This Holiday Magic (18 page)

He'd changed the ribbons in her ponytails to match the outfit and then had gone downstairs to prepare the quick breakfast they'd eat before heading to the Chapel of the Groves.

The oatmeal, juice and apple slices should have been a simple affair.

“I spilled juice on my dress,” Kelly called.

Probably deliberately, he thought. When he reached the kitchen, he saw Kelly dabbing a napkin on the front of her dress.

“Let me see,” he said, stooping to assess the damage. If there was an orange-juice spot on the dress, he couldn't see it. “It's fine,” he pronounced. “Put your coat on and get in the car.”

“But, Daddy, look,” the six-year-old said, pointing to an imaginary spot. She'd apparently wanted to convince him she needed to change, but not so much that she'd actually ruin one of her favorite dresses.

“I don't see anything and neither will anyone else. Stop stalling, Kel. Let's go.”

Knowing the jig was up, she accepted her coat and shrugged into it. But she balked at the wool cap.

“It's going to mess up my hair.”

Trey sighed. “Fine,” he said, weary from their earlier battle.

He stuffed the hat in his pocket and wrapped the scarf around Kelly's neck.

He then shooed his daughter out the mudroom door and to the car that was already heating up and idling in the driveway. Once he got Kelly seat-belted into the backseat of his Lincoln Navigator, he shut the door only to see Renee stepping out of her front door.

She had on superhigh heels, at least six inches, with black fishnet stockings, the kind with the sexy seam up the back of the leg. A short red leather skirt was the next thing he noticed before what looked like a faux fur jacket that barely hit her midriff. When she turned and saw him, she startled.

“Good morning,” Trey called.

“Oh. Uh, hi there,” she said. “Off to church?”

“Yeah.”

She stood there, not moving, and Trey got the hint.

“Well, we're late,” he said. “See you later.”

She glanced up the street, then back at him before giving a distracted wave.

Trey followed her gaze but didn't see anything. He got in his truck and pulled out onto the street. Then, with a final glance over his shoulder at Renee, he put his attention on the road even though his thoughts remained on his next-door neighbor.

Now her choice of the nightclub Trance for their date made sense. There was no way the getup she was wearing this morning was for anybody's church. If anything, she looked as if she was headed out to go work a pole somewhere.

That lascivious thought made him squirm in the driver's seat with the image of one of those long limber legs wrapped around…

A noise from the backseat halted that line of thought. He was going to have to double his offering and pay special attention to Chaplain St. Clair's message this morning. Maybe he
and
Kelly needed an extra dose of religion today.

Trey shot a guilty glance in the rearview mirror to check on Kelly.

“What's up, princess?”

“Can we sit with Aunt Henrietta and Uncle Carlton?”

“It'll depend on if there's room on the pew where they're sitting.”

“Drive faster.”

Trey met his daughter's gaze in the rearview mirror. She was absolutely serious. As if
he
had been the holdup this morning.

Women.

As if she knew exactly what he was thinking, Kelly blew him a kiss. Trey smiled. “Yeah, back at ya, kid.”

* * *

“Hey there, Renee. Sorry I'm late,” Jeremy Knight said, slamming the door of his Mercedes-Benz and tossing her the keys as she came toward him from the walkway. “Keisha up?”

“Not yet,” Renee said. “And make something besides pancakes or waffles for breakfast, will you? We made cookies last night and she had a ton of them. She's had enough sweet stuff to last a week.”

Renee made her way to the Mercedes and climbed into the driver's seat.

“Any cookies left?” Jeremy hollered from the front doorway.

“Kitchen table.”

She shut the door and drove off. She glanced down at her work clothes and wondered what Trey Calloway had made of her outfit. He'd looked shell-shocked—and not in a good way.

He and his daughter were the spitting image of suburban Sunday-morning propriety and she looked like… Well, Renee knew exactly what she looked like on this particular morning.

Her mobile phone rang then, and as Trey Calloway left her mind, she focused on business.

She touched the Bluetooth control as she headed the sleek luxury car vehicle out of the Cedar Grove subdivision. “Return Engagements, this is Renee. How can I pleasure you?”

Chapter 3

T
rance hadn't been open for a full year and already had a reputation for being a place where its patrons could find or pick up
anything
that helped them get their party on, be it a date for the night—or the hour. Trey had never been there, but had gotten an earful about the place from his cousin Sasha, whose idea of relaxing after work differed drastically from Trey's.

After being thoroughly wanded and patted down by security at the door, Trey escorted Renee into the nightclub and immediately realized that Renee was one of the hottest women, if not
the
hottest woman, in the place. If he'd thought Sunday morning's getup of fishnet panty hose and leather made him want to howl, he knew he might have to beat a couple of brothers off of her tonight—literally.

She wore a simple black pencil skirt and a blouse. But the devil, as the saying went, was in the details. Her blouse featured more skin than fabric. A fact that wasn't readily apparent until he helped her out of her heavy wrap at the nightclub's coat check.

When he got the full effect, Trey felt as though he'd been sucker punched.

Renee's top hugged her front in a way that had to be designed to make grown men weep. Trey was absolutely certain that no bra was under it. Two strips of fabric were connected by a large grommet in the back, leaving the rest of the “blouse” falling to the side.

As he watched her walk, Trey remembered how much he'd enjoyed playing peekaboo when he was little. As a grown man who had been without female companionship for way the hell too long, he knew it was a game that still roused his passions.

Trance was hopping. Music pumped from unseen speakers and strobe lights flashed to the beat of the music around the mirrored interior. Wednesday night, billed as Midweek Madness, was packed with people partying as if they didn't have to go to work in the morning. And maybe they didn't, he thought.

Trey couldn't remember the last time he'd been in a nightclub. Being the single parent of a six-year-old had by choice and necessity altered his priorities and perspective, not to mention his social life. Kelly was delighted to spend some time with her great-aunt and uncle, and Renee said she'd gotten a friend to stay with Keisha.

They snaked through the crowd, making their way to an area where counter-high tables were scattered about the perimeter of the room like mushrooms growing wild. Trey claimed a table just as it was being cleared.

“This place is something else!” Renee said, practically yelling to be heard over bass beats of some artist he'd never heard of. When had he turned into a stuffy old man? He was just thirty-five years old, for Pete's sake.

A waitress in black approached, took their drink orders and placed a placard on the table indicating it was now occupied.

“Let's dance!” Renee said, practically dragging him onto the crowded dance floor.

A few moments later, Trey Calloway didn't have a thought in his head except the woman writhing in front of him.

* * *

Renee liked the way Trey Calloway moved. Smooth and easy, not enough to break a sweat, but with the grace of a man who knew how to work his body.

She'd been looking forward to tonight's date with Trey. Not only was she out with her sexy neighbor, but this evening was also the first time in almost two years that she'd been able to put on something that made her feel sexy and go out with adult company. Between work, Keisha's evening therapy sessions, work and elementary-school homework, she hadn't been able to do much of anything except keep all the balls in the air as she juggled the demands made of her.

But tonight was for being in the company of a sexy man who found her attractive.

Tonight was for dancing with abandon, for being appreciated for being a woman, not just a mom, an employee or a solution to a problem.

She smiled up at Trey as she raised her arms in the air and partied like she didn't care—because she didn't.

What a liberating feeling.

They danced through two songs, the second one an extended play of something with a driving beat that thrummed through Renee's body in a way that had her wondering if it was the music or Trey making her hot and bothered. She ultimately decided it was a bit of both, combined with the luxury and the freedom of just being all woman tonight.

“We're gonna slow it down now and kick it back a few years. Some of y'all will remember it, and the rest of you are about to get schooled,” the DJ said. “This is for all of the lovers in the room. Let your baby hold you tight.”

The music shifted to a Luther Vandross song about holding someone tight for just one night.

Renee glanced up at Trey, who'd arched a brow in question.

She shook her head. It was best not to tempt fate. As Luther crooned, Trey led Renee back to the table they had previously claimed. Their server approached with the drinks they'd ordered and placed them on the table.

“Thanks,” Trey said, slipping a fifty on the tray as payment and tip.

“I like that they didn't just leave unattended drinks on the table,” Renee said, picking up her glass.

Trey nodded. “You're a great dancer,” he said.

“You've got some moves, too,” she murmured before lifting her glass in a small toast and then taking a sip of her appletini.

His smile said he'd rather be holding her in a close embrace on the dance floor. She looked out at some of the couples who were apparently taking the DJ at his word about holding their partner tight. A couple of them were grinding so hard that they needed to forgo the dance floor and get a room.

Renee's face flamed. When she glanced at Trey, he, too, was surveying their surroundings.

* * *

The guy approaching the table where he and Renee sat wasn't a Trance employee. Trey had already noted that most, if not all, of the nightclub's security detail resembled NFL linebackers on a work release detail. The guy in the ill-fitting gray suit making tracks toward them wasn't a bouncer, but he had his eyes on one thing: Renee Armstrong.

She seemed oblivious as she sipped from her drink and scanned the crowd, all the while swaying to the beat of the silky rhythm reverberating through the club.

Some folks were getting a little too physically intimate for his tastes—apparently, in the years he'd been off the market, he'd morphed into a replica of his sixtysomething-year-old uncle Carlton. He knew he shouldn't be surprised at what he was seeing on the dance floor. This was, after all, Trance, where anything and everything could and did happen.

Renee turned toward Trey just as Gray Suit approached.

“Hey, girl,” the man said. “I've been watching you.”

Renee lifted an arched brow and placed her drink on the table.

“Excuse me,” Trey said, stepping closer and putting his arm around Renee's waist. Marking his territory, he pulled her close. “She has a date.”

The man's gaze flicked over Trey. Although the man outweighed Trey by at least seventy-five pounds, something in Trey's aggressive stance seemed to halt the predator.

Renee lifted her right hand and put it on Trey's chest. “That's right,” she said.

The man dipped his head, giving Renee a gap-toothed smile. “I'm right over there,” he said, nodding toward a VIP booth. “You change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Renee just smiled.

The man's gaze hardened as he again surveyed Trey's measure. Then, just like he'd come, he barreled his way across the floor and back to his booth. His boys were seemingly waiting for him there, a group of four who'd apparently sent their best specimen to approach Renee.

“What was that all about?” Renee asked, turning her back on the observers.

But Trey knew that her back gave them plenty to see, so he maneuvered himself around until his own body blocked their view.

“I guess the rules have changed a bit since I've last been in a club,” he said.

“I'm not referring to him,” Renee said. “Bozos like that are a dime a dozen. I'm talking about your caveman routine, slamming me against you like you have a claim.”

Trey shook his head as if to clear it. “Excuse me.”

Renee lifted her drink glass and took a tiny sip. “Look, Trey. A guy hitting on a woman in a nightclub is pretty much the norm. It's why people come to places like this.”

“Is that why you suggested we come here? So I could watch you get hit on by other men?”

She cocked her head to the right. “Are you picking a fight?”

Trey closed his eyes for a moment and ran a hand over his head. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Renee had been joined by a woman in a low-cut red dress that highlighted her ample cleavage.

Oh, for the love of God,
he thought.
Of all the people.

This wasn't just some random woman or a friend of Renee's. It was someone
he
knew…and had a history with.

Great. Just great.

Of all the places to run into an ex. They'd hooked up a bit right before he'd met his wife. It had been years since he'd seen her, but Jazmin hadn't changed one bit.

“Trey Calloway. Imagine seeing you here,” she said in that sultry voice that in the distant past had made him weak in the knees. “I've missed you.”

From the corner of his eye he saw Renee narrow hers.

“Hello, Jazmin,” he said. Then he made introductions, using only first names.

“Trey and I go way back,” Jazmin said to Renee, all while giving Trey the sort of once-over that left no doubt just what that relationship had been like. Then, as if Renee weren't even standing right next to him, she sidled in close, giving him a full display of her assets. She ran a ringed finger up his arm. “The last I heard, you were single again.”

“Yes,” Trey said, as he took Renee's hand and threaded his fingers through it, a move that wasn't unnoticed by Jazmin. “But things change quickly.”

Jazmin's mouth tilted at the corners. “Looks like my timing is all wrong again.”

“Nice to meet you,” Renee said, her tone and nice-nasty smile saying the exact opposite.

Jazmin's eyes flicked over Renee. If she felt a bit of grudging respect, she hid it well.

“Well…it was good seeing you.” Her gaze shifted to Renee for the briefest of moments and then went back in a none-too-subtle way to Trey. “And if you change your mind—” her hand rose to her chest and she deftly produced a business card that she offered him “—here's where you can reach me.”

It took everything in Renee to not snatch the card from the viper's hand and rip it to pieces. To Trey's credit, though, he didn't accept it.

“I don't think so, Jazmin. We're done.”

The seductress's mouth quirked up and she returned the card to whatever cache she had in her bra. “Your loss, Trey,” she said before turning to walk away.

“Well,
that
was interesting,” Renee said drolly.

“Now that it's been clearly established that we're both hot, how about we go somewhere else?”

“Let's roll,” she said.

After collecting their coats and getting into his truck, they sat in the parking lot of Trance with the vehicle warming in the cold December air.

“You mind telling me what was going on in there?” Renee said.

“Sorry,” Trey said, rubbing his eyes. “Unlike you, I'm not used to that sort of place. It's been a while for me.”

Renee drew her wrap closer and turned toward him. “Unlike me? What's that supposed to mean?”

He glanced at her. “Well, uh, you know. Your, uh, I guess your job regularly takes you to places like Trance.”

Renee's brow furrowed. “My job?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, I'm cool with it, I guess. Everybody's got to make a living.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “I'm not exactly sure what we're talking about here, but just what is it you think I do, Trey?”

“Look, Renee. We're both adults. It's really none of my business.”

“What do you think I do for a living, Trey?” she asked, her voice stern.

He met her gaze head-on.

“At first I thought you were a stripper,” he said.

Renee sucked in her breath.

“But then, after seeing all the men coming and going from your place, I, well, I thought you were…”

“You thought I was a hooker!”

Trey had the grace to wince. “Actually,
call girl
came to mind.”

For a moment, Renee stared at him. All she managed was “Wow. Just wow. And what, exactly, is the difference?”

“Renee, I…”

But before he could get out his next words, she convulsed. Trey thought she was having some sort of attack and reached for his phone to call 9-1-1.

Then he realized she wasn't in the middle of a seizure. She was actually laughing. Doubled over laughing. She looked over at him and fell forward in her seat again, leaning against the passenger door and trying to catch her breath. Every time he thought she was done, she'd sit up, glance at him and start laughing again.

“I take it you're not a call girl,” he said drily.

“Oh, oh,” she said, trying to stem the laughter and sit up. But another look at him and the giggles persisted.

Trey was glad she was taking it in such good humor. He knew plenty of women—as in every single one of his female cousins—who would have either slapped him or never forgiven him for making that sort of allegation.

Renee was wiping at her eyes with her index finger.

“Trey Calloway, you just made my day.”

He looked at her askance. “Most women would have been insulted.”

Noises of amusement were still coming from her mouth, but she was able to answer him. “If you hadn't proven my point, I would be.”

“What point?”

She turned in the seat, crossing her legs as she did. “Up here, buddy,” she said when his gaze lingered on the long length of leg that captured his attention. When his gaze again connected with hers, she asked, “Was it the outfit on Sunday?”