Because of You

She shook her head. “I don’t need a tin. One toast point or a tiny spoonful will do.”

Jordan released her legs and got up from the love seat. “I’ll go and see if there’s any left.”

Aziza watched him leave, silently admiring the way his trousers fit his waist and hips. It was obvious Jordan didn’t buy his clothes off the rack. She unfolded her legs, slipping her feet into her shoes, and stood up. Walking across the room, she opened the door and plowed into her brother.

“I was just coming to get you. You did promise to dance with me,” Alexander said when she gave him a blank stare.

She held back when he grasped her hand. “I need to wait for Jordan to get back.”

“Jordan will know where to find you.”

Aziza knew physically she was no match for Al, so she followed his lead where revelers had crowded into the atrium that was designed to resemble an indoor rainforest. A DJ was busying spinning tunes, while couples were on their feet dancing to an infectious Black Eyed Peas song.

“Now, isn’t this better than sitting home alone?” Alexander said in her ear as he swung her around and around in an intricate dance step.

“It’s all right,” she admitted.

“Liar!”

“Okay. I’m having a good time.”

The truth was Aziza was really enjoying herself, and she knew Jordan was responsible for keeping her entertained. She’d felt comfortable talking to him, and he exhibited none of the brashness she’d seen during the televised news conference. Perhaps that was what he’d wanted the audience to see. After all, she’d performed more times than she could count in the courtroom. Some judges didn’t care for theatrics, so Aziza knew to keep it to a minimum.

Alexander tightened his grip on his sister’s waist. “Does Jordan Wainwright have anything to do with you having a good time?”

Aziza missed a step, then caught herself. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Do you realize the two of you have been behind a closed door for more than an hour?”

“Hel-lo, Al. Weren’t you the one who wanted me to talk to Jordan?” Eyes narrowing, Aziza stopped midstep. “I hope you’re not thinking I would…” Her words trailed off.

Alexander pulled Aziza closer. “Don’t turn around, but Jordan’s standing there staring at you like a lovesick adolescent. I told you not to turn around!” he said when his sister ignored his warning.

Jordan held up a piece of toast with caviar, put it into his mouth, chewing it as if in slow motion, then made a big show of wiping his hands. “No, he didn’t,” she whispered.

“What the hell is going on, Zee?”

“He ate my caviar.” Aziza managed to free her right hand, made a fist and pretended to blacken both his eyes.

This was an Aziza Alexander hadn’t seen in a very long time. She’d always been a practical joker and had the most carefree and spontaneous laugh of any woman he’d known. She was as tough as she could be feminine, and he’d believed growing up with three brothers had prepared her to navigate the male-dominated law profession. What she hadn’t been prepared for was being sexually harassed, or her husband not having her back. The result was she’d lost her husband and her job with the law firm that had recruited her even before she’d passed the bar.

That spark and zeal for life she’d always exhibited hadn’t burned as brightly as it had before she’d married Lamar, but tonight it was back. And he felt sorry for Jordan Wainwright, because there was one thing Alexander knew about his sister, and that was she was a scrapper—in and out of the courtroom. If the high-profile attorney wanted to play with fire, then he’d better be prepared to be singed.

He smiled. “Maybe I should rephrase my question.”

“And what’s that?”

“Do you like Jordan?”

Aziza’s brow furrowed. “Like him how? The way a woman likes a man?” Alexander nodded. “No, Al. It’s nothing like that. He’s nice and he makes me laugh.” And he’s very easy on the eyes, she added silently.

“Would you ever consider dating him?”

“I doubt it,” she said quickly.

“Why?” Alexander questioned.

“He’s a lawyer, and you know that we don’t mix.”

“Just because Lamar was a horse’s ass doesn’t mean you have to lump all attorneys in that category.”

“Don’t forget about the one who sexually harassed me, then got his buddies to cover his ass. So, right about now I’m not feeling the male species.”

The song ended, and Alexander led Aziza over to a corner of the atrium where they were partially concealed by the leaves of a banana tree. “You can’t blame all men for a few idiots. Remember what you told me about women when Nikki cheated on me, then posted it on her Facebook.”

Aziza lifted a glass of water off the tray of a passing waiter and took a deep swallow. “Maybe we’re the Flemings who’re destined to be unlucky in love. Nana and Grandpa were together more than fifty years before he passed away. Mom and Dad will celebrate their fortieth anniversary this year and Danny and Omar have passed the seven-year-itch mark. It’s just you and I who seem to keep blowing it.”

Pausing, she took another sip of water. “You’re only twenty-six, so you have plenty of time to date before deciding to settle down. Fortunately, you don’t have to concern yourself with a biological clock.” She had another four years before she was considered high risk.

Alexander stared at his sister, wondering if she was aware of what a gift she would be to a man. She was pretty, smart and would enhance his image—but only if he wasn’t intimidated by her intelligence. It’d happened with his ex-brother-in-law, and no doubt it would happen again with other men with whom Aziza found herself involved.

“Here comes your admirer,” he whispered when he spied the teammate, who was interested in Aziza.

Aziza’s senses were on full alert when she saw him approach. He was at least six-foot-eight and as wide as a French-door refrigerator. His bright red hair and beard reminded her of the disgraced ex-baseball great Mark McGwire, but the resemblance ended with hair color. The behemoth heading toward her was a full head taller and outweighed her by at least two hundred pounds.

He dipped his head and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.”

Aziza went completely still, wondering what Alexander had told him about her. She wasn’t aware that she was staring, her mouth gaping. “It’s…it’s nice meeting you, too,” she gasped breathlessly when she’d recovered her voice. She offered her hand. His smile was so wide she could see his molars. “I’m Aziza.”

A large hamlike hand rubbed his thigh before he extended his. “Trevor Butler.”

She shook his hand. “It’s nice meeting you, Trevor.” Aziza knew it was time to end something before it even began. “Al mentioned that you wanted to take me out, but what he didn’t know is that I’m seeing someone.”

Trevor’s face seemed to crumple like an accordion. “Is he here?”

Aziza felt a wave of panic when she realized she had to back up her lie. If she was involved with someone, then it would make sense that they would spend New Year’s Eve together.

“Yes, he is.” She took several steps from behind the large plant, her eyes scanning the crowd for Jordan. She spotted him standing off to the side, arms crossed over his chest. Raising her hand, she beckoned for him to come, sighing inwardly when he wove his way through swaying couples to close the distance between them.

Looping her arm over the fabric of his sweater, she leaned in close to Jordan. “Baby, I don’t know if you know your cousin’s teammate, but this is Trevor Butler.” The two men exchanged handshakes.

Jordan, who’d quickly picked up on Aziza calling him baby, followed her cue when he saw lust in the linebacker’s eyes. It was obvious he’d been coming onto her, and a quick glance at Alexander Fleming validated his suspicions. Wrapping his arm around Aziza’s waist, he pulled her close.

“I didn’t get the chance to talk to you at the last party,” he admitted to Trevor, “but I want to congratulate you, because without your defense, you guys never would’ve made it to the Super Bowl.”

Trevor’s expression brightened. “Thanks, man.” He nodded to Aziza. “Your lady is gorgeous.”

“I think so, too,” Jordan countered without a bit of modesty. His fingers tightened on Aziza’s waist. “Come, baby. You did promise me one dance before we leave.” The tempo of the music had changed from upbeat to a slower rhythm.