Hollington Homecoming, Volume Two - Pamela Yaye Mills & Boon Kimani Arabesque

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demise of their relationship wasn’t going to change anything, and Kyra suddenly wasn’t in the mood to hear another one of his well thought-out speeches.

      “What I did was messed up and I’ve always felt guilty about the way things ended. I was stupid. A stupid, terrified kid who didn’t know if he was coming or going. I listened to the wrong people, and I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

      Feigning boredom, but secretly touched by his confession, she inspected her manicure, pretending not to notice him eyeing her. Their breakup had nearly ruined her, and Kyra didn’t want to relive one of the lowest moments of her life.

      “If I knew then what I know now, I never would have left you.”

      “Terrence, we were kids. We knew nothing about love.”

      “What are you saying?”

      “We were two lonely teens experiencing love for the first time. Or what we thought was love.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Lust is a powerful emotion and we mistook it for the real thing.”

      “You’re wrong.” He was transparent, open, as vulnerable as she’d ever seen him. “I know a good woman when I see one, Ky. I loved you more than anything, more than anyone. Don’t ever forget that.”

      A moment of silence passed between them.

      “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” His smile was back.

      “I think so. We’ve accomplished a lot in our respective careers and we both have a lot to be proud of.”

      “I’d like if we could start over.” Wearing a grin as long and as broad as a four-lane highway, he offered his right hand. “Friends?”

      Touching him was dangerous, deadly, riskier than selling Girl Guide cookies in Compton. Kyra was finally headed in the right direction and she didn’t need a great-looking athlete playing with her head. Or her heart. Having Terrence here—at Hollington, the place where they’d met and fallen in love—was confusing enough without him playing mind games with her. Kyra sensed his interest in her, and didn’t want to make a habit of seeing him on a personal level, but she liked the idea of calling a truce. Just to prove she was really over his betrayal. Steeling her nerves, she reached out and shook his hand. “Friends.”

      His touch shot chills down to her toes. She saw the question in his eyes, felt the warmth of his remarkably soft skin and knew something special had just passed between them. Passion was synonymous with desire, but Kyra refused to believe that after all this time, the chemistry between them still remained. This wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t going to fall for his smooth speech and muck up what she had going with...damn, what was the name of the guy who’d taken her to lunch last week?

      “You know why I returned to Hollington, don’t you Kyra?” His gaze was so deep, so penetrating, she felt naked before him. Like that night they’d made love on that bearskin rug, in front of the fireplace, to the soothing sound of D’Angelo’s whispery vocals. “I came to see you.”

      “Terrence, we could never be more than...” was as far as she got. Gripped by his megawatt smile, his invigorating scent and his touch, she gulped down the rush of emotion threatening to overtake her. Several deep breaths later, Kyra ordered herself to get a grip. Terrence had the bravado of the James Bond icon and more sex appeal than a Chippendales dancer, but she refused to be duped again by his suave moves.

      “There you are,” a familiar voice said.

      Kyra dropped Terrence’s hand as if it were a roasted stone. Smile frozen in place, she swiveled around on the bench and met her boss’s gaze. “Mr. Morrow, hi, um, what are you doing here?”

      Chapter 7

      Secretly pleased by the interruption, Kyra looked on as her boss led Terrence onto the field. Fifty feet away, she could still hear Mr. Morrow’s rich, booming laugh. Introductions were made, players were split into teams and, to her surprise, Terrence donned a red pinny and joined the smaller of the two squads.

      Digging her cell phone out of her purse, she got up off the bench and walked over to the sidelines. Kyra smiled when she heard her best friend’s message. After striking up a conversation at the Georgia Conference for Women three years ago, Aimee Phillips had quickly become someone she could depend on. The Houston native had parlayed her love of down-home cooking into a culinary career, and Kyra was thrilled the personal chef was relocating to Atlanta.

      Anxious to speak to Aimee, she pressed Redial and put the phone to her ear. On the third ring, her girlfriend’s light, breathy voice floated over the line. “What took you so long to call me back?” Aimee asked once they’d exchanged greetings. “I called you hours ago.”

      “It’s been one of those mornings. Crazy from the moment I rolled out of bed, and growing longer by the second!”

      “It couldn’t be any worse than the day I’m having.”

      “What’s up? You sound bummed. Is everything okay at the...”

      Momentarily sidetracked by Terrence’s impressive moves on the football field, she lost the ability to think and talk at the same time. Glued to the spot, her eyes slipping and sliding all over his bulging forearms, she waited for her mind to clear. A minute passed. Then another. Kyra was having a mental lapse again, but ever since Terrence had arrived at her office, daydreaming had become a daily occurrence. And when their eyes met, desire washed over her like water from a brook. Blessed with the face and physique of a model, he had the height, the build and the kind of personality that women of all ages found hopelessly attractive. Biting the inside of her cheek, she turned away from his powerful, muscled body and regained the use of her tongue.

      “What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked, remembering her girlfriend was on the line. “Are you visiting your parents this weekend?”

      “No, they’re out of town.”

      “Great. So you can join me and Shaunice at The Tavern for trivia night.”

      “Kyra, you know you’re my girl and everything, but that sounds kind of corny.”

      “Don’t knock it until you try it. Last month we won the grand prize.”

      “What, a year’s supply of corn chips?”

      “No, thirty-five hundred dollars.”

      Aimee’s voice perked up. “What time did you say it started?”

      Giving in to her laughter, she raised her head just in time to see Terrence yank off his pinny. Walter paused to speak to Coach Mayo before falling in step with the former NFL running back. The men strode off the field, wearing identical smiles.

      A minute later, Kyra slapped her cell phone shut and slipped it into her purse. “The kids sure looked happy to see you,” she said when Terrence pulled up beside her.

      “As they should be. Flash is the real deal!” The excess skin around Walter’s chin jiggled and his shoulders shook with merriment. “You should have seen the wide-eyed expression on their faces when Terrence asked if he could play. They looked like they were going to pass out!”

      Terrence pointed his chin towards the field. “They’re a good bunch. If they study the play book and listen to the coaching staff, they might have a chance this year.”

      “With you at the helm, they’ll have more than just a chance. But we can discuss your vision for the team over lunch.” Walter clapped him on the shoulder. “There’s a great restaurant up the street that has the biggest steak burgers you’ve ever seen.”

      “Don’t say no more. I can eat any time of the day!”

      “All right,” Kyra began, putting on her Prada designer sunglasses, “you guys go have lunch and I’ll catch up with you both this afternoon.”

      Mr. Morrow frowned. “Nonsense, you’re coming with us. We’ll talk football, and then you can show Terrence around our fine city.”

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