Larenzo's Christmas Baby

‘Okay,’ she said, and followed him into the sumptuous wood-panelled room. Two deep leather club chairs flanked a large window that overlooked Amsterdam Avenue, a low table with a chessboard between them.

Emma sat down and studied the board with its ornately carved pieces. ‘I think I’m about to get my butt kicked,’ she said wryly. ‘Again.’

‘Don’t give up before you’ve even started,’ Larenzo answered with a faint smile as he sat down opposite her. ‘White moves first, remember.’

‘I remember.’ Those two words seemed to fall into the stillness of the room like pebbles tossed into a well, creating ripples of awareness. Larenzo’s gaze was heavy-lidded and intent as he looked at her, and Emma’s heart started to thud.

‘I remember too,’ he said softly, and she knew he wasn’t talking about chess.

She stared down at the board, the pieces blurring before her eyes as she swallowed hard. ‘Do you think about it?’ she asked softly. ‘That night?’

Larenzo didn’t answer for a long moment and she didn’t dare look at him. ‘All the time,’ he finally said, and Emma jerked her gaze up towards his, startled and yet suddenly, blazingly hopeful. ‘You should move,’ he said gruffly, and, barely aware of what she was doing, she moved her knight.

They played in silence, expectation and memory uncoiling inside her, seeming to fill the room with a palpable force. It would be so easy for Larenzo to reach across the board, frame her face in his hands as he had on that night. Slide his lips across hers as she opened and yielded beneath him...

Her hand trembled and she knocked a few pieces over, scattering them across the board. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said, biting her lips, and Larenzo righted them easily.

‘It’s all right. I was going to checkmate you in three moves anyway.’

‘Oh, dear.’

‘Good game.’ He held out his hand, his eyes glinting with both challenge and desire, and Emma took it, her fingers sliding along his as a tingle spread from her fingers all the way up her arm. His hand was so warm and dry and strong. She pulled away reluctantly.

‘Another?’ Larenzo suggested, and she nodded, not wanting this evening to end.

‘Okay.’ She moved a pawn and Larenzo countered by moving one of his. Just a few moves later Emma was down a bishop. ‘I’m hopeless at this,’ she said as she studied the board. Even though she was losing, she was savouring this time with Larenzo. His study was cosy and warm, the lamplight spilling across the board, the heavy damask drapes now drawn across the window.

And as for the man himself... She didn’t think she’d been imagining the heat in his eyes. She certainly felt an answering desire in herself. Every so often she sneaked a glance at Larenzo’s face; his eyes were narrowed as he studied the board, his mobile mouth pursed. He rested his chin in one hand and Emma longed to reach out and touch him. Kiss him.

She forced her gaze back to the board. ‘So how did you learn chess, anyway?’ she asked. ‘I don’t imagine they taught that at the orphanage.’

There was a slight pause and then Larenzo answered, ‘My business partner taught me.’

Emma looked at him in surprise. ‘Your business partner? You mean Bertrano Raguso?’ Larenzo gave a short nod.

‘So you really were close to him,’ she said slowly.

‘We were friends,’ Larenzo allowed. ‘Good friends.’

‘Was he the one who planted the evidence against you?’

Larenzo nodded again, and realisation swooped through her. No wonder Larenzo didn’t trust anyone. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘That must have been very hard, to be betrayed by someone you cared about.’

‘I wondered how he could do it,’ Larenzo said after a moment, his gaze on the board. ‘If he was just desperate... I wish he’d told me how things were. I would have helped him.’ And then, as if he felt he’d said too much, he moved his queen and put Emma into check.

* * *

The weeks slipped by and the leaves fell from the trees, creating a carpet of red and gold on the lawns and pathways of Central Park. Ava had begun to cruise, clinging to coffee tables and chair legs as she made her way around the apartment. Each Saturday Emma took her to New Jersey to visit Meghan and her family; her sister had thankfully stopped warning her about Larenzo. Meghan didn’t mention him at all, which Emma supposed was better than her running him down, but she wished Meghan could see, as she now did, how different Larenzo was from what they’d both once thought.