Miami After Hours - Page 44



He was so deep in thought that he didn’t realize he’d been joined by someone until a smooth voice slid over him like syrup. A voice that took him back to another place in time.

He glanced up from his drink to find Farrah Davenport, his ex-girlfriend, sitting beside him. “Farrah.” He inclined his head and returned to sipping his drink.

“Is that all I get after we shared two thrilling months together?” she inquired.

Turning again, Daniel stared at her. Farrah was stunningly beautiful and was of mixed African American and West Indian heritage. She had flawless skin, expressive eyes and a body that most women would kill for and that she’d used to get what she wanted—his wallet. The only things Farrah cared about were whether he was good in bed and whether he could support her lifestyle. Too bad he figured that out after he’d shelled out thousands during their short-lived dating stint.

“You’re looking well,” Daniel said after his slow perusal. Farrah was dressed in a jumpsuit with a neckline that damn near plunged to her waist, showing off her spectacular cleavage. Daniel could appreciate the package even though Angela was far more beautiful in his opinion, both inside and out.

“I’m glad you noticed.” She eased herself on the bar stool as best she could without her breasts falling out of the jumpsuit and faced him with her legs crossed. It wasn’t lost on him that she was pulling out all the stops to prove she could still hold his interest.

He gave her a withering glance. “Isn’t that what you’re looking for in that getup?”

Farrah laughed, throwing back her head so that her long flowing mane of hair, thanks to a thousand-dollar Brazilian weave, could cascade down her back. She truly was a piece of work. There was nothing real about her. Everything was for show. Why had he never seen it before?

“I just threw on this old thing,” Farrah replied. “I’m meeting some friends for dinner.”

“Don’t let me keep you.”

She frowned. “You’re not. They’re late.” Then she chuckled to herself. “Usually I’m the one fashionably late. Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Having a drink.” Daniel wasn’t interested in giving her any details. Farrah was a notorious gossip, so whatever he said would make the rounds in Miami society, blogs and social media.

“Alone? The Daniel I know likes having a beautiful woman on his arm.”

“And who’s to say that I don’t have a woman?” His mind instantly went to Angela.

“Then where is she? Doesn’t she know she can’t let a lion like you out of his cage?”

Daniel turned to glare at her but not before downing the last of his scotch. “We’re not doing this, Farrah.”

“Doing what?”

“Acting like you care about who I’m seeing.”

“Why are you so afraid to share?” she countered. “If she’s so amazing, I’d think you’d be raving about her, but since you’re not it tells me that nothing has changed.”

“Changed? What the hell does that mean?”

She scooted off the bar stool and placed her hands on her slender hips, studying him. “You know the reason we broke up, Daniel. And though I do like a certain lifestyle, it wasn’t just about the money. I feel sorry for the poor mouse you’re seeing because she has no idea the world of hurt she’s gotten herself into.”

After Farrah had gone, Daniel thought about her parting comment.

She was wrong. The real reason they’d split was her rampant desire for money. He loved spoiling his women and giving them trinkets, taking them out to the best restaurants and on fabulous vacations, but at the end of the day, she’d been nothing more than a gold digger, plain and simple.

Now, Angela…

She was different. She had him wondering what it would be like if they were a couple. When she’d left his place earlier she’d been noncommittal, and he wasn’t sure whether she wanted to see him again. He certainly wanted to see her again, could picture her becoming a frequent bed partner, but Angela was playing hard to get.

And he didn’t like it.

He was used to being the one in charge, but this time he had to follow her lead. This time he would have to wait for her to make the first move.

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