Pleasure for Two

Marcel’s heart plummeted. Friend? What normal heterosexual man could handle being friends with someone like Dominique King? He was looking for a serious relationship and she loved being single, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her. “Oh, no, I’ve been relegated to the dreaded friend category.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stopping outside of the bank, she stared up at him.

“Dominique, men and women can’t be friends. Where I come from, the whole purpose of dating it is to find a suitable marriage partner. No guy with a working pulse wants to be just friends with a woman as appealing as you.”

“I have tons of male friends,” she argued, “and none of them are carrying a torch for me.”

“They all must be blind!”

Uncontrollable laughter burst from her mouth. “You’re terrible.”

“And you’re beautiful.” He reached out and gently touched her shoulder. “I know a real nice café up the block. If you’re free tomorrow, I’d love to take you out for breakfast.”

“As friends?” she teased, raising her eyebrows.

“Hell, no!” Marcel chuckled. “I’ll meet you here at 8:00 a.m. How does that sound?”

Shaking her head, she gestured with her thumb over her shoulder. “Wednesdays are always crazy around here. Can we make it Friday morning instead?”

“Deal.” Marcel bent down and kissed her cheek. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Chapter 5

Stuffing the mail into his pocket, Marcel pushed open the door of his two-bedroom apartment and shuffled inside. His shoulders drooped when he rested the plastic grocery bags he carried on the floor. Marcel couldn’t remember ever being this tired and wanted nothing more than a cold drink, a hot meal and the comfort of his king-size bed.

Unbuttoning his sports jacket, he kicked off his shoes and strode into the kitchen. He’d get the groceries later, after he took a much-needed break. Marcel threw open the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water and perched on one of the metal bar stools. Tilting his head back, he took a long, satisfying gulp of his drink.

Sunshine streamed through the balcony doors, drenching the living room with light and warmth. Framed pictures hung above tan sofas, floor lamps were positioned around the room and engineering books lined the metal shelves. His sixth-floor apartment offered a remarkable view of the ocean, and after a stressful day, Marcel liked to sit outside on the balcony and unwind.

Remembering his mail, he tugged the stack of letters out of his back pocket. He saw the return address on a plain brown envelope, and his mouth went dry. U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services had sent him a third letter, which could only mean one thing. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as he ripped open the envelope and began to read.

“Due to the incredibly high volume of applications at this time, we regret to inform you that your visa extension has been denied. If you have any further questions, please contact us at the toll-free number listed under our Washington address.”

Expelling a breath, he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. He missed his family, but he wasn’t ready to leave the States—not until he’d built the life he’d always dreamed of.

Studying the calendar hanging on the wall, he calculated the number of weeks left before the end of the fall semester. Not far from now, he’d either be working at one of the city’s premier engineering firms or packing his bags for Mauritius. The thought of returning home made his head throb. The economic crisis had hit the small fishing island hard, and two of his brothers had recently been laid off. Finding a full-time position here in the States would not only bring him one step closer to achieving his dreams but it would ease his family’s financial burdens as well.

Standing, he returned to the foyer and grabbed the plastic grocery bags. He thought of calling his uncle but decided against it. Another person came to mind—a smart, captivating woman with delicate skin and silky hair, who he’d been unable to stop thinking about for the past two days. Talking to Dominique would help, but he didn’t feel comfortable phoning her. They’d hit it off at lunch, but he didn’t want to unload his problems on her.

Still, thinking about Dominique brought a smile to his lips. He was bummed about his visa situation, but he had another date with the attractive bank manager on Friday, and seeing her was a guaranteed pick-me-up. They shared a powerful sexual chemistry, but he knew being friends was definitely the way to go. Finding an engineering position was his top priority, not putting the moves on a woman he’d just met. But as Marcel shelved the groceries, he couldn’t help but wonder what the provocative beauty was doing tonight and with whom.

“If it isn’t man trouble it’s car trouble,” Dominique grumbled, flinging her keys across her desk. Annoyed, she draped her purple knee-length blazer over the back of her chair and plopped down onto her seat. To create a tranquil atmosphere, she’d decorated her office in warm earth tones, but today, the tan paint and bamboo lights did nothing to soothe her.

After discovering the flat tire on her Range Rover that morning, she’d gone back into the house, changed out of her suit and unearthed her ex-husband’s tool kit. Changing the tire had been a messy job, but she was on the road twenty minutes later and arrived at her morning meeting with five minutes to spare.

Pleased with her performance over the past six months, the executive manager had called on her to explain the policies she’d implemented at her branch to improve client relations. Her presentation had been a success, but she’d left the head office with a migraine headache. From the moment Dominique arrived at First Centennial Trust, there had been one problem after another. If she could just have ten minutes of peace and quiet, she could salvage the rest of the day and finish reviewing the monthly reports that were due tomorrow.

To ensure she wasn’t disturbed, she buzzed her secretary and asked her to hold her phone calls for the next half hour. Signing on to her computer, she typed in her password and accessed her online bank account. While she waited for the page to load, she sipped her double latte coffee. How did someone as smart and conscientious as me end up living paycheck to paycheck? she wondered, staring dubiously at the computer screen. Thanks to Earl’s proclivity for flashy cars and Giorgio Armani suits, she was thousands of dollars in debt.

A heaviness filled Dominique’s heart when she thought about her life with Earl. All of their friends and family thought they were living the good life. But after the bills were paid, there was nothing left. Earl spent money faster than she earned it, and at one point, they’d even been three months behind on their mortgage. Supporting him had sucked the life out of her, and by the time he’d finally gotten his big break, they’d already called it quits. Last she heard, he was in Europe, touring with an eighties jazz band. Dominique didn’t hate him, but every time her credit card statement arrived in the mail, she considered hiring a hit man.

She retained possession of the house after the divorce, but it was an incredible expense for one person. How much longer can I go on like this? she wondered. The stress of her financial situation had caused many sleepless nights, but Dominique was determined to dig herself out of the hole her ex-husband had put her in. That was why she was going to the First Fridays event at the Sheraton. It didn’t matter that she’d been up since 5:00 a.m. or that her legs ached. Networking was the name of the game, and if she could wrangle up five more clients for Destination Wellness, she’d be one step closer to being debt-free.

Noting the required payment due, she transferred the necessary funds from her checking account and waited for the transaction to go through. Right now, all she could afford was to pay the minimum, and at this rate, it would take years to clear the balance. Then there were the delinquent property taxes to think about. If she didn’t have to help her sisters…Dominique deleted the thought from her mind. She was the oldest, and it was up to her to keep the family together. Wasn’t that what her dad had always told her? Even after all these years, she could still hear her father’s voice in her ears. It had a rich, soothing undertone, much like Marcel Benoit’s.

Dominique felt her body flush. Why was she thinking about Marcel? It was true, though. The graduate student had one hell of a voice. It was deep and sensuous and fell across her ears with the same tenderness as a loving caress. She tried not to think about him, but despite herself, she remembered the conversation they’d had at lunch three days earlier. Dominique felt a smile coming on and settled back into her seat.

Her phone rang, startling her. To clear her mind, she expelled a breath and counted to five before picking up the phone. “Hello, Dominique King speaking. How may I be of assistance?”

“Good morning.”

At the sound of Marcel’s voice, she felt flutters in the pit of her stomach. She greeted him warmly, as if unaffected by his dreamy, smooth-as-silk voice. “Hi, Marcel. How are you?”

“Lousy.” He paused before adding, “You stood me up this morning.”

Dominique groaned. “Oh, no! I am so sorry. Our breakfast date completely slipped my mind. I had a flat tire this morning, and it threw off my whole schedule.”

“I understand. I know how slow tow truck operators are,” he said easily. “I once had to wait over two hours for my car to be hauled just a few miles away to my mechanic.”

“I didn’t call a tow truck. I changed the tire myself.”

“You changed your tire?” His tone was thick with disbelief. “You’re pulling my leg, right?”

Used to receiving this reaction from the opposite sex, Dominique reminded him that she was the oldest of three girls. “My dad never wanted any of his daughters to be at the mercy of a man, so he taught us how to fend for ourselves. I can change the oil in my car, assemble any piece of home furniture and whip anybody’s butt at a game of pool!”

His deep chuckles filled the line and alleviated Dominique’s anxiety.

“I wish you would have left a message with the information desk. Then I would have called you as soon as I got in.”

“It never occurred to me.”

“I feel so bad about this,” she confessed, drumming her fingers on her desk. “Are you free this evening? I’m attending the First Fridays event at the Sheraton, but we could meet up for drinks afterward if you’d like.”

“I already have plans.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want to have dinner on Monday?”

Marcel turned her down. “I don’t want you to rearrange your schedule on account of me. I was just calling to make sure you were okay. I got worried when you didn’t show up.”

Disappointed that she wouldn’t be seeing him again, Dominique stared absently out of her office window, wondering if there was anything else she could say to change his mind. “It was very thoughtful of you to call and check up on me,” she said, deeply touched by his concern. “I’m fine though. Forgetting our plans was just an oversight on my part.”

“Well, I better let you go. You’re at work, and I don’t want to hold you up.”

Dominique wasn’t ready to end their conversation, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was reluctant to make plans with her again, and she understood why. Dating a musician had come with its fair share of disappointments, and she’d hate for Marcel to think she was unreliable. He was such a great guy. Intelligent, well-read and seriously hot, he appealed to her in every way and never failed to make her laugh.