by Dara Girard
“My handwriting’s a little messy.”
She squinted at one of the letters. “A little messy? A rat has better penmanship.”
He leaned back in his chair. “This, coming from a woman whose handwriting was so bad that teachers thought she was writing in a foreign language?”
Jessie flinched. “I know. My mother used to make me write in those stupid handwriting books.” She stuffed the papers into an empty manila folder. “You know this will cost you another expensive lunch.”
“I know.” He groaned. “Next time would you not order the wine?”
She grinned and opened the door.
“Jasmine.” He straightened his desk set. “Look, I’m—”
She walked up to his desk, tossing down the manila folder. “Don’t you dare apologize.”
He blinked, then his mouth spread into a sensuous grin. “I hadn’t planned to.”
“Good.” She leaned across the desk until their noses touched. “Because I know you’re not sorry.” She kissed him, softly and slowly. “I’m not.” She drew back and picked up the manila envelope, hoping he didn’t notice her fingers trembling.
“You just made a big mistake,” he said in a deep tone.
She boldly met his eyes. “I did?”
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why not?”
He came from around his desk. His eyes had a sheen of purpose. “Because you’re playing with fire.”
She raised a brow. “So are you.”
“I like the heat.”
She sent him a mischievous grin. “And I like to play.”
“Then we’re even.”
He claimed her lips and crushed her body to his, this time letting his hands roam free. He wouldn’t let her go anytime soon, not when he’d waited so long to visit the delights she kept hidden from view. His hands loosened her blouse from the constraints of her jeans and slid up her shirt, capturing her breasts.
Jessie moaned, closing her eyes. Nothing would distract her from the exquisite pleasure. His lips were gentle and soft, like the touch of candy floss against the tongue, melting into the same sweetness. She had expected to feel wild, naughty, and reckless in his arms. The sense of security was unnerving. How could she feel so safe in his arms? Safe, in the arms of a man who had probably held numerous other women this way? She pushed the thoughts aside. All that mattered was this moment and the new sensations she’d never even imagined.
He pulled her down on the floor and drew her blouse over her head. She rested back on the rug, ignoring the coarse feel against her skin. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt, eager to explore him and discover things she didn’t know. She silently swore when she discovered he had on an undershirt, but let her hands trail a path down his chest, watching the muscles constrict under her fingers. Her curious hands descended to the hard bulge in his trousers.
“You’d better watch those hands,” Kenneth warned, against her neck, “or you’ll get more than you expected.” He unlatched her bra and captured her hard nipple his mouth, allowing his tongue to roll around her nipple. Jessie bit back a moan, not wanting to alert anyone outside the office to their activity. She arched her back, rubbing her lower body against him.
The buzzer rang.
“Trouble’s coming,” Mrs. Mathew warned. “Tanya’s on her way.”
Kenneth swore; Jessie jumped.
He grabbed his shirt, buttoned it, and stuffed it into his trousers with such speed that he could have broken a world record. Jessie, unable to find where Kenneth had thrown her top, barely had enough time to duck behind the couch before the doors swung open.
“Why haven’t you called me, Kenneth?” Tanya asked in a petulant voice.
“Was I supposed to call you?” His voice was cool. No one would have suspected he had a half-naked woman behind the couch.
She stomped her foot, like a child ready to throw a tantrum. “Yes, to invite me to the ball.”
“Oh, right. I’m not even sure I’m going, so you’re free to go with someone else.”
“But you have to take me. I’ve got this dress you’re going to love.” She began to describe the dress in detail.
“That sounds great,” he interrupted. “A gorgeous dress like that shouldn’t be wasted on me.”
“But Kenneth—!”
“I have work to do now. I’ll ring you later.”
“You promise?”
“I’ll try.”
Jessie heard him lead Tanya to the door and close it.
A moment passed before he came over to the couch. He rested his hands on the back and grinned down at her like a smug Cheshire cat. “You definitely are an athlete. I never saw a woman move so fast.”
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” she asked, envious of his neat attire. His appearance gave no hint to what he’d been up to.
“No, I’m just a fast learner.”
She doubted that, but didn’t wish to pry. “Was that the infant?”
“I’m afraid so.”
She began to stand, but decided against it. She continued to cover her bare chest. “Could you please hand me my clothes?”
He shook his head, his face thoughtful. “No, I don’t think I will. I like you this way.”
“Kenneth!”
“Come on, don’t be shy.”
She glared at him.
He sighed dramatically. “All right.” He retrieved her things. “Why don’t you get a top in your own size?” he asked, tossing it to her.
“I need my bra too, please.”
He held it out in front of him. It was a nice peach color. “I think I’ll keep it as a souvenir.”
Jessie slipped into her top and held out her hand. “You’ll have a black eye as a souvenir if you don’t hand it over.”
He draped the bra around his neck. “I just might risk it.”
She lunged for it, but he held it above his head, out of reach. She leaped up and tried to grab it. He switched it to his other hand.
“Give it back.”
His arm slid around her waist, drawing her close. “Keep jumping. I like the sensation.”
She stilled. “You’re impossible.”
She tried to tickle him, but his grin only grew wider. “I’m not ticklish, remember?”
“I’m warning you.” She reached for it again.
He switched hands. “Come on, Jas. I’m sure you have plenty of others. This would be my first.”
The door swung open.
Kenneth stood still, giving Jessie the chance to grab her bra. But she snatched it so fast that she lost her grip and it sailed across the room, landing on Mrs. Mathew’s clipboard.
“Mr. Preston, I have your—” She stopped and glanced down at what was in front of her.
Jessie yanked it off the clipboard. “I beg your pardon.”
Mrs. Mathew took a step back, her features a model of composure. “Forgive me, Mr. Preston, I didn’t realize you were occupied.”
“We’re almost done here,” Kenneth said, as though finishing a meeting with a business associate.
She nodded and closed the door.
Jessie refused to look at him. She fastened her bra and adjusted her shirt, then attempted to smooth back her hair. When she felt she had dealt with the embarrassment of the situation, she turned to say good-bye. She didn’t get the chance. Kenneth was doubled over in laughter.
“It’s not funny,” she said.
He glanced at her and laughed harder.
She bit her lip, refusing to be so immature. “Kenneth—”
He leaned against the wall and held his sides. “Only her eyebrows moved,” he gasped.
She covered her mouth to stifle her giggles, but didn’t succeed. Soon they were holding onto each other, weak with laughter. All they had to do was look at each other, and the laughter would start again.
“I think I should go,” she said into his chest.
He nodded.
She grabbed the folder and her sweater, then raced
out of the room, careful not to look at Mrs. Mathew as she passed her desk. She stepped into the elevator and took a deep breath. When she turned, she saw Kenneth standing in his office doorway, imitating Mrs. Mathew’s expression. She burst into laughter once more as the doors closed, ignoring the curious stares.
* * *
Kenneth fell down on the couch. She was up to something, he could feel it. He had learned early that tenderness was earned, not given. And Jasmine had given too freely for a hot dog and popsicle. Yes, she definitely was up to something…damn her. But the fact was that he didn’t care. He didn’t care at all. His face spread into a grin. Whatever scheme she was up to, he definitely liked the process.
He rested his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. He wanted her. He wanted her like an art thief craved an original Van Gogh, like a hacker craved an encrypted code. He wanted her wet, dry, dressed, naked—he especially wanted her naked, preferably in his bed, but he could be creative.
He shut his eyes, still able to remember the taste and smell of her. He rubbed his chin. He had to be careful; he couldn’t let it go too far. Unfortunately, it had already awakened the longing in him. He’d fed a tantalizing morsel to the hungry man within him. He shook his head. He couldn’t forget that he wasn’t like other men. He had an image to maintain, secrets to keep. The next time he had her, it would be under cover of darkness. He would have to plan it right.
The buzzer on his desk rang. He growled and leaped to his feet. He hit the button. “Yes?”
“You have a call,” Mrs. Mathew said.
He coughed to discourage himself from laughing, remembering the look on her face. “Okay.”
“Your brother Eddie is on line three.”
All good humor died.
Chapter 17
He hated talking to his brother, but he had discovered that avoidance was just as stressful. He counted to ten then picked up the line.
“What do you want?”
Eddie laughed. “Is that any way to speak to your flesh and blood, man?”
“Would you prefer silence? What do you want?”
Eddie slipped into the dialect of their youth. “I have fi get money,”
It had the expected effect, transferring Kenneth from a powerful executive to a young man who would do anything to protect his family. He turned towards the window and watched the traffic down below. “Is what ’appen to the money mi give you last time?”
Eddie’s voice lifted to a whine. “I told you I’ll pay you back when I get the chance. Come nuh, man, I have fi have it. Mi ina worries.”
“Fi what?”
“Rent. A little jill is all me want.”
Kenneth let his eyes fall on the daylilies sitting on his windowsill. They seemed to be watching him and cautioning him behind their sunny smiles. He didn’t believe Eddie, but he couldn’t say no. He couldn’t let his brother suffer when he knew he could help him. “I see.” He sighed, sickened by his own weakness, sickened by how quickly his brother could trap him in the tentacles of their past, reminding him of the young man he used to be, a young man who had envied Eddie his daughter, his mother’s love, and his freedom. “Awrite.”
“Thanks. Okay, mi gone.”
Kenneth sat up in his chair. “Wait, now. Is that all?”
Eddie paused. “Yeah, I think so.”
He ground his teeth. “Aren’t you missing something?”
“Uh…?”
Kenneth sighed, exasperated. “Like a dawta, perhaps?”
“Oh, yeah, Shiraz. Look, uh, I trust her wid you.”
Kenneth tightened his grip on the phone. “It’s not about trust. She’s not my child. You need to take care of her.”
He could almost hear his brother’s mind working, trying to make up excuses to have Ace stay longer.
Eddie switched to Standard English, the language in which he did his best scheming. “Things aren’t at their best right now, Ken. When everything is sorted out, I’ll come get her.”
Kenneth stroked the petals of the flowers with his thumb. “She told me you’re still drinking.”
“The kid’s got a big mouth. I cut it down, Ken, way down.”
“You don’t need to do this.”
“I’m trying. I don’t drink much.”
“You’re not supposed to drink at all.”
Eddie’s voice hardened. “Hey, don’t start acting like mi fadda.” He quickly regretted his words, knowing what an insult they were. “Mi sorry.” He coughed. “I mean, I’m sorry. Ken, I didn’t mean it. Kenneth? Kenneth, are you there?”
“I’m here.”
“I’m sorry.”
Like always. “Hmm.”
Eddie let out a deep breath. “Just give me time. I’ll mend everything.”
“Not too much time.”
“So when are you going to send the money?”
Kenneth ripped off a petal, then stomped on it. Why couldn’t his brother get his priorities straight? Why couldn’t he get through to him? Sometimes he wasn’t sure whether he hated his brother or just the addiction.
“I’m going to pay your landlord directly,” he said.
“What?” Eddie’s voice lifted in surprise and hurt. “You don’t trust me?”
He had learned early not to trust him with money. “No.”
Eddie’s voice turned surly. “Well, if you can find it in your heart to send some money for food, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll make sure you get food. How’s your job?” Eddie wrote a syndicated column about the joys of life. The irony never escaped them.
“I’m living. No worries. So are you going to send the money?”
“I’ll take care of things.”
“Thanks.” He hesitated. When he spoke again, it was not as an indigent brother, but man to man. “In spite of what you think, I am trying, but I’m not much of a fighter.” He laughed bitterly. “We all can’t be perfect like you.”
Kenneth gripped the phone. “You of all people know I’m not perfect.”
“Maybe.”
“How come you never did tell me about Jasmine giving you her scholarship?”
“I’m a Preston. Appearances—I’m sure you know a little something about that.” Eddie hung up.
Kenneth held the receiver until it began to buzz, then he put it down and sighed. Appearances were all his life was about.
* * *
What had caused her to be so bold? Jessie wondered, returning to Kenneth’s place. Never in her life had she been so brazen, so sassy. God, it felt good. She tossed her bag on the couch and held her head as a nagging thought struck her. She had told him to trust her. She shouldn’t have said that. She’d unwittingly pointed to her Achilles’ heel: the Clifton word of honor. She swore. If he ever found out about the bet, he would remember her words and use them against her. Then once again the Clifton honor would be at risk because of her. She groaned, recognizing the truth: she had lost the pendant again.
Instead of mentally kicking herself, which she decided to leave for the evening, she typed his letters. She had just completed the stack when Teresa called.
“So did it work?” she asked, excited.
Jessie hit the print icon. “What?”
“The flowers, you ninny.”
Jessie sat back and rested her feet on the desk. “Like a magic potion. He even took me to lunch.” And kissed me until my skin tingled. “Right now I’m typing some letters for him.”
“Excellent! You may pull this off after all.”
She shook her head. “No, I won’t.” She lowered her voice. “The bet’s off.”
“Why?”
She rested a hand on her forehead. “Because I kissed him.”
Teresa gasped. “You kissed Kenneth Preston? On the mouth?”
She sat up. “Yes, where else?”
There was a pregnant pause as they both imagined the many possible places.
“Never mind,” Teresa said quickly. “That’s great!”
Jessie stared at
the computer monitor, blinking back tears of frustration. She had lost even before she had begun. “No, it’s not. I told him to trust me. If I continue with the bet and he finds out, everything between us will seem like a lie. The Clifton word would be a sham.”
Teresa sighed, understanding the dilemma. The integrity of a family name was sacred. “Oh, but you’re so close.”
“I know.”
“Michelle will be proud.” Teresa paused. “But what if he never finds out? You could win the pendant and still keep him as a friend. Nobody else knows about the bet, and if you win, I doubt Deborah will tell anyone.”
“I don’t know.” Jessie felt a shadow descend. She looked up and saw Freda glaring down at her.
“Uh, Teresa, I’ll call you another time. I’ve got to go.”
“Okay. Syrah’s at Denise’s house, but she’ll be home for dinner.”
“Great.” Jessie placed the receiver down, stood up, and smiled. “May I help you, Freda?”
Freda did not return the expression. “Sit down, Ms. Clifton. I want to talk to you.”
She sat. “Is there a problem?” It was a silly question. Freda’s lips had all but disappeared.
Freda sat down, arranging the pleats in her skirt. “I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t overhear your phone conversation; nor will I pretend that I’m not disappointed in you.”
Jessie opened her mouth to defend herself, but Freda continued, “I’ve seen a lot of women try to wheedle their way into Mr. Preston’s affections.” She held up both hands, as if trying to fend off something. “Now, I try not to get involved, but I cannot be silent this time. Whatever little plan you’ve concocted is working. You’ve won. He called me up to ask me to make ‘dip and fall back,’ because it’s your favorite.”
“Freda, I—”
Freda’s wide mouth tightened to a thin line. “I will not make this meal unless your feelings are sincere. Unless your presence here is without pretense.”
Jessie sighed, helpless to come up with a solid explanation. “It’s complicated.”
“Deception usually is.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t want to hurt him.”
“But you will. Everyone usually does.” She stood. “Dinner will be served at seven-thirty. We’ll have chicken.”