Promises We Make. Pamela Yaye

celebrated your birthday, but you’ve lost your youth, your shine, that healthy glow I always envied.”

      “You’re so busy clawing your way up the corporate ladder you don’t realize that life is passing you by,” Roxi continued. “You’re working like a dog to forget what happened with—”

      Niveah silenced her with a look. “Don’t even think about mentioning that jerk’s name. I’ve moved on, and I wish you guys would, too.”

      “We will, as soon as you start living again.” Smiling sympathetically, Jeanette rested a hand on her best friend’s shoulder. “You know what you need to do? Let your hair down. Live on the edge. Do something wild and spontaneous for once,” she admonished.

      “Ever since you started dating Tavares you’ve been obsessed with hooking me up,” Niveah complained, running a hand through her naturally curly hair. She’d accomplished a lot in her thirty-four years, and contrary to what her girlfriends thought, she loved her life just the way it was. So what if she didn’t have a husband, kids and a three-story house in the suburbs? She was successful and financially stable and that’s all that mattered. “Quit badgering me, Jeanette. And for your information, I do tons of exciting things.”

      Roxi raised her eyebrows. “Really? Like what?”

      “She’s bluffing,” Jeanette accused. “Niveah will do anything to stay in her boring little world, including lying about having an active social life.”

      “I have a lot of fun. Just last week I went rock climbing with some of the teens I mentor.”

      Roxi guffawed. “If that’s what you call exciting, then you’re worse off than I thought!”

      “Niveah, you’re never going to find true love if you keep hiding behind your attaché case,” Jeanette told her. “You need to take a page out of my book because once I quit stressing about work and started doing activities I enjoyed, I couldn’t keep the men off me. And now I have Tavares, and my life is complete.”

      Roxi gave Jeanette a high five. “Me, too, girlfriend. It’s just a matter of time before Cedrick pops the question, and once he does, I’ll be all over the Saks Fifth Avenue bridal registry!”

      “If you two are so blissfully in love,” Niveah challenged, “then why are you at this party?”

      “Keeping your rusty butt company!”

      Jeanette and Roxi roared with laughter.

      “Before the night’s over, I’m going to find you someone to dance with. Someone like …” Jeanette’s gaze panned the crowd and after several seconds, she squealed. Bouncing up and down on her seat like an unruly toddler high on sugar, she clapped her hands and nodded her head. “Check out the hottie at the end of the bar. He’s a perfect ten!”

      Niveah didn’t bother looking up from her drink. Jeanette’s idea of good-looking was a lanky gangbanger plastered in tattoos; but Niveah preferred studious, conservative types. Not a square, just someone with manners and class, who’d treat her with respect. But as her ex-fiancé had so aptly proven nine months ago, looks were deceiving.

      “That man is beyond fine! I’d do him in a New York minute!”

      Niveah’s ears perked up. If Roxi thought the stranger was fine, then he was. Despite being divorced twice, she was in the market for husband number three, and could spot a good-looking guy a block away.

      Straightening in her seat, Niveah peered around the cluster of model-esque clones obscuring her view of the bar. Jeanette yanked her to the left, pointed an acrylic fingernail directly ahead, and yelled, “He’s the one in the dark designer suit.”

      Niveah’s mouth fell open.

      “I told you he was perfect.”

      And he was. Words couldn’t describe how truly gorgeous the stranger was. Bald, buff brothers didn’t usually catch Niveah’s eye, but this man had it seriously going on. Immaculately groomed, with clear skin, and defined features, he had a one of a kind look that instantly made her wet. His gaze was hungry, almost predatory, and his sexy mouth was rimmed with a neat, trim goatee. The brother owned the room, and the hearts of all the females in attendance—including hers. Her body hummed, and suddenly the grand ballroom felt hotter than a furnace. An aura of mystery surrounded the stranger, making him even more appealing. Staring at him, so intently, was bound to make Niveah go cross-eyed, but she didn’t have the strength to look away. She was drawn to him, overtaken by a blinding sexual hunger she’d never known.

      “If I had a man like that at home, I’d never leave,” Roxi quipped, fanning her rosy cheeks. “I think I’ll just go over and say hello.”

      Niveah cut her eyes at Roxi. “What about Cedrick?”

      “What about him? Until he puts a ring on it, I’m keeping my options wide open.”

      Jeanette gripped her girlfriend’s forearm, preventing her from rising from her seat. “Sit your big butt down. I picked him out for Niveah, not you.”

      “Girl, please. Miss Thang can’t handle all that man. He’s six feet tall and over two hundred pounds. He’d probably snap her skinny body in two.” Cackling like a witch on a broom, she adjusted the neckline of her outfit. Roxi used every opportunity to show off her boobs, and her zipper-front dress served up an eyeful. “I on the other hand, specialize in turning out jocks, and that cutie’s exactly my type.”

      Angry about being dissed, Niveah shot her soon-to-be exfriend a scathing look. “You think you know everything about me, Roxi, but you don’t. I’m every bit as daring as you are. If not more.” To prove it, she stopped a passing waiter, ordered a cognac, and instructed him to deliver it to the gentleman at the end of the bar.

      “Very well, ma’am. Would you care to include a message?”

      Niveah shielded her mouth with the back of her hand. She spoke only loud enough for the waiter to hear, and when he departed, she couldn’t help but smile to herself.

      “So you sent him a drink. Big friggin’ deal. You’re as straitlaced as they come, and—”

      “Wanna bet?”

      Roxi smirked. “I’d love to.”

      “Knock it off, you two,” Jeanette ordered. “You sound like a couple of kids having a pissing contest on the schoolyard.”

      Roxi ignored her and addressed Niveah. “If I’m right about you being a Goody Two-Shoes, you’ll have to hand over your new Gucci handbag. You know, the one I watched you drop a thousand dollars on at the mall yesterday.”

      “Okay, and I want your Oprah tickets.”

      Her face crumpled like a piece of paper. “B-b-but they’re the tickets to her final show.”

      “Those are the terms. Deal or no deal?”

      “You’re on. That purse is going to look great with the dress I plan to wear to the show.” Flashing a superior grin, she leaned forward in her chair, and rested her elbows on the table. “Did I tell you guys that Oprah will be interviewing her all-time favorite guests on the finale?”

      “Only a million times,” Jeanette grumbled.

      “There are also rumors circulating that world-famous singers will be performing together. I can hardly wait! It’s going to be …”

      Having heard this before, Niveah glanced absently around the ballroom. It was no surprise that her eyes strayed to the bar. Her mouth dried. He was staring right at her. Guests blew noisemakers, and boisterous laughter filled the room, but Niveah could still hear her deafening heartbeat. It was beating in double-time, throbbing painfully in her ears.

      Wearing a broad, megawatt smile, the handsome stranger lifted his tumbler in the air, tilted his head toward her and downed his glass in one smooth swig.

      “Go over there and introduce yourself,” Jeanette encouraged,