This week I bring you another teaser from Making Scandal as I continue to revise the manuscript. This scene follows on from the last mid-week tease and Mark manages to persuade Faith to go out for some Suya and they head to the beach. It is in Faith's POV.
If you're wondering what suya is, check out this photo and recipe of how to make your own. It's a great outdoor food.
This hasn't been to my editor yet, so forgive any errors. Enjoy.
Faith followed the queue of cars until she found a space to park on the beach. As a location used for concerts and other entertainment events, finding a spot would've been difficult.
Not this evening. Miles of uncluttered white sand and gentle crashing blue waves greeted their arrival. Copper and red flickered in the distance, flames from a bonfire licking the briny air.
Mark stepped out, taking the food parcels with him. She opened her car door and lowered her feet. Her shoes sank into the powdery ground, grainy sand scouring her skin beneath the straps of her Jimmy Choo stilettos. Not the correct footwear for the landscape. Her lips curled down in an arch.
"What's wrong?" Concern tinged the low tone of Mark's query.
"I'm going to have to change my shoes." She reached back in her bag and withdrew the pair of coral lace ballerina flats. They lived in her bag and came in handy in her office at work when she needed to relax and give her feet a rest from the killer heels.
She arched her brow in response to Mark's order. "Excuse me?"
One. Taking orders had never been her strong point. Two. When she did it would be in a business environment from her boss. These days she only answered to one boss, the owner of City Investments. Taking orders from men-friends? Hell no.
Moreover, had he changed his mind about the beach?
He met her no-nonsense glare, his dark eyes concentrated on her, the right corner of his lips curled up in what seemed to be a slow-building smile. She'd seen that grin before. The night they'd met for the first time in Johannesburg. The night he'd kissed her and become the subject of her night dreams, to her chagrin.
"Let me help you take your shoes off." He sounded unfazed by her glower.
"Oh." Swallowing her embarrassment, she lowered her bum back onto the leather car seat, sitting sideways. She needed to learn to relax around men. But she hadn’t dated in years. Although this wasn’t a date.
He squatted beside the car. Cool firm fingers wrapped around her left ankle. However, a white hot zap travelled from her leg to between her thighs. Biting her lower lip, she suppressed a moan, her body's response to him catching her off guard.
It didn't help that whatever position he occupied he still oozed sexy charm. Now with his attention focused on her feet as he undid the straps, tugged off the stilettos, and slipped on the flats, his fingers feathered her skin in sensual caresses. Blood rushed in her ears, mixing with the sound of her thumping heart.
How can something as mundane as changing shoes be so erotic? Her fingers curled into the edge of the seat as she fought the urge to reach out the tangle them in his kinky hair.
Unable to resist the impulse, she scanned his body—the bunch of muscles under his forearms as he tugged and pulled the footwear, the expanse of broad shoulders, the hint of dark hair and caramel skin in the V of his open shirt, the stretch of fabric on his muscular thighs where they bunched from his crouch.
What was it Stella had said about Mark that night in Johannesburg? He looks like a man who can fulfil a woman's sexual needs and more.
Right now, she could settle for the sexual needs part. She didn't need more.
Mark straightened, his palms burnt a path of electric energy either side of her quivering, traitorous body and settled on her ribs as he lifted her out of the car until she stood on the sand.
This time she didn’t sink. She could’ve been floating for all she noticed, her gaze locked onto Mark’s intensity.
He’s going to kiss me and I seem incapable of stopping him.
Her breath locked in her throat, desire rooting her to the spot, liquefying her limbs.
|Bar Beach, Lagos, Nigeria. Photo by BabzBamiro, Courtesy of Flickr|
Mark turned his head, breaking the spell. “Where is it?” he asked the beach boy who’d approached them.
The boy pointed to a row of white plastic chairs and tables covered in colourful umbrellas.
Faith drew in a long, breath in relief. She’d been saved by the interruption. Thankful for the reprieve, she tossed her stilettos into the back on the car and patted down her shift linen tan dress, getting her composure back.
With a smile on his face, Mark held out his hand. She stared at the long fingers extended in invitation and tried not to think about the devastation they’d just caused to her body.
I can do this. Mark is just a friend. This is just friends hanging out. No more. No less.
With a puff of breath to bolster her resolve, she placed her hand in his. They walked across the shifting sands and she ignored the tingles travelling down her arms.
He helped her into her seat, deposited the food and drinks on the table and tipped the boy.
"Oga, thank you," he said and moved on when he saw some more people coming to the beach.
With Mark seated, their gaze met again and she lowered her eyes, not wanting to get lost his dark pair again. That’s when she noticed she subconsciously rubbed her left palm which Mark had been holding, as if clinging on to his lingering warmth.
I’m in so much trouble.
Copyright Kiru Taye 2014
So what do you think? Is she in trouble or what? LOL. Leave me a comment and check out the other Mid-Week Teasers.
Happy Hump Day!