Destined to Be

By J.B. Buxton

Charles, a successful real estate executive, had a secret. Not only was he
sleeping with his boss, the married daughter of his companys CEO, but
he was also at a crossroad. Following a close call, after a nighttime
rendezvous with his married mistress, Charles begins to reevaluate life.
Woman after woman, relationship after relationship and Charles had yet
to feel close to anyone or anything, besides his work,
Trischelle Adams was like a flower that didnt know it was a blooming,
admired, picture-worthy flower. Gorgeous beyond words or
comprehension, the personal trainer didnt have much trouble attracting
the opposite sex but came with more baggage than most were willing to
accept. Two very different lives set on a collision course to answer the
age old question is there a such thing is destiny. Is love at first sight a myth?
Were they destined to be or just simply destined to meet?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479734986

Book preview

PROLOGUE

They say once one door closes, another one is waiting to open. As Charles’s body dangled from the ledge outside of the familiar apartment, he cursed himself for remembering that cliché at this precise moment. All Charles had wanted was a nice, quiet, sex-charged evening alone with her. He had gone out of his way to schedule all his appointments so that he had adequate time to wine and dine his lady friend like he’d done numerous times before. He glanced over his shoulder at the ground beneath him and then looked up at the higher floors in the building. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Charles tried to figure out in his mind how things had gone so wrong, and so into left field, that he was now hanging from outside her apartment building window in his underwear, hoping no one saw him or his unmentionables.

He’d had the evening all planned out: music; a nice, quick dinner; and a little cuddling. Everything was going as planned. As the smooth sounds of Maxwell blasted from the speakers, the two lay intertwined in the damp covers on the couch. She ran her fingers over Charles’s face and smiled, but quickly, the smile turned to a wide-eyed look of fear as they heard keys jingling from the front door. Charles immediately knew they had company: her husband. If Charles hadn’t known any better, he would have thought she was Flo Jo’s stunt double, based on how quickly she raced around the apartment trying to find a place to stash him. She pleaded with Charles to go out the window that belonged to the master’s bedroom, which, unfortunately, had no balcony and was two floors up. Eventually, he did just that because at this point it wasn’t like he had a whole lot of choices. Before he could even get in a See you later, she was quickly closing the window just as the front door opened. Even in his current situation, Charles had to smirk at his luck. Some kind of way, things just always worked out for him, even in delicate situations like these.

Charles Bryant was used to getting himself into, and out of, sticky situations, but this time, as he peered up and down again, he realized it might require a little bit of divine intervention. For starters, his hands were quickly losing their grip on the window’s ledge, and the steady flow of rain felt like tiny wet pellets stinging his face. He was almost completely naked, except for the pair of boxers that he was wearing, and they seemed to weigh a hell of a lot more now than they did fifteen minutes ago.

How do I keep getting myself into this shit? he asked aloud. As if an answer to his rhetorical question, the window next to where he was hanging slid open, and a female figure appeared. She couldn’t have been any younger than eighty-five, had a head full of rollers, and a bathrobe that looked as though it had seen better days. She clutched her tattered robe closer to her body and gasped at the sight of him. Charles shook his head as he gripped his hands tighter on the ledge, and tried to decide if opening his mouth to attempt to explain would do him more harm than good.

Oh god, Charles thought, she looks like my grandmother.

As he gripped the ledge tighter and shimmied himself in a more comfortable position, he suddenly felt a cool draft of wind near his package. Glancing down, Charles realized that his junk had worked its way through the slit in the front of his underwear, and now it made sense why the old woman had gasped. In another situation I might have been flattered, Charles thought before shaking himself back to reality.

Great, Charles said to himself, now she’s gonna call the cops. I might as well just let go and drop to the ground. I’m only two stories high, and I’m better off cripple than in jail.

Charles could hear the shouts coming from the apartment window from which he was hanging.

Who the in the hell’s clothes are these? an angry male voice shouted.

I guess that’s my cue, Charles said to himself. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and jumped down onto the wet grass, in a half-naked heap. The impact from the fall slammed his teeth together and he could feel the joints in both of his knees tighten, but he had survived pretty much unhurt. When he was sure that no bones were broken and no other damage was done, he stood up, brushed himself off, and ran awkwardly toward his car.

Damn it! he said, stopping midjog.

If my pants are up there, that means my keys are up there too. I am getting way too old for this shit.

He cursed and kicked at the grass then looked both ways, up and down the street, and began the long, embarrassing three-mile run to his home.

CHAPTER 1

Charles Bryant’s apartment was fashioned after something you may have seen in an episode of MTV Cribs. The outside of the home was flawless enough to have been in any magazine, as Charles had handpicked it shortly after being built. The one-story home boasted of four bedrooms and a two-car garage. It was his style; he had to have it. From the perfectly manicured lawn to the welcoming driveway, the home had a way of intriguing anyone who passed by. It wasn’t too big and it wasn’t too small, but it complemented Charles’s love for looking and living nice. While the outside was breathtaking, stepping inside the 2,600-square-foot home was unbelievable. The immaculately kept fortress had flat-screen, wall-mounted televisions in every room; smooth, buttery leather couches; a master bedroom that had a secluded bathroom; a fireplace; an outdoor patio; and a spacious kitchen filled with the best cooking utensils. There were plenty of high-end crystal vases, chandeliers, and oriental rugs sprinkled throughout the house that looked like they were more expensive than the average person’s car. To put it plainly, Charles was doing well, very well.

He liked beautiful things, and he always wanted the best of the best, regardless of what it might cost him. In Charles’s eyes, there was a lot that he had to do in order to even the playing field, so not having nice things was not an option.

From outside appearances, there wasn’t a whole lot to him. At best, Charles was a pretty average-looking guy. There was absolutely nothing about him that stood out in a crowd. He was average at best. No chiseled face, ripped abs, or even green or light brown eyes. He wasn’t tall and towering like the male models women swooned over, but he wasn’t short either. He wasn’t fat, but he was nowhere near skinny. He wasn’t strikingly handsome, but he was cute and charming enough to get dates. He was just average all around. Charles knew this, and he both resented and accepted it. For some time, Charles always wondered what it