An excerpt from
EXPOSED
Chapter 1
“Tamia! Baby, get up.”
Jolted awake by her boyfriend's frantic voice, Tamia Luke opened her eyes and stared at his dark, handsome face. “What time is it?”
“After seven,” Brandon replied.
“Shit!”
Tamia threw back the covers and sprang out of bed, naked breasts bouncing. “What happened? Why didn't the alarm clock go off?”
“The power must have gone out when it rained last night.”
“Shit,” Tamia repeated, bending over to retrieve her discarded clothing from the floor. “I can't be late for work. Especially not todâ
Ow!
” she yelped as Brandon slapped her soundly on the ass.
He grinned, dimples flashing in his cheeks. “
That's
for keeping me up late.”
Tamia laughed. “I didn't hear you complaining last night, Negro!” she called as Brandon ducked inside the large master bathroom, a blur of mahogany stretched over lean, taut muscles. “And hurry up so you can take me home!”
Brandon's response was muffled by the sound of running water.
If they hadn't been in such a rush, Tamia would have joined him in the shower for round two of what they'd started last night. After attending a cocktail party at a ritzy downtown hotel, Brandon had invited her back to his place to spend the night. They'd doused themselves with a bottle of champagne, then licked, sucked, and fucked each other until they collapsed from sheer exhaustion. They probably would have overslept even if last night's storm
hadn't
knocked out the electricity.
Grinning slyly to herself, Tamia hurriedly tugged on her bra and panties and the black Christian Lacroix dress she'd worn to the cocktail party. Leaving Brandon to his shower, she headed out of the bedroom and made her way to the kitchen. It was a large, ultramodern room with gleaming granite countertops, black-lacquered cabinets, and stainless steel appliances. It was as immaculate as the rest of Brandon's plush condo, thanks to the cleaning lady who came like clockwork twice a week.
Tamia got busy brewing a pot of gourmet coffee, though she knew Brandon usually stopped at Starbucks on his way to the office. It was the thought that counted. If she'd had more time, she would have whipped up some eggs, bacon, and grits, though she knew Brandon often grabbed breakfast with a colleague at the prestigious law firm where he worked. Again, it was all about taking care of her man. Which was why she'd blown off her friends last night to accompany Brandon to some social mixer he'd forgotten all about until the last minute. And she hadn't batted an eye when he'd sheepishly asked her to pick up his tux from the dry cleaner. Tamia would have gone anywhere and done anything he'd asked of her.
Because she was on a mission to become Mrs. Brandon Chambers.
Oh, she knew she had her work cut out for her. Truth be told, Brandon was more interested in making partner at his law firm than getting married. Although Tamia frequently spent the night at his place, she was barely allowed to keep a toothbrush there. And after seven months of dating, she had yet to meet his parents, one of the most powerful political couples in Texas. Whenever she hinted at being introduced to them, Brandon always told her that his folks could be very intimidating, so he didn't want to scare her off.
What he didn't realize was that Tamia didn't scare very easily. So she'd be a good little wifey for as long as it took to convince him to put a ring on her finger.
Smiling at the thought, she poured steaming coffee into two fancy paper cups and snapped on the lids just as Brandon strode purposefully into the kitchen. He was impeccably dressed in a dark pinstriped suit that accentuated his tall, athletic build.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Been ready.” Tamia straightened his tie, admiring his smooth chocolate skin, midnight eyes, and boyishly sexy smile. Brandon was the total package: fine as hell, rich, smart, and successful. He was going places, and she had no intention of being left behind.
“Here. I made you some coffee.”
Accepting the cup from her, he took a long sip and let out an appreciative groan. “Damn, baby, you make the best brew. What would I do without you?”
Tamia smiled privately.
If I play my cards right, you'll never have to find out.
Â
Twenty minutes later, they turned off the main road and into a lushly landscaped development located in the shadow of Houston's Galleria. Brandon was on his BlackBerry, assuring his secretary that he wouldn't be late for a scheduled deposition that morning. So he didn't notice the way Tamia's hands clenched in her lap as they passed another car on the narrow street, nor did he hear the small sigh of relief that seeped past her lips.
He pulled up to a one-story stucco house situated on a perfectly manicured lawn. Tamia's red Honda Accord was parked in the driveway.
Grabbing her purse, she leaned over to kiss Brandon. “Have a good day.”
He smiled. “You, too. Don't be late for work.”
“If I am, I'll just
blame it on the rain,
” she said, crooning the old Milli Vanilli song.
Brandon laughed as she climbed out of his Maybach.
Although he was in a hurry, he waited until she'd reached the front door before he pulled off with a wave.
Tamia inserted her key in the lock, stepped inside the cool interior of the house, and closed the door. But she didn't move beyond the foyer. Staring anxiously at her watch, she waited until three minutes had ticked by. Then, opening the door, she poked her head outside and glanced up and down the tree-lined street, watching as cars backed out of driveways and joined the flow of other vehicles headed to various workplaces.
As Tamia locked the house and hurried to her own car, her cell phone rang. She fumbled it out of her purse and answered with a breathless, “Girl, that was close!”
“I know,” Shanell Jasper agreed. “I was running late this morning. And so are you! What happened?”
Tamia grimaced, sliding behind the wheel of her car. “The power went out last night, so we overslept.”
“Uh-oh. You've got that client meeting at nine. Are you going to be late?”
“I hope not.” Tamia glanced at her watch, mentally calculating how long it would take her to get home, shower and change, and make it to the office on time. If only she'd had the foresight to leave a change of clothes at Shanell's place last night. But everything had been so rushed. After picking up Brandon's tux from the dry cleaner, dropping it off at his condo, and hurrying home to get dressed for the cocktail party, she'd reached Shanell's house just minutes before Brandon arrived to pick her up.
“How long do you think you can keep this up?” Shanell asked.
Tamia pulled onto the main road. “What?”
Shanell snorted. “You know damn well what I'm talking about. This crazy charade of yours, lying to Brandon about where you live and using my house as your cover. How long can you keep this shit up?”
“However long it takes.”
“And what if it takes that man, like, five years to propose?” Shanell paused. “Or what if he never does?”
“He will,” Tamia said resolutely.
Before Shanell attempted to sow more seeds of doubt in her mind, Tamia told her that she'd see her at the office, then ended the call.
She knew her coworker meant well, and God knows Shanell had every right to voice her concerns since she was doing Tamia such a huge favor. But Shanell didn't understand what was truly at stake here. She had no clue what it was like to grow up on the wrong side of the tracks and dare to aspire to greater things. The crumbling shotgun house Tamia still called home was a world away from the lavish River Oaks estate where Brandon had been raised. He wouldn't be caught dead dating someone from Houston's notorious Third Wardâno matter how smart, successful, and educated Tamia now was. So showing him where she
really
lived was out of the question.
Sure, she felt a pang of guilt every time she lied to him or had to inconvenience her coworker. But she was compensating Shanell for her trouble. And once she and Brandon were married, Tamia would spend the rest of her life proving to him that he'd made the right decision.
An excerpt from
DECEPTION
Chapter 1
Tamia
Houston, Texas
November 4, 2011
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Tamia Luke's heart pounded violently as she watched the twelve jurors file into the jury box and reclaim their seats. She was so nervous, she wanted to throw up. These men and women held her fate in their hands. Their verdict would determine whether she spent the rest of her life in prison or walked out of this courtroom a free woman.
She searched their faces, hoping for somethingâ
anything
âthat would give her insight into the decision they had reached. But their expressions were unreadable, and none of them would make eye contact with her. Not even Juror Number Eight, an attractive, middle-aged black man who'd hardly been able to keep his eyes off her throughout the trial.
But today he seemed to go out of his way not to look at her.
Like the other jurors.
With mounting anxiety, Tamia leaned over and whispered to her attorney, “They won't look at me. Why won't they look at me?”
“Relax,” Brandon murmured soothingly. “It doesn't mean anything.”
Tamia hoped to God he was right. She'd spent the past five months behind bars, serving time for a crime she hadn't committed. She didn't know
what
she would do if the jury found her guilty of Isabel Archer's murder. It was unthinkable.
When the judge emerged from his chambers, Tamia and Brandon rose from the defense table. Her insides were shivering, and her legs were so wobbly, she thought she'd collapse to the floor. Without thinking she grabbed Brandon's hand and held tight, comforted when he squeezed her back.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” said the judge, “have you reached a verdict?”
The jury forewoman stood. “We have, Your Honor.”
As the judge read the folded note that contained the jury's verdict, the silence that had permeated the packed courtroom was now deafening. You could literally hear a pin drop.
The judge looked at the forewoman. “What is your verdict?”
Tamia closed her eyes, her heart slamming against her rib cage as she braced herself for the woman's next words.
“We, the jury, find the defendantâ”
Tamia held her breath.
“ânot guilty.”
Pandemonium erupted in the courtroom, loud cheers from Tamia's supporters dueling with shouts of protest from Isabel Archer's outraged relatives. The judge banged his gavel, calling for order. But it was the sight of Brandon's beaming face that gave Tamia permission to believe the verdict she'd just heard.
“WE WON!” she screamed, throwing her arms around Brandon's neck as he laughingly lifted her off the floor. As he spun her around, she caught a glimpse of Dominic Archer, seated behind the plaintiff's table across the aisle. He looked so stunned that Tamia might have felt sorry for himâif she didn't despise his motherfucking ass.
“Thank you, Brandon,” she said earnestly as he set her back down on her feet. “Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for saving my life!”
“You're welcome,” he told her. “I never doubted your innocence.”
“I know. And that meant
everything
to me.”
His expression softened. “You know Iâ”
“Congratulations,” a new voice interrupted.
Tamia and Brandon turned to encounter a pretty, brown-skinned woman dressed in a navy Dolce & Gabbana skirt suit that hugged her slender figure. Her dark, lustrous hair flowed past her shoulders in a way that made Tamia more desperate than ever to get into her stylist's chair. Sporting months of nappy new growth and wearing a pantsuit that did nothing for her shape, she felt raggedy next to Cynthia Yarbroughâthe scheming hussy who'd stolen Brandon from her.
She forced a smile. “Hey, Cynthia. You're looking well.”
“Thank you, Tamia.” Cynthia didn't insult her intelligence by returning the compliment. “Congratulations on your acquittal.”
“Thanks.” Tamia smiled gratefully at Brandon. “I couldn't have done it without this man's amazing legal prowess. I don't know if I can ever repay him, but I'm determined to try.”
Brandon chuckled. “You might feel differently after you receive my final bill.”
Tamia laughed, then leaned up and kissed his smooth, clean-shaven cheek. She didn't miss the way Cynthia's eyes narrowed with displeasure.
Don't get it twisted, heffa
, Tamia mused.
He was
my
man first!
Soon she was surrounded by a group of supporters who'd been there for her throughout the trial. Lou Saldaña scooped her up and swung her around, while her best friend, Shanell Jasper, took one look at her attire and promised to take her shopping ASAP. Distant cousins Tamia hadn't seen in ages had shown up, along with a few of her neighbors.
Everyone who mattered was there.
Except Fiona.
And
she
doesn't matter anymore
, Tamia thought darkly.
“YOU BITCH!”
The enraged outburst came from the other side of the courtroom, where a sobbing woman was being restrained by several members of Isabel Archer's family. As Tamia watched, the woman pointed at her and screamed, “You're gonna burn in hell for what you did to Isabel!”
Before Tamia could open her mouth to defend herself, Brandon silenced her with a warning look. “Don't say anything. The jury has spoken for you, and that's all that matters.”
Nodding grimly, she watched as the hysterical woman was led out of the courtroom. Although Tamia knew she was innocent, it bothered her that there were people who would always believe the worst of her, that she'd killed her lover's wife in a jealous rage. The worst part was that she
knew
who the real killer wasâand there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. She'd sworn not to tell anyone, and no matter how horribly she'd been used and betrayed, a promise was a promise.
After accepting more congratulatory hugs and kisses, Tamia followed her small entourage out of the courthouse and into the bright November afternoon. She and Brandon were met by a buzzing swarm of reporters who shouted questions at them.
“Miss Luke, do you feel vindicated by today's verdict?”
“Mr. Chambers, do you stand by your strategy to portray Dominic Archer as the real killer?”
“Do either of you believe he really murdered his wife?”
“Miss Luke, do you regret having an affair with a married man?”
Taken aback by the barrage of questions, Tamia looked askance at Brandon. He gave her a reassuring smile, then stepped to the cluster of microphones. Calmly he surveyed the crowd, waiting for the noise to die down before he spoke.
“Miss Luke and I are pleased that justice was served today. I commend the men and women of the jury for weighing all the evidence and coming back with the only verdict they could have: not guilty.”
The reporters fired more questions at him.
“With all due respect, Brandon,” one voice rang out above the rest, “how difficult was it for you to defend the woman who cheated on you? Throughout the trial, you were forced to hear the lurid details of Miss Luke's affair with Dominic Archer. How in the world did you remain objective?”
Tamia's face heated with shame, while Brandon didn't so much as flinch. “My prior relationship with Miss Luke wasn't on trial,” he answered evenly. “If I didn't think I could handle hearing the âlurid details' of her affair, as you put it, I wouldn't have taken her case. But I did, because I believed in her innocence. Clearly the jury did, too.”
Tamia beamed at him.
“Is there any chance that you and Miss Luke might reconcile?”
Brandon paused, giving Tamia a sidelong glance.
She met his gaze, holding her breath as she waited for his response.
After several moments he turned back to the reporters, chuckling and shaking his head. “You guys are always looking for a romantic Hollywood ending. All I want to do is celebrate this victory, which reaffirms my belief that the justice system can and
does
work.”
“Given your winning track record,” someone retorted, “I'd say the system works just fine for you.”
Brandon grinned as laughter swept over the crowd.
Tamia was also grinning, but not for the same reason as everyone else. For the first time in several months, she had reason to hope that all was not lost between her and Brandon. Because whether he realized it or not, by dodging the reporter's question, he'd left the door open for the possibility of him and Tamia getting back together.
Today's verdict had given her back her life. Now that she was a free woman again, nothing would stop her from trying to reclaim the only man she'd ever loved.
Nothing.
And no one.
Turning her head, she saw Cynthia standing off to the side by herself.
Their gazes met.
Tamia smiled.
Cynthia's eyes narrowed with suspicion.
That's right, bitch
, Tamia thought.
I'm taking back what you stole from me. And this time, I'm never letting him go!