Because of You by Rochelle Alers Read Free Book Online Page A

You’re the total package.” A rush of color darkened his face with her compliment. “Are you blushing?”
    Jordan glanced away. “Men don’t blush.” Reaching for the bottle, he refilled his glass. “What else would you like?” he asked, gesturing to the tray with prosciutto-wrapped breadsticks, stone wheat crackers, oysters, quail eggs, tiger shrimp, sushi, lobster and crabmeat and a variety of cheeses.
    Aziza wanted to tell Jordan he was blushing but didn’t want to make him feel more embarrassed than she assumed he was. “It’s my turn to serve you.” She knew she shocked him when she picked up a pair of chopsticks and clamped the sushi and fed it to him. They alternated feeding each other the gourmet treats while drinking champagne to cleanse their palates.
    The rich food and three glasses of champagne left Aziza full and languid. Kicking off her heels, she tucked her feet up under her body and closed her eyes. “I think I’m a little tipsy.”
    Jordan stood up, removed his jacket, then sat again, cradling her stocking-covered feet between his hands. “You only had three glasses to my five.”
    â€œOnly three. Two is usually my limit,” she said without opening her eyes.
    â€œAre you driving?”
    â€œNo. I have a driver.”
    â€œWhere do you live?” he asked.
    â€œBronxville.” Aziza opened her eyes. Jordan’s jacket had concealed a rock-hard upper body. His neck wasn’tas large as her football player brother’s, or his teammates, but it was obvious he worked out regularly.
    â€œWhere do you live?” Her voice was soft, the timbre low, sultry.
    â€œManhattan.”
    â€œWhere in Manhattan?”
    â€œThe Upper East Side. My apartment building faces Central Park.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you just say that you live on Fifth Avenue?” she asked. A beat passed. “What are you hiding, Jordan?”
    His fingers tightened on her instep. “Nothing. What makes you think I’m hiding something?”
    â€œI don’t know. Call it a hunch, woman’s intuition.”
    He massaged her instep before moving up to her ankles. “What else does your woman’s intuition tell you about me?”
    Aziza tried to will her mind not to think rather than enjoy the sensual fog of premium French champagne and the sexy man rubbing her legs and feet. “I think you’re uncomfortable being a Wainwright. It’s probably why you decided to expose your grandfather as a slumlord and why you decided to work for a small Harlem law firm rather than your family’s real estate company or a prestigious Wall Street firm.”
    Jordan’s expression remained impassive. He hadn’t known Aziza Fleming an hour, and she didn’t realize how close she’d come to the truth. “You’re wrong about one thing.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œI’m proud to be a Wainwright. The name gives me entrée to places open to a privileged few, while it also allows me to do things for other people with less.”
    â€œTell me about your family.”
    Jordan shook his head. “I’ll leave that for another time.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI can’t tell you about the Wainwrights without revealing my mother’s side of the family. Have you ever heard the Cher classic hit ‘Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves’?” Aziza nodded. “If she’d been singing about the Wainwrights and Johnstons, then it would’ve been miscreants, pimps and thieves.”
    â€œYou’re kidding.”
    â€œI wish I was, Zee,” he said, shortening her name.
    â€œWhere did you go to college?” Aziza asked.
    â€œHarvard, undergraduate and law. After law school I went to work for my father, but after a few years I was bored. I quit and worked as a litigator for Trilling, Carlyle and Browne.”
    She whistled softly. “They’re one of the top firms