Page 2 of Night and Day
He didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking. “Who are you and why do you need to speak to my girlfriend?”
Her mouth fell open, and she slowly lowered the bat. “Melissa is your girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
“Calvin is my boyfriend. We definitely need to talk.”
She stepped forward, trying to gain entrance to the apartment again, but Anton shifted his body and blocked her. They bumped chests, and the stranger bounced back, but not before he experienced the fullness of her soft breasts and caught the scent she wore. Something floral and sweet that made his nostrils flare.
“Excuse me,” he muttered, his voice coming out oddly hoarse.
She appeared startled and took an extra step back from him.
An awkward silence descended between them, his arms and neck prickling, as if the hairs there were standing on edge.
Anton barred the door with his arm again. “I’m not letting you into my apartment until you tell me who you are and what the heck your boyfriend has to do with my girlfriend.”
“Do I have to explain outside?”
He eyed her with suspicion, still unsure she could be trusted. Unless she knew some kind of martial arts, he was pretty sure he could take her. At the very least, she needed to give up the bat.
“Leave that out here,” he said, pointing.
She hesitated, eyeing him with distrust.
“You’re the one who showed up at my house talking crazy, and now you want to come inside. If you do, you need the leave the weapon behind. I don’t want you tearing me or my shit up.”
“I wouldn’t do that. I only want a piece of Calvin.”
“And Melissa, apparently.”
“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.” She shrugged, as if threatening assault was no big deal, and set the bat outside the door. Resting her hands on her hips, she said, “There. Satisfied?”
He didn’t answer but let her into the apartment and took the liberty of checking her out from behind. The tight-fitting jeans fit low on her hips and snug on her thighs, and her backside looked nice and plump. Meanwhile, the cotton top looked like it had been seared into her skin, it was so tight. If he wasn’t already taken, and she wasn’t crazy, he might be tempted…
The stranger swung around to face him. “Nice place. Where do you want me?”
What a loaded question.
“Right there.” Anton pointed to the sofa. “Have a seat. I’ll change real quick. Don’t move.”
“Don’t worry. You’re gonna want to hear this.” She sat down and crossed her legs.
He didn’t like the sound of that and had his suspicions about where the conversation was going, but held his tongue. “What’s your name, by the way?”
She angled her head to look up at him. “Tamika. Tamika Jones.”
“All right, Tamika. I’m Anton Bevins. I’ll be right back.”
He exited the room and changed into navy blue sweat pants and a washed-out, red T-shirt from a team-building exercise with the name of the law firm where he worked—Abraham, MacKenzie & Wong—printed on the front.
He returned to the living room, and Tamika was on her feet looking at the collage of photos on the wall above the sofa. Most were family pictures, but there were also some with friends.
“You have a twin brother,” she remarked, staring at a photo of him and his brother, arms around each other, grinning hard as they ate popsicles outside the house they grew up in, in Wisconsin.
He remembered that day like it was yesterday. One of the best days of his life. The sun was shining and life was good. At the time, he’d believed with the naïveté of a typical nine-year-old that nothing would change, and he’d always have his brother.
Pain arched into his throat. “Had a twin brother,” he corrected huskily.
