“Oh.”
“So you see I have no desire to reconcile with him, although he is quite persistent in his attempts to win me back.” Chloe rolled her eyes heavenward. “This is all his fault, but that still doesn’t excuse the contempt Devon showed me. He truly hurt me, Nana Lil.”
Lil clucked her tongue. “Deshawn told me about all that, but Devon must’ve been awfully mad and jealous to act in such a way.”
“Maybe it’s all for the best anyway,” she said, her voice resigned. A blessing in disguise.
“Chloe, you and Devon need to talk and—”
“Nana Lil, I’d rather not talk about it anymore.”
Lil heard the firm finality in Chloe’s tone and let any further arguments she had pass . . . for now. “Okay, but I hope you both know what you’re doing.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re not ever coming back? What about the house?” Her voice was worried and saddened.
“I’m coming back home, Nana Lil, even though it will be hard.” I just don’t know if I can stand living in Holtsville and not being with Devon.
“Is the award show going to be on television?”
“Yes ma’am.” Chloe gave her the time and cable station the ceremony was being broadcast on. “You’re going to watch it?”
Lil laughed. “Of course. I want to see you win.”
“I might lose,” Chloe said seriously.
“Oh no baby, you’ll win,” she said with confidence that sent a surge of love for the older woman through Chloe.
“Thanks, Nana Lil.”
“Oh, and Chloe?”
“Ma’am?”
“I give you and Vonnie one week to get it together. After that I’m butting in.”
Chloe rubbed her fingertips over her eyes. “Nana Lil—”
“One week,” Lil stated firmly. “Give me your number so that I can call and check up on you.”
She recited the number. “I’ll call you sometime next week, Nana Lil, okay . . . alright ... I will . . . bye-bye.”
Chloe pushed the TALK button on the phone and flung it beside her on the bed amongst the jumbled linen. At least she wasn’t the only one miserable. So Devon was in a foul mood and moping around the house. Good!
Maybe now he was regretting his behavior. Or maybe he still believed she was in New York with Calvin.
Bzzz.
That was the intercom. She knew it was Anika since her friend was the only person who knew she was in town early. With a groan she pulled herself up off the bed and walked to the intercom system in the hallway. “Yes Mr. Harrison?”
“A Mr. Calvin Ingram to see you.”
Chloe saw a kaleidoscope of a hundred shades of red fill her line of vision. How dare he come to her home? How did he know she was in town? She knew that she should confront him once and for all and put a final end to his attempts at reconciliation, but she instead pushed the TALK button of the intercom system. “Mr. Harrison, do not allow him entrance and please inform him that I do not wish to see him.”
She pushed the LISTEN button, but Mr. Harrison’s end was quiet for a few seconds before he finally spoke. “Ms. Bolton, he has left as instructed, although he was not pleased to do so.”
“Thanks Mr. Harrison.”
Okay, so she wimped out. The only way to put an end to Calvin’s interruptions in her life was to set him straight and stop running from a confrontation with him. But she just wasn’t in the mood for it all. More important thoughts plagued her.
Chloe wasn’t surprised when her phone began to ring a few minutes later. Quite sure it was Calvin, she cut the ringers off of all her phones, moving quickly throughout the apartment until silence reigned once again in her home.
Devon and Calvin were so different. Never could she imagine the aloof and quietly arrogant Devon behaving in the relentlessly obsessive way Calvin was. But then Calvin had been in love with her, or at least claimed to be. Devon had made no such admissions.
Although Chloe told herself that she didn’t want to become absorbed in another man the way she had been about Calvin, when she reviewed her behavior the past week she knew she was very close to doing the same thing. She was near tears at every slow song she heard, moping around her unkempt house looking just as unkempt with constant thoughts of Devon. Hell, she even went and stood in her bathroom to watch herself cry in the vanity.
And that was just . . . pitiful!
Bzzz.
Chloe groaned. If that was Calvin she would call the police and let them deal with him, since she lacked the courage to do so. She left the den where she had just settled onto the sofa to watch television. Another intercom pad was located directly by the front door.
“Yes.”
“It’s Ms. Foxx, Ms. Bolton.”
“Send her up, Mr. Harrison.”
Chloe left the front door slightly ajar and dragged herself back into the den. It wasn’t long before she heard the click of Anika’s heels on the marble floor after she closed the front door.
“Where are you in this oversized pig sty?” she called out.
“Den,” Chloe yelled back.
Anika appeared in the wide archway. Of course she looked fantastic, wearing a bronze leather blazer, a ribbed silk sweater and matching wool pants with dark mocha leather ankle boots and gold accessories. Her solid curvaceous frame carried the suit well.
“All right Chloe, enough is enough. Sitting around her moping and going to pot proves what?”
Chloe barely looked away from the sixty-inch television. “I’m not moping, nor am I going to pot. I’m just . . . relaxing.”
Anika swung her purse and leather portfolio onto the couch next to Chloe. “No, what you’re doing is pining away for a man that you refuse to even admit that you’re in love with.”
That got Chloe’s full attention, her expression one of total shock. “I am not in love with that arrogant, stubborn, pigheaded hick Devon Jamison,” she shrieked angrily, completely overreacting.
“Who are you trying to convince? Me?” Anika asked, waving a well-manicured hand at herself. “Or you?”
Just then a video show Chloe was watching played “When Will I See You Smile Again?" by Bell Bill Devoe. Seconds later she was bawling like a baby.
“Good heavens,” Anika moaned, looking heavenward for assistance. Yet she says she’s not in love!
Anika reached down and plucked the remote control from Chloe’s quivering hand, immediately shutting the television off with a decisive click. “You miss him, right?”
Chloe sniffed, only able to nod in response.
“Then call him.”
Chloe sniffed again, and shook her head no.
“Well that’s your life, live it. But I refuse to continue letting you sit around like this any longer.” Anika pulled her leather blazer off and laid it on the back of the chair. “Now I took it upon myself as your sistafriend to schedule that meeting with Ashanti Cosmetics today at four p.m. Needless to say, you need to wash, change and do your hair. But first we’re gonna clean this apartment up.” Anika shook her head in disgust. “If it gets any worse the Department of Health will close this place down, and I’d gladly hang the ‘Stay Out’ notice on your front door myself.”
“Ha ha, Anika. Real funny,” Chloe said sarcastically.
Ignoring her friend, Anika crossed her arms over her ample chest. “I’m taking the day off from work. Oh, you’re gonna get something accomplished today. So where do you want to start?”
Chapter Twenty
The fall and winter were never a busy time for Jamison Contractors, and Devon wished that was different now. With nothing but free time on his hands, he found himself constantly thinking of Chloe. Good thoughts and bad. He was very willing to admit that he missed her.
She had made him laugh, she’d given him passion in his life, and she’d made him stop and enjoy all the pleasure and wonders that he took for granted in the country. He smiled as he thought of how she never backed down from him in an argument, something ma
ny men couldn’t say. She gave as good as she got. Just like a down-home woman.
Damn it!
Foolishly, he had begun to think that Chloe and he were building on something, that their relationship had moved beyond sex. God, he felt so stupid. With a growl he crumpled up the architectural design of a contemporary two-story house he was working on, just to kill some time.
Tossing the pencil aside, he looked around the renovated barn. The office was quiet, the phone only ringing once since he had been there and that had been a wrong number. Alicia usually came in every day like clockwork, and right now she would have had the radio playing or been watching those soap operas she loved so much.
Devon missed his friend. Or at least the person she had been before her jealousy of Chloe had eclipsed her. Or was it more than her feelings against Chloe, and instead her feelings for him?
Alicia hadn’t denied being in love with him the evening they confronted her about the Star Gazer article on Chloe. Was a hidden love for him the motivation behind Alicia’s hate campaign against Chloe?
It was still very hard for Devon to believe that. Alicia had never shown any inclination of amorous feelings toward him. She’d been like a little sister to both Deshawn and him. He couldn’t imagine that deep down she had harbored feelings for him. Surely he would have seen some sign, or was he as blind as Chloe had accused him of being?
Devon thought back on all the nights he’d eaten dinner over at her house, or the few times he’d even slept on her couch overnight, or the many times she listened to him discuss other women he was involved with. That surely was not the behavior of a woman who wanted a man for more than a good friend.
Hell, he didn’t know.
Sighing, he wiped his deep-set obsidian eyes and glanced at the clock on the wall. Once again he had no plans for the evening. Going to Charlie’s didn’t entice him, but it would be a way to pass a few hours. Briefly he contemplated calling one of his female friends, but just as quickly he rejected the idea.
What woman could wipe Chloe from his memory?
No one.
He stretched his tall, muscled frame and stood. Perhaps he should work on talking Donnie into renovating. They didn’t need the money but a long day of physical labor would leave him too tired to do anything at night but sleep, and hopefully not dream.
As he turned off the lights and left the building behind him, he promised himself to ride out to the diner with a proposal for the surly, tightwad owner.
Already the sun had set, casting the skies in varying hues of graying blues as night approached. Devon walked over to the house and sat down on the swing. It had been so long since he had done his once nightly ritual of sitting on the porch long into the night, enjoying the solitude. Until recently his nights had been filled with loving Chloe.
Chloe.
What is she doing in New York? Is she still with Calvin? Is she dining out with celebrity friends? Does she miss me?
They were hundreds of miles apart, but with the differences in their worlds it might as well be a million. He was a fool to have believed she would enjoy quiet nights swinging on a porch watching the sun set and the moon rise, listening to the lulling sounds of night creatures, willing to take life at a leisurely pace.
“Coming in for dinner, Vonnie?”
Devon looked up in surprise at his grandmother standing in the doorway. “You talking to me now?” he asked laughingly, turning back to look up at the full moon now in residence in the darkening skies, framed by the outline of the tall pine trees.
Nana Lil said nothing, instead pushing the screen door wider open to walk out onto the porch. The door squeaked in the stillness of the night before closing with a swish. Devon moved over to make room on the swing for her. The faint scent of her lavender oil surrounded him, and Devon was hit with a sudden pang of nostalgia. He remembered being surrounded by that scent as a child when this strong, resilient woman would hold him close to her with love.
They swung in silence for long minutes, surrounded by the unique sounds of a country night, before Lil spoke. “I really miss Chloe you know.”
Immediately she felt him stiffen beside her, his face tightened with some emotion she couldn’t identify offhand. Okay, she could tell now was not the time to stir her hand in the pot. He wasn’t ready to listen yet, and she never wasted good advice on deaf ears.
“Vonnie, I’m going in my room. You and Shawnie’s dinner is in the oven.” Lil stood and then impulsively pulled his upper body into her arms tightly. “I love you, Devon,” she whispered huskily.
Devon closed his eyes, allowing himself to wish he was still a child and his Nana could kiss his troubles away. “Love you too, Nana.”
She went into the house, the screen door squeaking close with a final slam against the frame. Devon remained swinging late into the night. He was comforted by his grandmother’s faint scent, still clinging to his shirt, and haunted by a hazel-eyed temptress. If only everything could have turned out differently.
∞
In the cool darkness of her room Nana Lil lay in discomfort quietly. The headaches were getting worse instead of better. She repositioned the folded wet cloth on her forehead, praying for some release from the sharp pain that radiated there. It was so intense that any movement of her body sharpened it.
Already she had taken three over-the-counter pain tablets, but that was twenty minutes ago and she wasn’t feeling the effects of it yet. Sighing, Lil said a silent prayer to the Lord.
∞
The black ribbon of the road was nearly empty, save for a few cars that passed Deshawn’s truck. He ignored the sulking pouty looks interspersed with angry glares that Poochie shot in his direction as he drove them home from the hotel. Usually, whenever they were in a car together she lay clutched to his arm, or arousing parts of his body the way she loved. Tonight she pressed herself to the passenger door so closely that he hoped it was properly closed or she would surely fall out.
Deciding to use his charm to get his way and stop her from being mad at him, Deshawn reached his right hand over the seat to grip her lush thigh in the tight jeans she wore.
“Don’t . . . touch . . . me!” she shrieked. If it was at all possible, she pressed herself closer to the door. “I don’t see why we couldn’t spend the night in the room, and go home in the morning.”
“Because Devon and I have an early morning job to do,” he lied easily, with his best smooth talking voice. “Baby, I have to get some rest so that I have energy for work in the morning. You know I can’t lay next to you all night without making love to that beautiful . . . soft . . . body.”
She looked cautiously over at him, the sound of his warm- oneyed voice disconcerting. He could see the edge begin to wear off already. For good measure he threw in his killer smile. As if by reflex, she smiled in return. Deshawn knew he had her.
Poochie scooted over on the seat and gave him a quick peck on the lips, which she would have deepened if Deshawn hadn’t quickly avoided it by turning back his head to look at the road ahead of him. That didn’t stop her from massaging his thighs.
He was more than glad when he pulled into the dirt yard of the house where she lived with her mother. Deshawn shook his head at the haphazardly hung Venetian blinds in the windows. If she would just love to clean as much as she loved to have sex, their house would be spotless.
Anxious to get home to his own bed, Deshawn kissed her once briefly. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he drawled.
Reluctantly, she opened the truck door, but turned to face him before she got out. “Too bad you had to work tomorrow because I’ve been practicing getting my legs all the way behind my head.”
Deshawn visualized the daring move and was tempted to tell her to get in and head back to the Best Western. No, he seriously needed a break from all the sex they’d been having. And that was an odd thought for him!
“Save it for me baby.” He leaned over and kissed her full lips lightly. “I’ll have to just dream about it tonight.”
Still displeased with the way the night turned out, but now charmed by her wily lover, Poochie left the truck with a wave before walking into the house.
Not that Deshawn noticed because he was already backing out of the yard before she got in the house good. He drove the remaining miles home in silence. That last go-round with Poochie in that chair had him drained, and he was more than ready to hit the sack . . . alone.
When he pulled into the yard, he saw that his twin was swinging on the porch. Deshawn glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. It was 1:38 a.m.
He parked and got out of the truck, taking the steps up onto the porch two at a time. “'What’s up, Dev?”
Devon shrugged. “Nothing much.”
Tired as hell but well aware that if his twin was sitting on their porch in the wee hours of the morning that something must be on his mind, Deshawn wearily sat next to him on the swing. “Can’t sleep?”
Devon shrugged again. “Just enjoying the porch before winter sets in is all.”
Deshawn nodded slowly several times, mulling that bit of information over. “Thinking about Chloe, huh?”
“Nope.”
“Yeah, right.” Deshawn pushed off with his foot, causing the swing to slowly glide back and forth. “Look, I know it ain’t none of my business but I think you’re wrong about her.”
“Look De—”
“Wait, wait. Let me just say this.” He held up a hand. “Before she moved here you accused her of being some sort of airhead heroin junkie with evil intentions toward Holtsville. Later you found out you were wrong. She told you about Alicia’s rather obsessive crush on you, and you didn’t believe it. Once again you were . . . well, wrong. She told us about Alicia selling the story and the pictures to the tabloid, and we sided with Alicia at first. Once again you, along with the rest of us, were wrong again. See a pattern developing?”
“This is different, Shawn,” he snapped.
Admission of Love Page 25