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“Yes.” There was a second or two of uncomfortable silence. “You’re probably wondering why I’m calling at this hour,” she quickly offered.
“Well, yeah, the thought has crossed my mind, but I figure it’s important, otherwise you would have called in the morning.”
Sex instantly flashed through his mind—sex with Panthea to be exact—but he quickly shook the thoughts off and tried to focus on what she was saying. She, of course, was his client, and he didn’t want to go down that road. No, you have to handle a woman like Panthea Daniels with a certain level of professionalism and care.
“—So I was wondering if maybe we could just meet somewhere so we could talk,” she proposed.
“Meet somewhere?” Marcus looked at the clock again.
He really didn’t feel up to going anywhere at this hour. He had been engrossed in work, and still had plenty more to do before he’d be finished, but he had long since abandoned logic when it came to her. Marcus remembered the tantalizing fragrance Panthea wore that seemed to linger in the air and tease him long after she had left the room.
His mind quickly flashed to the dreams he’d had of her luscious pouty lips and full heaving breast. He didn’t feel like meeting anyone, but Panthea Daniels was far from just anyone.
“So will you meet me at Eleven 50?” she asked.
“That’s on Peachtree isn’t it?”
“Yes, you know the spot?” she confirmed.
The thought of meeting Panthea after hours heated his blood instantly. He wished he had time to shower, make himself more presentable, but he knew he didn’t. Then Marcus conceded that although Panthea was beautiful, she was still a married woman.
By the time Marcus had parked, Panthea was settling into one of the many comfortable lounging sofas. After looking around and taking in the elegant wood floors, plush sofas and gauzy curtains falling from vaulted ceilings, she was glad she had chosen the trendy bar as their meeting place. Its atmosphere would say things she wasn’t quite comfortable verbalizing just yet.
Marcus was impressed the moment he stepped up to the bar. He lingered at the massive reflection pool and fountain, which were lined with pearl white cabana's out front. The image gave him a sense of being in Miami instead of Atlanta. He walked into the open three-story theatre turned bar and was glad Panthea had called him.
“You made it.” Panthea smiled and got up the moment she noticed Marcus enter the room.
Their particular room was far enough away from the dance floor for them to speak in private and secluded enough for them to enjoy the music and each other’s company.
“This is really nice,” Marcus said, looking around the room and then back to Panthea. He tilted his head ever so slightly, noticing for the first time the massive shades she was wearing. “Why are you hiding that beautiful face behind those dark shades?” he asked.
“Oh, it’s nothing really,” Panthea assured as she turned and reclaimed her seat. “I’m so glad you decided to meet with me,” she said.
And for the first time, Marcus noticed her voice was a bit shaky as if she was nervous, maybe even fearful about something. “Panthea, what’s going on?” he asked sternly. He eased next to her on the sofa.
“Would you like a lemon drop martini? They’re the best here,” Panthea quickly offered.
“What I want is answers, Panthea, the dark shades,” he shrugged one shoulder, “What gives?”
“Just one drink?” she pouted sweetly. “I promise you’ll enjoy it,” she sang.
“I’ll have a drink, but after that you need to start talking. Deal?”
Panthea sighed then nodded.
As if on cue, the waiter came over, took their drink orders and moved on to another couple. The instant Marcus’s attention returned to her, Panthea snatched off her shades, revealing the bruise under her eye, and then quickly cast her eyes toward the floor.
“What the fuck,” Marcus said and gently took her chin and raised her head toward him so he could get a better look.
“It’s Scott,” she began.
Marcus could feel his blood begin to boil. “He did this to you?” he frowned, speaking through clenched teeth.
“It’s really nothing,” Panthea said, hoping to calm his building fury and dismiss thoughts of the awful fight at the same time. “I mean, we started talking about the affair and Abril’s death. He is convinced that I killed her and well, he’s very distraught about it.” She shrugged. “Soon, things just went completely overboard.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what he’s distraught about. He had no right to put his hands on you,” Marcus said, his nostrils flaring. Something about the passion in his voice was turning her on, but she ignored the nagging feeling between her thighs.