Hook Shot (Hoops 3)

“None.”

“No flirtations or any of that shit.”

“None of that shit.”

He pauses, narrowing his eyes. “I’m serious, Lotus. We are not on a break. We are not seeing other people. You are not single.”

“And you can tell those groupies who hang around in the tunnel after games if they like their teeth in their mouths,” I say sharply, “they’ll keep their paws and their nasty little pussies away from my man. Do I make myself clear, Kenan?”

He grins, a flash of bittersweet against his mahogany skin that has my heart skipping beats and turning cartwheels, even as it breaks. “Crystal clear.”

43

Lotus

“Paris next year, Lo,” JP says decisively. “I want to show in Paris instead of New York.”

I nod, focused on the dress design I’ve been working on. “That sounds good.”

“Orders from the new collection have far surpassed our projections.”

“That’s amazing,” I reply, smudging the line of the shoulder with my thumb.

“And I think I’ll use that new model from Mars.”

“Love it.” I frown at the length of the sleeve, flipping my pencil to erase a half inch.

“And let’s open the fall show with an orgy.”

“Great idea.” I tilt my head and squint one eye at the hem. “Orgies are so hot right . . . “

My head pops up and I stare at him wide-eyed. “Wait. What?”

“I wondered how far I would have to go before you actually started listening,” he says, his grin teasing.

“Very funny. I was listening.”

“Oh, so you will be scouting on Mars for my next model, eh?”

“Va te faire foutre,” I mumble, and fight a smile.

“I think that’s the problem.” He accessorizes a suggestive waggle of his brows with a devilish grin. “You’re the one not getting fucked.”

My grin falls away, and I gather my sketch pad, phone and laptop.

“And on that note,” I say, standing, “I think I’ll go get some real work done.”

“You miss him, Lotus,” JP says. “It’s obvious how miserable you are without him.”

“I’m not miserable. I’m fine, and it’s temporary.”

“We only get so many days, ma petite, on this Earth. Why waste even one when you’ve found the love of your life?”

“What makes you think he’s the love of my life?” I ask, and head for the door to leave his office.

“You’re one of those creatures who only loves once and greatly, I think. So Monsieur Ross, he is it. Ai-je tort?”

I pause at the door, my hand on the knob.