Redemption (Iris Series)

by Lynn, Rebecca

  Luke was one of the board members at the Manhattan Institute for Art and Design where Ryann taught, but primarily was a bigwig in the fashion industry.

  “She’s good. She’s head deep looking for a place and meeting with her realtor like every day. She’s been reevaluating what she wants to do with her life. I keep telling her to go into charity work. She’s got such a heart for people. I mean, she’s got her own money, not to mention the settlement from her ex. She can use that and her experience of being married to a politician, along with her business degree, to get something started. She’s thinking about it.”

  “That would be right up her alley,” Ryann said. “Some charity for women, maybe. I think her ex really did a number on her emotionally. Maybe if it was something to help women, she would gain some of her self-esteem back.”

  “Asshole. Someone should’ve just cut the guy’s dick off,” Ayanna muttered.

  “Yeah, but then how would he be able to fuck all those younger women?” Emily deadpanned.

  “Maybe we should ask her to join us for the self-defense class. That might make her feel better,” Janie interjected.

  “That’s a good idea. Can you ask her when you get home?” Ryann asked.

  “Yup,” Janie agreed.

  They talked for a little while longer, then the girls headed out around eight o’clock.

  “I’m gonna head up and say hi to Jonathan real quick,” Emily said. “I’ll see you guys next week.”

  Hugs were shared all around.

  “Tell him I said hi,” Ryann said.

  “Okie dokes. Later guys,” and with that, Emily was gone.

  Ryann and Janie headed for the door, as well. Janie said her goodbyes then waited in the hall for Ryann.

  Ryann reached out her hand. “You doing okay?”

  “You mean without sex?” Ayanna asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Ryann smiled softly. “This is a big deal for you, Yan. I imagine you’re learning a whole lot about yourself.”

  Ayanna snorted. “That’s putting it mildly. At least I have B.O.B. to keep me company,” she muttered, referring to her vibrator. “Which reminds me, I need to get me some more batteries.”

  Ryann laughed and hugged her. “No appearance from Jonathan yet, I assume.”

  Ayanna snorted again.

  Ryann sighed. “He’s a good guy. He’ll apologize eventually. They’re just such friggin’ idiots sometimes.”

  “Whatever. I’m not waiting around for it, or anything,” Ayanna said, sounding a little pouty.

  Ryann looked at her and started to say something, then changed her expression. “Well, love ya. I’m sure we’ll talk before next Monday, but I’ll see you then.”

  “Love you, too.” They hugged and Ryann left.

  Ayanna was finally alone. She looked at the box of pizzas longingly, but closed it up and put it away in the fridge, continuing to unpack.

  ……

  After putting on a mix of her favorite songs, she hung one of her saris up as a separator from her kitchen to the living room. She had a whole collection of the deeply vibrant authentic Indian fabrics in beautiful jewel tones, embroidered with gorgeous metallic threads and beading. She loved to drape them around and they looked great against the deep wine color on the living room walls that Ryann had painted only weeks before.

  The collection of silks, organzas, and satins always made her feel close to her heritage, and the place was finally beginning to feel like home.

  She had just finished hanging the one by the kitchen when there was knock on her front door.

  She paused and looked slowly toward the entrance of the apartment. Her heart rate began to pick up.

  This time she knew it wasn’t one of the girls.

  This time she knew it would be the person she had been wanting, but dreading, to see.

  She made her way to the door.

  Chapter 3

  She looked through the peephole and sighed. Stepping back, she took a steadying breath and opened the door.

  There before her stood her nemesis. The man who was her worst nightmare, and her best wet dream.

  She wished to hell he didn’t look so good. A pair of worn jeans and a tight gray t-shirt showed off his cut arms and chest to perfection. His short dirty blonde hair was sticking up as if he’d been running his fingers through it, and his smart glasses were highlighting his baby blues.

  Yup. Ryan Gosling had nothing on him. Johnny Be Good looked, well, good. Delicious, actually.

  Dammit.

  She, however, looked like she had just rolled around in a dustbin after all of the unpacking she had done. Leggings and white t-shirt, hair up in a messy ponytail.

  Oh, well. She wasn’t trying to impress men for the time being, right?

  “Well, Mr. White,” she drawled. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  He looked intently at her, leaning against the door jam with a brown paper gift bag hanging from his fingers.

  “Welcoming committee,” he murmured, raising an eyebrow.

  “Really. You’re on the welcoming committee of the co-op board? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  His eyes took on an apologetic gleam and he said, “I knew you were moving in sometime today and I wanted to bring you something.” He paused. “Emily just popped up and said you were here, so. . .,” His voice trailed off and his eyes focused in on her. “Can I come in?”

  New leaf, Ayanna. New leaf. She moved away from the door and nodded.

  After closing the door, they walked into the living room. He looked around. “Looks like you still need to get some stuff.”

  “Yeah. I’d offer you a seat, but as you can see, I don’t have one. Looks like you’re gonna have to use your own seat and park it on the floor over there.” She pointed to a spot where there were no boxes. And my my, what a fine looking seat it was.

  He gave one of his amused smiles and said, “Well, before I do that, I wanted to give you something.” He handed her the brown paper gift bag.

  She pulled out the following items and placed them on a side table that was clear. A loaf of Italian bread, a shaker of salt, a bottle of red wine, and a decorative glass container of expensive olive oil.

  She looked up at him and swallowed down the emotion that hit her. “Bread so I don’t go hungry, salt for adding flavor to life, wine for happiness, and olive oil for health.”

  His eyes twinkled. “I figured you’d know the tradition.”

  She spoke quietly. “You got all of this for me? All by yourself? Like you picked it out and everything?”

  He nodded while looking at her.

  This was the first gift she’d been given by a man who wasn’t expecting a blow job in return. She was a little thrown to be honest, and melted a little inside.

  She waited a beat, then spoke.

  “Well, thanks. That was very thoughtful of you,” she said softly. And she meant it. She took a breath. “Would you like some wine?”

  His mouth kicked up. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  She went into the kitchen and pulled out two wine glasses, opened the wine and poured, all the while wondering what he was really doing there. She brought the wine back into the living room, just as she caught Jonathan looking at her sari collection.

  He took the glass and directed it toward the fabrics. “These are beautiful. Are these from your family?”

  “Just this one here,” she motioned to one that was folded on top of a box. “It was my grandmother’s.”

  “Where did you get the rest of these?” He sifted his fingers through the fabric of her grandmother’s sari. She had worn that very one to her cousin’s wedding the year before. Watching him intimately touch the silky fabric that had once touched her skin caused a moment of awareness to stir, and her body clenched.

  “I’ve collected them over the years. I’ve always loved the colors, the feel of them.” She shrugged. “They just make me feel good having them around.” She took a sip of wine, trying to cal
m herself from the unexpected pleasure she felt.

  “I can see why. They give the place a more sensual feel, like a boudoir or something.”

  Ayanna choked a little on the wine, but tried to cover it up with a cough. “A boudoir? What is this, 19th century England?” She gave him a smile.

  He chuckled and looked at her. “Haven’t you ever seen those old period films? The woman who has a red sitting room, and her sexy silky things hanging all over lamp shades and stuff? It screams female. The word ‘boudoir’ just seems to suit you.”

  He gave her an inscrutable look and she had no idea where he was going with this. He better not have been implying that the room looked like it belonged to a woman of ill repute or anything like that. She bristled slightly.

  “Why are you really here, Jonathan?”

  He sighed. “Do you mind if we sit?” He didn’t wait for a reply and sat, leaning against the wall opposite her.

  She sat as well and took another calming sip of her wine.

  He bent one leg while the other was out straight in front of him, then he propped his arm on his knee, the wine glass dangling from his fingers.

  A moment passed while they let the soulful voice of Sarah McLachlan sing about her inability to speak every time she was close to the man she loved. The ballad floated over them.

  He cleared his throat.

  “I wanted to apologize.”

  She nearly fell over, but played it cool. “For what?”

  He gave her a droll look. “You know for what. And it’s been a long time in coming, I’m ashamed to say. My mother taught me better.”

  Her heartbeat skipped. “I’m listening.”

  He looked at her and appeared to be thinking of how to start.

  “You’re a very attractive woman, Ayanna,” he said, and he didn’t look too happy about it.

  “I’m...sorry?” Why did she feel like she needed to apologize for that?

  He rolled his eyes and continued. “You don’t need to apologize. You know you’re beautiful. At the 4th of July barbeque,” he sighed, “I don’t even know why we started arguing. I just know that I said some things I shouldn’t have said. And I’m sorry for saying them. For hurting you, if I did.”

  The weight which had been sitting on her chest for the past several weeks every time she was around him seemed to lift. She took a moment and nodded, breathing in deeply.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. “And for the record, the reason we started arguing was because you thought I was shamelessly flirting with all of the men at the party. And you thought I was dressed inappropriately. I believe your exact words were I had on a pair of shorts that barely covered my ass crack, and I was wearing a shirt that was practically painted on.”

  He cringed and she smiled sweetly at him. He took a sip of his wine, then put it down on the hardwood floor beside him.

  Remembering Ryann’s thought that there was a story there, she decided she’d push him a little further.

  “Why did you say it?”

  He sighed, running his fingers through his hair then back down his face. He took a quick burst of a cleansing breath. “I said it because I’m an ass.”

  “That might be true,” she quipped, “but that’s not why you said it.” She gave him a pointed look that made him squirm like a worm on a hook. “Why, Jonathan? Did my choice of clothes really offend you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because,” he shifted on the floor, “you have a way about you that—” He took another cleansing breath. “That screams sex.” He gave her a heated look.

  Whoa. She wasn’t expecting that. The look he was giving her was making her want to change her mind about the 40 day thing. Like, right now.

  “Umm. Okay. And so you have something against sex?” she asked, just to get his goat.

  “I have absolutely nothing against sex. I happen to like sex,” he said, then paused with meaning. “Very much, actually,” he murmured, pointedly looking her in the eyes and causing a zing to go through her girly parts. “I just—” His voice trailed off.

  “You just what?”

  “This way about you,” he continued. “It’s very open, to men especially.”

  “And?” Ayanna wasn’t tracking with him.

  He looked at her as if she was purposely being obtuse. “And men see that, and want that from you, obviously.”

  “I say again, and? Apparently not all men. You didn’t want it.” She felt it was necessary to point that out to him.

  He looked like he was struggling for words. He ignored her comment and continued. “It was annoying me for some unknown reason that you were being that way with the men at the party. If you want a man to take you seriously, then maybe you shouldn’t let guys think it’s so readily available,” he said in a disgruntled tone.

  Everything he was saying was right on the money. But he was still pissing her off.

  “Listen, Johnny Be Good, you need to relax a bit. First of all, you shouldn’t care about my approach with men because you’ve made it abundantly clear you’re not interested. Secondly, I wasn’t flirting with any of the men at the party. I was being nice, conversational. Charming. Trust me when I say, I know the difference. I can’t help it if men are attracted to me. And I wasn’t propositioning them. I wasn’t asking them to take me home so I could have my wicked way with them.”

  “You did with me,” he growled, getting his own piss on.

  Yes, she had, much to her embarrassment. Being turned down by him was not her finest moment.

  “Touché,” she acknowledged. “But not at the party, I didn’t. And rest assured, I won’t be propositioning you again, so don’t worry. Your virtue is safe from my sluttiness,” she said feeling annoyed, gulping the rest of her wine.

  “I didn’t say that you were a slut, for fuck’s sake. I don’t think of you that way at all,” he said, exasperated.

  He was getting worked up, so she cocked her head and gave him a ‘come on’ look.

  “I don’t. Shit. I can’t even apologize to you in the right way.” He ran his hand through his hair again.

  She took pity on him. “Your apology is accepted. And you really are safe from me, you know.” She hesitated. “Emily didn’t happen to mention anything about me when she was visiting?”

  “Like?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “Never mind,” she muttered, waving her hand as if to wipe the comment from his memory.

  “Now you have me intrigued.” He waited. “Come on. Start talking.”

  She took a huge breath and let it out. Here goes. “I’ve given up sex.”

  There was a long pause. He just blinked. Then, “Excuse me?”

  She chuckled. “I said, I’ve given up sex.”

  “Umm,” he looked disconcerted. “Like, forever?”

  Her smile got even more mischievous. “I’ve decided to become a nun.”

  It was his turn to give her the ‘come on’ look.

  She let out a bark of laughter and continued. “You don’t think I could be a nun?”

  “Well, except for the poverty, chastity, and obedience thing, you might do just fine.”

  Her eyes were twinkling. “I could probably handle the poverty thing, having lived hand to mouth my entire adult life, but the obedience thing would be a deal breaker. And the chastity thing.” She muttered, “Yeah, this chastity thing is definitely not easy.”

  “Explain what the hell you’re talking about, please.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose.

  She took a deep breath and began her explanation matter of factly. “Ryann and I have been best friends since we were 10. She knows me better than anyone in the world. So, lately we’ve had a few talks and I’ve been reflecting a bit. And,” she took a deep breath, “I’ve decided to take a break from sexual activities, shall we say, so that I can focus on myself for a while, figure out who I am, and what I want out of a meaningful relationship. The ‘no sex’ thing will help me do that.”


  She couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking. His only response was to reach for his wine and drain the glass.

  She chuckled. This was going to be fun. “So, you see? You really are safe from my sluttiness.”

  He scratched his head. “What brought this decision on?”

  She decided to go with honesty. “You, actually.”

  “Well, you really know how to stroke a guy’s ego, Yan.”

  She did a slight double take. That was the first time he’d called her by the nickname. Warmth spread through her and she smiled wickedly, enjoying their banter.

  “I haven’t given up sex because you turned me off of it. I’ve given up sex because your reaction to me, or lack thereof, caused me to pause and think through my approach. And how I come across to men.”

  “Explain.”

  “You’re not anything like the men I usually go after.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “The first night we met, I made my interest known. I usually don’t hit on guys like you.”

  “So why did you?”

  She hesitated then said, “You were different.”

  “In what way?”

  “You’re a good guy.”

  “Do you usually date criminals?” he asked dryly.

  “Some of ’em probably were,” she muttered. “As much as I hate to admit it, most of them were chosen to piss off my parents. Men who are easily controlled, who don’t have a lot of goals, and are around only for a good time. Just short blips on the radar.”

  “I would think any daughter who brought home guys like that would piss off her parents.”

  She nodded. “Well it did. And before that I found other ways to...make them aware of me. I started young,” her eyes losing their spark as she recalled the many years she’d wasted trying to get her parents’ attention.

  She could tell the conversation was headed in a direction that neither of them might be ready for. Then he surprised her when he said seriously, “Do you want to talk? I’m happy to listen, if you want to.”

  She blinked and looked at him, a little stunned. This is how she knew he was a good guy.