by A. C. Arthur
“I think he is, but after that big investigation he left for a while—waited until things died down, I suppose.”
Terrell raised a brow, took a step closer to her. They were standing too far apart, and he didn’t like it. “What investigation?”
Leah took a step backwards and bumped into the counter. He was too close. “I don’t know the specifics, just tidbits that Nikki told me. But everything’s…”
His eyes darkened considerably as he moved even closer to her.
She licked her lips. “Everything’s okay now,” she whispered.
“Oh really?” he asked, lightly tracing a finger over her chin. This wasn’t what he was here for. He wasn’t supposed to be feeling the things he was feeling at this very moment. He’d just broken up with Tanya. The plan was to deal with his mother and her fiancé first, then focus on finding himself a wife. Yet he couldn’t resist.
Leah shivered at his touch. His toned body was pressed against hers and she could feel the hard contours of a man who worked out a lot. Her fingers itched to touch him. She stared into his face, which was long and angular and had a freshly trimmed goatee. Gold-rimmed glasses sat atop an almost perfect nose and showcased sizzling brown eyes.
She was not doing this. She was not feeling something for this man that she barely knew. He’d insulted her, mocked her job, and now she was standing here letting him touch her, praying he’d kiss her. “I think they make a wonderful couple,” she stammered, hoping her words would break this foolish spell. She had a boyfriend, or whatever it was that Leon was to her. And Terrell was not her type. Ms. Rosie said he was quiet, reserved, focused on his job. Well, right now he was quietly driving her mad with his gentle touch and sexy voice.
“That remains to be seen.” He’d heard her words, remembered feeling as though he’d seen Donald somewhere before, and vowed to investigate further. But now, right at this very moment, this woman intrigued the hell out of him. What he was feeling, what he was imagining doing to her, was totally new to him and he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Yet she purposely held herself away from him while her eyes all but seduced him into kissing her.
“I’m meeting with them again tomorrow to lay the groundwork.” She didn’t know why she told him that, or why she remained in that kitchen alone with him. Leon was waiting for her. “They’re celebrating tonight and don’t have time to sit down and go over details the way we need to. So I’m leaving.” So she said, but her feet remained planted where they stood. As unwelcome and foreign as she knew it was, she finally put a name to what she was feeling…lust, pure and simple. But she shouldn’t have been feeling that with Terrell. Leon was the man in her life.
Terrell’s finger found its way up to her lips. He lightly touched them and watched her tremble. Desire soared through his loins so powerfully that he had to take a step back or else he’d have to put her up on his mother’s counter and take what he so desperately wanted right now. Folding his long arms across his chest, he continued to watch her. “You don’t look like you’re leaving.”
If it were possible, his already deep voice went deeper, lowering to a husky growl. Her knees wobbled, actually knocked into each other at the exact moment he reached out again and touched her lips one last time. She closed her eyes, shook her head, felt the soft curls against her face. She was not affected by their close proximity, his sizzling gaze or his sexy voice—or at least she told herself she wasn’t. Lifting her hand, she brushed his away from her face and looked him squarely in the eyes. “That’s because you’re again standing in my way.”
Her brisk tone snapped him out of his trance. Abruptly, he took another step back and out of her way. She was distracting him. Making him think of something other than Tanya, other than his mother and her impending nuptials. “I’m not in your way now,” he quipped.
Just that quickly his rich, sexy tone turned cold and dismissive. That was fine with her.
She was out the door before his decision to keep his hands off her could be tempted again. And it was a good thing, he told himself. He wasn’t here for this. He’d just been betrayed by a woman; he needed time to re-evaluate what it was he wanted, just like his mother had said. Ms. Leah Graham, Ms. Wedding Planner, was not a part of that re-evaluation.
It didn’t matter that with her casual good looks and cool demeanor she’d managed to stir him more than any other woman he’d ever met. She wasn’t on his agenda.
* * *
Leah had been up half the night, scribbling notes for her proposal to Ms. Rosie and her fiancé that afternoon. She’d finally decided on two suggestions that she thought would work really well for the couple.
Her first suggestion was an early ceremony to be held at the church around noon. The ceremony would be followed by a luncheon reception scheduled to begin at one-thirty. Depending or whether they wanted her to plan the reception as well, she had come up with a satisfying lunch menu and decorative ideas.
The second option was an afternoon ceremony to be followed by the more traditional dinner reception. For this, the food would be more costly, but should they choose this one, Leah had a menu ready.
Her proposals were neatly typed, complete with pictures and a photo album of past affairs. Sliding all of her materials into her black briefcase, Leah was ready to make her presentation.
Her morning had gotten off to a rocky start when her mother made an appearance at morning worship. Marsha rarely ever came to church, so Leah was both stunned and dismayed. Something must truly be wrong for her mother to turn to God for an answer.
Just as she had assumed, something was truly wrong. Daryl, her mother’s husband, had suggested they go to marriage counseling. Marsha was absolutely furious.
“Can you believe him? Like I need counseling. I don’t need no counseling. He’s the one that’s got to go,” she screeched during the altar prayer.
“Shhh!” Leah tried to calm her mother down as the woman in front of them turned to stare at the commotion.
“I’m not going to no shrink for them to tell me what I already know. I ain’t stayin’ married to that man a minute longer,” she whispered. Wringing her hands together, Marsha shifted from foot to foot, anxious for the deacon to end the prayer.
“Amen,” the congregation murmured and returned to their seats.
“Mama, you have got to calm down. Maybe Daryl has a good idea with the counseling. It might help.” Sliding into the pew, Leah waited for what she knew would be Marsha’s negative response.
“How is it going to help? He’s not going to change,” she whined.
“What is it that you want him to change? You never told me what the problem is,” Leah whispered, hoping that her mother would follow suit and lower her voice as well. But like a child, Marsha seemed oblivious to her subtlety.
“He is so mean, he wants to put my children out. My children, Leah. And you know I don’t have no man tellin’ me how to raise my children.”
Yeah, Leah thought to herself, Marsha didn’t like anyone telling her how to raise her children. Sammy and DJ were the youngest, and the only two still at home with her mother. Sammy was twenty-one and DJ was nineteen. Neither one of them worked, neither one of them had graduated from high school, and they both were in and out of trouble so often that Leah had stopped counting the number of times she’d been to the police station with her mother to bail them out.
Leah loved her brothers, but she had to admit her mother had no control over them. They always did exactly what they wanted, when they wanted, and that was usually the wrong thing.
“Mama, it is his house.” Trying to placate Marsha, Leah placed her hand on her shoulder.
“I don’t give a damn. I cook and clean for that man and I wash all his clothes and I live in that house too. If my children go, I go,” Marsha said adamantly.
Oh Lord, Leah thought, and where were they all going to stay? Marsha didn’t have anywhere to go and, while Leah would have considered taking her mother in, she was definitely not letting her grown, wa
yward brothers live with her.
For the remainder of the service Marsha complained and threatened and cried and whined. Leah was so emotionally drained by the time she walked out of the church that she almost went home to crash instead of going to her appointment. Luckily, she had a strong work ethic, and the thought of conversing with normal people was a welcome relief.
Then Leon called, furious with her for brushing him off. This was the first time they’d actually had an argument, the first time he’d raised his voice to her. But she was in no mood to deal with him either.
Having had enough drama for the day, she quickly ended the call and attempted to clear her mind. She had business to take care of—even though that business involved the one thing that scared her most in life, at the same time it provided her only escape.
* * *
Terrell had suffered through the night. Not only was his mother enthusiastic about this marriage but her fiancé apparently had a blemished past, one he needed to resolve before this wedding took place.
Still, that hadn’t been what had kept him awake. Eyes the shade of perfectly aged rum had haunted him through the night. They seemed embedded onto the backs of his eyelids, so that every time he closed his eyes he saw them. Whether piqued with interest or hot with rage, he was enamored of them. Then cold, manipulative black eyes replaced those intriguing eyes, and his anger flared. Tanya. Thoughts of her shattered the pleasure he’d had thinking of Leah.
He’d awakened in a foul mood that he was unable or unwilling to shake. At breakfast, he was short with his mother and agitated by Donald’s presence, although he was careful not to show it.
“Terrell, is something bothering you, son?” Donald asked at the table.
“No. I guess I’m just tired.” He wanted to ask Donald about the investigation Leah had mentioned, but didn’t want to upset his mother. No, he’d collect his information on Donald, then he’d confront the man. He was certain that something wasn’t quite right with Donald Douglas.
“Your mother told me how hard you work. Maybe you need to take a break. There’s more to life than making money, you know,” Donald said as he sipped his coffee.
Terrell found that hard to believe, coming from a man who drove a luxury car, owned his own business and wore diamonds that could blind you. Leaning back in his chair, he asked nonchalantly, “What else is there?”
Donald chuckled heartily, then reached for Rosie’s hand. “There’s love. Find yourself a good woman so you can experience it for yourself.”
That was exactly what he wanted to do. Instead, Terrell’s gaze moved to his mother, witnessed her blush. Then he lifted his own cup. “I haven’t had much luck in that department,” he said gruffly. To his surprise a tall, leggy vixen stole into his thoughts.
“You haven’t found the right one yet, Terrell,” Rosie said softly. “But you will, and when you do, nothing else will matter.”
Terrell stood, having had enough of the love birds for the time being. “Well, when I find her, I’ll certainly let you know.”
He emptied his cup and left them alone in the kitchen. He had a phone call to make.
* * *
The living room was quieter this afternoon. The couch with its cream and burgundy floral print beckoned Leah to partake of its comfort as she waited for Donald to join her and Rosie. Rosie looked tired, her usually gay features tight and restrained.
“Ms. Rosie, is everything okay?” she asked, fearing that she and Donald had experienced a fight or something. Many couples got so stressed out or so scared about the impending nuptials that they often got into silly arguments as a way of venting.
“I’m fine, Leah, baby. I’m just worried about…” Rosie broke off before telling Leah she was worried about Terrell. That wouldn’t be appropriate. “I’m fine, everything is going to be just fine.” With a timid smile the older woman looked at the younger one.
“Hello.” Donald came into the room, bringing an air of festivity with him. “Ms. Graham, it’s nice to see you again.” He extended his hand to Leah.
“Hello, Mr. Douglas,” Leah replied politely. She remembered seeing Donald Douglas occasionally in and out of the shop, apparently checking on his investment. “You can call me Leah.”
“Okay, Leah, you can call me Donald.”
“How about Mr. Donald?” Leah suggested jovially. “Are you ready to start planning the big day?” She wasn’t sure what had happened earlier that morning with the couple, but part of her job was to constantly remind them of the happy occasion they were embarking on.
“That’s fair.” Donald ran his hand over his graying hair. “I guess I am old enough to be your daddy.” They all laughed. “And I don’t know how much planning I’ll be doing, but I’m ready to hear what you have to say.”
Leah began the presentation, pausing to answer Rosie’s questions and carefully explain all the formalities of the contract and payments to Donald.
After two hours of invitations, napkins, favors, colors and other matrimonial chatter, Donald rose to leave the room. “Whatever you ladies agree on is fine with me. Leah, you can just send me the bill. And remember, whatever she wants, spare no expense.” He looked at Rosie adoringly before leaning over to kiss her.
Packed and ready to leave, Terrell came down the stairs. Earlier he’d gone to church with his mother, and now he just wanted to get home and do some work. Dressed in jeans and one of his more worn Howard sweatshirts, he made his way into the living room.
His mother sat on the sofa turning the pages of what looked like a large photo album. Next to her, a long-legged woman made comments about the materials found on each page. She hadn’t said she was meeting his mother here. He felt that same stirring in his gut he’d felt last night, and tried to figure out why only she made him feel this way.
“This invitation is nice, Ms. Rosie, if you decide to go with the ivory and peach we discussed earlier.” Leaning closer over the book, Leah pointed to the page with one long, elegant finger.
“Oooh, I like that one. And the rose on the front will be peach?” Rosie inquired.
“Yes ma’am, the basic invitation will be ivory, the rose on the front will be in peach and when you open it the writing will be in black. You can go to the back of the book to pick out the script that you like. You’ll also get R.S.V.P. cards in ivory and peach, which will match the invitation, and gold seals to close the outer envelope.” She spoke knowledgeably in a sultry voice.
Transfixed by her every movement, Terrell stood watching her interact with his mother. Stopping frequently, but patiently, she answered Rosie’s questions and gave advice. The sound of her voice moved through him as smooth and warm as fine wine.
He took a step toward them, so mesmerized he forgot about the weak floorboard that had gotten him into trouble as a teenager when he used to sneak in the house after curfew. The squeak caught the attention of both ladies, and they raised their heads to spy the culprit.
His gaze met hers and held.
“Hello, Terrell. You remember Leah, don’t you?” Rosie spoke first.
“We met last night.” Moving slowly, deliberately, he stepped completely into the living room. “Hello, Leah.”
“Hi, Terrell,” Leah replied cautiously. He looked fresh, showered and casually groomed. She’d tried to convince herself that whatever she’d felt for him last night was a fluke, but that fluttering in her stomach was back. The physical attraction was obvious, yet today, in this quiet room as he watched her with elusive eyes, she felt something else.
“We were just picking out invitations. Would you like to join us?” Rosie was hopeful that her son would want to participate. Not that she needed his input. She could handle the decision by herself. She just wanted him to be a part of her very special day despite his recent letdown in the love department. His shaking head dashed those hopes.
“Nah, I’m about to head home.” With learned restraint, he tore his gaze from the younger woman. Again, he felt a pull towards her and tried to ignore i
t. She was a lovely temptation, though.
“Oh?” Sliding the book from her lap to the coffee table, Rosie stood and walked over to her son. “I was hoping you would at least stay for dinner.” Reaching out, she took his hand.
Her voice was familiar, soothing, and he instantly felt guilty. He really didn’t have to rush off. He’d already called his friend, left a message vaguely describing what he needed. His cell phone was always available for a return call. He looked down into his mother’s warm eyes and expectant face. “I’d love to have dinner with you. How about Ruth’s Chris? That’s still your favorite, right?”
Rosie beamed. “It sure is.”
Terrell had already decided he wouldn’t let on to his doubts about Donald, not until he had concrete evidence to make an informed decision. So for right now, he’d simply keep his doubts to himself.
Rosie was still smiling. “I’ll go and make the reservation. You sit and keep Leah company until I get back.” Turning towards the sofa she told Leah, “Excuse me, baby, I’ll just be a minute.”
Moved by the obvious affection between mother and son, Leah said, “It’s okay. We can go over this stuff tomorrow or you can call my office to make an appointment.” She felt that she was intruding on a private moment between mother and son. Her relationship with her own mother was nothing like this.
“Well, okay,” Rosie reluctantly agreed. “Terrell, help her with her stuff,” she directed before shuffling out of the room.
The last thing Leah wanted was to be alone with him again, yet that was exactly where she found herself. She sensed the moment he closed in on her and tensed. “I can do it myself,” she said in a strained voice.
“I’ll help you,” Terrell offered, despite her resistance.
She tried to move faster, keeping her back to him. “That’s okay. I’ve got it.” But her clumsy fingers contradicted her, and she dropped the invitation book. With a sigh of frustration she bent down to pick it up.