Oh, hell. Having her around all day was bad enough. Now he’d have to endure the evening with her, too. If he weren’t giving the acceptance speech, he’d skip the banquet. Kirk realized his hand had balled into a fist. Abruptly, he murmured an excuse to Ramon, swung around and stalked back to his office.
He managed to keep out of Tonya’s way the rest of the day. When he glanced out his window and saw the pickup drive off late in the afternoon, he breathed a heavy sigh. At least he could relax until time for the banquet. Maybe she wouldn’t come, he thought hopefully.
But he knew she would. Okay, he’d say hello, be polite and cool. No fraternizing with the Brewster elite.
Later as he strode down the hall, he saw that she’d left her office door open. He slowed as he went by, then stopped in the doorway of the now cluttered room. Damned if he couldn’t smell her perfume. Even though she’d been gone a good half hour, the musky, exotic scent lingered and teased his nostrils. It made him think of a hot, humid night, thick with the fragrance of jasmine. He imagined a garden steeped in moonlight, a woman in his arms, her hair flowing over his fingers, her lips moist and open under his. Tonya, he thought, then cursed viciously.
“¿Qué pasa?”
Kirk started at Ramon’s voice. He hadn’t even noticed the other man come up beside him. What’s going on? Nothing except that I’m losing my mind. “Just remembered something I have to take care of.” He continued down the hall:
Ramon fell into step beside him. “Tonya seems to be settling in just fine. She wants to get together with everyone and go over the specific programs each person’s handling. She gave me a list. You’re first”
Damn! So much for keeping out of her way. “When’s the meeting?” Kirk asked.
“Tomorrow. She said she has a couple things to take care of first. She’ll meet with you in your office at ten—”
He could summarize his programs quickly, get her out of his way by ten-thirty, eleven at the latest.
“And then spend the rest of the day with you, observing.”
“The day! She wants to spend the whole damn day?” Tonight, tomorrow, six months. When would he get her out of his hair?
Ramon nodded. “What’s the problem? You’ve had observers here before.”
But not her. “No big deal,” Kirk said quickly. “I’m busy, that’s all.”
“Hey, amigo, for the amount of money Brewster’s giving us, you can be less busy for a day.”
“Right,” Kirk said without conviction.
Ramon put a hand on Kirk’s shoulder. “I know you don’t like her, but try not to let it show.”
“No problem.” With an effort, Kirk controlled a laugh. What he didn’t like was his extraordinary reaction to her. He was no better than the teenagers who came to the center. His hormones were raging out of control, and he hoped he could keep that from showing.
There’d been plenty of women in his life but only one who’d mattered. And even with Amelia he hadn’t felt this instant attraction, this frantic craving. Their relationship had developed over time. They’d met in an English class their junior year in college. She was the sorority girl; no matter that he was a product of the inner city, he was the football hero, then an NFL draft pick. They’d been the perfect couple. Until his professional football career had ended in an explosion of pain after only one game. And when it was clear he’d become an ex-football hero, Amelia had dropped him—just when he’d needed her most
No, he didn’t want another Amelia, another spoiled rich debutante. He’d been careful to confine his relationships—if his short-term involvements could be termed relationships—to women who weren’t from the country club set. And he intended to keep it that way. Unfortunately, his libido didn’t seem to be getting the message.
THE ROTARY CLUB BANQUET was held at a Holiday Inn near the downtown area. Tonya stopped at the desk and got directions for the ballroom. Inside, she glanced around, looking for the group from the OK Center. She spotted Kirk immediately. Head and shoulders above the rest, he stood in the center of a circle of men and women.
God, he looked gorgeous. Gone were the ragged jeans and scruffy sneakers. Tonight he wore an impeccably tailored navy blue suit, crisp white shirt and patterned tie. A disguise, she thought. Although he could pass for a corporate executive this evening, he couldn’t quite conceal the sexy pirate that lurked beneath the polished facade. As she walked toward him, Tonya’s pulse accelerated.
He turned, glanced around the room and saw her. Tonya smiled and waved. Kirk responded with a nod. He didn’t even return her smile, but his eyes traveled over her as if he were assessing every inch of her outfit...and what was underneath. He wasn’t the first man who’d undressed her with his eyes, but he was the first to whom she’d reacted so strongly. She felt a mixture of excitement, trepidation and pleasure—a jumble of emotions that thoroughly confused her.
She forced herself to look away from Kirk and search for the rest of the OK Center staff. She spied Ladonna, attired in a gold knit dress, deep in conversation with a middle-aged man in a brown suit. And Ramon, standing with his arm around a petite brunette. He saw Tonya and waved.
When she reached them, Ramon introduced her first to his wife, Elena, then to several of the Rotarians. Tonya acknowledged the introductions, greeted Ladonna, and glanced at Kirk. He didn’t speak. Well, she could remedy that. She marched straight over to him. “Kirk, how are you?” she asked.
His expression didn’t change, but at least she’d forced him to acknowledge her. “Fine. Glad you could make it.”
Liar, Tonya thought, and flashed him a brilliant smile, then began a conversation with the gentleman beside her. She was used to the social scene, comfortable with it, and she had no trouble mixing with the Rotarians and their guests. As she did, she was conscious of Kirk watching her.
Surreptitiously, she observed him, too. He surprised her. One of the men in the group asked if he was following the Dawson case, the trial of a high-profile land developer accused of poisoning his wife that had made daily headlines in the Houston Express.
“The prosecutor has a mountain of evidence, but it’s all circumstantial,” Kirk said, and proceeded to discuss the case in detail. Tonya heard snatches of his conversation and realized how articulate he was.
She wouldn’t have thought him a social kind of guy, but he was smooth and self-assured in this group of businesspeople. Of course, he could have no confidence at all and still score with the women. Even though many were a good ten or even twenty years his senior, they fluttered around him, blushing like schoolgirls at his every glance.
At dinner, he sat one table over from her, but she could tell when he looked her way because the hair on the back of her neck prickled.
Dinner consisted of standard banquet fare—green salad, chicken, green beans, rolls. Tonya wondered why the restaurant chef didn’t dress up the food a bit with some kind of zippy sauce for the chicken or a different vegetable. Dessert was also predictable—white cake with chocolate frosting. She supposed the after-dinner speeches would be equally bland.
She was wrong.
When the award was presented to the Our Kids Center for “making a difference” in their neighborhood, Tonya was surprised to see Kirk, rather than Ramon, rise to accept it.
He thanked the Rotary Club for the award, then said, “I want to tell you a story. It’s about a boy named Daniel, a young boy, nine years old. He was just a child, really, but he’d already experienced many things no child should....”
Tonya sat listening, mesmerized by his words, by the emotion with which they were spoken, as he told the story. The circumstances were typical of youngsters growing up in the ghetto, and no doubt the audience, like Tonya, had heard dozens of similar stories. But Kirk made this account so touching, so true, that the youngster and his world came alive for everyone in the room. When he spoke of what the OK Center had done to turn young Daniel’s life around, Tonya felt like cheering.
“And on behalf of the Our Kids
Center, I thank you for this award and for the support you’ve given us since we began. With your continued help and that of others, we will keep on making a difference in the lives of young people and their families. Thank you.”
Silence filled the ballroom for a moment, then the audience broke into loud and enthusiastic applause. No wonder they’d chosen Kirk to give the acceptance speech. No one could have been more dynamic.
When the program ended, one of the Rotary vice presidents invited the group from the center for a drink at the hotel bar to celebrate the award. Several other Rotarians joined them. The hostess at the bar had two tables pushed together to accommodate all twelve of them.
Tonya found herself crowded in next to Kirk. “I enjoyed your talk,” she said.
“Thanks.”
They stared at each other in uncomfortable silence for a moment, then turned away.
Tonya struck up a conversation with the couple across from her and soon had them laughing at her account of a recent trip to Mexico.
A combo began to play, and Ramon and his wife left the table to dance. Several others followed. Tonya danced with the Rotary vice president, with Ramon, with an elderly man who’d come alone.
But not with Kirk.
When he turned in her direction, she leaned toward him and murmured, “Don’t you dance?”
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Well then...”
“I like to do the asking.”
Bastard. She raised her chin. “Be my guest,” she muttered, and turned her back “Tell me the history of the Rotary Club,” she said, smiling at the man on her other side.
Tonya concentrated on the Rotarian, trying not to notice the feel of Kirk’s jacket brushing her shoulder, the scent of his aftershave, the sound of his voice. Trying not to notice which women he asked to dance.
Then his hand touched her shoulder, and she jumped. She turned and met his eyes. “Dance with me,” he said.
“That sounds more like telling than asking.”
But she rose and followed him to the small dance floor. When they faced each other, she gave him a teasing smile. “I guess you expect to lead, too.”
“Yeah,” he said, and flashed that quick, captivating grin.
The moment he put his arms around her, she knew she’d made a mistake agreeing to dance with him. His arms held her too firmly; his body was too hard, too masculine; his face was too close. He was the kind of man who made a woman go trembly inside, not the kind with whom she could establish a working relationship.
Her body aligned with his, Tonya seemed to float to the music. She forgot where she was and why she was there and thought only of Kirk. He led, but not the way she’d anticipated. She’d expected a big, tough guy like him to dominate on the dance floor. Instead, he guided her so smoothly, so expertly that she barely noticed he was in control.
When the song ended and he let her go, she blinked and glanced around in confusion. She felt as if she’d awakened from a dream.
Now reality set in, and with it came a question.
Managing all the details involved with overseeing the OK Center would be hard enough. How was she going to manage her attraction to Kirk Butler at the same time?
TONYA PARKED THE PICKUP in front of the OK Center and walked slowly inside. Butterflies danced in her stomach. Yesterday she’d felt confident and enthusiastic. Yesterday she’d only had to unpack her office supplies. Today was another matter.
She’d awakened early and spent an hour alternating between pacing her living room and making lists. Now she had to finish straightening her office, hook up her computer and meet with Kirk. Scheduling him before the other directors had been a good idea. Get the tough items over with first. Kirk Butler was tough.
They’d danced one dance in silence last night. Then he’d taken her back to the table, and they hadn’t spoken for the rest of the evening. But the silence had been emotionally charged. Tonya had felt the electricity as surely as if she’d stuck her finger in a socket.
But this was another day, a workday, and she’d forget the way she’d felt in his arms last night. She’d concentrate on her job. Only trouble was, the job made her almost as nervous as Kirk did. Someday, Grandfather, I’ll get you for this.
It was nearly ten-thirty when she hurried down the hall to Kirk’s office. She’d gotten involved arranging and rearranging things in her office and forgotten the time.
She took a deep breath as she knocked on his door. Did her nervousness show? Of course not, she reassured herself. Kirk might be intimidating but he didn’t read minds. He wouldn’t see nerves because he wouldn’t expect them. She was in charge here.
“Come in,” he called, and she pushed open the door.
“Good morning,” she said.
He nodded to a chair and glanced at his watch. The word sorry was on her lips, but she forced it back. Apologizing would give him the upper hand, and she refused to begin that way. She sat down and crossed her legs. “I want to familiarize myself with the programs here, get a rundown on everyone’s responsibilities.” Pleased with her businesslike start, she opened the notebook she’d brought.
“My title is program director,” Kirk said. “One thing I handle is boys’ athletics, with the help of James Watson, who’s a coach at Jefferson Middle School,” he continued, while she made notes. “Right now we’re into basketball. We’ve divided the kids into teams that play each other. And I’m working on setting up a league with some other centers...”
He had a deep, gravelly voice, a voice that reminded her of a foreign film she’d once rented. It had contained the most sensual love scene she could remember. A dark room, the lovers no more visible than shadows. You couldn’t see them, but you could hear the woman’s soft sighs and the man’s voice, rough and sexy like Kirk’s, telling her what he wanted to do, what he was doing. And how he would do it all over again....
“This afternoon.”
“Hmm?”
“I said, I guess you’ll want to watch practice this afternoon.”
“Oh, yes.” With an effort, she brought herself back to the present. Carefully, she wrote “afternoon practice” in her notebook. “What time?”
“Four.”
She wrote that down, too. “What else do you do?”
“When I’m not coaching, I work with the boys’ club that meets every day after school. It’s a way to keep these kids off the streets. We have activities for them like table tennis and other games, we take them on field trips, oversee their homework and tutor them if they need it I spend a lot of time trying to recruit volunteers.”
“Any success?” Tonya asked.
“Some, but not enough.” He rubbed his chin in a gesture of frustration. “I’d like to get some off-duty cops in here, show the boys the police aren’t the enemy, demonstrate to the cops that these kids have potential, but so far all I’ve gotten is a cold shoulder.”
Tonya wrote that down. Cops. She knew a lot of cops and she had the traffic tickets to prove it. Maybe she could recruit some of them.... “Could you give me some of your stationery, please?” she asked.
Kirk reached in his desk drawer and handed her several sheets. His fingers brushed hers. The touch lasted no longer than a heartbeat, but Tonya had to stifle a gasp.
She glanced up. He was watching her. Amid the hard planes and angles of his face, his eyes were beautiful, a rich, liquid brown and so deep they seemed fathomless. Caught in his hypnotic gaze, she set the pen down. She felt her fingers tremble. Why was he staring at her so intently?
Then he blinked and the brief spell was broken. She let out a deep breath. She’d had something she wanted to say, but it escaped her. Fighting to control her breathing, she stared at the stationery she still clutched and said the first thing that came into her mind. “You need a new letterhead. Something colorful, maybe with little stick figures of kids.”
“We don’t have money to waste on stationery.”
“But the grant—”
“Won’t go fo
r frills,” he said. “We need to beef up our programs, hire more staff.”
Tonya swallowed at his harsh tone and cast around for another subject. “Do you, um, have a job program?”
“Yeah, for the older kids, but many of the children we work with are too young for after-school jobs.” His voice was even. Tonya wondered if he’d already forgotten the charged look that had passed between them, or if she’d imagined it “Even if they could get jobs,” he continued, “there’d be a problem.”
She tried to match his tone. “What?”
“The jobs they’d qualify for aren’t attractive to them.”
“Why?” Tonya asked, interested now. “I’d think they would be delighted to make a little money.”
“That’s the problem. A little money doesn’t appeal to these kids. They see their older brothers raking in dough with very little effort—”
“I don’t understand,” Tonya said. “Raking in dough doing what?”
“Dealing drugs,” Kirk answered. “Plenty of junior crack pushers are the sole support of their families.”
Of course. She should have realized that. “And my sixteen-year-old cousin works at McDonald’s.”
His eyes turned cool. “Yeah, your cousin’s learning responsibility, but we’re talking survival here. Your cousin doesn’t have an absent father, a mother who lies around the house half-drunk all the time and a landlord breathing down his neck.”
Neatly put in her place, Tonya nodded.
“Sorry,” Kirk said. “Trying to yank these kids out of a vicious cycle is frustrating. So many factors come into play....” His voice trailed off.
Tonya watched him, the earnest expression on his hard face, the fisted hand. She could feel the intensity, the passion when he spoke about his work. “You really care about the kids you work with,” she murmured.
“Sure I do,” he said, his voice suddenly cold. “I was one of them.”
Shocked, Tonya stared at him. “You grew up in a neighborhood like this?”
“Two blocks from here. All of us did.” When she remained silent, he said, “Surprised, Ms. Brewster, that real human beings live here, not statistics?”
Trouble With Tonya Page 4