact.
“Hey,” he called to me as I passed him. He was close enough that I could smell him. He carried the scent of men’s cologne with something else that was floral, spicy, earthy, and almost irresistible.
Almost.
“You know your dress isn’t… um… zipped up all the way. I could get it for you.” He gave me an odd look, like he was trying to categorize me but wasn’t sure which box to sort me into. Annoyance, amusement, and curiosity mingled in the dark brown eyes that were appraising me.
