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  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Guide

  Contents

  Start of content

  Crazy for You

  Crush on You, Book 3

  Rina Gray

  Avon, Massachusetts

  Chapter One

  Seated on the dance studio wood floor, fists against her thighs, Charlotte Jones stretched her muscles to the limit, cooling down after the grueling class she’d finished teaching ten minutes ago.

  “Charlotte, honey, we need to talk.”

  Charlotte looked up, not at all surprised to find Tiana and Melanie staring at her in the mirror. From her friends’ expressions, she knew what they wanted to discuss. Both had been trying to get her to meet up for the past few days. Tiana, the ringleader of the soon-to-be intervention, stood legs splayed. Hands on hips, her toothpick arms and puffed-out chest were the perfect impersonation of the Man of Steel.

  Charlotte took a deep breath—for patience, not from the cooldown—and studied her two friends’ reflections. They were her best friends—heck, the only friends she’d made since moving to New York City after college four years ago. The friends Charlotte had met when she first moved to the city were nice, but after she’d declined invites to social events that required money, they’d stopped asking. Somehow over the next four years she became a homebody.

  Mel and Tiana were a godsend. Although the two had been friends since high school, they’d happily, and sometimes without taking no for an answer, invited Charlotte out, or to stay in for girls’ night. Charlotte had met Melanie through her boss, Damien. Although Mel had lived in Atlanta for a while, she’d often traveled to New York to cover sports events. It was obvious to Charlotte or anyone who’d paid attention that Melanie and Damien loved each other, but they were too afraid to risk their friendship. Thankfully, Mel had taken matters into her own hands by masterminding an operation to seduce her best friend, Damien. Around the same time, Charlotte had met Tiana when she moved to New York for a job offer. Tiana had often regaled Charlotte and Mel with funny stories about her office prank wars with her grad school nemesis, Nathan. “Hello, earth to Charlotte.” Tiana cocked her head.

  Melanie twirled her long, curly locks around her finger. Her usually genuine smile was absent. In its place perched a tight, cheer-captain smile.

  Charlotte knew why they wanted to talk. She hadn’t exactly been her normally cheerful self the past few months. Her stomach grumbled, the true culprit. Truth be told, she was hangry—hungry and angry. I’ll eat a few carrot sticks after “the talk.” Smiling brightly in the mirror, she hoped to convey that she was mentally stable. “Let me finish stretching. I’ll meet you both in the locker room.”

  Melanie’s tight shoulders relaxed, and her smile transformed from fake to relieved. “All right, Charlotte. See you in a few.”

  They left, and Charlotte finally relaxed. Instead of stretching, she stared at herself in the mirror, verifying and validating her weight-loss progress.

  Jiggling an arm in the air, she flexed a bicep and then pinched the tricep. “Not bad.” She smiled, finally seeing the results of seemingly endless push-ups and pull-ups.

  Her hands then slid over her blue fitted tank top. Squeezing her sides, she gathered doughy, plump flesh. Strands of dark brown hair slipped from the topknot at the crown of her head to frame her oval-shaped face and caramel skin.

  You’re perfect just as you are, Charlotte. Don’t let nobody tell you different, ya hear? Her stomach clenched, anticipating the burst of pain that hit and spread whenever she remembered that fragile, Deep South voice.

  “Work in progress, Charlie,” she comforted herself and blinked away tears. “Don’t give up.” Besides, you have no choice.

  Rising from her seated position, she jogged to the locker room. Every second was an opportunity to burn calories. She’d read somewhere that keeping the body in an active state could turn her metabolism into a virtual furnace for burning fat. And she needed all the help she could get.

  “Charlotte!” One of the moms at the center and a member of her church waved her down.

  “Hey, Ms. Dana! Everything okay?”

  Ms. Dana powered walked across the Astroturf. “Yes, yes. I just wanted to thank you for helping Keri with her college essays.”

  Charlotte waved her hand. “That’s no problem. I—”

  “No, Charlotte I’m serious. You came to our house, spent hours of your time. My husband and I . . . we’re not great at the writing thing. Keri’s dad is great at math, and I’m not really great at either subject.” Ms. Dana hopped from one foot to another and lowered her eyes.

  Charlotte reached for Ms. Dana’s hand. “We all have our talents and I’m glad I could help. All I ask is that you tell me when she gets accepted to Columbia.”

  “Of course.” Ms. Dana smiled. “I’ll see you at church, right?”

  “Yes. I’m ushering this Sunday and hosting the bake sale.”

  “Saint Charlotte.” The older woman smiled and squeezed her hand. “Always giving and volunteering. You’re a good woman.”

  Charlotte waved off the praise. “I enjoy helping out and I’ve got the time.”

  And I have no life.

  “And we appreciate all that you do. I’ll see you around.”

  “Later!” Charlotte continued toward the locker room and then pushed opened the door. She caught her friends near a stall, whispering in hushed tones. The door slammed behind her. Their heads jerked, and eyes focused on her.

  “What’s up?” She walked to her locker, gearing herself up for the talk.

  No matter what they said, she would stay the course. After her doctor had delivered the scary news that she was prediabetic and well on her way to type 2 diabetes, she’d become motivated.

  All her life, she could never shake the extra pounds—not even through dance. Charlotte had discovered her love of dancing as a preteen when she’d signed up for classes at the local community center. Her mother had been so happy, and predicted Charlotte would lose the “baby fat” in no time, but it never happened.

  But dance had never been about weight loss. It’d allowed her to escape to a new world, to get lost in hip hop, R&B, and jazz. Years later, she’d finally cracked the code and lost twenty-six pounds! Twenty-six whole pounds, and she wasn’t stopping for anyone—even well-meaning friends. Besides, they could never understand what it was like. Compared to her petite friends, she
was nearly triple their size at an eighteen. Or am I a sixteen now?

  Melanie squinted her eyes and tilted her head. “You seem a bit out of sorts lately.” Tiana nodded in agreement. Charlotte mentally rolled her eyes.

  Melanie continued. “I don’t know how to say this but . . . you need a sandwich. And not a small one on multigrain bread. Like one of those footlongs from Subway.”

  “Or Panera, if you’re feeling fancy,” Tiana added.

  “A sandwich?” Charlotte shifted her gaze from one friend to another. Both were nodding frantically. “Are we having this little chat because I snapped at the Girl Scout?”

  Tiana cocked her head and snorted. “You made her cry, Charlotte, which is crazy because you cry during Hallmark commercials and coo at every baby you see. You have to admit this is not typical Charlotte Jones behavior.”

  Charlotte twirled the combo into the lock, swung the door open, and removed her gym bag and purse. “Not my fault. She was pushing Thin Mints. Anything with the word ‘thin’ in it should be for people who are or want to be thin. Those darn things were a hundred and sixty calories for five freaking cookies! That’s practically false advertising.”

  Tiana put her hand over her mouth and whispered to Melanie, “She’s worse than we thought.”

  “What’s that?” Charlotte asked, although she’d clearly heard Tiana.

  “You heard me. You’ve been so uptight lately. Hell, you need a sandwich, a drink, and a man.”

  The tips of Charlotte’s ears burned, and heat rushed to her cheeks. She squeezed her hands into fists. “A sandwich is full of carbs and calories. Drinks are liquid calories, and a man . . . is calorie-free but not drama-free. I don’t need that in my life right now.”

  Well, there was one man who was worth the drama, but he didn’t even know she existed. Okay, he did, but not much else. She was the living and breathing example of the Alicia Keys song “You Don’t Know My Name.” She snorted. Everyone knew Alicia Keys, but the last time Jake Ross saw Charlotte, he’d called her Charlene. That was back when Damien was Jake’s publicist and Charlotte was Damien’s assistant. The pro baseball player had met her more than a half dozen times and still didn’t remember her name.

  “Earth to Charlotte,” Melanie yelled, snapping fingers in front of Charlotte’s face.

  “Sorry, Mel.” Closing the locker door, she turned to face her friends. “Look, you guys are right. I have been a bit uptight. I’ll work on it.”

  “It’s not just you being uptight, honey.” Melanie stepped closer and placed a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “Ever since you went back home for your grandmother’s funeral, you’ve been down. I get it and I know you two were close. How are you and your family holding up?”

  “My family is good,” Charlotte lied.

  Nearly six months had passed, and she still couldn’t believe her grandmother, the only soul who’d understood and loved her unconditionally, had died. Charlotte didn’t talk about it—not to her family, nor her friends. And she definitely didn’t want to share that a few months after Big Mama died, Charlotte learned she had the very thing that killed her grandmother. But if she lost weight and took her anti-diabetic medication, she could get her blood sugar level back to normal. And no diabetes.

  Melanie squeezed Charlotte’s shoulder. “That’s good. Back to the sandwich. I know you’re focused and, believe me, I understand you want to stay on track with your weight loss. You look great, by the way.” She waved. “But you need to do it in a way that lets you sustain your results and your sanity. I don’t want to lecture you, but we are here if you need us. We’re happy to help.”

  Charlotte smiled and studied her friends’ petite frames. Flat stomachs and no rolls in sight. “Sure, hon. I will.” Not. “And to put your mind at ease, I’ll be sure to eat an extra piece of chicken at your cookout this weekend. Deal?”

  Tiana and Melanie smiled at her. “Deal.”

  • • •

  “Jake, Jake! Is it true that you, Destiny Collins, and Rafaela Martin are in some sort of polygamous relationship?”

  Dodging the paparazzi’s questions, Jake Ross shook his head and hurried through the doors of Refurbished Dreams, the nonprofit where he volunteered. The organization helped young athletes from middle school to high school rehab injuries. If the injury was too extensive, they’d help the young people find other dreams. Damien, his old publicist, had strong-armed him into helping a young man who wasn’t adjusting well. After a few weeks of volunteering, Jake had fallen in love with the kids.

  “Is it true you were abducted by aliens and given the ability to throw fastballs?”

  “Aliens, huh? That’s a new one.” At least the last question was about baseball.

  Camera bulbs continued to flash, but thankfully the rabid paparazzi didn’t follow him inside. Turning the corner, he walked toward the lobby to sign in.

  He smiled when he saw his former mentee seated behind the desk. “What’s going on, Dax?” The young man stood, walked around the desk, and raised his hand. They both grinned as they slapped palms, wiggled fingers, and bumped fists and then chests in an elaborate handshake routine. Every pro player had one, and Jake had created it as motivation for Dax while he rehabbed his rotator cuff.

  Looking over Jake’s shoulder, Dax shook his head. “I see you’ve brought the circus with you again.”

  Jake rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Yeah, man. Sorry about that. They know my volunteer schedule, so they hound me.”

  “We don’t mind,” a voice behind him just said. He turned around to greet his former publicist, Damien. “Press equals more exposure for Refurbished Dreams.”

  “Okay, guys, you ready to learn a new routine today?”

  Jake’s neck prickled when he heard that sultry, Southern voice. Damien’s hot little media coordinator had taken it upon herself to offer dance classes after the nonprofit added a studio. She’d already amassed quite a following—and not just of people taking the class. Older brothers, fathers, hell even grandfathers stood around to watch the normally shy beauty roll, dip, and shake her hips. He hadn’t noticed Charlotte before the classes. She’d worked for Damien, Jake’s former publicist, and he recognized her face. During their meetings, Charlotte would always greet him at the office, hand him his coffee just the way he liked it, and in her soft voice ask if he needed anything else.

  There was no invitation for more in her voice, like most single or not-so-single women he encountered. Just pure Southern hospitality. Not that he’d give her more. Good girl vibes dripped off her. Like she sung with birds, skipped around in a forest, and spoke in a secret language to her woodland creature friends.

  He chuckled, remembering her back when he was a hot shot rookie. Ankles crossed, legs squeezed tight, and skirt at a respectable length below her knees. Prim and proper. Cute, but boring. Or so I thought. Until he saw her lead a hip-hop dance class six months ago. He stopped dead center in the middle of the gym, waiting for her to turn around. He needed to see if her face was as gorgeous as her ass that swayed to the beat. So engrossed, Jake hadn’t even noticed Damien sneak up behind him until he slapped his shoulder. He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t even think about touching my employee.”

  “C-charlene?” Jake was shocked at the revelation. Dayum! Damien’s little wallflower assistant can move like that?

  “Her name is Charlotte, fool, and she’s like a little sister to me. Stay. Away.” Damien growled and squeezed his shoulder, making his warning clear.

  The warning was a waste of Damien’s breath. Jake hadn’t needed it. Despite popular belief, he didn’t enjoy breaking hearts, which was why he stuck to a specific type of woman. Sweet and kind and sensitive were a no-go.

  Damien, Jake, and Dax turned around to the open studio as Beyoncé’s latest hit blared from the speakers.

  Charlotte faced the mirror as she snaked her body into a slow figure-eight twist.

  Every time he watched those hips zig and zag, that back arch, and lush ass jiggle
, he promised himself that next time he would look away. No staring like a pervert with his hands down his pants in a triple-X movie theater.

  The kids at the center probably thought he had a small bladder considering the number of times he rushed off after gazing at Charlotte for too long. And the promise he’d made to himself was always empty because no way in hell was he missing her performance. He was spellbound by the brown-eyed, curvy beauty.

  The music sped up, and she twirled, stomped her feet, and twisted her body to the rocking beat.

  Dax leaned over and put his hands on Jake’s shoulder. “Damn, she’s fine. And she’s thick with it, too. Well, she was until she started losing all that weight.” Lust dripped from his just-reached-puberty voice.

  Damien whacked him upside the head.

  “Oww, D!”

  “Stop talking about Charlotte like that. She’s a good girl.”

  Yeah, but you wouldn’t know it by the way she moves. Jake was a bad boy, and he liked his women bad. Real bad. Mind blowing sex and things that would make Madonna blush.

  Unfortunately, his bad-boy rep was the reason why his face graced the covers of gossip rags instead of sports magazines. And it was the reason why he was in jeopardy of losing a potential multi-million-dollar sponsorship deal. The media had caught him, Rafaela, and Destiny having sex in Destiny’s trailer on a movie set. It had been exciting, hot, and he was thinking with his dick instead of his head. Next thing he knew, a swarm of cameras surrounded them, and now Jake Jr. had its own Tumblr site and Twitter account. Thankfully, Fiete had stuck by him, although they had removed his ads for a few months until things cooled down. They also cut a big chunk of his contract, due to a morality clause, slicing his profit to nearly half of what had been offered.

  I’ll get Threx to sign me on. Shaking off his thoughts, Jake shifted his attention back to Charlotte. She lifted a hand to her forehead and slowed her movements, swaying to the music. Except, this time it didn’t seem like a dance. Bending over at the waist, she clutched her knees and closed her eyes.