Page 3 of Caught off Guard

“I’ll have an Effen Vodka. Make it a double.” I half-turned to the server and gave my order as the guy who played the Torch’s four, or power forward position, stared at me hard from across the table.

“Since when did you go hard like that, Unc?” Vince Starks, a twenty-one-year-old hick from South Carolina, raised his country voice and smiled at me appreciatively.

Vince had bountiful athletic talents as a power forward but hadn’t been exposed to much. He took a deep puff from his Montecristo cigar, blowing out a series of small circles above his head.

Since his arrival in Atlanta, I warned him about the importance of temperance. He was hard-headed though, overindulging in habits that took too many players down the road of child support, alimony, and disciplinary actions. His latest vice must be smoking expensive Cuban cigars.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, young blood. And what’d I tell you about calling me Unc? I hope you stay in the league as long as I have.” I winked at his lady friend, who didn’t seem to have a problem with uncs since she hadn’t stopped staring at me since I got to the table.

She gave off gold-digger vibes that would probably have Vince crying like a baby if he didn’t slow his roll with her.

The busty waitress in tight leather pants soon sashayed back to me with heels higher than Mount Everest. I smiled appreciatively at her, wondering how she could balance a tray of drinks and sway her slim-thick hips like she was on a Paris runway. When she set the tray on the table, picked up my drink, and lowered it before me seductively, I inhaled the light floral scent that engulfed her—Dior J’adore. It was Cece’s signature scent. For the first time, I paid attention to her, taking a deep breath to inhale the smell that rose from her like a heavenly cloud.

“Can I get you anything else, Mr. Cairo?” She blew her minty breath into my ear ever so softly, then brushed her fingers across my arm, which rested on the table.

“Maybe.”

When I peered into her eyes, she paused, looking familiar to me.

“Have we met before? What’s your name?” I asked.

“We haven’t. My friends call me Sophie, short for Sophia.” She smiled, revealing the smallest of gaps that was similar to Cece’s too.

With her face inches from mine, I noticed the scattered cluster of freckles covering the bridge of her nose. Another whiff of her intoxicating smell accosted me, and to my surprise, caused me to brick up a little. A flood of memories overtook me as Sophie’s physical proximity took me back to some of the happiest of times.

Cece?

I wasn’t the most religious person, but on the night when I missed my baby most, someone who represented her in multiple ways stood by my side—in a place where I least expected it. This couldn’t be an accident. Maybe I was here to connect with Cece again in human form.

Our eyes locked, and then I stared at Sophie’s lush lips. Something magnetic drew me to her. I read body language enough to know that she picked up on my interest.

“Your African friend told me you were going through something, so I came over to make you feel better. Here’s my number in case you need comfort later.” She spoke her invitation into my left ear as she pressed a small card in my palm.

The cutie’s humble demeanor threw me off guard again as her ripe breasts brushed against my chest when she leaned over. When she lightly brushed the tips of her fingertips against the front of my erection, I froze. She squeezed my manhood gently, undeniably aware of how much she turned me on. Instead of saying anything, she straightened her body, innocently clasping her hands in front of her and biting her lower lip nervously as if she were a servant awaiting further instruction.

Dorrian winked at me when I glanced his way. I frowned back. Surely, he didn’t bring this random woman into my sphere when I already had a tight rotation of vetted women at my beck and call for any number of events.

Before I could question Dorrian, Sophie leaned over me again, this time revealing smooshed breasts that almost burstout of her clingy top. The coral color of the shirt caught my attention. It complemented her amber skin to perfection.

When I scooted over and patted the seat beside me, she bounced her breasts a little and sat down, pressing her narrow shoulder into mine and leaning into me like I was a pillar. Her hand rested on my upper thigh.

“I’m real discreet and always use protection, Mr. Cairo.” Her soft voice alerted me to her youthfulness again.

And why in the world was she calling me Mr. Cairo?

“How old are you, sweetheart?”

She nodded as if she understood where I was going with my question.

“I’m legal, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ll be twenty-four Friday.”

She was younger than I preferred. But that shyness of hers had me wanting to protect her. Instead of squeezing her thick thigh that rested against my leg, I lifted my arm and put it over the top of the cobalt-blue booth.

“We’re both adults. It’s just Cairo, Sophie.”

“Oh. I’ve been taught to respect powerful, authoritative men. Sorry.” Her meek voice stroked my eyes and held me in an unexpected trance.

I looked around the throes of people in the club, wondering why Sophie spent time with me like a patron instead of an employee. As much as my body wanted to indulge in the distraction she offered me, logic had me coming up with reasons she needed to take her short, sexy self back to the bar and leave me the hell alone.

---