Sinful Chocolate by Adrianne Byrd

whiz in calculus. Unfortunately, their relationship was derailed a year later when Charlie grew interested in her new roommate Roxanne.
    Roxanne had the hottest body on campus, and Charlie was just one in a long line trying to hook up with her. For an advantage, he started milking Anna for information about her roommate—on the sly. When he started seeing Roxanne, he kept it from Anna…until she caught them in bed together.
    It wasn’t until she was crying and cussing him out did he realize that Anna’s feelings for him went beyond friendship.
    She accused Charlie of using her.
    And he had—unintentionally.
    She never spoke to him again.
    Anna’s old number was no longer in service. Charlie spent an hour at his apartment Googling and searching the white pages online for an address. If there was one woman he truly wanted to make peace with it was Anna. As it turned out, he was in luck. She still lived in Atlanta, not too far from his downtown office.
    Once Charlie wrote down the new address, he stared at it, contemplating. Did he really want to do this? Finally, he stood, folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.
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    â€œAh, this is the life,” Gisella sighed, sinking deep into her bubble bath. She had waited all week for this. Sunday was the only day the shop was closed and she could use some R & R. She was determined to do absolutely nothing. With Anna still out of town, Gisella had the apartment all to herself. She could run around naked if she wanted. A tempting thought.
    The first and only thing on her schedule was to pamper herself, which was why she’d borrowed one of her sister’s romance books, globbed on a thick cucumber mask and poured a big glass of wine.
    Fantasy Charlie showed up for a few minutes, but she quickly sent him away. After all, there was plenty of time to play with him later.
    In no time, the stress of the past week seeped out of her body, and she fell fast asleep. When she awoke, the bubbles were gone, and the water was cold. Laughing, she climbed out of the tub with her fingers and toes nearly pickled and with the real challenge of removing the cucumber mask that had hardened into green concrete.
    It took a lot of scrubbing, but when she was through, her skin was as soft and smooth as a newborn baby’s. After blow-drying the ends of her hair, she hummed her way into her bedroom for some underwear, rubbed her favorite lotions into her skin and then danced to the kitchen for a big bowl of cereal.
    No cooking today.
    Still dancing, she scanned her sister’s music collection. When she found an old 1980s classic, Gisella slipped the disc into the CD player and turned the volume up to full blast.
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    Charlie walked into the brownstone, puzzled by the sound of Deniece Williams’s “Let’s Hear It for the Boy” blaring out into the hallway. Was there a 1980s retro reunion party going on? When he realized that the music was coming from the apartment number written on his paper, he began to have second thoughts about this whole thing.
    â€œAll right, Charlie. Let’s just get this over with,” he coached, drawing a deep breath. He knocked on the door and waited. When it was clear no one heard him, he rang the bell and knocked again.
    Still no answer.
    He thought to wait for the song to fade, but it immediately launched into Kenny Loggins’s “Footloose.”
    Now, he started hammering and shouting, “Hello!”
    As a last ditch effort, he tried the door and was surprised to find it unlocked. He paused for a moment, then slowly turned the knob. “Hello!” He entered the apartment.
    Kenny Loggins continued to cut loose as Charlie inched further into the apartment.
    â€œHello! Anybody?”
    Charlie rounded a corner and faced the living room. He stopped in his tracks. There, in all her Victoria’s Secret glory, danced an ebony goddess holding an orange cat. The ability to speak or even to process