“Mom, you don’t have to walk with a cane. Your walker is just fine, and you look more comfortable using it. Why do you want to use the cane all of a sudden?”

Claudia Stevens asked the question to her spicy sixty-year-old mother Adeline Stevens, even though Claudia had a frightening feeling she knew the reason.

“I’m trying to be more independent,” Adeline said. “I don’t want to use a walker. It’s a crutch. A woman should be able to stand on her own two feet. What will happen when I bring home your new father if I can’t make it to the bathroom without the help of some prop?”

“Seriously, Mom, any man who deserves you would understand that you need the support. Using a walker is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Adeline said, continuing to brace most of her weight on the cane as she walked.

They were in Claudia and Jaden’s three-story colonial home on the second level. After purchasing the lavish house, Jaden had turned one of the larger spaces into Adeline’s physical therapy room. At first, Adeline had put up a major fight, arguing that she didn’t need a whole room to help her out. That was six months ago. Now, Claudia couldn’t seem to get her out of the room. Whenever Claudia would go looking for her mother, she would stop there first, and most time, it’s where she would find Adeline.

“Why don’t you wait until your therapist gets here so that you can get the most out of your time?”

Adeline turned her nose up at Claudia. “For what, so she can say, ‘Put one foot in front of the other. Now how does the weight feel on that leg? If it hurts, don’t force it. Take a load off and try again’?” Adeline mocked. “As if I don’t know that already.” Adeline shook her head. “What are you all paying her for anyway? I can do this by myself.”

Claudia wasn’t going to fight with Adeline this morning. Last night, Claudia and Jaden had made love until the sun came up. She couldn’t say she was shocked to see him rise a few hours later, take a shower, and leave for Rose Bank and Trust Credit Union. As if he couldn’t take it easy. But he had, and Claudia had reveled in the soreness that thumped from her center. A smile spread across her face as she thought back to her husband’s washboard abs and the muscular thighs that grazed her flesh with each thrust inside her. A shiver ran through her, and Claudia bit down on her lip.

“What are you smiling about?” Adeline quipped. “If it’s nasty, don’t tell me.”

“Okay, then, I won’t tell you,” Claudia said, sticking her tongue out.

“That’s what I’m trying to be like. I need somebody to blow these old bones out, too.”

“Ewww!” Claudia shrieked, mortified.

“What are you talking about ewww for, child? Who you think came up with that little booty shaking dance I see you doing on my son-in-law? Me, that’s who,” Adeline fussed. “I was popping this thang on ya daddy before anybody knew what a twerk was.”

“This is so not the conversation I came here to have with you this morning,” Claudia said.

“Okay then, what is the conversation? Because from what I can see, you came in here to look over my shoulder and daydream.”

Claudia twisted her lips. “I came in here because Desiree and I are going to get fitted for our gowns for the Jan’s Roses fundraiser this weekend, and you need to come with us. It’s a wonder that the tailor can have our dresses ready the day before, but if we don’t make it to her today, we’ll have to buy something off the rack.”

“What’s wrong with buying something off the rack? That’s how you’ve always shopped. Now that you’ve married a multimillionaire, you can’t pick up a dress at the regular stores?”

Claudia pursed her lips and held back the expletive she wanted to shout.

“Of course I can, but why would I want to when I can have a dress made to fit my curves exactly? And,” Claudia said, “on top of that, with my man being a multimillionaire and all, I need and want to dress top shelf.”

“Hmm, I guess,” Adeline said, taking slow steps with her cane.

Claudia pulled her wrist up to glance at her watch.

“In thirty minutes, Desiree will be pulling up. Can I count on you to be ready by then?”

Adeline mumbled something incoherent.

“What was that?” Claudia asked.

“I won’t make any promises.”

“If you’re not ready, then I’ll have to take you to get something off the rack. And how can you make your best impression on Christopher if you’re not dressed in the best?” Knowing that would get her attention, Claudia eased a mischievous smile on her face.

Adeline stopped walking with the cane and glanced up to her daughter as an easy smile also spread across her face. “Under one condition,” Adeline said.

“What’s that?”

“I want some of that filler stuff people put in their lips and face to make their wrinkles go away.”

Claudia’s eyes stretched. “Botox?”

“Yeah, I think that’s what it’s called.”

Claudia didn’t know how to feel. Her mother was asking for Botox injections. She was seriously taking it all the way to impress Christopher.

“You don’t need Botox. A little foundation, some eyeliner and a pop of lipstick will bring out your already sharp features, Mom.” Claudia stepped closer to her mother. “Don’t you dare be insecure. Don’t you know you’re beautiful?”

Adeline sucked her lips in. “Of course, I know I’m beautiful, I also know I have wrinkles, and no amount of makeup is going to hide that fact. Now, are you going to get me the Botox or not?”

Before Claudia could respond, Adeline went further. “If you don’t, I’ll do it myself. Might take me longer to find what I need, but I’m not a reject. I can handle it.”

Claudia could only shake her head. “I’ll ask Desiree and see what she says.”

Adeline scowled. “Why do you and Desiree think she’s my mother? Sometimes I swear you two have forgotten who birthed who.”

“We haven’t forgotten, Mom, but since Desiree and I have repaired our broken relationship, we keep each other in the loop. She would be outraged if I took you to get Botox without informing her or at least asking her opinion.”

Adeline scoffed again and pursed her lips as Claudia glanced at her watch again.

“Can you be ready in twenty minutes, please?” Without waiting for an answer, Claudia turned and left the room.

Behind her back, Adeline mumbled, “When I’m done with Christopher Lee Rose, I’ll show you how to keep a man.”

Pivoting with her cane, Adeline continued to put one foot in front of the other, determined to be the winner of Christopher’s heart.

 

Across town, Phoebe Alexandria Rose glided into the Riverside Sport Fitness Center and signed her name into the machine.

“Good morning Ms. Rose, how are you today?”

“Phoebe, the name’s Phoebe.”

Lisa Mano, the receptionist, smiled behind the desk. “You know I’ll never call you that. Why do you always try and get me to?”

“Because It’s what I’m comfortable with,” Phoebe said. “Calling me Ms. Anything makes me feel as old as my dad.”

Lisa laughed. “We all know you’re not old, honey.”

Being the eldest of triplets, Phoebe had to make sure people didn’t perceive her twenty-five years as old. Glancing around the gym, Phoebe wondered if a special someone was present today.

As if hearing her thoughts, Lisa said, “He’s here, straight to the back by the weights.”

Phoebe tapped the counter with the palm of her hand. “Thanks,” she said, sashaying toward the back in search of the man she couldn’t get her mind off of. Sailing through treadmills and incline machinery, Phoebe traipsed to a tall, lean, caramel brother who stood strong spotting for a man who was lifting weights. She tapped him on his shoulder, causing the fella to turn toward her.

“Do you mind?” she mouthed, asking if she could take the spotter’s place.

The man lifted an eyebrow and shrugged, stepping to the side. He didn’t go far in case the small framed young woman couldn’t handle the weights when it was time to lift them from his hands. Phoebe stood over Quentin Davidson. He was in full workout mode with his earphones stuck in his ears and his eyes closed. Phoebe watched as, with each bend and stretch of his arms, his muscles bulged through his dark brown smooth skin. The T-shirt he wore was thin and soaked with perspiration, and the gray sweat shorts didn’t hide the thick print that sat against his pelvis. Carnal images of them wrapped between the sheets flooded Phoebe’s mind, and instantly her crotch heated, and her nipples bristled.

He was so fine, Phoebe thought. What she would do to have him, if only for a night. Quentin was a machine, continuing to lift the weights without so much as a sign of weakening. Phoebe had been in male strip clubs that didn’t turn her on nearly as much as watching Quentin, or maybe she just had the hots for him that bad.

Deciding to switch machines, Quentin took the weights up one last time and sat them on the bar without the assistance of his spotter. His eyes opened, and sweat dripped up his nose into the corner of his eyes, blurring his vision of what he thought was an angelic figure. Sitting up, Quentin pulled a towelette off of the bench and dabbed at his eyes. When he reopened them, Phoebe stood in front of him with her foot propped on the bench he sat on.

Quentin’s gaze roamed over Phoebe’s chocolate skin. Long legs and thick thighs. She wielded no mercy on his imagination, standing there with her legs spread eagle in those skin-tight workout pants that curved to her womanly figure. Heat ballooned in his core and ran to his groin, extending the muscle in his boxer shorts. Phoebe was no longer his best friend’s young, skinny, annoying sister. She had grown nicely into a curvaceous unmistakably striking woman who threatened his very sanity every time she was near.

When she’d made the decision to workout at his gym twice a week, on the days Quentin was there, it was even more of a forbidden temptation that Quentin was having a hard time dealing with. His eyes roamed up to her bare brown belly that housed a navel ring, and he imagined his tongue swirling around the bejeweled trinket. As his brow lifted and his gaze rose over the plumpness of her breasts, Quentin held tightly to his wildwood growl. It wouldn’t be apropos to be groveling at her where she stood, no matter how bad he wanted to lift her off her feet and take her against the nearest wall.

Phoebe completed her look with a swaying ponytail that sat high on the back of her head and hung down to her neckline. It didn’t make it easier on Quentin as he imagined sinking his fingers in the long tresses and demanding she tell him she belonged to him. The possessive fury scorched his nervous system, putting him on the very edge of insanity. Quentin grew even harder as he took in her light brown eyes, perfect thin nose, and lustrous mouth and imagined the taste of her . He would sink his teeth into her long brown neck and plunge into her pussy so fiercely she would cry and coat his penis with a cream he knew would be hot and sweet. Fuck, he thought.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Davidson,” her sultry voice purred. “Having a good day?”

When he realized she’d asked him a question, Quentin blinked and pulled his eyes away from her mouth.

“Splendid,” he said in a gruff tone.

Phoebe smiled. “I’m glad I caught you. I was hoping you could help me out with an exercise.”

Quentin was trying his hardest to imagine an exercise they could do in the gym, but his guttural thoughts landed them in the most erotic of activities his mind had ever conjured. Trying to save himself, Quentin took his gaze off of Phoebe completely and glanced around the gym.

“Tanner,” Quentin called. His original spotter sidled up beside him. “Can you help my friend Phoebe here with an exercise please?”

Phoebe frowned. “I asked you, Quentin Davidson,” she said pronouncing his name in slow syllables.

Quentin glanced back to her. He didn’t want to turn her down, but there was no way in hell he could stand next to her longer than a minute without swallowing her whole. Quentin needed to get a grip fast. Reaching down to grab his hand, Phoebe tugged, unaware of the power she held over him. That small connection sent more heat riding his bloodstream, and so help him, God, Quentin was definitely in trouble.

Allowing her to pull him away from the machine, Quentin tossed back over his shoulder, “It’s aight, I got it.” Tanner nodded and found his way to an elliptical machine. Once Quentin and Phoebe had made it to the dance studio doors, Quentin pulled back and looked at Phoebe questionably.

“There’s no class in there,” he said.

“I know it,” Phoebe responded. “That’s the reason we’re going into the room. So you can help me with my balance. Come on.” Phoebe tugged and dragged Quentin inside. When the door shut, the room closed in on him as he watched Phoebe traipse to a mat and stretch. Parting her legs, Phoebe kept them straight and bent to her feet with her hands touching the tips of her toes. Her derriere stretched the tights she wore, and if Quentin didn’t know any better, he would think Phoebe was trying to bring him to his knees. Being around her did some unruly things to his libido, and the dryness in his throat had him thirsting for water.

“Phoebe,” he said, his voice low and thick.

Arching her back up to stand, Phoebe turned to look at him.

“I’m going to step out and get a bottled water would you like one?”

Phoebe sauntered over to him and eased into his personal space. The warmth from her nearness spread over Quentin, and alarm bells sounded in his ears. She turned her face up to him with her arm reaching out to turn the lock on the gym door, making her intentions known.

“What was that you were saying about leaving to get some water?” she purred.

Quentin cursed, hard and volatile. “Phoebe, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Quentin? Why is it every time I come around, you make yourself scarce? What’s up, you don’t like me?” She pouted her succulent lips, and Quentin grabbed her, lifting Phoebe off her feet.

“Mmmm,” she said as a moan ripped from her lips at his powerful encasement against his broad chest.

With his hands gripping a tumultuous squeeze on her ass, Quentin held on to Phoebe, and her legs spiraled around his waist. Leaning into him, Phoebe slipped her hands up his neck to allow her fingers to play in his dreads.

“You’re going to get us in a lot of trouble,” Quentin said.

Phoebe wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing his mouth mere inches from hers. “The last time I checked, you and I were grown,” she said.

“You know that won’t make a bit of difference to your brothers,” he said.

“My brothers don’t run my life, and besides, they are not here. It’s just me,” Phoebe pointed to herself, “and you.” She stuck a pointed finger into his chiseled chest. “Now what are you going to do about it?”

“You know that sexy little mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.”

“Oh yeah,” she purred, “I’m counting on it.”

Quentin’s lids lowered to her lips, and Phoebe lifted slightly giving him more of an opening. “Shit,” he said, sinking his mouth into hers in a slow drugging kiss. The momentum of their erotic dance escalated, and Quentin entered her mouth with the prodding of his tongue. They both moaned, and their bodies torched as Phoebe ground into him. Quentin stumbled against the door, pressing her soft body against it. With his rough hands, he held her arms up and kissed down her chin to her neck. The hardness in his pants knocked against her center, begging to be set free.

With his lips on her throat, Phoebe sucked in his earlobe, causing a wicked growl to tread from him.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Phoebe said.

Pulling his lips from her skin, Quentin hovered over Phoebe with his head hung low. “We can’t do this,” he said.

Affronted after divulging a piece of how she felt, Phoebe snapped back. “What’re you talking about? I thought we moved past this?”

Quentin fought with himself, torn between passion and restraint. With all the will he could muster, he untangled Phoebe from his body and sat her on her feet. Becoming even more insulted, Phoebe took a step back and eyed him.

“You can’t be serious?”

Quentin sighed heavily. “I respect your brothers. We’re more than friends. We’re family. They would hate it if I—”

Phoebe held up her hand, silencing him. She whipped around to clutch the doorknob.

Quentin grabbed her arm. “Don’t do that.”

Phoebe shook her arm loose. “Whatever. I’ve got your point loud and clear. You won’t have to worry about me anymore, Mr. Davidson.” She unlocked the door and fled the room.

“Phoebe!” Quentin shouted, stepping into the hallway. Phoebe kept walking. Quentin was tempted to go after her, but his feet kept him planted like a man walking the plank.