Ashleigh prayed that her face stayed as impassive as Miss Celie's face in The Color Purple after Mister smacked her for daydreaming about her sister in Africa. She felt like Celie…like if she had a straight razor in her hand right now DeAngelo would be one second from lying on the floor dead. Not that DeAngelo had ever put his hands on her in that way. But what he'd just done was oh so much worse. Her heart couldn't even beat normally; it felt like a huge invisible fist had reached into her chest and had a grip on her. Maybe she would just die and that would solve everything."I'm so sorry, baby. I know that you hate me right now."? He watched her, probably waiting for her to default to the Ashleigh that he knew so well; the one that would melt when he flashed that perfect smile, or who clung to his arm in pride because he was so fine that sometimes just looking at him caused her entire body to ache—because he was her man, Ashleigh Marie Dalton; the girl that people described as prett

Lance spotted her first as she entered the dimly lit club and he waved her over to where they were waiting just inside the main entrance. Her eyes didn't know what to take in first. Certainly she'd seen her friends dressed for a night out on the town, but Lance and Kendra both looked really hot and sophisticated, not to mention Kendra's husband Jeffery. He was an athlete turned business owner. He had several properties that he rented out for commercial use. He and Kendra both had deep mocha complexions with exotic looks like they'd come over from the Caribbean. Lance was extremely good-looking and never had trouble getting men…just keeping them. But her eyes were riveted to the two men that watched her approach. Her eyes met those of a man so gorgeous that he almost made DeAngelo look like dog food. Kendra knew just what she liked. He had to have been over six feet with muscles that were evident even beneath his expensive yet casual jacket. He was dark; so dark that she could only th

He took his bagged lunch over to the crowded table and was greeted by several others that worked with him in the sub-basement. Once upon a time when he was a kid no one would have welcomed him to their lunch table. But it didn't matter to these guys if he was ugly. He had proven himself to them and they judged him rightfully on that and not on his looks. "Yo Beast," he was greeted in a friendly manner. He assumed people called him this because of his face and not because of his build—most of them were built the same way if not bigger. But they didn't mean it in a bad way and so he didn't mind. "What you bring us for lunch?" TK asked. He was a black male that wore sunglasses every single day, even in the subbasement.Christopher grinned and opened his bag, spreading the food out before him. Half a loaf of bread, a big bowl of spaghetti, another big bowl filled with salad, a container of ranch dressing, a carton of Kraft Parmesan cheese, a gallon sized jug of Lipton Citrus Iced Tea—

In theory, Ashleigh's plan was great. But nothing worked out as planned. She'd sweated her hair until it was soaking wet and once she got to the locker she'd had to wash it. Her hair was too short to just pull back into a ponytail, and it took her forty-five minutes alone just getting her short hair blow dried and curled into a passable manner. She spent fifteen more minutes on makeup and ten minutes to get dressed. She'd only had time to grab a breakfast wrap and a bottle of juice and to get up to her office where she gobbled it up. Kendra and Lance came into her office and looked her up and down. "Did you work out?" Kendra asked in disappointment. "I did!" She said defensively. "My freaking legs are knotted up and I'm limping," she added.Lance gave her a doubtful look. "Girlfriend, you look like you just left the spa. Make-up and clothes are flawless."Ashleigh smiled. Lance was so sweet, even if he thought she looked too good to have just put in over an hour on her first work

Christopher heard the door to the gym open. He was surprised. He half expected her to change her workout time though he no longer expected her to give up. It hadn't been a week yet but there was something in her face that drove her and somehow he didn't think she'd be easily swayed from her unknown goal. He still wore the hood but he didn't allow it to cover his face as completely. He glimpsed her through the mirror going through her stretching. She was moving gingerly. He hoped she understood that her muscles had to tear down in order to rebuild themselves even stronger. He hoped she didn't take the pain as a sign to give up when it was actually a sign that her efforts were working for her. He saw her get on the recumbent bike. She was wearing grey sweats and a t-shirt that was too big. A cap concealed her hair but he was willing to bet that she hadn't combed it this morning. He liked that she didn't come in wearing make-up, though that could just be an indication that he wasn't c