Every Chance I Get

He stepped aside when she tried to move past him that time.

“Your bosses aren’t going to like that you walked out on one of the biggest stories of the year.”

“Spare me, Talib. You and Asher are everywhere. I’m sure the world knows all about the two former ballers making yet another splash in the agenting world they already rule.”

Talib took a seat on the porch railing. “No one else has this part of the story—the background on who we are—who we really are.”

Curiosity winning out over suspicion, Misha walked toward him. “Exactly what is your intention for this feature?”

“What time may I expect you on Monday?”

Misha muttered under her breath and attempted to control her temper. “Don’t for a second think you can rile me in my own business. I don’t know yet what you’re trying to do—”

“Trying to do, love? I’m trying to give you a story.”

“Mmm-hmm, I know what you’re trying to give me, Tali.”

“Is that so?” She was close enough to touch and he took advantage. “Why do you keep running from me, then?”

Misha didn’t try to twist out of the grip he had on her forearm. Patiently, she waited for him to release her but discovered too late that he had more in mind first.

The kiss and caress that followed wasn’t forced. Misha leaned into it willingly, needingly. Talib loosened his hold on her arm the instant their lips met. He didn’t move from the rail and only began to caress her when she moved closer. Her hair brushed his hands when he massaged her back and shoulders. Whimpering sounds vibrated from both of them while their tongues fought a slow duel. Misha raked the silky curls tapered at Talib’s neck and arched closer into the powerful wall of his chest.

Reluctantly, Talib acknowledged that he’d have to be the one to end things. He’d take her right there against the rail if he didn’t let her go soon. Breaking the kiss smoothly, he let his mouth trail her neck.

“So when may I expect you on Monday?”

The words, no matter the elegant tone they were delivered in, were like a cold splash. Misha twisted away from him.

“I’ll call you.” For the second time that afternoon, she stormed away from him.

Talib’s cool expression merged into one less certain. Slumping on the railing, he prayed this plan of his would have a chance at actually working.

“What’s Talib done now?” Riley drawled while setting her baby’s stuffed animals to a far corner of the crib.

“Why don’t we talk about how long you’ve known about Justine Duke’s new publication.”

Riley’s hands paused on the toys. “You know I always keep up with the competition.”

“But you had to know I’d be interested in something like that. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you flying off the deep end about the woman. You almost lost your mind over the crap she pulled before and with your history…”

“Riley, please, you’ve got no idea about our history.”

Riley made sure the baby’s monitor was on, then firmly ushered Misha into her bedroom which was connected to the nursery.

“I need my phone,” Misha said, remembering.

“It’s already on the nightstand.” Riley motioned for Misha to sit down on the bed next to her. “Talk.”

“What—” Misha spread her hands “—is this about, Justine?”

“This is about you telling me the rest of what happened. Now.”

“We… Justine and I worked together before—”

“Hell, Misha, I know all that.”

Wearily, Misha leaned forward, resting her elbows to her knees. “There was a client…Talib and Asher were preparing to sign him. They were just starting up the agency. Talib had been in town wooing clients while Asher was still setting up shop in Phoenix.”

Riley got up and moved over to sit on the vanity stool before her dresser and listened.

“Anyway, the guy they were going after the hardest…he was a real jerk. Nothing like Vic,” she said, referring to The New Chronicle’s former fact-checker and Hud-Mason’s newest client, Victor Lyne. “Ray Simmons was his name. I got to meet him a few times at some parties Talib took me to. That was enough to tell me that the guy was just in it for the money. At the time, me and Justine were both working for The First Beacon.” She shrugged and curled against a pillow lining the headboard.

“We were good colleagues. Not friends, but good enough coworkers to feel comfortable bouncing ideas off one another. There was the occasional chatter about men and dates. I told her about Talib, meeting his new client and how money hungry the guy was.” Misha leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. “Justine was trying to make a splash with her entertainment features even back then. She was a so-so writer, looked down on being an assistant when what she really wanted were full-fledged reporting creds. She figured Ray Simmons was just the ticket. So she wrote a splashy story on the guy and got the paper to run it because he had connections to the up-and-coming Hud-Mason agency. Humph, Hud-Mason never had the chance to sign him. Justine’s story revealed that Ray held no loyalties to anyone—he was going with whoever got him the biggest bucks. Another agency worked up a deal for him and scooped him right out from under Talib and Asher.”

“Talib didn’t take that too well, I guess.”

Misha gave a mock salute in Riley’s direction and closed her eyes on the memory.

“Men take betrayal far more seriously than women do. He was like someone I didn’t know. He accused me…accused me in ways and of things… He said I’d slept with him for the story. It took days before I even knew what the hell he was talking about.”

The despair in Misha’s eyes tore at Riley’s heart. She wanted to go to her, but resisted, knowing there was more to the story.

Absently, Misha fidgeted with the frame holding Asher and Riley’s photo on one side and Ahmad’s ultrasound on the other. Seconds passed before she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and raised the hem of her dress. She rubbed the scar at the bend of her knee.

“This won’t ever heal, which is probably a good thing. That way I’ll always have a reminder of—”

“The accident.”

“Of why I had the accident.”

“Misha—”

“I was completely out of it. Talib was the only thing on my mind. It’s a wonder I knew where my keys were, let alone how to drive a car. I’m still amazed that I didn’t kill myself.”

Riley bristled then but knew she had to ask. “Is that what you were trying to do?”

“No. No.” She spoke without hesitation and repeated the word when Riley stared. “I love living too much for that, but that night…me and Talib would’ve been together three years if that story hadn’t broke. We met at a charity event. It was his third year in the league. I was there with someone from work. The guy couldn’t dance worth a damn but it was a good networking opportunity. I’d just met someone from the Beacon and gotten an interview. I was even feeling good enough to risk my toes to a poor dance partner who twirled me right into Talib. His date was not thrilled.”

Riley covered her mouth when she laughed.

Misha’s amusement didn’t last. “Three years later he couldn’t stand my guts. That story came out and he wouldn’t even give me the chance to explain. I saw him that day, tried one last time to talk—it didn’t go well at all.” She pounded a fist to the gray comforter. “None of this was my fault. Idle chatter with a coworker who took it and ran. I thought about that, getting madder and crazier every minute. Then I got in my car.” She left the bed and walked to the windows overlooking the backyard.

Riley nodded, finally understanding her friend’s real fear.

“I can’t fall for him again.” Misha turned her back on the windows. “Correction. I can’t fall any deeper for him. If it fizzles again… What if the next time I get in my car…”