Avery nodded, pinching her lips together to stifle her laughter.
Zuri tossed her head back, letting hers flow freely. “Oh come on, Avery…”
“He practically begged me to put in a good word for him. You know I like to support the underdog.”
“Underdog?” Thao scoffed. “Try underage.”
“Hey, don’t make it sound creepy! He’s twelve!” Avery said defiantly––her mouth full of crab cake. “It’s natural to have a crush on your big sister’s cool friends.”
“Listen.” Zuri picked up a white gold-trimmed plate and began filling it with truffle crostini, smoked salmon blinis topped with crème fraîche and caviar, and mini beef Wellingtons. “All jokes aside, I love that you’re trying to help me get back in the saddle, but we’re going to be here for five more nights. I have plenty of time to hook a fish.” She set her laden plate before her and lifted her glass. “Tonight, I just want to have a good time with my girls.”
Soleil put her arms around Zuri and hugged her. “To having a good time.”
Chapter Three
L’Antra Lounge
Nearly three hours later, the party was just getting started with the night owls finally emerging from their nests, and DJ Sammy––the main event––setting up in the booth. Zuri and her friends had gotten more than their money’s worth from their tickets; they’d toasted their way through the cocktail menu, danced with abandon to Daniel Brodick & the Sixes, and devoured every decadent bite their waitress, Aleena––a senior at Tufts who was home for the holidays––had set before them. Now, after a full day on the slopes and partying till midnight, they were all more than ready for bed.
With Thao off hunting down Aleena to give her a cash tip, and Avery snapping photos of Soleil in front of L’Antra’s yellow neon signage by the main entrance, showing off the custom Hakim Lee dress she’d been paid five figures to post about three times before the end of the year, Zuri stayed at the table, guarding their gift bags full of luxury party favors: an etched commemorative rocks glass, artisanal whiskey-cream-filled chocolate balls, four mini glittering snow-white baubles, and a Hotel Andreas gold velvet jewelry bag filled with individually wrapped mini candy canes. Her and Thao’s long discarded candy-cane crowns lay tangled beside the bags.
Reclined on the sofa, her legs outstretched and ankles crossed beneath the marble table, Zuri texted with Jonathan Murray, a family friend and owner of Murry’s Smokehouse, a Texas-style barbecue restaurant in New Haven that had the best ribs on the east coast. She was just placing an order to take back to New York after Christmas, when a peel of laughter echoed above the noise.
Curious, she sat up and looked toward the bar where the commotion originated. A group of men, all wearing identical Christmas sweaters, were doubled over, while their dates laughed triumphantly and high-fived each other next to them. Giggling, Zuri wondered how long the women had been planning their prank, as her gaze traveled down the packed bar. But her laughter died in her throat when her eyes landed on the most gorgeous man she had ever seen in her life.
With a chiseled jawline, neatly trimmed beard, and full lips, he stood tall and confident holding his drink, and scanning the crowded lounge.
Her heart lurched, and a powerful, magnetic tug toward him shot through her like electricity as she took in his broad shoulders filling a charcoal sweater, and dark jeans hugging narrow hips. Even from across the room, Zuri could sense the power in his frame, the hint of solid muscles beneath his sweater. Heat spread through her body––daring, delicious, and intoxicating.
She’d never been so physically jolted, so completely mesmerized by the mere sight of a man. Heck, she hadn’t thought they made men like this anymore––if they ever really had. “Damn,” she whispered.
As if her voice had ferried to his ears above the din of L’Antra, his gaze found hers with startling precision. Their eyes locked for a heart-stopping second, then his mouth curved into a slow, sensuous smile. As though suddenly on a mission, he pushed off the bar and squeezed his way through the crowd.
Her body grew hotter with each step that brought him closer, but before she could count to ten, he was at her table, towing over her.
“Hi, how are you?”
How am I? The question felt absurdly intimate, as if they already knew each other, but his voice––seductively smooth and deep––sent a shiver zipping down her spine. Determined not to let him know the effect he was having on her, she straightened her back, flipped her braids over her shoulder, and boldly met his gaze. “I’m fine… How about you?”
“Oh, I’m fine now. Very fine.”
You sure are. She allowed her eyes to trail slowly down his hard body.
“I’m Kyree,” he said quickly, as if anxious to introduce himself.
She shook his hand. “And I’m Zuri.” Every nerve ending in her body was firing at his touch, and after three strong cocktails, the overall effect he had on her senses was downright dangerous. Pull it together, girl!
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Zuri.” He brushed his thumb over hers before releasing her hand. “You know, I actually saw you earlier this evening––out in the lobby.”
“Oh really? Should I be worried that I have a stalker?”
“Not at all. Although, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping I’d see you again.” His hand moved to his jaw, long fingers grazing the edge of his beard in a slow, almost unconscious caress.
“Are you sure you didn’t watch me walk in here and wait until I was alone to come over?”
“I’m very sure. I wouldn’t have waited even one minute to approach you. Besides, I–– May I?” Kyree gestured to the empty space beside her, and without waiting for a response, he lowered himself onto the sofa. “Like I was saying, I didn’t know all this was going on tonight.”
His scent––dark and woody with bright citrus notes––made her lightheaded, and his bourbon-laced breath fanned her face like a sun-kissed breeze. She might have to ask them to crank up the air conditioner before she melted like a scoop of ice-cream. Zuri felt a sharp contraction between her thighs as she imagined Kyree greedily lapping up the puddle of ice-cream that used to be her. Damn girl, what is wrong with you?
