Dipping his head, Ivan pressed his mouth to her ear. “Once we finish with business, we can deal with what it is I like about you.”
“You sound very confident that we’ll continue to see each other once we conclude business.”
“You’ve asked me to go to a party with you on Friday and you’ve agreed to go out with me Saturday.”
“That’s only one weekend, Ivan.”
He winked at her. “It’s a start, beautiful.”
Yes, Nayo thought. It was only one weekend and enough time for her to determine whether she wanted to continue to see Ivan after he sat for her. He had most of what a normal woman looked for and expected from a man, but there was a modicum of arrogance in him that nagged at her. Ivan probably would’ve called it self-confidence, but whatever it was, she couldn’t afford to become so absorbed in his attention that it affected her career.
She’d ended her engagement when she overheard her fiancé tell his brother that he would always be what he considered “piss poor” because his fiancée wanted to run around the world taking pictures, rather than take over her parents’ restaurant. When she accused Jerrell Nicholls of using her, he in turn accused her of eavesdropping on a private conversation. It took less than a minute to return his ring and walk out of his life.
Nayo didn’t remember much after that because she’d driven around aimlessly for hours before stopping at the small lake where she and Jerrell would go when they wanted to be alone. Six weeks later Nayo left Beaver Run. Upon her return four years later, the town had changed and so had Nayo Cassandra Goddard.
“What was that?” Ivan asked when he heard a strange rumbling sound that hadn’t come from the television.
“What are you talking about?” Nayo asked, answering his question with one of her own.
“That rumbling sound?”
Nayo realized where the sound was coming from when it happened again. “I have a confession to make.”
Ivan held his breath, praying Nayo wasn’t going to tell him that she was involved with someone, or maybe had an estranged husband lurking in her past. He’d never met anyone like this quirky photographer. She was a professional photographer who went by a single name and wore tailored clothes and designer shoes to her showing. Then there was Nayo Goddard, who admitted she’d wanted to become an actress and when dressed casually reminded him of an ingenue with her fresh-scrubbed face and all-black attire.
“What is it?”
“I’m so hungry I could eat half a cow.”
Twin emotions of apprehension and relief swept through Ivan. “Why didn’t you say something before? I could’ve either picked up something or called in an order before you got here.”
“I usually don’t skip meals, but when I found out that I didn’t have to go into work today, I did all the chores I normally would do tomorrow. All I had was a cup of coffee this morning.”
“And a cup of cocoa,” Ivan said, correcting her. Reaching for the remote, he shut off the television. “Come upstairs with me. I’m no Bobby Flay or Chef Jeff, but I’m certain I can fix something that won’t give you ptomaine poisoning.”
“You do all right with coffee and cocoa.”
“There’s not much you can do to ruin coffee, but I’ve been told that I’m sorely lacking in grilling skills.”
“Who told you that?”
“Two guys I grew up with.”
Nayo glanced at Ivan over her shoulder before she placed her foot on the first stair. “Are they still your friends?”
“I must admit it hurt, but we’re tighter than ever.”
“That’s true friendship, Ivan. A real friend is one who will tell what you need to know, not what you want to hear.”
Ivan stared at the gentle sway of Nayo’s hips in the body-hugging jeans as she climbed the staircase. And for the second time in a matter of minutes he felt the stir of arousal. He’d always prided himself on his ability to control his sexual urges, because there had been a time in his life when his libido was so strong he’d diagnosed himself with having hyperactive sexual-desire disorder.
As a high school student he’d gone to bed with girls indiscriminately, until one came to him accusing him of getting her pregnant. Once the initial shock wore off, Ivan realized the possibility of her carrying his child were very slim because he’d always practiced safe sex. No matter how much a woman professed to taking the pill, or was wearing an IUD or, even better, that she couldn’t get pregnant, he never deviated from the practice of wearing a condom.
The girl’s revelation had shaken him to the core. He, Kyle and Duncan had promised one another they would finish high school, not get hooked on drugs and not father a child out of wedlock. When the girl came back to tell him she’d made a mistake—her cycle was late—Ivan felt as if he’d been given a reprieve. Overactive libido or not, he resorted to other methods to release his sexual frustrations. And once his focus shifted to becoming a psychologist, sleeping with women was no longer a priority. His friends used to tease him because they always saw him with a different woman, but what they didn’t know was that he hadn’t wanted to get too close to any of them. For him, variety was crucial to achieving his goal.
“Do you have a friend or friends who will always keep it real?” he asked Nayo.
Nayo, walking into the kitchen, turned to face Ivan. “Fortunately I do. I never have to guess what Geoff is thinking. He tells me what is exactly on his mind, whether I want to hear it or not. And most times he’s right.”
Ivan opened the side-by-side refrigerator/freezer. “I have bacon, eggs, country sausage, orange juice, strawberries and…” His voice trailed off as he peered into the freezer. “I have steak, ground beef, salmon and chicken, but unfortunately they’re frozen solid.”
“I don’t mind breakfast.”
“What do you want?”
Nayo joined Ivan. “Do you have pancake mix?”
He nodded. “I think there’s a box in the pantry.”
“I’ll cook.”
“Why?”
Nayo smiled. “Because that way I know I won’t get ptomaine poisoning,” she teased.
Ivan glared at her under lowered lids. “You’re looking to get tossed up again.”
“You wouldn’t, Ivan.”
“I would, Nayo.”
“Bully,” she whispered.
“Yeah, yeah,” he countered.
“Are you going to stand there beating your gums, or are you going to assist me?”
“What do you want, Chef Nayo?”
“Do you have any apples?”
Even if Ivan didn’t have meat or dairy on hand, his refrigerator was always stocked with fresh fruit. There had been a time when he’d experimented with becoming a vegetarian, but the desire to bite into a piece of meat had been too strong to ignore for long periods of time.
“Yes. Why?”
“What kind?”
“I have several yellow delicious apples and one or two green.” His niece had gone apple picking with her fourth-grade class, and when he’d gone to Nyack to visit his sister and her husband, a bag of apples were packed up for him to bring back to Manhattan.
“I need you to peel, core and grate a green apple. Excuse me, Ivan. If you stand there staring at me as if I had a third eye in the middle of my forehead, I’m going to pass out on you. That way you can toss me as many times as you want.”
Bowing from the waist, Ivan made a big show of moving away from the refrigerator. “Your wish is my command, princess.”
Nayo smiled at his exaggerated theatrics. She took out the items she needed to put together breakfast, even though the hour indicated dinner would’ve been more appropriate.
She discovered Ivan’s pantry held a treasure trove of canned food, jars of spices and boxes of pasta and a variety of grains. Working quickly and methodically she halved a package of bulk sausage, added the apple Ivan had grated for her, then finely ground bread crumbs, an egg, a couple of tablespoons of heavy cream and sea salt and freshly ground
pepper, and fashioned them into patties.
Ivan busied himself setting the table in the expansive eat-in kitchen as the tangy-sweet smell of sausage filled the space. Nayo had cooked the patties on the stove top grill, then transferred them to an ovenproof dish and placed them in the oven’s warming drawer.
Ivan loved his mother, but unfortunately he couldn’t say the same about her cooking. Winnie Campbell couldn’t boil an egg without either under-or overcooking it. If it hadn’t been for his grandmother, who lived in a neighboring building, or Kyle’s parents he would gone hungry. Kyle’s father, Elwin Chatham, who’d been a railroad chef, cooked the most incredible dishes for his family, and whenever Ivan heard that Kyle’s father would be home for more than a day or two, he could be found sitting at the Chathams’ kitchen table. After a while Frances knew to set a plate for her son’s friend whenever her husband was home. When Ivan’s future brother-in-law told him he intended to propose marriage to Ivan’s sister, his only advice was to give Roberta a gift certificate for cooking lessons. He followed Ivan’s advice when he enrolled himself and Roberta in a course for couples who love cooking together.
He crossed the kitchen and stood next to Nayo as she flipped oatmeal-buttermilk pancakes. She’d filled two small bowls with sliced strawberries and chopped walnuts as toppings for the pancakes. “If I make mimosas, will you have one?”
Nayo smiled up at Ivan. “I love mimosas.”
She returned her attention to flipping the pancakes, then testing them for doneness before sliding them onto a heated plate. The distinctive pop of a champagne cork echoed in the kitchen. Ivan had turned on a radio to an all-music station, and Nayo found herself singing along with the classic love songs. All she had to do was warm the syrup and she was finished.
Turning off the stove, she carried the platter of pancakes and sausage to the table as Ivan placed two flutes filled with orange juice and topped off with champagne at the place settings. He’d dimmed the lights, but left the ones over the dining area on, creating a soft, romantic look.
Ivan looked sheepish when Nayo bowed her head to say grace. He’d forgotten his home training. Despite not being able to cook well, Winnie wouldn’t let anyone pick up a fork without blessing the food.
Picking up his fork, he cut a slice of sausage. He chewed the meat slowly, savoring the distinctive flavor of sage, tart apple and fennel on his tongue. “Oh, damn!” he crooned. “This is incredible. Where did you learn to cook like this?” he asked Nayo, who gazed at him with a mysterious smile softening her mouth.
“My parents own a restaurant.”
“Now you tell me. I should toss your cute little ass up until you beg me to stop. So why were you trying to trick a brother when you asked if I was going to cook for you?”
“Brothers do cook, Ivan.”
He waved a hand. “Didn’t you see the cookbooks? That should’ve told you that this brother is a novice. I did admit that I really wasn’t that good.”
“You do okay,” Nayo said as she swallowed a mouthful of mimosa. “You make a wonderful latte, good cocoa and a killer mimosa.”
“Man—or should I say mankind—cannot live by drink alone.”
“You’re probably better than you think. What you need is confidence. Your friends have done you gross disservice. Grilling is one thing and cooking is entirely different. I’m willing to bet that if you had to cook a complete meal for me, it would come out okay.”
“You think?”
She smiled. “Yes, I think. Instead of going out to eat on Saturday, why don’t you cook dinner for us?”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes. I prefer home cooking to going out to a restaurant.”
“What about your parents’ restaurant?”
“It’s a family-style restaurant. There’s nothing that even remotely resembles gourmet on the menu. If someone wants good pot roast or corned beef hash, they go to the Running Beaver.”
Ivan squinted. “Why is it called the Running Beaver?”
“The name of the town is Beaver Run, population 2,383 at the last count.”
“So, you’re really a small-town girl.”
“Yep. Friday-night football, hayrides, apple picking, harvest-moon school dances, swimming in the creek when the weather got too hot and skating on the lake when it froze over.”
“And now you’re living in the big, bad city.”
“It’s no worse than living in a small town. The difference is the demographics. Beaver Run does have a police department. We have problems with kids getting hooked on drugs, teenage pregnancy, burglaries and armed robberies. Last year we had the first murder in more than a decade. A kid shot and killed his stepfather because he’d called him stupid in front of his friends. A diss is a diss no matter where it occurs. What do you think of the photos you’ve seen thus far?” She’d smoothly changed the topic.
Ivan had viewed more than sixty black-and-white photographs, and he’d mentally noted the ones he wanted to hang in his home. Whenever he asked Nayo about a particular shot, she gave him an overview of why she’d decided to capture the image on film.
They talked as they ate, neither seemingly willing to leave the table. Two hours later, they got up to clear the table and clean up the kitchen. They returned to the home office, looking at thumbnail prints Nayo enlarged to fill the computer monitor whenever Ivan expressed an interest in the shot. It was after ten when she walked into the bedroom Ivan had assigned her. He’d given her a T-shirt to sleep in and a plastic bag filled with travel-size toiletries.
“Sleep tight,” he said quietly as he crossed the bedroom to the door.
“Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” came her rejoinder as he closed the door behind his departing figure.
Picking up a remote from the bedside table, she flicked on the television, which sat on a table in the corner of the bedroom. She turned it to the weather channel. Pictures of the freak ice storm that had swept over the Northeast had become the lead story.
She turned off the television and made her way to the adjoining bath. Stripping off her clothes, she placed her sweater and jeans on a chair, then tossed her bra, panties and socks into the shower to wash them. Nayo knew she couldn’t ask Ivan to use his washer and dryer for only a pair of silk panties and matching bra and socks. The apartment was warm, and she was certain they would dry in time for her to wear them home tomorrow.
A quarter of an hour later, she climbed into the four-poster, settling the mosquito netting around the bed like a cocoon. Within minutes of her head touching the pillow, she was asleep.
CHAPTER 6
Ivan closed the case file, then his eyes, wondering why it was so difficult to concentrate. When he’d gotten up earlier that morning, he was surprised to find that the ice coating the sidewalks and roadways had melted with the mid-forty-degree temperature. The steps and the sidewalk in front his brownstone were covered with the sand he’d put down before going to bed. He wasn’t willing to risk someone falling and injuring themselves, then suing him.
He’d shaved and showered and gone in search of Nayo, only to find her gone. She’d left a note on the neatly made bed thanking him for his hospitality and hoped they could do it again. Her willingness to have a repeat of the night before countered his disappointment that he hadn’t been there to see her leave.
Ivan opened his eyes when he heard three rapid taps on his office door. “Good morning, Kyle.”
Kyle Chatham walked into the office and touched fists with Ivan. “You missed the male-bonding session last night.”
“Sit down, Kyle.”
Waiting until his friend sat, Ivan leaned forward. He’d known Kyle since they were boys, but now that the attorney had proposed marriage to his social-worker girlfriend he appeared more laid-back, less intense. Tall and slender with dark skin that glowed like polished teak, Kyle had one of the brightest legal minds of anyone he’d met.
“What happened last night?” Ivan asked.
“DG and I had to spend the nig
ht here. We closed down and sent our staff home as soon as the sleet started freezing, but we weren’t that lucky. We didn’t make halfway down the block before we were slipping and sliding all over the place. DG wanted to call you and hang out at your place because you only live two blocks away, but I told him you were probably entertaining.”
The three offices had executive and staff bathrooms, and Kyle, Duncan and Ivan had left several changes of clothes at the brownstone in the event they had to work around the clock and couldn’t get home to change.
“Whether I was or wasn’t entertaining, it still wouldn’t have made a difference. After all, I did have two available bedrooms.”
“Don’t you have four bedrooms altogether?”
“You know I do. Come on—ask me if I had company last night.”
Kyle bit back a smile. “Did you?”
Ivan ran a hand over his cropped hair. “Yes, I did. But she had her own bedroom.”
“Your sister stayed over?”
“No, Kyle. She wasn’t my sister.”
“Is something up, brother?” Kyle asked.
“Why would you say that?”
“Since when do your women sleep in the guest room?”
“When they’re not my women. This one came over to discuss business, got stuck, so I put her up for the night.” Ivan told Kyle about the design-magazine layout.
“Congratulations, man. You’re place is spectacular.”
Ivan smiled. “Thank you.”
“What’s up, brothers?” Kyle and Ivan turned to find Duncan’s broad shoulders filling the doorway.
Ivan waved him in. “Come on in, DG.”
Duncan, resplendent in a hand-tailored Italian suit, strolled in and sat on the edge of Ivan’s desk. The two men touched fists. “Where were you last night?”
“Home.”
One silky black eyebrow arched in Duncan’s olive-brown face. “Alone?”
Ivan held up both hands. “Yo, brothers. Hold up. What’s with the interrogation?”
Duncan shared a knowing look with Kyle. “Kyle and I called your cell and it went directly to voice mail. We thought about calling your house phone but decided you probably were hooked up with your latest honey.”
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