Man of Fantasy

by Rochelle Alers

  “You’re definitely a ma’am.”

  Nayo wanted to tell Ivan she wasn’t old enough to be a ma’am, but the words were locked in the back of her throat. The way he was looking at her warmed her blood until she found difficulty in drawing a normal breath.

  Her eyelids fluttered wildly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what, Nayo?” Ivan asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

  “Like…like…”

  “Like I’m the big bad wolf bent on eating the sweet little maiden?”

  “Something like that,” she mumbled under her breath.

  Reaching for her hand, Ivan pulled her along with him as he made his way to the kitchen. “Don’t worry, Nayo. I won’t take a nibble unless you give me permission.”

  What was there about her that gave off the vibes that told men she was available for their sexual amusement? Geoff had been forthcoming when he admitted he wanted more than friendship, that he wanted to sleep with her. They’d sleep together, then what?

  She’d never been one to engage in gratuitous sex. It hadn’t happened when she was twenty and now that she was in her thirties she’d become even more discriminating. Not only were there STDs that couldn’t be cured by penicillin, but she’d heard stories from women who’d invited strange men home with them and were lucky to have survived the ordeal with their lives.

  She’d thought her parents were just talking out of the side of their necks when they warned her about the dangers of moving to the big city. It’d only taken a single incident for Nayo to acknowledge their warnings bore truth. She’d arranged to meet a fellow photography major to work on a joint project, and as soon as she’d walked through the door of his apartment, he’d pounced on her like a large cat. A well-aimed knee to his groin had disabled him long enough for her to escape. When she’d seen him again in class, he’d acted as if nothing had happened. It was only when Nayo had gotten in his face that he apologized, saying he’d had too much to drink. Drunk or not, she’d threatened to have him arrested for attempted rape if he even looked her way again.

  They’d spent the next four years avoiding each other, and on the day of graduation he’d given her a gift with a note saying he’d enrolled in AA after the incident and had been sober ever since. When she’d returned to her Village apartment and opened the exquisitely wrapped box, she’d received the shock of her life. He’d given her a brand-new Nikon camera with a set of lenses that had cost a small fortune. Nayo had never gotten to thank him for the gift because he’d left the state to return to Wisconsin.

  She owned several cameras, including the twelve-point, three-megapixel Nikon D90, the revolutionary digital camera with D-SLR. It had the capability of capturing high-definition movie clips that enabled her to use interchangeable lenses for video, as well as stills. The most amazing feature of the camera was its incredible shutter speed of four-point-five frames a second. However, her first Nikon had become a sentimental favorite and she’d used it to shoot many of the bridges. The photographs in which she’d wanted to capture time-lapse changes in light, she used the D90.

  Ivan let go of Nayo’s hand when he opened the freezer to store the gelato. “Coffee, tea or cocoa,” he asked when he turned to look at her standing in the middle of the kitchen. He didn’t know why, but she appeared so small, delicate.

  “I’ll take cocoa, but only if you have marshmallows.”

  Reaching for a pot hanging from a hook on the overhead rack, Ivan gave her a warm smile. “You’re in luck. My niece came to visit last weekend and she’ll only drink cocoa if it has cream or marshmallows.”

  Nayo moved closer to the stove top when Ivan opened a cabinet for a jar of cocoa powder and another jar filled with tiny marshmallows. He walked back to the refrigerator to get a bottle of milk. She went over and took the milk from him.

  “How old is your niece?”

  “She’s nine going on ninety. I’m constantly reminding my sister that she gave birth to an old soul.”

  “I’m surprised you would say that.”

  “Say what?”

  “Talk about people having old souls. You’re a psychologist, and as a scientist, don’t you only believe in what can be proved with empirical evidence?” Nayo watched Ivan pour milk into the pot, then turn on a burner in the induction-cooker stove top. She found it odd to cook without a visible flame.

  Ivan gave Nayo a sidelong glance as he poured cocoa into the milk, stirring it with a wooden spoon. “There are some things that will always remain a mystery to science. Despite all the advances in modern medicine, doctors still don’t know what triggers the onset of labor in a pregnant woman.”

  “‘Render unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar and unto God all that belongs to Him.’”

  “Well said.” Ivan grinned.

  Ivan removed the pot from the burner before it bubbled over. Reaching out, he caught Nayo around the waist, lifting her effortlessly above his head. She screamed as he straightened his arms and held her aloft as if she were a small child.

  He lowered his arms and tossed her up like a beach ball, catching her against his chest. Nayo screamed again and Ivan felt the air on the back of his neck stand up. When he saw her face, he recognized fear in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, placing soft kisses on her hair and forehead.

  Within seconds sheer panic was replaced by a blinding rage, and Nayo drew back her fist and punched Ivan’s chest. “Ouch!” Her hand had landed against solid muscle.

  “You can hit me again if it will make you feel better.”

  “Yeah, so I can break my hand.”

  Bending slightly, Ivan lowered Nayo until her sock-covered feet touched the tiles on the kitchen floor. “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You have enough weights downstairs, so there’s no excuse to use me for a barbell.”

  “I said I was sorry. Don’t you believe me?” he asked when she continued to glare at him. He took a step. “Maybe you need a little convincing.”

  Nayo didn’t have time to react when she found herself cradled against the solid hardness of Ivan’s chest as his head came down. She opened her mouth to protest, but anything she was going to say was cut off when his mouth covered hers in a kiss that sucked the air from her lungs.

  The mouth she’d stared at, remembered in her sleep, wanted to photograph, silently coaxed her into responding even when she hadn’t wanted to. The arms wrapped around her body felt like bands of steel, and when Nayo swallowed the moist warmth of Ivan Campbell’s breath, she knew she was fighting a losing battle.

  Her body went pliant as she gave in to the warming glow that began between her legs and spread up and outward, reaching her extremities. Ivan had warned of frostbite when he should’ve warned her that his kisses had the power to heat her blood to boiling. Curving her arms under his shoulders, she held on to him as waves of passion buffeted her like a tiny boat in a storm.

  “Ivan!” It took Nayo a few seconds to recognize her own voice. It’d dropped an octave. “Please let me go,” she whispered against his soft, firm lips.

  Ivan blinked as if coming out of a trance. He wasn’t certain what prompted him to kiss Nayo, but he had no intention of apologizing. For frightening her, yes; kissing her, no.

  “Go and sit in front the fire, sweetheart. I’ll bring your cocoa.”

  Nayo nodded numbly. Walking on shaking legs, she moved trancelike out of the kitchen to the alcove. Her heart was still beating a runaway rhythm when she collapsed on a leather chair with a matching footstool.

  How did he know?

  How did Ivan know she’d wanted him to kiss her?

  If she were truly honest with herself, then she would’ve told him that she wanted more than a kiss.

  This was only the third time she’d been with Ivan Campbell, and she wanted him to make love to her.

  CHAPTER 5

  Ivan saw Nayo watching him as he approached her with the two mugs of cocoa. He hand
ed her a mug and set his down on a side table. Walking over to the fireplace, he added a piece of wood to the grate, waited for it to catch fire before replacing the screen.

  Ivan sat on the sofa and picked up his mug. “How is it?”

  “Delicious.”

  “Are you warm enough?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “Let me know when you want to eat and I’ll call in an order.”

  Nayo continued to stare at Ivan as she tried to sort out why she’d felt so drawn to him when it hadn’t been that way with other men. Her gaze lingered on his powerful legs in the walking shorts. She hid a smile behind the mug. His feet were as perfect as his hands.

  A silence descended and Nayo felt a gentle calm easing into her like a silent fog blanketing the ground. The only other time she’d felt like this was when she’d sat studying a subject through the lens of her camera. Everything else ceased to exist except what she saw in the tiny viewfinder.

  Her fingers tightened around the mug, wishing it was a camera so she could capture the image of the man sitting a few feet away. The lighting was subdued, the flickering flames in the fireplace casting long and short shadows on the pale walls. There was only the popping sound from the burning wood competing with the steady tapping of sleet against the windows. She drew in a breath, then let it out slowly.

  “What are you thinking about, Nayo?” Ivan’s soothing voice floated across the space separating them.

  She set down her mug on a glass coaster. “I was thinking how much I wished I had my camera right now.”

  One of his eyebrows rose. “And what would you do with it?”

  “Shoot you.”

  Ivan smiled, the sensual gesture never failing to make her stomach flip-flop. “You’re serious, aren’t you, about wanting to photograph me.”

  Nayo sat up straighter. “I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

  “What made you decide to become a photographer?”

  She successfully concealed her disappointment with a too-bright smile. “My grandmother gave me a camera for my tenth birthday and I went around snapping pictures of everything—birds, flowers, cats, dogs and my classmates whenever they weren’t looking. By the time I got to high school and became a photographer for the school newspaper, I knew I’d found my passion.

  “My parents were upset because they believed I’d never make a living taking pictures, but it was my grandmother who encouraged me to follow my dream. She used her life savings to underwrite the cost of my trip across the country. Unfortunately she passed away soon after I returned home. Everything I’ve achieved I owe to her.”

  “How many exhibits have you had?”

  “Last week’s was my first one.”

  “It looked as if it was a rousing success.”

  “It was,” Nayo confirmed. When Geoff called to tell her how much her pictures sold for, she was astounded at the amount.

  “Congratulations. Now you’re a professional photographer.”

  “It was my first showing, but not the first time I’ve sold my work. I’ve photographed several weddings and a sweet sixteen.”

  “How do you get your commissions?”

  “They’re usually by referral.”

  Nayo took a surreptitious glance at her watch. It was nearly four o’clock. She’d been prepared to go to work, but a call from her boss at the auction house that the heating system wasn’t working had given her an unexpected day off. She’d taken advantage of the extra time to shop, clean her apartment and pick up her laundry. A subsequent call from Geoff that a friend of his was hosting a pre-Halloween party rounded out her week. Geoff told her she could invite anyone she wanted and the party was to be held in a TriBeCa loft.

  Ivan pushed to his feet. “I guess you’re ready to show me the photos.”

  Nayo managed to look sheepish. “Was I that obvious?”

  “You were looking at your watch.”

  “I just don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

  Ivan closed the distance between them, extending his hand and easing Nayo to her feet. “For you, I will always make time. And yes,” he said when she opened her mouth, “I will let you photograph me.”

  Nayo launched herself at Ivan, her arms going around his neck. “Thank you,” she chanted over and over between the kisses she planted on his lean jaw. “I’ll pay you.”

  “No. Whatever you intend to pay me you can send to my favorite charity.”

  “What’s your favorite charity?”

  “Gerry Clubhouse. It’s under the auspices of The Boys’ Club of New York.” It was at the East Harlem facility that he’d learned to swim, play chess and box. Reaching up, Ivan pulled her arms down and took a step backward. He didn’t want Nayo to know that her spontaneity had aroused him to the point he had an erection. “You can thank me later.”

  She froze. “How, Ivan?”

  “If you’re not doing anything, I’d like for you to go out with me Saturday night.”

  “I’ll go out with you Saturday if you go to the Halloween party with me on Friday.”

  Ivan flashed the smile she’d come to look for. “Okay. But I’m not wearing a costume.”

  Nayo made a moue. “I think you could be a very dashing Robin Hood.”

  “I can’t imagine myself in tights. And what would you go as? Maid Marian?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m too short to wear a long dress. I’d rather go as a backup-video dancer and shake my booty.”

  “I don’t think so, Nayo. I don’t want to get arrested for thumping some dude ogling you.”

  “It would never come to that because most the dudes will probably be ogling you.”

  “Oh-kay,” Ivan drawled. “It’s that type of party.”

  “There will be something for everyone there.”

  “Whatever,” he drawled again. Ivan never viewed someone’s sexual orientation as a problem unless it was a gender-identity disorder.

  “I suggest we start looking at the contact sheets before it gets too late. I’m going to have to use your computer because I’ve transferred all the prints to disks.”

  * * *

  Nayo sat next to Ivan in his home office, scrolling through the many photos she’d taken but had decided not to exhibit until her next showing. An all-news radio station played in the background. An updated weather forecast captured her complete attention, and she and Ivan exchanged a knowing glance. An ice storm was blanketing the five boroughs, and the mayor had issued a city-wide alert that all non-emergency vehicles were to stay off street and roads.

  Ivan got up and turned on a flat-screen television sitting on its own stand on a shelf of built-in bookcases. WEATHER EMERGENCY flashed across the screen in large red letters while a crawl at the bottom of the screen told of closings and accidents. There was footage of pedestrians attempting to navigate ice-encrusted streets and sidewalks, many of them slipping and falling.

  “I suppose there’s not going to be any food deliveries tonight,” he muttered under his breath.

  Nayo, rising to her feet, joined him in front of the television. “I’m going to leave you with the disks so you can look them over.”

  He glared down at her. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m leaving to go home before I won’t be able to get there.”

  Ivan stared at Nayo as if she’d spoken a foreign language. “You’re not going anywhere in this weather. Did you hear the mayor caution people about staying off the streets? And that means pedestrians.”

  “I can’t stay here!”

  “Yes, you can, Nayo. I do have more than one bedroom. I’ll give you something to sleep in and whatever toiletries you’ll need.”

  Nayo didn’t want to believe she would have to spend the night under the roof of a man who made her feel things she didn’t want to feel, a man who made her want to do things that she didn’t need to do.

  What she didn’t want to think about was if the scenario had been reversed. If they’d met in her apartment, Ivan would
’ve been forced to spend the night with her. She would’ve offered him her bed while she’d’ve slept on the convertible sofa.

  “Oh!” she gasped when seeing a woman go down hard on the sidewalk outside the television studios at Times Square. “I suppose you’ve got yourself a houseguest.”

  “Why, Nayo,” he crooned, “does it sound as if you’ve just been given a death sentence? I’m not a rapist or Jack the Ripper.”

  “When we agreed to get together, I hadn’t expected a sleepover.”

  Ivan wrapped an arm around her waist. “Neither had I. But if we’d planned for a sleepover, I would’ve made other preparations.”

  A slight frown creased Nayo’s smooth forehead. “What are you talking about?”

  “I would’ve asked you what you wanted and if within reason, I would make it happen.”

  “Are you usually so accommodating?”

  “If it’s someone I like, yes.”

  “You like me?”

  A beat passed. “Yes. I like you a lot, Nayo.”

  “Why?”

  Another beat passed as Ivan stared at the woman staring up at him, wondering if she was flattered by his interest in her. He’d tried not coming on too hard or quickly because he didn’t want to scare her away. Usually he waited for women to approach him, because he didn’t like rejection. The first and only woman to whom he’d openly admitted loving had laughed in his face.

  However, it was different with Nayo Goddard. He’d come to her showing, engaged in dialogue about her work, and to continue the exchange, agreed to see her again.

  “I don’t know,” Ivan answered truthfully.

  “You don’t know and I don’t know why I’m entertaining your advances.”

  “Perhaps you like me, too.”

  “Perhaps,” Nayo countered noncommittally.

  She had no intention of admitting that she did like him, perhaps a little too much, after just a third encounter. What she feared was that her attraction to Ivan Campbell was based on a physical need. It’d been a while since she’d slept with a man, and there was something about Ivan, a sexual magnetism he projected, she couldn’t ignore.