The Ex Project by Nia Arthurs

Chapter Ten

Duane watchedas Yolanda climbed out of a luxury SUV and pulled her small train to the red carpet. Dark hands fell elegantly at her sides as she posed for cameras that flashed in her direction.

The world stopped and then spun at a rapid clip. He ran his gaze over her. The soft purple dress hugged her curves and had a daring slit all the way up her thigh. The delicious peek-a-boo made his fingers twitch, eager to trace the exposed skin. Her hair fell in thick waves, framing her stunning face. She was a painting come to life.

Adrenaline pounded through his veins like it did before a big game. Duane heard his heart roaring in his ears.

I’m in trouble now.

The reporters, barricaded on either side of the gallery, clamored for her. Yelled for her. She gave them a practiced smile. A hand lifted. Head tilted just so. They were practically eating out of her palm.

“Yolanda, over here!”

“Gorgeous, Yolanda!”

The reporters knew her by her first name. Out of all the things that could have blown him away, it was that tiny detail.

Sure, he knew that Yolanda Walsh and her family were rich, but he hadn’t realized they were Belizean royalty. No wonder Yolanda always carried herself like a queen.

She turned her head slightly and her eyes caught on where he was waiting in the shadows. Her lips curved up and his heart started beating even faster.

She walked in his direction.

Duane braced himself, waiting for her to pass by. After all, he wasn’t here as her official boyfriend. His role tonight was only to fool her mother. Acknowledging him in public and elevating their ruse in front of the camera would add unnecessary complications to her life.

Duane let out a deep breath and prepared himself to watch her walk away. Prepared for that awful moment when he’d see her back. When he wouldn’t see her anymore.

Expect the worst.

Life had taught him many lessons. One of the most important was how vital expectations were. It wasn’t the anticipated blows that broke a man. It was when he had hopes. When his mind carried him away to think things and reach for things he couldn’t have.

Duane did not like to be broken.

And so he kept his expectations low.

But Yolanda didn’t ignore him on the red carpet. Her long, glittering gown swept the floor. Her shiny heels glided over concrete. And then they stopped.

She stopped.

Right in front of him.

Her earrings dangled to her shoulder and caught every light in the vicinity. They sparkled at him, twinkling like stars.

“You’re here,” she said, her voice a quiet, hopeful whisper.

“I’m here.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

He could not take his eyes off her. There were cameras flashing and questions hurling at them both and he couldn’t hear or see a thing other than her.

“Did you wait long?”

Duane blinked rapidly and struggled to find his equilibrium again. He was usually cool, charming and in control. It took a lot for a woman to make his mind go blank and yet Yolanda seemed to do so easily.

“Uh, no.” He held his elbow out to her. “Shall we?”

She smiled, and the sight of white teeth flashing against dark skin just about knocked him flat on his back.

Yolanda stepped closer and slipped her fingers around his elbow. He could only stare at her like an idiot. She smelled like flowers, crisp evenings in December, and something else. Something so expensive he probably wouldn’t be able to name it if he tried.

Her hair brushed his bicep as she turned her head to look fully at him. “You’re trembling. Were you cold?”

“Uh…”

She started running her hands over his arms. Her fingers were warm. Though her touch was light, he felt every brush as if she was a skilled musician and he was a wounded-tight guitar.

“I shouldn’t have had you waiting so long,” she murmured, completely ignoring the reporters who were taking pictures and following them down the carpet. “Tay-Tay lost his phone charger at the last minute and we were crawling all over the house trying to find it.”

The mention of Tay-Tay made his shoulders loosen. He could picture the little boy and Yolanda scurrying through a living room, frantically lifting chairs and glancing under pillows.

He smiled. At once, the dazzling woman before him was no longer unreachable. She was flesh and blood. A mother who loved her son with all her heart. A woman who would tear through her house in a fancy dress just to help her child.

Duane finally relaxed into his tux. “No problem. I was happy to wait.”

“You look nice,” Yolanda said, her gaze sweeping over his body as if she wanted to say something a lot stronger than ‘nice’.

His chest puffed out. “Thank you. And you look…” Was there a word better than amazing, gorgeous, breathtaking—“Nice.”

Guess not.

Yolanda’s lips twitched. “Thank you.”

They stepped into the art gallery together and an immediate hush fell over the crowd. The way everyone’s eyes swerved to Yolanda, the way they all took a moment just to admire her, felt instinctual. Human beings were drawn to beautiful things and he stood with the most beautiful woman in the room.

Duane saw a few guys watching in awe too and his muscles tensed. He drew an arm around her waist. She’s mine—this stance proclaimed.

Even if it was temporary.

Yolanda didn’t seem to notice or mind his touch. Her eyes locked on a woman across the room and she murmured to him without looking his way. “Over there. One o’clock. That’s my mom.”

Duane made quick comparisons as Yolanda tugged him toward the older woman. Mrs. Walsh was short and delicate-looking with fluffy black hair, red lips and a cold aura about her.

He was surprised by how light her complexion was. Yolanda was exquisite and her dark skin was one of the many things that made her beautiful. He’d assumed her mother would share the same look, but he was wrong.

Mrs. Walsh wore a long dress that wrapped gracefully around her shoulders. A shimmery, transparent shawl was tied at her chest and secured with a diamond broach. Mrs. Walsh touched it gently as he and Yolanda neared her.

“Mom,” Yolanda said, giving her mother a squeeze.

“You made it.” Mrs. Walsh spoke perfect English. He’d expected nothing less from someone of her status. Though Duane comfortably spoke Belizean Creole, he’d learned to flip his language to formal English on a dime. It came in handy when he was abroad.

He switched into a polite tone. “Mrs. Walsh, you look lovely.”

“Thank you.” She scanned him from the top of his head to his feet. “Though I’m more used to you in jerseys and sneakers, Coach Marden, you do clean up quite well.”

“I think you’re being dazzled by the stunning woman standing beside me.” He gave Yolanda an appreciative glance. “She’s the one making me look good.”

“I see.” Mrs. Walsh broke into a smile.

He grinned back warmly.

Yolanda leaned close to him. “Laying it on thick, are we?”

“You’re welcome,” he responded in her ear. The urge to nibble on the tip of her earlobe caught him by surprise and he hurriedly pulled back.

Yolanda was extremely tempting tonight, but he couldn’t give in. She asked him to be her date, but there had been no discussion about how far she wanted to take things physically to sell the story.

It felt natural to touch her. It had from that first night when he rescued her in the bar, but he wasn’t sure if that comfort level was reciprocated on her part. He’d rather err on the side of caution than do anything to make Yolanda uncomfortable.

Settling for placing his hand on the small of her back, he faced Mrs. Walsh again. “It’s a lovely party, ma’am.”

“Oh, Janice likes to over-do. She’s a bit of a drama queen. Just like Yolanda.”

Scrunching her lips at her mother, she chided, “Mom, don’t tell him lies.” Yolanda lifted her face and cooed to him, “I’m always rational, right, honey?”

Honey?

His heart did a double tap.

“I have to side with her, Mrs. Walsh,” Duane said. Then he dropped his voice to a whisper. “If I don’t, Yolanda will find a creative way to punish me.”

Mrs. Walsh burst out laughing and he could see the jovial woman hiding behind her stony resting face. Mother and daughter were more similar than expected. Like Yolanda, the older woman shielded her soft side behind an icy exterior.

He wondered if it was a coping mechanism. These Walsh women would never be easy to chase, but he knew—at least in Yolanda’s case—it was worth it.

“I like you, Coach Marden.” Mrs. Walsh winked. “But then I had an affinity for you ever since Tay-Tay came home singing your praises. That little boy does not hand out compliments often.”

“He’s got natural talent. It’s an honor to be a part of his early training years.”

Yolanda’s gorgeous smile unfurled at the mention of her son. Her arms closed around his waist and she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Duane tried to hide his surprise, but he was certain he failed.

Yolanda batted her eyelashes. “He’s a good man and great with Tay-Tay. It’s one of the reasons I fell for him.”

“Should I call Wanda?” Mrs. Walsh glanced between the two of them.

Duane cleared his throat, struggling to keep up with the conversation. “Who’s Wanda?”

“A wedding planner.”

Yolanda’s expression shifted to horror. “Mom!”

“You can’t be looking at each other that way and not have marriage in mind.” Mrs. Walsh leaned closer. “Do you want another Devon situation?”

Yolanda started coughing. “Mom, I think I hear someone calling you.”

“Who? I didn’t hear anything.”

“No? I was sure…” Yolanda’s eyes widened. “Oh look! There’s Pastor Batson. Didn’t you want to ask him about that fundraiser?”

“Oh right.” Mrs. Walsh fluttered her hands. “Coach Marden, I need to go. Enjoy the party. And don’t be a stranger.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Walsh glided away.

He turned to Yolanda. “There’s something we left out of our agreement.”

Yolanda gave him an innocent smile that wasn’t fooling anyone. “Good job. My mom likes you.”

“Your mom is sweet, but that’s not what I—”

“Champagne?” She darted away and grabbed two glasses.

He reached for one, but she held it back. “These are for me, bub.”

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” He stole a glass away from her. “I already know how you get when you’re drunk.”

Her eyes widened and she blinked so fast he wondered if something was in her eye. Yolanda tipped the champagne back and drained it. Her gaze sought out another waiter.

He snatched her hand before she could claim any more alcohol. “We left something out of our deal earlier and I want to clarify it before we continue.”

“Hm.” She pasted a smile on her face as guests strolled by, waving and calling to her.

The women, who were dressed in finery, gave him curious glances. They slowed their steps, waiting for an invitation to join their table, but he ignored them. His focus remained on the woman beside him.

“Yolanda,” he said firmly.

“What?” Her upturned face made him want to push her against a wall and devour her.

He frowned. “We need to talk about kissing.”