by Lisa Jackson
“Then, by all means, come inside,” she said stepping aside to let him enter.
He waited for her to lead the way. Although their homes were similar in layout, their choices in upgrades differed, as did their taste in decor.
The empty formal living room lay to his left, and the room to the immediate left of the entrance, which he used as his home office, was some sort of library in her home. He could tell by the tall oak bookcases filled with hundreds of books, the plush royal-purple chaise lounge and the Tiffany-style reading lamp.
They continued back into the large open kitchen where he sat the bags on the countertop. Again, the layout was similar, with crown molding above the cabinets, stainless-steel appliances and an oversized island in the center of the room, however, the difference lay again in their choices of colors and textures. Kaycee’s cabinets were honey-walnut with sand-colored granite countertops and ceramic-tile flooring while he preferred cherrywood cabinets with black marble countertops and hardwood flooring.
“I like your place,” he said looking around.
“Thanks. The only rooms I’ve been able to work on are the family room and my bedroom. I guess those are the only rooms I care about.”
Her confession tickled his curiosity, making him want to see her secret domain.
The rumbling of her stomach came on cue, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since she was at the café. She peeked inside the bags to find a loaf of French bread, two bowls of bistro steak salad and two pieces of her sweet-potato cheesecake.
“Where do you want me to put this?” Kendrick asked, holding up a bottle of white wine.
“Now, I don’t recall that being on Jireh’s menu, but you can find the wineglasses in the cabinet behind you.”
He retrieved the glasses and located the corkscrew, as well. After opening the bottle, he poured two healthy glasses and opened the refrigerator to place the bottle inside. What he saw astounded him.
“Kaycee!”
“What?” Kaycee shrieked, rushing to his side.
“Where is your food?” he asked, eyeing the practically bare box.
She waved his question off and returned to opening the bags. “There’s food in there.”
“Yeah, for a rabbit,” he retorted holding up a cucumber and a bag of wilted spinach salad. “Why don’t you have any food?”
“I have food. Just enough for me.”
“That is not food,” he replied. “Where’s your milk and eggs?”
“I’m lactose intolerant and I hate eggs,” she answered.
Kendrick shook his head, not accepting her excuse. “Kaycee, you of all people know what it means to have the essentials on hand. Don’t forget, you’re in the restaurant business.”
“Am I?” she asked bluntly, finding the perfect opportunity to know where she stood with him.
With a tilt of his head, Kendrick contritely replied. “If you’ll change your mind and forgive me for being a jerk, I would like you to remain at Café Jireh.”
His apology made her give in quite easily. “Just don’t let it happen again,” she playfully warned, her balled fist drawing a smile from him.
Kendrick carried the salad and bread while Kaycee took the wine and glasses into the family room where Kaycee turned on the television.
A familiar red bullet hole covered the screen like a bloodstained target. A figure walked into the center and turned sharply, shooting his gun.
“Aw, shoot,” Kendrick called out, hurrying to sit down on the sofa.
Kaycee’s brow raised. “What? You don’t like Bond?”
“Are you kidding? He’s my boy.”
Kaycee’s mouth dropped open in amazement. She didn’t know many men who liked James Bond movies. Paul had said they were just as fake as WWF wrestling and had refused to watch them with her.
She placed the glasses on the table. “I’m the biggest James Bond fan.”
“Yeah, next to me,” Kendrick replied.
“Oh, yeah, let’s see how much you know,” she challenged.
He waved her off, “You don’t want to test me, I don’t want to embarrass you by getting all the questions right,” he teased.
Kaycee’s eyes lit up with excitement as her mind raked through James Bond trivia like lightning. “Oh, we’ll see about that!” she crowed.
Marching in front of the television, she placed her hands on her hips. “Are you ready Mr. Know-Everything-About-Bond?”
“Okay, you asked for it,” he replied and took a bite of salad. “Hit me with your best shot.”
“Question number one: What was the first Bond movie?”
“That’s easy,” he snorted with a wave of his hand. “It was Dr. No.”
Kaycee nodded with approval. “Okay, how many James Bonds have there been?”
“Six. Sean Connery, George Lazenby, Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, Pierce Brosnan and they recently signed on a new guy, Daniel Craig.”
“Okay, Mr. Big Shot, here’s a hard one. Which two movies did the villain Jaws appear in?”
Kendrick faked a yawn, “Moonraker and The Spy Who Loved Me.”
“Who is the only Bond girl to appear in more than one Bond film?”
“Easy, Maude Adams. She played in Octopussy and The Man with the Golden Gun, and she was an extra in A View to Kill.”
“Okay, okay, you know a little something,” she conceded, reclaiming her spot on the sofa.
“You’re pretty good, though,” Kendrick replied, impressed by her knowledge. “What does a young girl like you got business watching James Bond movies?”
“My brothers and I have been fans since we were kids. We used to pretend play Bond all the time. My oldest brother Rusty always played Felix. My brother Mark played Q because he liked showing off the gadgets. The villain was Darren because he is the most devious, while the baby, Kyle was Bond himself. I played both the Bond girl and Moneypenny.”
Laughter rippled through the room and before Kaycee knew it, Kendrick was holding his sides. “Moneypenny? Moneypenny?”
Kaycee pushed him over on the couch. “Whatever! I was the only one who had two roles.”
“I see where you get your creativity from.”
She began picking through her salad. “Speaking of creativity, are you sure you don’t want to reconsider some of my ideas?”
He eased back on the leather cushions. “You know, I thought about it and I must admit your suggestions were all good. I just couldn’t see how they fit with the Jireh concept. Then I realized that I hadn’t shared my vision of how Jireh came to be.”
“You didn’t, but I would love to hear it,” she replied, drawing her legs up on the sofa.
Kendrick placed his fork on his plate and sat back.
“It was actually the brainchild of my wife Amanda. She had a dream of owning a coffee house when Seattle’s Best Coffee and later Starbucks became popular on the coasts. But she wanted the offerings to reflect our culture. For two years, we put together a business plan. We got the schematics drawn up, purchased the business license, the whole shebang. When we were done, we looked around and we didn’t have a dime.”
He laughed and Kaycee could see him losing himself in reflections of the past.
“Amanda was a woman of true faith. While our bank accounts said, not right now, she believed God said now. She was the one who came up with the name Café Jireh. Jireh means God is our provider. Amanda believed it was the Lord who reminded us of an old treasury note that I purchased years ago. When I redeemed the note, it was exactly what we needed.
“Right about the time that we were going to put something down on a location, Amanda was diagnosed with stage-three ovarian cancer. She was gone a year later.
“So, I picked up and left California to be closer to my daughter Bianca.”
“I’m sorry about your wife,” Kaycee solemnly replied.
Clasping his hands together, Kendrick leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Thank you. I had to change my outlook. Instead of being angry about her being taken
away so young, I had to thank God for at least giving me twenty-six great years with her.”
What should have felt awkward for Kaycee to talk about actually helped her to understand Kendrick better. She respected and admired that woman who had helped to build the faith of the man sitting beside her, and she found herself wanting to know more about him.
“Kendrick, do you mind me asking how old you are?”
He shrugged. “Forty-eight.”
Her eyes bucked. “Wow,”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.
“Nothing. It’s just that I didn’t think you were forty-eight. You look great.”
“Thanks,” he replied, pretending to brush dust from his sleeves with pride. He stopped to return the question.
With a hesitant smile, Kaycee revealed that she was twenty-nine.
“I figured you were around my daughter’s age.”
“Your daughter is twenty-nine?” she exclaimed in disbelief.
“Close, she’s twenty-five.”
“Wow,” was all she could say.
“Do you have a problem with my age?” he asked.
“Like they say, age ain’t nothing but a number,” she answered, but that number—forty-eight—resonated in her head.
“Besides, I don’t place limits on myself.”
He picked up his plate and stabbed the salad with his fork.
“So, tell me your story, Kaycee. I know the young fella at Jireh that night has something to do with your past. Is he still someone to you?”
She gave him a sidelong glance. “Why do you say that?”
“I could tell by the way he had you all hemmed up,” he retorted with a light chuckle. “He must have peed in his pants when I took you away. I can’t stand when young brothers try to act like they own you females like that. Why do you all let them do that to you?”
Kaycee shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess in some strange way it makes us feel like…like they really care about us.”
He put his plate down and shook his head intently. He raised his finger, emphasizing his point.
“Any woman who’s with me is going to know I care about her without me having to do anything like that.”
His words were said with such conviction that they made her insides tingle.
“So, are you two still seeing each other?” he continued his questioning.
She shook her head. “Not at all. We broke up months ago.”
“Why, may I ask?”
This time it was Kaycee’s turn to spill her guts. “We had been dating for three years and weren’t going anywhere. Just about the time I realized that I wasn’t the woman I wanted to be with Paul, he proposed and I turned him down.”
Kendrick quietly asked, “Did you have an identity problem or something?”
“No, but I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought I wanted the big house, fancy car, large income, but all of that doesn’t even matter.”
Kendrick eyed her skeptically, “Now, this house isn’t small-time.”
“But it’s nothing compared to what I wanted,” she quickly interjected. “We were looking at homes in the $600,000-plus range.”
Kendrick whistled low. “Now, that’s a lot of house.”
“Tell me about it. But I came to my senses, purchased this home and the rest was history, including Paul.”
“Wow, Ms. Jordan, you surprise me.”
She held up her hand to stop him from going on. “First of all, do me a favor and drop the formalities if you don’t mind. Kaycee is fine all the time.”
Kendrick nodded in agreement.
“Okay, Kaycee,” he repeated her name in a low, husky voice that she felt could paralyze her into submission.
She didn’t know what it was that loomed between them, but it caught her off guard every time she was in his presence.
Both sighed with relief when the theme song of the movie began to play, providing a welcoming distraction.
Kaycee placed her plate in her lap and began to eat, masking the increasing hunger for another kind of nourishment that only Kendrick could provide.
Kaycee forgot how much Bond movies relaxed her. A good hour into the movie she had fallen asleep. Three hours later, her eyes fluttered opened and adjusted to the only light in the room that emanated from the plasma television.
She was disappointed that she had fallen asleep and was equally surprised to find herself stretched out on the couch beside Kendrick.
Slowly, she eased from her spot so as not to awaken him and began to clear the table. Plates in hand, she stumbled into the kitchen where she learned that it was past midnight. After placing the plates in the sink, she put the remainder of the food in the refrigerator.
She returned to the family room and a slight smile curved her mouth at the sight of Kendrick sleeping in a sitting position with his head leaning back on the cushion.
He looked peaceful, as if he belonged there, bringing a sense of calm and security into her home. Kaycee tiptoed in closer to examine him without interruption. Her fascination extended beyond Kendrick’s business expertise and knowledge. Mostly, it was the care and concern that he displayed for her well-being. Then there were the simple things, such as the way his brows knit together when he was deep in thought or how his smile was reminiscent of the radiant sun with all thirty-two pearlies gleaming bright just for her.
She slowly eased back down beside him.
Her eyes fell upon his succulent lips and she wondered how they would feel against her body.
She was inching closer, examining his handsome features, when the ringing of her cell phone startled them both. Kaycee sprang up from the sofa, her heart pounding in her chest. A barrage of questions rattled through her mind. What was she thinking, getting close to him like that? What if he woke up? Then what?
She stood off to the side, watching as he repositioned himself and seemed to go back to sleep. When the phone rang a second time, she snatched it off the coffee table.
“Hello?” she asked, watching Kendrick yawn. He leaned forward and stretched out his arms.
“Kaycee, I hope I’m not calling too late,” a male voice said.
“Um—it’s okay. Who is this?” she asked.
“This is Grant.”
“Grant?” she repeated, then wished she hadn’t as Kendrick looked up immediately at the mention of another man’s name.
“Grant Craddock, Sidra’s friend.”
“Hello.” Her eyes were on Kendrick, who was now sitting on the edge of the sofa.
“As I said, I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”
“It’s not too late,” she answered.
He exhaled in relief. “I’m glad. I really wanted to talk to you. Sidra speaks well of you.”
“The same of you,” she uttered.
Kendrick’s mouth pulled to one side in annoyance.
“I was hoping we could meet for lunch.”
Kaycee’s eyes averted from Kendrick’s face and she slightly turned. “That would be nice.”
“Are you free tomorrow?”
She looked around as if she was searching for a calendar when she knew good and well there was none to be found.
“Tomorrow? I’m not sure. Let me check my calendar to be sure and I’ll call you back tomorrow.”
“Sure, I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
“I’ll let you know.”
The line went dead.
Kaycee flipped the phone shut and tossed it on the table. She turned back to Kendrick with a smile as sweet as candy.
“Did you sleep well?”
Rather than answer her question, he looked around the room before resting his eyes on her again.
“What time is it?”
“A little after midnight,” she answered.
He snorted with a shake of his head and stood. “Let me get out of your way.”
Kaycee knew his sudden distance had something to do with Grant’s call. She could have kicked herself for answering the
phone and saying Grant’s name. She followed closely behind as Kendrick sauntered through the kitchen and down the hall toward the front door.
“What time shall I report for work tomorrow?” she blurted out in an effort to delay him from walking through the door.
Kendrick paused for a moment, giving her hope, yet making her nervous at the same time.
Finally, he uttered, “Nine o’clock will be fine.”
“Okay, I’ll see you bright and early!” she called out with added cheer, hoping to alleviate the tension that had fallen between them. She wanted to say more but felt it wouldn’t be appropriate, not at this stage. She watched as he undid the locks and opened the door.
“Good night, Ms. Jordan,” he said without turning around.
The strides they’d made in getting to know one another better seemed futile, and Kaycee believed that they were back to square one.
“Damn,” Kendrick muttered as he stepped into his kitchen through the garage. He felt stupid. Like a schoolboy hanging around outside the window of the cheerleading captain who didn’t know or care that he was alive.
“What does she have on me?” he shouted out into the empty room, his voice resonating against the walls. The silence offered him no answers. Tossing his car keys on the kitchen counter, he headed straight for the wet bar in the sunken family room.
There, he pulled out a bottle of cognac. He twisted off the lid and poured a shot glass full. Raising the amber liquid to his mouth, he paused.
Never would he believe that a woman could make him drink, but Kaycee Jordan was doing all kinds of things to him that made him respond in strange ways. He closed his eyes.
Instantly he pictured himself carrying her in his arms beyond the tall mahogany doors to his master suite. Shaking his head to clear the picture, Kendrick swallowed down the contents of the glass, its heat burning past his esophagus and roaring in his chest.
Kaycee stirred emotions that had lain dormant since Amanda’s passing, emotions that Kendrick had always believed belonged to his wife alone.
The possibility of opening himself to a woman again scared yet intrigued him. Kaycee’s presence was energizing and made him look forward to each day in anticipation. Yet the mysterious phone call put a damper on everything. Who was this Grant person? he asked himself, his jaw tightening with jealous anger. The fact that another man could be in the picture drew forth a territorial spirit such as he had never known. Whoever Grant was, he had to get out of the picture because Kendrick himself had no plans of bowing out graciously.