Admission of Love

by Niobia Bryant

Chloe truly enjoyed the woman’s star-struck expression as she handed over her menu. “You’re Chloe Bolton!” she said in a reverent tone.

  Devon cleared his throat. “Now I’d like to order,” he said wryly.

  The waitress turned to Devon, interest still in the depths of her eyes but definitely not as intense. “I’m sorry. Go ahead, sir.”

  Chloe looked at the woman as Devon ordered. Gone was the look of adoration. She jotted down his request for a bowl of three-bean chili, followed by seared chicken and Spanish pilaf, with non-alcoholic sangria.

  Devon handed over his menu and the waitress left the table. “You forgot to order something for your ego.”

  “Ha ha,” Chloe chanted sarcastically.

  Obviously Devon had seen the silent challenge between the women, followed by Chloe’s look of triumph when her opponent backed down. She took a sip of her ice water. “Not ego . . . confidence, thank you very much.”

  “It doesn’t hurt your . . . confidence to be a famous supermodel?” he asked smugly.

  “Not one bit.”

  They both laughed at her honesty.

  “Do you miss it?” he asked suddenly, his obsidian eyes serious as he watched her across the booth’s square table.

  “Honestly?”

  He nodded before taking a sip of the drinks the waitress sat on their table.

  “My life just a year ago was hectic. I have a wonderfully luxurious apartment in New York, which I spent a total of thirty nights in since I’ve owned it. I lived out of Gucci and Samsonite luggage in five-star hotels across the globe. I have a best friend I love like a sister whom I see five times a year, tops.” Chloe paused, looking off toward the busy highway through the window, her eyes distant. “I have a few people that I can truly consider friends, and they happen to be comedians, designers, musicians and other models, but a lot of people I found myself surrounded by just wanted to say they hung out with someone famous. The work was not always easy. The schedules could get very hectic with photo shoots at odd times of the morning or in extreme weather situations or . . . confining and uncomfortable clothing ... all to get the perfect shot.”

  “The partying I was never into. Out of ten invitations I’d receive a month, for some club or restaurant’s opening, or a charity event or movie premiere, I would go to like two, tops. And that was only if Anika went along with me.” She paused again as the waitress brought their food. “Any spare time not working I would volunteer at charities in my old neighborhood, which I miss, or I would visit schools, or just chill out at home reading. My life outside of work was really boring because I didn’t have time to develop it. Anika says I don’t take advantage of my star status enough.”

  “Boring? Minus the celebrity friends, traveling across the globe and being lusted after by men everywhere?” he asked, his voice amused as he tasted the chili.

  “Of course,” she said with a beguiling smile that made his heart jump.

  “You still haven’t answered my question. Holtsville is a helluva lot different from New York and Europe. Do you miss it all?” He hoped his voice didn’t betray how important her answer was to him because it spoke of his biggest fear concerning Chloe.

  “No, I don’t,” she said with honesty. “Holtsville is my home now, and the only drawback is not having Anika around and maybe the shopping. I really wish you could meet Anika. She is one of a kind. She says what she wants when she wants, she takes no shorts, she’s beautiful and so funny with the quirkiest sense of humor. I really miss her so much.”

  “Isn’t she ever going to visit you? I could meet her then.”

  Chloe cleared her throat. Now would be the opportune time to tell him about her trip to New York, but she chickened out afraid of his reaction. “She wants to meet you. I’ve told her all about you.”

  Devon looked surprised. “Oh, and what did you tell her?”

  “Now that’s none of your business, Mister Jamison.” She turned her attention to her food with a wink.

  Devon lowered his eyes. She looked and sounded so sincere about moving to Holtsville. Could she really turn her back on New York? Why didn’t he believe her? More importantly, was he ready to admit to himself why the thought of her leaving Holtsville bothered him so?

  ∞

  The Carolina sky was deeply ebony in color and star-filled, with a brightly glowing full moon as Chloe leaned against Devon’s chest. His muscled arm was securely around her as he drove them home. Almost as if instinctively, his fingers lightly traced circles on her arm and Chloe felt her nipples tighten in sharp response.

  During the entire drive from Charleston, they rode in companionable silence, intensely aware of one another. Chloe really had had fun today with Devon, seeing a more carefree and playful side to him that she thought only existed in his rascal twin. They had talked all through dinner and Chloe had shared her never-voiced plans to increase her charity works with all the time she had on her hands.

  Her wish was to create a foundation in honor of her mother. The foundation would benefit inner-city communities such as the one she grew up in and still loved and supported financially. This was very important to her and there were many issues in these communities that only money could address.

  That admission had earned her so much respect from Devon, and he wondered if he would ever know how deep her character was. They had both shared so many bits of information about each other, expanding their knowledge of one another beyond what they already knew.

  Her favorite color was maroon, his forest green.

  She loved fried eggs on toasted bread with jelly and butter, while he favored lima beans and cornbread. They both frowned in dislike at the other’s choice.

  Her all-time favorite movie was Love Jones starring Nia Long and Larenz Tate. His was Cooley High. Both could live with that.

  They both loved jazz . . . Miles Davis, Thelonius Monk and Wynton Marsalis. But they both also loved hip-hop.

  Each claimed to be the supreme best at playing Scrabble. A challenge was given, and the winner would be declared after a game.

  She loved flowers, especially perennials. He admitted to designing the landscape of their property.

  It had been a day filled with new discoveries.

  Devon smiled as he also remembered their day together. This woman beside him was an irresistible mix of city girl sophistication with down-home charm. Could this uptown beauty be his down-home girl in disguise?

  ∞

  October nights in South Carolina were a lot chillier than Chloe would have thought. She adjusted her central heat up to seventy-two degrees before crossing the Persian rug to where her answering machine and telephone sat on a long marble table behind the couch. The red light blinked, signaling she had messages. Actually, five messages according to the digital counter display.

  Chloe pushed the PLAYBACK button. Her outgoing message played first. “Hey, this is Chloe. You know the routine.”

  Beep.

  “Chloe . . . Chloe . . . pick up.” There was silence and then a dry hacking cough. “This is Olivia. I guess you’re not home. You never are. Anyway there’s been a change in your escort for the awards ceremony. Call me back for details and I hope you’re feeling better about that tabloid bull.”

  Beep.

  “Hello Chloe. This is Warren Atkinson.” Chloe recognized the reserved and authoritative voice of the president of Ashanti Cosmetics. “I know that you are officially retired, but I have a business proposition that I believe would be beneficial to both Ashanti Cosmetics and you. I understand that you’ll be in New York next week. This would be an opportune time for you to meet with the board of directors. Please call my assistant, Evelyn, to set up an appointment at your convenience to discuss this offer.”

  Chloe raised a finely arched brow from where she sat on the couch, her legs crossed under her. Business proposition. She didn’t have time to ponder that bit of news as the machine continued.

  Beep.

  “Chloe, this is your best friend in the world
. The diva to top all divas. I can’t wait for you to get your country-sounding behind back to the Big Apple this week. Call me.”

  Beep.

  “Cat . . . how are you, baby?”

  Chloe stiffened at the sound of Calvin’s smooth baritone voice. She rolled her eyes heavenward in irritated exasperation. “How in the hell did he get my number?” she muttered as she eyed the machine as if it were the vilest of creatures.

  “I saw the tabloid article on you and of course I know they’re just ludicrous lies. I hope you haven’t let them break your spirit in that backwards boonies you’ve chosen to hide in.” There was pause. “God, Cat baby. I miss you. Damn, Cat, I love you and you know I do. Call me and let’s talk.”

  Chloe shook her head, ignoring the supposed passion in his voice. “He probably believes that too,” she muttered incredulously.

  Beep.

  “You think you’re so damn smart. How did you turn my friends against me? You know damn well that I didn’t sell nothing to The Star Gazer. Are you that . . .”

  Chloe sighed wearily as she recognized Alicia’s voice. Was the woman insane? She wished Devon had come back here with her, instead of deciding to stay home tonight. Then he could hear his little buddy playing on the phone.

  “. . . insecure about your screwing around with Devon? You’re only using him and I’m gonna prove it. I love Devon too much to lose him to a black Barbie with about as much brains as a rubber doll. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave him alone.”

  The line, thankfully, disconnected and Chloe laughed at the woman’s craftiness. She still spouted her innocence on the message while slandering her, so that if Chloe decided to tell the twins about it then they would hear her basically still defending herself.

  “I have no brains? I would’ve been smart enough not to use the photos from the portfolio at my job, you nitwit,” she said to the empty room before unfolding her tall slender frame from the plush couch to leave the living room through the rear entrance. It led into the game room and Chloe continued to fuss as she walked. “The little elf left a trail back to herself and she says I have no brains.”

  She laughed harshly into the air as she briskly strode through the game room and went through the next rounded archway into the wood-paneled sauna off the gym. “I’m not the one moping behind a man who does not want me, yet I have no brains!”

  In the sauna there were two entrances. She took the one to the left leading to the pool. Chloe barely took the precious moments to remove all her clothes, her watch and sneakers before plunging beneath the warm depths of the circular pool.

  She felt weighted down by all the activities going on in her life simultaneously. Relentlessly, she swam laps until she forced herself to slow down before she caught a wicked and painful cramp. As she allowed her body to gently float on the water, she reviewed her life.

  A little twit country bumpkin was hell-bent on revenge because she was currently involved with the man the little troll secretly desired. Alicia’s selling of photos, and possibly the story, to the tabloid proved she was capable of anything. So now Chloe felt she had to be on her guard about the woman’s activities concerning her.

  Directly because of Alicia’s foolishness, Chloe was in the midst of a media frenzy about her being a drug addict and near poverty. She could only imagine the barrage of questions she would encounter once back in the Big Apple. The paparazzi were a lot more forceful than what she encountered in the genteel South.

  Then, her philandering ex-boyfriend was still hot on her heels for a reconciliation she did not want. He was now in possession of her private and unlisted phone number. He might even have her address. She knew all too well how persistent and seductively convincing he could be. She had to be on her guard for whatever attempts at a loving reconciliation Calvin had planned for her.

  Liv was constantly trying to convince her to give up retirement, telling Chloe of the offers she still received for her once-top supermodel. Liv actually believed the tabloid story helped to boost Chloe back into the minds and hearts of her fans. And of course Liv had a hand in her next dilemma; how else had they gotten her number?

  The president of Ashanti Cosmetics was calling her personally at home to offer a business proposition. The company had always been very obliging to her needs as their spokeswoman, and somehow she knew their proposition would be irresistible. She would of course honor their request for a meeting because of their past working relationship, but she had to be on her guard not to relent and accept the offer. No matter how inviting.

  And lastly, she knew that if she didn’t guard her precious heart more carefully, she could easily find herself falling for Devon, going beyond her unspoken rule of the body but not the heart.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Monday morning dawned bright and early for Chloe, but she wished the sun had never risen. Longingly she turned on her side to clutch Devon’s pillow to her, wishing that it was truly him. With a groan she threw the pillow to the floor.

  Why did the man have to be so obstinate and stubborn?

  Last night he had surprised her by driving down to her house. She had been pleased and touched when he told her he missed her and followed his impulse to see her immediately. After making glorious love, they showered and sat towel-clad in the steam room, something Chloe had to talk him into for nearly twenty minutes before he agreed. It was as they sat, sweating and inhaling the steam, that she finally got the nerve to tell him about her upcoming trip to New York.

  With a grimace, Chloe recalled the brief and highly disappointing conversation.

  “Uhm Devon, we need to talk,” she began as she watched his muscled form, clad only in a loose-fitting towel, stretched out on the wooden bench along the wall of the steam room.

  He bent one leg up on the bench and put his arm over his eyes. “About?”

  Chloe watched him closely from where she sat on the bench opposite him. “About . . . uhm . . . me leaving for New York Sunday.”

  She saw his body tense for one brief second before he regained his relaxed composure. “Are you coming back?”

  His voice revealed nothing and Chloe didn’t know what to think. “Of course I’m coming back, Devon. Holtsville is my home now.”

  She moved to sit next to his feet, letting her hand slide from his muscled thigh to up underneath the towel he wore. He tensed at the feel of her hand.

  “Have fun,” he said shortly as he sat up suddenly, causing Chloe’s hand to fall softly to the bench. “Look, I better be getting back home. Nana Lil wasn’t feeling well and I wanna check on her.”

  Chloe immediately felt the distance he put between them as he wordlessly left the steam room. “Damn it,” she swore, her voice whisper soft.

  She shut off the steam and left the room as well, letting the swirls of steam escape out the opened door. He was in the bedroom, almost fully dressed when she reached him.

  “Devon.”

  He looked up from tying his sneakers as he sat on the edge of the bed, where they had made passionate love just minutes before. “Yeah?”

  Confused, Chloe came to sit down next to him. When he made a move, she reached out to clutch his arm. “Devon, I’m going to miss you,” she said, her voice husky as she touched the side of his handsome face. “Gonna miss me?”

  His smile was obviously forced as he turned his head to look at her. “How long will I be missing you for?”

  “Just two weeks.”

  Just two weeks! His mind screamed. But he just nodded. “Okay. Look, I’ll call you when I get in the house.”

  With that he stood and strode from the bedroom. Soon the sound of the front door closing reverberated throughout the quiet house.

  He didn’t call and neither did she. Last night had been the worst night of sleep of her life. He had been so distant and nonchalant. So blasé about it. For God’s sake, he didn’t even ask why she was going back to New York, or give her a chance to tell him.

  Chloe had wanted to share the unexpected
pleasure she was beginning to feel at her chances for winning the award. Of course she knew she shouldn’t have prolonged telling him. But obviously he didn’t care, right?

  Childishly she kicked her feet up in the air under the covers in frustration. “Men ... are ... so . . . so,” she struggled for the right word. “So infuriating.”

  Sighing, she forced herself to calm down. God she missed him. Deshawn and he were supposed to lay the cement for her walkway and patio today. Would they show?

  Oh, who knew?

  ∞

  Devon walked out of his bathroom, toweling off the water beaded on his naked body from the long shower he took. He looked down at his bed and envisioned Chloe lying naked and writhing beneath him. They had shared many long, steamy nights of passion in that very same bed. Ever since she moved into her own house, sleeping in it had never been the same for him.

  “Damn,” he swore, angrily flinging the towel onto the floor.

  Last night when she told him she was leaving for New York, his immediate reaction was to forbid her to go. But he knew forbidding Chloe Bolton to do something was akin to talking to a wall.

  Yes, he would miss her.

  No, he didn’t want her to go.

  Yes, he had been filled with relief when she said she would return in two weeks.

  No, he wasn’t positive she would return.

  He knew she was itching to get back to New York. All along he had doubts about her moving to Holtsville permanently, and this only confirmed those suspicions for him. She said only for two weeks. Then why was she going at all?

  Last night he had to get out of her house, so sure that he was on the verge of making a fool out of himself by trying to talk her out of going. He felt that if she got caught up in her life back in New York, she would see what Holtsville lacked and not return.

  Right now he just couldn’t fathom his life without Chloe in it. “Damn,” he swore. He was in deeper than he thought.

  ∞

  When he and Deshawn turned into her yard, her SUV was not parked there. He ignored the look of confusion Deshawn shot in his direction as they exited the vehicle. They started mixing cement and stones at nine a.m., and by noon they were well into the job.