Laughing, he came up to her, deftly knocked the ball from her hand and began to lightly dribble it to the end of the court.
She followed. “So what are we playing?” she asked.
“How about horse?”
“Horse is for kids. Let’s play twenty-one.”
His eyes widened.
“Twenty-one, huh? So you want to get down and dirty. Okay. Twenty-one it is. I’ll let you go first. Don’t want to have an unfair advantage.”
Shaking her head, Ronnie caught the ball David tossed her way.
David pointed out the designated three-point line.
Play began.
Ronnie dribbled. David tried to stop her from scoring. She took the shot. She scored.
He was up next. He shot, missed, went for a rebound and shot again. Ronnie tried to keep him from scoring. The shot was missed, and David rebounded the ball. He then cleared the ball by dribbling beyond the three-point line before taking the shot. He scored.
It was now Ronnie’s turn. She made the shot. David knocked it away, dribbled it beyond the three-point line and tried to score. Ronnie blocked him, and he missed.
The next twenty minutes saw a repeat of that scenario as they went toe-to-toe. Ronnie knew she wasn’t at the top of her game that day, but in all fairness to her, she was finding it difficult to concentrate. David was so close to her all the time. And she couldn’t help being intoxicated by him, by his heavy breathing, the scent of his body sweat mingled with musky cologne, the intense look in his eyes as he battled her, the bulging biceps and muscular legs visible in his vest and shorts. It was most distracting.
And then it happened.
They were in intense battle. The aim was to be the first to score 21 points. Ronnie was at 20 and David was at 17. She was blocking him, trying to prevent him from scoring. He made the shot and inadvertently knocked her on her bottom.
He immediately dropped to a squat and held out a hand to her. She leaned back on her forearms and peered up at him, winded.
“Foul!” she cried.
“It was an accident,” he said helplessly.
“Still, foul. You lose two points.”
“Two points. You’re crazy. That entitles you to a free throw. That’s all.”
She took his hand, and he stood, pulling her to a standing position and right against his muscular chest.
Breathing suspended as their gazes locked.
And then his head began to move towards hers.
Ronnie closed her eyes in anticipation.
Their lips met.
Ronnie’s hands crept around David’s neck, and as he began to possess her mouth there was the shrill tone of a phone.
It was his phone. On the bench.
Ronnie pressed closer as she felt David begin to draw back.
The phone rang again. Insistent.
Pulling her arms from around his neck, David broke away. Chest heaving, he took a deep, shaky breath. “I should get that,” he whispered huskily.
Ronnie stayed silent, hoping he wouldn’t.
To her dismay he did.
He walked away from her and took up the phone.
“Hello…oh, hi…I’m great…um…can I call you back? I’m a little busy at the moment.”
He placed the phone back on the bench.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered not quite meeting her eyes.
She wasn’t sure if he meant the kiss, or taking the call. But it was clear he wasn’t about to finish what they had started. In fact, from his stance, hands on hips, feet apart, staring at the ground as though the secrets of the universe were written there, it looked like he was having serious regrets about that kiss.
There was an uneasy silence as Ronnie’s shoulders slowly drooped. Had she not brought this on herself? She had ignored the voice that urged her to just drop off the things and stay in the car while he signed them. Instead, she had ended up sticking around, playing ball with him, and winding up in the same position she inevitably wound up in, nursing a broken heart.
Ronnie was suddenly sapped of energy.
“Safe trip. See you Wednesday,” she tossed behind her as she walked away.
He didn’t stop her.
Fighting tears, Ronnie got into her car, strapped in and drove away.
Chapter 14
Ronnie turned the phone over and over in her hands. Giorgio had just invited her out…again. He was cute and charming for sure, but he wasn’t David. She sighed. Something surely was wrong with her brain, but David was all she could think about, all she wanted, and there was no changing that.
Even so, she also sensed that Giorgio was a flirt. He had revealed to her during their dinner date that he had been married twice and had a child from each union. Out of curiosity, she had checked him out on Facebook and had seen several images of him partying with a number of different women. Was that the future he had in mind for her? Ending up on his Facebook page as one of his many conquests? She hated to admit it, but David had been right. Giorgio was a player. In any case, it was a moot point. She hadn’t been interested anyway. But it might be best to let Giorgio know that there was no future for them. As flattering as his attention was, stringing someone like him along might be playing with fire.
He answered on the first ring.
“Ronnie,” he said.
“Hi, Giorgio. How are you?”
“Not good. You returned my gift.”
She sighed. “I know. The thing is, Giorgio, I can’t accept your gifts, and I can’t go out with you anymore.”
“Perché no, Bella?” Why not, Beautiful?
“Because I’m in love with another man.”
Ronnie was stunned. She couldn’t believe she had just confessed this to Giorgio. She hadn’t even quite confessed it to herself.
“Oh! Who is this man?”
“I can’t tell you that!”
“Is he married perhaps?”
“Giorgio! Of course not!”
“Does he know of your feelings?”
“What makes you think he doesn’t?”
“Because if I knew you were in love with me, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight far less let another man send you flowers and jewelry. So, if he does know, I am dead. If he doesn’t know, I am safe.”
She laughed in spite of herself.
“Relax. You’re safe.”
“Whew. Good to know I can live another day. Well, why don’t you tell him then? He’s not married. What is the problem?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Okay. I will not press you. But if you ever get over this man. Remember, I am here, waiting in the wings, Bella.”
“I’ll bear that in mind, Giorgio.”
After she had hung up from Giorgio, Ronnie felt relieved. That conversation had been long overdue. It was better to be alone than settle for someone she didn’t want just to be in a relationship.
She unfolded herself from the couch and padded over to her computer where she began clicking through the digital proof complete with the prose Dana had added.
Ronnie had thought about what David had said. She had called her sisters, apologized for her conduct and invited them to work on the selection of their dad’s photographs with her. They had also enthusiastically agreed with her tentative suggestion that she include her own photographs. They said her work was just as compelling. That had meant so much coming from them she had cried tears of joy. It would delay the book a bit because now she was choosing images from her collection to include. But that was okay. It would be well worth it.
As Ronnie looked at the sometimes harrowing images Ronald Dickson had taken, she reflected that the beauty of photojournalism was that it told a story. The series of photos was not only touching but delivered an important message. Her father risked his life, and he had to witness things no one could ever imagine seeing in their lifetime. He covered uprisings, civil wars, and other atrocities. Her father had seemed to be drawn to danger like a moth to a flame. What was it that had inspired su
ch passion? Had it been the desire to see the truth told or just the thrill of danger. Her mother had told her she felt it was both.
“Your dad was one of the most compassionate and passionate men I’ve ever known, Ronnie. He hated injustice in all its forms. He’d say to me, ‘The world needs to see this. They need to know what’s happening. We Americans like to remain in our little protected cocoons. Do you think if people had been able to see all those Jews who suffered in concentration camps that we would have stayed out of the war for so long? A picture is worth a thousand words. People can argue with words. They can say this or that is propaganda, but they can’t argue with a photo. They can’t deny the truth if it’s in black and white.’”
Her mind drifted to David. Was that what attracted her to him? His love for people? His passion for change? He wasn’t there on the battlefield taking photos, but he was out there trying to make things better in his community. He was trying to make a difference instead of just sitting around like most people did and grumbling about how the world was going to pieces. He was out there fighting to make it better. Was she meant to be the one walking beside him through life or were they destined to walk two separate paths? Her stomach flipped at the thought of the latter scenario.
She looked back at the photos. Ronald Dickson’s work was from a different era. With YouTube and citizen journalists and social media, photojournalism was now a dying art. The photo before her now featured a man standing in front of a wall in Bosnia with the words “Welcome to Hell’ written in graffiti. Ronnie shuddered. That was the place where her father had died, “Hell.” Her mother had told her that he had died a Christian so at least he would not spend eternity in the real Hell. One day she would meet him. In the meantime, she could at least share his story by sharing his work with the world.
~*~*~*~
First day back after his Washington trip, David Jones walked into the offices of Jones Law with trepidation in his heart. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He had kissed Ronnie, and even though he had every intention of acting as though it had never happened, he didn’t know if he could depend on her to do the same thing. After he had arrived through his private elevator, he called both her and Joan to let them know he was back. He then proceeded to open his laptop and check his mail.
A few minutes later, Ronnie came through the door.
“David! Welcome back,” she said with a warm smile.
As she stood before him, his eyes drank in the sight of her. She looked amazing. Her hair was pinned up as usual, and she wore a sweater with bright red, blue, yellow and white blocks, a knee-length black pencil skirt, and black high-heeled shoes.
“Thanks. It’s great to be back,” he said smiling cautiously.
“How was Washington?”
“It was fine. I missed you tho–”
He broke off immediately, but it was too late. He stopped breathing for a minute. His eyes flew to hers. She seemed to have stopped breathing too.
“You did?” she squeaked as her eyes widened.
“Sure.”
Was he losing his mind? Here he was, hoping she would forget the kiss and then turns around and says something as incriminating as that. Time to change the subject real quick.
“Please remind me of the meetings I have for the rest of the week.”
“Umm…meetings…right. Okay…there’s a meeting tomorrow…” She took a deep breath.
David kept his eyes on his laptop and pretended to be absorbed with what was on the screen.
“With whom?” he asked.
“Umm…the team.”
“Our team?”
He was trying to slowly drag himself out of the quicksand he found himself in. Ronnie didn’t seem to want to cooperate though. Come on, Ronnie. Work with me here.
“Sure…yeah.”
“This is the meeting to get them started on drafting the agreements?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“Which ones?”
“The escrow, employment agreements, and the buyer equity documents.”
Good. Her head was clearing.
“Time?”
“Eight.”
His brow furrowed and he finally glanced at her.
“Why so early?”
“You’re meeting with the auditors at 10:00 a.m. remember? I didn’t want to do it later because I didn’t know how long that meeting would last.”
“Tomorrow is going to be one packed day.”
“I know. That’s why I left today free.”
“That was considerate of you,” he said with a half-smile as he checked his outlook calendar and noted that the meetings were all there.
“I try to anticipate what you’d like and work accordingly. Sometimes it can be difficult to figure out what you want though.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Sometimes your signals can be mixed. It’s hard to figure out what you want from me.”
“Okay,” he said carefully, knowing they were no longer speaking about scheduling meetings.
As she turned to leave, he said, “By the way, I’ve got tickets to watch the Bulls versus the Knicks game next weekend. Interested?”
“Am I interested? Are you kidding?” she asked excitedly. Then suddenly her face changed. “Bob Gershon and Michael Jones joining us again?”
He gave an uneasy laugh.
“Jones Law is a sponsor. We have a corporate box. Generally, the tickets are reserved for senior staff, but exceptions have been made. It’s not unusual for Tracey to get complimentary tickets to sponsored events. Yes, I invited Gershon. And Michael, as a senior partner, was also invited. I know how much you love basketball so I immediately thought of you. But if it’s a problem…”
Why was he babbling?
“No. It’s not a problem,” she said hurriedly. “So that’s the next weekend?”
“Next Friday, actually. 7:00 p.m. United Centre.”
“Thanks for inviting me.”
“Don’t mention it.”
~*~*~*~
“Here you go, Ma’am.”
Ronnie murmured her thanks as she took her ticket stub and proceeded to the Jones Law corporate box. She was grateful for the opportunity to see the game, but truth be told she would much rather be there in the stands among the crowd, feeding off their energy, than being stuck in a corporate box with a bunch of stuck up Jones Law partners and associates. She checked that thought. No, that was unfair. Since the M&A had begun, she had gained the respect of the team members as they observed firsthand how she professionally managed the process. Even those initially opposed were slowly coming to view her with grudging respect. She was just in a miserable mood because suddenly she wasn’t sure if coming there was a good idea. She was growing a little weary of David’s cat and mouse, catch and release, game.
On arrival, she was surprised to find that the room could only hold eight seats. She was suddenly conscious that she was privileged to have been granted one of the special seats. She felt her heart leap at the thought that David regarded her so highly that he would bestow one of the treasured tickets on her.
She saw him before he saw her. He was in the corner of the room conversing with the HR Director, Cheryl Yancey. When Ronnie’s eyes met his, he gave her a warm smile.
“Hi there, Ronnie.”
She turned around and found herself staring straight into the hazel eyes of Bob Gershon. He was a good looking man with a pleasant manner. She had seen him come to the office a few times to meet with David. He had always been polite. At the Ferrari viewing, he had spoken to her briefly, but then David had called her over and that had ended their conversation.
He was clean-cut with light brown hair, average height, and well built. He was not muscular like David but well-toned like a man who kept active and didn’t necessarily have a disciplined workout regimen. He was now wearing khaki pants and a dark brown sweater worn over a white shirt. He looked almost distinguished. Yet, there was something about him she didn’t quite trust.
She gave
him a quick smile.
“Hi, Bob. How are you?”
“I’m great. So, are you a basketball fan?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Let’s sit,” Bob said. “The game will begin in a few minutes I’m told.”
They drifted over to the seats and sat side by side.
“Tell me, how’s the campaign going?” Ronnie asked.
Bob smiled easily. She noticed he had a lot of teeth. White and even, and perfect. Almost unnaturally so, like he’d had his teeth fixed.
“Very well. Our candidate is well liked. You can’t say a bad word about David Jones in this town. Everyone thinks highly of him.”
Even though she was frustrated with David, Ronnie had to admit he was deserving of praise. He was a good man, an honorable man. He’d no doubt make a great husband. Having seen him with his youth choir and even with Duane and Adeko, she believed he would make a great father as well. Had she imagined those words whispered to her heart that day in his office? Was there any hope that, despite the odds, they could come true?
Bob gently caressed Ronnie’s arm. She jerked it away, startled.
“You seemed lost for a second there.” He smiled. “What’re you thinking about so hard?”
Ronnie blinked rapidly and tried to refocus.
“Sorry. Just something I’ve been dealing with. What were you saying?”
“I was asking who you’re rooting for.”
“Oh, I’m a New Yorker,” Ronnie said, watching as the players began to assemble on the court.
“Ah, the Knicks then.”
She smiled.
“All the way. I’m a die-hard fan. Through thick and thin.”
“Don’t let this bunch hear you. They may chase you out of this box. It’s Bulls for most of them.”
She laughed.
“Understandable. I’ll try to tone down my enthusiasm when my team wins. Who are you rooting for?”
Bob shrugged.
“I’m easy. So tonight, I’m cheering whoever you’re cheering.”
Ronnie smiled as she asked, “Where do you hail from?”
“All over. Midwest mainly.”
A Case For Love (Royals Series Book 3) Page 16