NiceGirlsDo Read online

  Marilyn Lee Unleashed Presents

  Nice Girls Do

  Sequel to Falling For Sharde

  Marilyn Lee

  ©2006 Marilyn Lee

  All rights reserved

  This book is fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously and shouldn’t to be construed as real. All service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their owners and are used for identification only.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book can be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except for brief quotations used in reviews.

  Chapter One

  The moment Clayton Frazier spotted Sharde Donovan standing in the airport terminal, what felt like a silly grin spread across his face. Having spent most of the plane ride from Florida to Philadelphia thinking about her, he felt almost as if he'd conjured her up. Quickening his pace, he reached her in moments. “Hi, honey!”

  “Hi, Clay.”

  He caressed her cheek. “Why didn't you tell me you were meeting me?”

  “I wanted to surprise you.”

  The smile that warmed her smooth, brown face didn't quite reach her dark eyes. Some of his delight dissipated. “Well, you've done that. Now tell me, am I going to like the reason you chose to surprise me?”

  She caught his hand and leaned up to kiss him -- on the damn cheek. “Welcome back, Clay.”

  Recalling the taste of her full lips as she passionately returned his kisses the last time they'd seen each other several weeks earlier, her chaste kiss did not bode well for his hopes of their becoming friends with benefits.

  The carryon bag hanging off his shoulder suddenly felt as if it weighed a couple of hundred pounds. Allowing the carryon to fall to the floor, he drew her into his arms.

  She pressed her hands against his shoulders, turning her head to avoid his lips. “We need to talk, Clay.”

  He glanced down at her left hand. A diamond solitaire winked at him from her third finger. He released her. “Oh, shit, Sharde! You're going to marry the bonehead?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I love him.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I know you're disappointed, but please try to be happy for me, Clay.”

  The woman he'd wanted for himself was telling him she was going to marry a bonehead and he was supposed to be happy about it? He pulled his hand away from her and picked up his carryon. “He doesn't deserve you.”

  “Clay. Please.” She reached for his hand again. “I know you believe that, but I love him.”

  “Does he love you?”

  A radiant smile spread across her face and this time it reached her eyes. She nodded, squeezing his hand. “Oh, yes, Clay. He does. Isn't it wonderful?”

  Looking into her dark eyes, aglow with happiness, he knew he was looking at the one that got away. Instead of pursuing her with the goal of landing her in his bed as his significant other, he had tried to play nice and be her friend first. And look where playing nice had landed him -- he’d lost a woman he'd been a breath away from falling in love with.

  He narrowed his gaze. Whoever had said nice guys finished last, had known just what the hell he was talking about. No more Mr. Nice Guy for him. The next time he met a woman he wanted he was going to pursue her until she ended up in his bed. No more of this friends first shit.

  She tugged at his hand. “Clay? Can we still be friends?”

  He'd spent the last five weeks horny and celibate because he wanted to be able to tell her he hadn't been with anyone while he'd been visiting his parents in Jamaica. She'd clearly not been celibate and now she wanted to be friends? How the hell was he supposed to be friends with a woman he wanted so much he'd passed up countless opportunities to bed other women because none of them were her?

  “Clay? Please?”

  He wanted a shower, a drink, and lots of pussy ... from her. Besides, he already had one female friend. He raked a hand through his hair and pasted a smile on his face. “Friends, huh? With or without benefits?”

  She gave him a cool, reproving stare. “Clay!”

  He arched a brow. “I guess that's a without, huh?”

  She nodded firmly.

  He sighed. “Fine, but you tell that lucky boneheaded bastard that he'd better treat you right this time or I'll plant my size twelve foot so far up his ass, he’ll --”

  “Clay! Jeff and I have settled our differences. We're happy and in love. Can't you be happy for us?”

  “Why the hell should I be happy for him?”

  “For me then?”

  He touched her cheek. “I wanted you for myself.”

  He watched a hint of rose stain her cheeks. She nodded. “I know and if it's any consolation, I wanted you too. You'll never know how close I came to ...”

  “And now you think we can be friends?”

  “I know it won't be easy ... but I ... I thought if we both wanted it ...”

  “And bonehead is okay with this idea of our being friends?”

  She grimaced and shook her head. “Not really.”

  “Really?” He grinned at her. “Then I'm all for anything that makes bonehead unhappy.”

  “Clay! His name is Jefferson.”

  “Whatever.” He frowned. “Damn, Sharde. Are you sure you want to marry him?”

  She nodded. “I'm very sure and very happy.”

  Damn it, but she did look happy. He nodded and bent to kiss her cheek. “Then congratulations and best wishes.”

  She hugged him, pressing her lips against the corner of his mouth. “Thanks, Clay.” She drew back to stare up at him. “I know you're not happy, but you're not hurt ... are you? I'd hate to think I did anything to mislead you or hurt you in any way. If I did, I'm so sorry.”

  He'd known from the moment he first asked her out that she was probably in love with his chief business rival, Jefferson Calder. “There's no need for sorrow or regret on your part, Sharde. You've always been honest about your feelings for old bone ... ah, Calder. I'm a little more than disappointed at the moment, but I'm a big boy. I'll get over it.”

  He stroked her cheek. “Now. Do you come bearing a car or are we going to need a cab ... or is he waiting to snatch you away the moment you're finished delivering the bad news?”

  “I drove here alone. I was hoping I could give you a lift.”

  If he had a quarter of the sense God gave him, he'd say goodbye to her, walk away, and never look back. “Sure. Let me get my bags.”

  “Okay.” She gave him a relieved smile. “I'll go get the car and meet you outside.”

  “Okay.” He watched her until she disappeared from sight before he went to pick up his luggage. I hope you know what the hell you're doing trying to be friends with her, Clayton.

  Twenty minutes later, as they drove away from the airport, Sharde dropped her second bombshell. “Do you have any plans for this afternoon, Clay?”

  He resisted the urge to tell her he'd planned to spend the afternoon fucking her. He kept his gaze on the highway ahead. “No. I'm just going to shower, have a drink, and relax. Why?”

  “No reason.”

  “No reason?” He glanced at her profile before turning his gaze back to the highway. “I doubt that. Why are you interested in what I'm doing this afternoon?”

  “No real reason. I just thought ...”

  He waited several moments before he spoke again. “Yes? You thought?”

  “Well, I know you like black women ...”

  That was putting it mildly. He'd always preferred black women, especially after his first night with his best friend Cami. “And?”

  “And I have a friend who just happens to be black, gorgeous, and single.”

  His lips tight
ened. “What's the matter, Sharde? Feeling so guilty for kicking my ass to the curb you now feel sorry and want to fix me up with your friend?”

  She made a small, distressed sound. “Oh, Clay! I'm sorry. I --”

  He shook his head and turned to look at her. “No! You have no reason to be sorry. I'm the one who should be sorry for being a jackass. You never lied to or deceived me.”

  She cast a quick look at him. “I am sorry, Clay.”

  “Don't be. You have a right to be happy without thinking it's at my expense. I'm just so damned grouchy because I'm horny as hell. I need some pussy.” He arched a brow. “I don't suppose you're feeling sorry enough to give me some, are you?”

  “Clayton! No!”

  Watching the hint of color rush to her cheek, he laughed and patted her thigh. “Don't have a stroke. I was just teasing ... and testing your resolve.”

  “It's very solid.”

  “Lucky bonehead.”

  “Clay --”

  “Yes. I know. His name is Jefferson.”

  She nodded, her shoulders relaxing. “So about this friend of mine. She's divorced and not interested in anything serious right now.”

  “And?”

  “And she wouldn't be averse to a strictly sexual relationship.”

  “Really? Well I'll keep her in mind.”

  “Don't you want to meet her? She'll be going away on a business trip soon, but I can probably get you two together this afternoon.”

  Her persistence surprised him. She really must feel guilty. “And this black, gorgeous friend of yours dates white men?”

  “Well ... not exactly, but I'm sure Darbi would go out with you if you asked her.”

  “At the moment, I want sex, not a date. And I have no interest or inclination to waste time and energy pursuing a woman who doesn’t date white men.”

  “I admit you might have to do a little chasing, but she’d be worth the effort.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “I wish you'd reconsider, Clay.”

  “Why?”

  “I know the two of you could be good together. She's very nice.”

  “Really? Well, as I said, I'm not that interested in dating a nice girl who doesn't. I'm more interested in a not so nice girl who does.”

  “There are some nice girls who do, Clay and Darbi has a lot of ...”

  “What? Problems? Lovers? What?”

  She shook her head. “I can't say more without revealing her confidence, but I know the two of you would be great together.”

  “And this Darbi is ...”

  “Darbi Raymond.”

  “She works for bonehead?”

  “Clay!”

  He smiled. “Calder. That better?”

  “Yes and she's very nice.”

  “Listen, I appreciate your concern, but I really am capable of landing my own lovers.”

  “I know, but I just hate the thought of you being sexually frustrated.”

  “You hate it? Imagine how I feel.”

  Her lips twitched and she laughed. After a moment, he joined in.

  “So can I introduce you two?”

  “No.”

  She sighed. “If you change your mind, Clay, I --”

  “Let it drop, Sharde.”

  “Fine.”

  Still smiling, he settled back in his seat and closed his eyes. Once he'd had some pussy he'd be more inclined to view her reconciliation with Calder in a less tragic light. Maybe then the two of them could be friends. But first things first. He needed to see Cami. As selfish as it was, he hoped she was between lovers at the moment.

  Forty-five minutes later, after sweeping Sharde into his arms and pressing a long, last, greedy kiss against her sweet lips, he said good-bye to her, and walked into his Center City condo. Noting the message indictor on the answering machine in the front hall blinking, he sighed. He had four messages.

  He decided the messages could wait, but a shower couldn't. In the master bedroom of his three-bedroom condo, he kicked off his shoes. The phone rang. Ignoring it, he sat down to remove his socks. Rising he removed the rest of his clothes as listened to his answering machine greeting.

  Hi. I'm not home. Leave a message.

  He was at the door of the adjoining bathroom when he heard his mother's frantic voice.

  “Clayton? Clayton, if you're home, please pick up. Clayton, please! This is important.”

  Frowning, he quickly crossed the bedroom to pick up the cordless phone on his night table. “Mom? What's wrong?”

  “Oh, thank God, I got you, Clayton.”

  “What's wrong, Mom?”

  “It's Amber. You have to talk to her, Clayton.”

  Amber. He'd noticed a marked and unpleasant change in her during his visit to Jamaica. He sighed and sat on the side of his bed. “Who does she owe money to now?”

  “I wish it was just a case of her owing money. This time she's gotten herself in a big mess. You'd better sit down, Clayton.”

  Shit. Just what he needed -- bailing Amber out of another damned mess. “What's going on, Mom?”

  “She wasn't happy when I insisted she had to go to the States. She'll be staying with you until we can figure out how to handle this.”

  “Handle what? And why can't she stay with Damien?”

  “She needs her big brother now more than ever, Clayton.”

  He frowned, annoyed by the censure he heard in her voice. “Damien's her big brother too.”

  “Yes, but he doesn't have a spare bedroom.”

  Lucky bastard. No spare bedroom meant not having to take Amber in when she got herself into yet another mess that his mother couldn't deal with and Xavier refused to admit was a problem.

  “Besides, he has no patience. He seems to forget the messes he had to be bailed out of. Don't get me started on your brother's selfish streak, Clayton.”

  He raked a hand through his hair, recalling the good old days when he'd been an only child. Amber would be starting Harvard in September. She'd want to spend at least a month shopping for new clothes so he'd only have her in his hair for two months or so.

  “When is she arriving, Mom, and what's wrong?”

  * * *

  After calming his mother down, he called Cami. “Hi, honey. It's Clay.”

  A woman with a warm, island voice answered. “Clayton! How lovely to hear from you. How are you?”

  “So-so. You?”

  “Fairly well. How is the family ... your parents ... Amber ... Damien?”

  “Amber is Amber, but everyone else is fine. Your family?”

  “Great.”

  “Good. Are you free this afternoon?”

  “I'm always free to spend a few hours with you, Clay. Come whenever you like.”

  “Can I bring you anything?”

  Cami hesitated. “Is Damien seeing anyone?”

  “I don't think so. Why do you ask?”

  “No special reason. I was just wondering. I haven't seen him in a while.”

  “He's had his hands full keeping Fra-Tech on track while I've been in Jamaica.”

  “Of course.”

  “So, do you need me to bring anything?”

  “Just bring that big, hard dick of yours. I'll supply lots of condoms, the lube, the warm, wet, willing pussy, and the tight ass.”

  He felt a surge of lust, tempered by affection. He loved that Cami never played games or pretended not to enjoy sex. On his sixteenth birthday, the eighteen-year old Cami had given him his first taste of brown sugar. After a hot, two-year love affair, they'd decided they were not in love and became friends. During the last fifteen years, they'd developed a closer friendship with occasional benefits.

  He fondled his cock. “You're making me hot.”

  She laughed. “Don't play with yourself, Clay. Save your lust for me.”

  He laughed and released his cock. “I'll see you soon.”

  “I’ll be waiting, Clay.”

  His thoughts on Cami, he called Damien and warned him of Amber's impending vi
sit. “As you know, I'll be heading out for the West Coast Job Fair, so it will be your job to look after her while I'm gone.”

  Damien swore. “Why the hell can't she get her act together, Clay?”

  He arched a brow. “If memory serves, you didn't begin to get yours together until you were twenty-three or four. Even then you only got it together after I threatened to kick your ass if I had to bail you out of one more mess.”

  “That's ancient history, Clay.”

  “I wouldn't call six or seven years ancient, Damien. Anyhow, I just called to give you a heads up. She's your responsibility until I return from the West Coast.”

  “Come on, Clay. You just got back from a five-week vacation. Why don't you take her to L.A. with you?”

  “No way! She's yours until I return.”

  “Shit!”

  He smiled. “Yeah, well, you know what they say about shit -- it happens.”

  “Thanks. You're a big help.”

  “I try.”

  “And you succeed. What are your plans for the day?”

  “I'm going to shower and then I'm going to see Cami.”

  “Cami? What about what's her name? Sharde?”

  He frowned. “Long story made short, she's engaged. I need some pussy so I'm going to see Cami.”

  “Yeah? I haven't seen her for a while. Maybe I'll come with you.”

  Three years earlier, he'd learned Damien and Cami had become friends with benefits as well. His initial annoyance had vanished when Cami had invited them both over for a night of lust. First he and Damien had taken turns on the bed with her, until, while Clay was balls deep in her pussy, she'd invited Damien to fuck her ass. Things had gotten wild after that.

  Although he and Damien had never dated the same woman, somehow sharing a sexual relationship with Cami, a woman they both cared about, seemed natural.

  He shook his head. “The hell you will. I am not in the sharing mood.”

  “Want all that sweet, dark loveliness for yourself, huh?”

  Sweet, dark loveliness? That did describe Cami. “Yes!”

  “Look, like you and Cami, I'm between lovers. Why don't I give you and Cami an hour or so together and then we do a threesome?”

  Clay hesitated, and then struggled. “Make it two hours alone and then, if it's okay with her, it's okay with me.”