Make You Mine by Niobia Bryant Page B

of marriage, they were still going strong.
    They were two of Julius’s favorite people and among his closest friends.
    â€œWhat’s up?” Julius asked.
    â€œMia’s getting on me to get some updated headshots so you know I had to call my boy.”
    â€œNo problem,” Julius said, pulling forward to the desk to flip through the large leather-bound calendar on his desk. “When’s good for you?”
    â€œIf you can do it here in my office then I’m good for whenever your schedule permits.”
    â€œHow about next Friday afternoon?” Julius offered, picking up his pen.
    â€œWorks for me and then you have to stay for dinner afterward.”
    Julius laughed lightly as he tapped the pen against the calendar.
    â€œI’ll cook,” Jordan offered, his voice filled with amusement.
    â€œThat’s a relief,” Julius drawled.
    â€œHey, hey!” Jordan protested.
    â€œNo offense. Your wife is one fine ass woman who has made me a lot of money with all her investment advice, but she can’t cook worth a damn.”
    Jordan laughed. “Oh, she burns where it’s important, believe that,” he bragged.
    â€œ That’s TMI.”
    â€œOne of those women of yours will get your nose wide open and you’ll be around her bragging on your baby too,” Jordan told him.
    â€œWhatever, pimpin’. I’ll see you Friday.” Julius hung up the phone and wiped his hand over his mouth as he leaned back in his chair again.
    Nose wide open. Please.
    Julius jumped up from his desk and walked out of his office area. The large loft was clearly divided into separate areas. To the left was a showroom for the original photography he sold. To the right was the section where he did most of his portrait photography, and in the middle was the stylish reception area where Dwayne’s glass and metal desk was the centerpiece—just the way his young assistant liked it.
    Julius busied himself hanging some of the photos of Africa that he had blown up and framed. His selection from his trip was so varied that these prints were entirely different from the ones going in his book. He was standing back giving a critical eye to a photo of a topless woman covered nearly head to toe in colorful beads with a baby on her hip. He was proud that even with partial nudity—something Westerners were more prudish about—that his immediate focus went to the life in her bright and wide eyes.
    The sounds of footsteps and clapping echoed in the large area.
    Julius looked over his broad shoulder, and his eyes widened a bit in surprise to see Karina strutting across the polished wooden floors toward him.
    She looked the part of a model in the black blazer she wore over a fitted white tee and ultra low-rise jeans with boots. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a loose ponytail. A black fur casually hung on her shoulders.
    There was no doubt that Karina was a definite diva.
    â€œYou are so vain, Julius Jones,” she said, coming to stand beside him in front of the photo.
    â€œThen we have something in common,” he mused, lightly placing his strong hand on her waist as he kissed her offered cheek. The scent and taste of her foundation made it a very quick and very light one.
    She just laughed. “Haven’t heard from you, Julius. I was coming from a meeting in the city and decided to swing by and check up on…unfinished business,” she concluded with a leisurely and thorough look from the top of his head to the tips of his shoes—and at everything in between.
    Karina and Julius had danced this dance before. Yet, they hadn’t managed to close the deal so to speak. She was undoubtedly a beautiful woman but now Julius had no interest in discovering the pleasures in Karina’s bed between her slender thighs.
    Their time had come and passed and they’d missed it.
    It was funny but the drama, the makeup, the loud perfume that arrived before she