by Cheryl Faye
“In my car. I just got out of church.”
“So, this is your cell phone number on my caller ID?”
“Yes.”
“Do you still want to meet me here?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“What time should I expect you?”
She looked at the watch on her slender wrist. “I can be there at twelve.”
“So, I’ll see you then?”
“Okay.”
The line went dead again. Taking a deep breath, she whispered, “Lord, what am I doing?”
WHEN HE HUNG UP THE PHONE the second time that morning after speaking to Charisse, Stefàn felt relief. It was only minutes ago that sadness had descended on him with lightning swiftness. Hearing her say he was not the type of person she wanted to get involved with was like a knife in his heart.
Why is this woman so important to me? Why is what she thinks of me so relevant? Never before had he given much credence to other people’s opinions of him. Aside from his family—whom he was very close to—and Julian, who’d been his best friend since they were kids, Stefàn placed little value on anyone’s views of how he lived because, for all intents and purposes, he was a decent guy.
He sensed the reason for her initial change of heart was not due to her conceit or even egotism. Although she’d said he wasn’t the type of person she wanted to be involved with, he assumed she was referring more to what she believed was his lifestyle than her own self-righteousness. The vibe he felt when he first introduced himself to her was one of mutual affection. Truthfully, although she had captured his attention when she and her friend were assisting Julian yesterday, it was her eyes locked with his as he approached them that most intrigued him. There was confidence in her gaze, as well as mutual curiosity. She had acted nonchalant about their interaction, but he knew she felt it, too—this connection between them. Maybe that scared her. It certainly gave him pause, but he needed to find out if his intuition was as astute as it had always been. Stefàn could not ignore the genuine yearning he felt to get closer to her.
CHAPTER 4
A DREAM COME TRUE
Pulling up to Stefàn’s house at five minutes after twelve that afternoon, Charisse admired his contemporary, split-level home with an attached two-car garage. The front lawn was freshly manicured and it appeared to Charisse from the variety of colorful blossoms adorning the yard, that Stefàn either had quite a green thumb or an expert landscaper.
She walked to the door of his house but as she reached out to ring the bell, the front door swung open. “Good afternoon,” he said.
Charisse stepped inside. “Hi.” Her intention had been to comment on his lawn, but seeing him again—looking even better than he had yesterday—caused her initial thought to evaporate. Her doubts about the decision to spend the day with him were immediately renewed.
“I heard your car when you pulled up,” he told her.
“I’m not late, am I?”
“No, you’re right on time. Have you eaten?”
“I had a little something before I left.”
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“What would you like? Orange juice, cranberry….”
“Orange juice, please,” she answered before he finished naming her choices.
“Come on in the kitchen.”
She wanted to tell him she’d wait in the foyer, but quickly realized how ridiculous that would seem to him. He had invited her into his kitchen, not his bedroom. Why are you tripping? she asked herself. It wasn’t as if she feared he would do anything threatening, but her intense attraction to him made her wonder if she might be giving him unintentional signals he could interpret as a come-on.
As she followed him into his kitchen, she was unable to ignore his tight gluts, muscular thighs, small waist and broad shoulders. Even in his own home, he walks with a bit of a swagger, she thought. Busy studying his body movements in the black jeans he wore, watching his muscles flex and relax with each stride, Charisse didn’t even notice the layout of his house. The cream colored, sleeveless body-hugging muscle shirt, which covered his well-defined torso, seemed as if it was painted on. Mindful of his vanity, she figured Stefàn worked out regularly; his sculpted torso and biceps were evidence of his diligence. Wondering if sweat looked like dew on his chiseled frame, it frightened her to think that with the way he was affecting her now, if she had met him six months ago, she would have been open to any seduction efforts he put forward and more than likely would have initiated her own form of temptation. Thank you, God, for Your amazing timing.
Trying to appear at ease, Charisse took a seat at his kitchen table. As he opened the refrigerator door and bent over to remove the juice container from one of the lower shelves, she shook her head and exhaled. This man is too fine, she thought. What am I doing here with him?
“Are you already sorry you changed your mind again?” Stefàn suddenly asked as he handed her a glass of juice.
“No,” she answered too readily. To her dismay, he’d recognized her apprehension for what it was.
He smiled and asked, “You’re sure?”
Reasoning that she might as well stop acting so silly and immature, she told herself, I’m a grown woman. I can hold a conversation with him without imagining him as some type of hedonist deity.
“This is a nice house,” she quickly stated and took a sip of her drink.
“Thank you,” he answered with a smirk, but thought, Avoidance. That’s cute.
“How long have you been here?” Charisse asked.
“Three years.”
“How long have you been selling houses?”
As he leaned against the sink and folded his arms across his chest, he responded, “Oh, about twelve years, now.”
“Wow! How old are you?”
“Thirty-three.”
“You look a lot younger than that.”
“Thank you. You know we age well.”
“True, true.”
“How old are you?” he asked.
“I’ll be twenty-nine on my birthday.”
“You’re not offended that I asked your age?” he queried, eyeing her sardonically.
“Why should I be? I asked you how old you are.”
He snickered and faintly shrugged before asking, “Was it always your dream to be a CPA?”
“No, but I took some accounting classes in high school and did so well I decided why not take it all the way?”
“I heard that. You like number crunching, huh?”
Shrugging modestly, she said, “Yeah, but more than that, I like knowing where my money is and what it’s doing. Since I’ve always excelled in math, I figured I might as well take advantage of that edge.”
With an appreciative nod, he said, “That’s smart.”
“How’d you get into selling?”
“I’ve been selling stuff all my life,” he admitted with a laugh.
Charisse frowned slightly.
“Always legal,” he emphasized.
“Well, that’s good.”
“Remember when you were in school and they’d have those candy drives?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I always got top prize for the most sales. I’m relentless.”
Chuckling mischievously, she couldn’t resist saying, “I bet that’s a characteristic that comes in handy in more ways than one, huh?”
Briefly glancing skyward, Stefàn said, “Okay, there she is.”
“There who is?”
“The woman I met yesterday. I don’t know who I was talking to this morning.”
Charisse made a face at him.
He chuckled and said, “I’ll be right back.”
Stefàn left the room and Charisse took a deep breath. She decided that when they got back after this ride, she would sever all contact with him because he was too tempting, way too dangerous, and impure thoughts of him were consuming her. Unsure if she could resist his charms for too long, Charisse resolved, however, to have a goo
d time in the meantime. What harm can come from taking a ride on his motorcycle?
Stefàn returned to the kitchen with a helmet in his hand. “Why don’t you try this on and see how it fits.”
Taking the helmet from him, she studied the exterior design closely. It was basically black but muted gold streaks ran through it. “Your girlfriend won’t mind me wearing her helmet?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m a free agent.”
“Well, your friend.”
“Charisse, the helmet belongs to me.”
Smirking, she replied, “Yeah, but I’m sure it’s been used by several of your lady friends.”
She noticed his jaw clench before he tersely stated, “For your information, Miss Ellison, the helmet has never been worn. It’s brand new. I bought it last night so you could wear it today.”
Feeling two inches small at that moment, Charisse pursed her lips before she mumbled, “Sorry.”
“Now, would you like to try it on?”
Without another word, she put the helmet on her head.
“How does it feel?” he asked, seeming to have put her assault of seconds ago out of his mind.
Thoroughly humbled, Charisse replied, “Fine.”
“It’s not too tight?”
“No, it feels fine.”
“Good. You’re not going to get all bent out of shape if your ’do gets smashed, will you?”
With a mock grin, she said, “No.”
The doorbell rang. “Excuse me a minute,” he said and went to answer the door.
Removing the helmet from her head, Charisse placed it on her lap, then finger-combed her hair back into place. She felt foolish about her assumption that he had given her a helmet that had been used by every Tonya, Liz and Jane he’d ever known, especially when, upon closer inspection, she saw that the security sticker was still on the inside of the helmet.
Returning to the kitchen moments later, Stefàn explained, “That was my neighbor trying to sell me some male grooming products.”
“A woman?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, she sees you’re well-groomed and probably figured you’d be an easy sell.”
“No, she probably saw you when you pulled up and being the nosey person she is, was looking for a way inside to see who you are ’cause she already knows I’m not going to buy any of her products.”
Really? Charisse thought. She wondered if there was some history between Stefàn and his neighbor and was tempted to ask, but he quickly quieted her inquisitive mind by asking, “You about ready to pull out?”
Forced to let the neighbor go for now, she took a deep breath and said, “As I’ll ever be.”
“Don’t be nervous.”
That’s easy for you to say. Charisse finished off her juice and walked over to the sink. She was about to rinse her cup out when Stefàn said, “Leave that. I’ll take care of it later.”
He opened a door in his kitchen that led to the garage. When Charisse followed him through the exit, she took note of the shelving, which lined the walls and housed various tools, reminding her of a hardware store. A dark blue BMW 535xi was parked next to a beautiful blue BMW motorcycle.
Charisse murmured, “Nice bike,” as she eyed the large machine cautiously.
Noticing the anxiety she tried to stifle, Stefàn smiled. “Climb on up.”
Taking a deep breath, she proceeded to mount the bike.
“Put your foot on the stirrup, here,” he guided.
Dressed in jeans and sneakers, Charisse wore a white tank top beneath her denim jacket. A fanny pack was fastened around her waist and contained her shades, wallet, keys, and a few other incidental items. Twisting it so the pouch was at her back, she climbed onto the bike and settled herself on the soft seat.
“You okay?” he asked.
Her heart thumped in her chest as she nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“I want to give you a couple of pointers about riding, okay? Most important is to relax. I won’t go too fast. I’m no daredevil, so don’t worry about that.”
She chuckled nervously.
“You can hold me around my waist if you want, or you can hold on to my jacket. Whatever’s more comfortable for you. But if you hold me around my waist, try not to hold too tight, because I need to be able to move freely to control the bike, all right?”
She nodded.
“When we’re making a turn, you have to—and this is very important—you have to lean into the turn with me, ’cause if you don’t, we could both fall on our butts, and that’s something we don’t want to do, right?”
“Right.”
Smiling tenderly, Stefàn lightly touched her shoulder. “You’re gonna be fine, Charisse. I give you my word.”
“Okay.”
She hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a lightweight black leather jacket hanging from a hook on the rear wall of the garage. Stefàn reached for it and put it on. His helmet was hanging on the handlebar by the chinstrap. He unfastened it and climbed on the bike in front of Charisse.
“Do you have shades?” he asked as he straddled the bike and turned back to face her.
“Yes.”
“If you don’t want to use the visor on the helmet, you might want to put them on.”
Twisting her fanny pack back to the front, she reached into it and removed a pair of Ray Bans. She put them on, then pulled on her helmet. Noticing that she was having trouble fastening the chinstrap, Stefàn did it for her.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I think so.”
His face broke into a broad smile. I’m glad you changed your mind, he thought before facing forward on the bike. Stefàn pulled a pair of shades from the upper pocket of his jacket. He put them on before pulling his own helmet on and fastening the clasp. That was when Charisse noticed they had matching head gear.
As he started the engine, he must have also activated the garage door opener because the door suddenly began to rise in front of them.
The engine roared to life. Immediately feeling the smooth vibrations caused by the bike’s motor, Charisse’s heartbeat picked up its pace in conjunction with it. Seconds later, however, it seemed to settle down and the roar became a purr.
“Ready?” Stefàn turned back and asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m making a left turn out of here, so lean with me, okay?”
“Okay.”
Reaching back, Stefàn gently patted her thigh before putting his hands on the controls and slowly moving out of the garage. Charisse’s hands were securely wrapped around his waist, and although she tried to relax when he turned off of his property, she felt incredibly tense.
When they reached the end of his block, Stefàn pulled up to the light on the corner and stopped.
Charisse’s heart was racing. Although she was nervous about riding on the motorcycle, she was also excited. This was something she had always wanted to experience and now she was. The fact that this intriguing man was the catalyst to her living out this small dream served to excite her all the more.
Attentively watching the signal, Charisse saw the light turn green and felt Stefàn rev the gas a split second before he accelerated into traffic. When they pulled up to another light at a busy intersection, she noticed he had put on his left turn signal.
Lean into the turn with him, she told herself over and over. Relax, girl.
When the light changed, Stefàn followed the traffic through the intersection and into the turn. There were no lights or congestion on this road so the bike picked up speed, but Charisse made an effort not to hold Stefàn any tighter than she already was.
Minutes later, he stopped the bike across from a junction at Route 4 and turned back to her. “I can get to the park through the streets or I can jump on Route 4 and get there faster. What do you want me to do?”
She breathed deeply. “Take Route 4.”
“You’re sure?”
Chuckling nervously, she said, “Yes.”
“Okay,�
� he replied with a smile.
As he merged onto the highway seconds later, Charisse knew he had no choice but to move with the flow. She drove this roadway on a regular basis so she knew the average vehicle speed was fifty-five to sixty miles per hour, despite the posted fifty miles per hour limit. Many times she had even topped those speeds when she was behind the wheel of her own car.
Moving steadily with the flow, Charisse noticed that Stefàn seemed to be a very relaxed and skilled driver. Weaving between the vehicles, shifting from one lane to the next with ease, his mastery was comforting and calmed her to the point where she felt like she’d been riding with him forever. She loved the freedom of being in the open air, zooming past the cars on the road and the scenery that lined the smoothly paved highway.
I could definitely get used to this, she thought.
Thinking of Myra briefly, she was momentarily saddened by the fact that the combination of her friend’s cynicism and fear of adventure would most likely keep her from ever experiencing a thrill such as this. She thought, too, about her mother and her words yesterday, emphasizing how much she didn’t know Stefàn. Well, that certainly was true, she thought as they sped along. The simple fact that he had taken the time to purchase the helmet she was wearing only last night so she could ride with him today was proof. What if she hadn’t changed her mind again, she wondered. Would he have taken the helmet back? Probably not, she reasoned. He could always use it for one of his other women friends. In fact, she decided that was what he would most likely do since she wouldn’t be riding with him anymore after today.
All things being equal though, she could not deny she liked his style. She liked the way he looked, the way he walked and even the way he talked. Aside from which, he’d floored her when he told her to have a good life and hung up the phone when she first told him she couldn’t ride with him. Thinking about it earlier as she prepared to meet him, she was forced to acknowledge she had unfairly judged him. She’d seen him flirting with several different women at Jewel and Terry’s wedding yesterday, but she had done her own share of flirting, too. Regardless of what he said, though, she was still certain he was the type of guy to play the field as regularly as possible.
Why did I agree to come with him? Because you like him, that’s why. But there’s no future for me with him. You’re riding on his motorcycle, not making love with him. There’s nothing wrong with getting to know him, at least until he shows you otherwise. Charisse went back and forth in her mind trying to justify her wishy-washy behavior. With her new life, she’d known there would be challenges some-times when it came to staunching old habits, but then who’d said it would be easy?