She slid her sunglasses down, covered her eyes. “A while.”
“Precisely how many months passed before you,” I felt a muscle twitch at my temple, “moved on from me?”
My grip tightened on the wheel, anticipating her answer, expecting the pain that would slice through my heart. It would hurt, but it couldn’t hurt any more than her never writing me back.
“I started dating someone seriously about eighteen months after we met.”
An odd smile crossed her face. “My roommate, you remember Charlotte, right? She made a celebration out of it, bringing me cupcakes and balloons.”
She stopped smiling when she looked at me. I probably looked disgusted. I fixed my face quickly, trying to look as if her words hadn’t been a pitchfork to the gut.
“I know that sounds weird, but I… I didn’t handle the situation as well as I should have, and she was just happy to see me feeling better.” She paused as if she were carefully choosing her words.
“I’m normally a bit more…resilient.”
I took a deep breath, trying to understand what she was saying. She was so upset that her friend threw her a fucking party when she finally moved on? That didn’t sound like someone who would not respond to seven letters.
And more importantly, it completely contradicted the letter her roommate Charlotte had sent me. The response I hadn’t expected nor desired.
“You hadn’t moved on in six months?”
“No. Why would you think that, six months specifically?”
I pulled into the parking lot of the coffee shop and turned off the ignition. I could still see the spare one-pager Charlotte had sent me. It had been short and to the point. She’s met someone new. She’s happy. Leave her alone.
That had been after I’d written the first letter, six months after Jamaica. Someone was lying. Either Charlotte had lied or Rain was lying now and didn’t want me to know. Either way, it was significant.
Could this all have been a mistake? A horrible, laughable mistake? Somehow or another, I was sure something had gone terribly awry here. This was never meant to happen. I was going to fix it. Now.
“There’s still a chance for us.”
She looked at me, her face twisted into revulsion. “Your arrogance knows no bounds.”
But when I looked at her, all I saw was hope.
Obviously, I would have to convince her. I was nothing if not persistent and successful at whatever I put my mind to. I would have Rain. At all costs.
I gunned the engine, a feeling of exhilaration roaring through me. “I came here, tracked you down to find out if we still had a chance. And we do. You never got my letters. So you never rejected me.”
Even as I explained, I could tell she wasn’t getting it. Eyes glossy with tears, she just stared at me as if I was speaking Kurdish. But I had to try, make her understand that we still had a chance.
You never said no to what we had. You never said no to waiting for me.” I locked eyes with her, forced her to look at me. “Did you?”
Eyes wide, she fumbled for the door handle. “No, you did it all for me.” Her lips trembled, and I was afraid she’d start crying again. I couldn’t seem to stop making her cry, which of course made me feel like shit.
She finally jerked the door open and stepped down onto the pavement. “You ruined every single thing we created in Jamaica. All. By. Yourself.”
She was too angry. There was nothing I could say or do to make her feel better in this moment, so I just looked at her. Watched her slam the door and walk stiffly toward the coffee shop.
I’d try again later. When she’d had a chance to calm down.
* * * * *
Even though coffee contains a stimulant, I’ve always found something calming about the aroma of a freshly brewed pot. That smell combined with Ethel Waters’ wailing and the soothing appearance of The Coffee Grind made this café my go-to place when I needed to decompress.
Skinny vanilla latte in hand, I headed for my favorite chair when I saw a familiar face. Asa was sitting on the floor in a corner with a mug and a book.
Sighing, I passed by him doing my best impression of the invisible man. But of course, he saw me.
His eyes brightened when he recognized me. “Rain!”
“Leave me alone,” I said in a low tone. “I’m not in the mood to be harassed.” I sank down into my favorite chair and took a long fortifying swallow of coffee. Asa. What the hell?
He towered over me and I forgot about Kael for the moment. I didn’t remember him being so tall, or smelling like citrus and leather.
“Are you okay?”
I gave him a withering look, noticing that both of his arms were toned, muscular and covered in colorful Japanese tattoos. Hadn’t noticed that last time, but then again, I don’t think he was wearing short sleeves either.
“You’re bothering me.” Not today. I couldn’t deal with two egotistical men today. “Take the hint and keep it moving.”
“You like ink?” he asked with a smile, referring to his arms.
“Do I look like I’m into guys with tattoos?”
His grin widened. “I don’t know. With your hair like that, maybe.”
My hand flew to my hair. I’d forgotten that it was out, long and wild. I reached into my purse, pulled out a ponytail holder and quickly pulled it into a low ponytail.
I’d only worn it down for Kael. And see where that had gotten me? I had no business wearing my hair natural. It gave people the wrong impression about me.
“There. Now what? Stuffy, prim Rain Howard is back. Happy?”
He regarded me for a moment, probably thinking I was a neurotic female. Well, wasn’t I?
His eyebrows arched up while the smile disappeared from his face. Without another word, he returned to his spot on the floor and resumed scribbling in his notebook.
I picked up the nearest book and began reading. It was a collection of Edgar Allen Poe short stories. I sipped my coffee and read the Tell-Tale Heart, a favorite from middle school. Minutes passed as I became engrossed in the manic ravings of the protagonist, marveling at how as a child I hadn’t noticed how screwed up or high on absinthe Poe must’ve been to write some of his stories.
I felt a shadow cross me and I looked up. Asa was standing there again with a tentative look on his annoyingly handsome face.
“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary. Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore.” He looked smug. “I like Poe too. You seem to be feeling better.”
I closed the book. “I was. Emphasis on the past tense.”
“You looked pretty pissed off when you came in. Have anything to do with the guy that dropped you off?”
I sat up straighter. “Were you watching me?”
“I just happened to be looking out the window when you pulled up.”
I turned to glance at a large window facing the parking lot and relaxed.
“So, that’s your type?” he snickered. “All square jawed and muscles?”
I look at his tatted-up arms and then the rest of his body. He was not as muscular as Kael but almost as tall, only about two or three inches shorter. And his arms were ripped.
While Kael looked like he could moonlight as a lumberjack on the weekends, Asa was more—what the hell was I doing even looking at this guy’s body?
I took a sip of coffee and watched him over the rim of my cup. “You look like you work out.”
“Not at a gym. I row. I play tennis. I swim.” He did a bodybuilder’s pose with one arm and displayed a well-developed bicep. “This is all functional.”
I made a graceless noise. “Your jawline is pretty square too.”
He laughed it off. “So, do you want to talk? I’m a great listener.”
I took another sip of my coffee, wondering at my choice of beverage. P
erhaps, a glass of wine would have been a better choice. My nerves were fried and I could barely think straight.
“Why would I talk to you? I don’t know you.”
He gave me an appraising look. “I’ve got three younger sisters. I promise you, there’s nothing I haven’t already heard.”
I noticed his clothes look clean if wrinkled.
“You don’t look like you’ve crawled out from under a rock today. What happened?”
He didn’t even flinch. “I cleaned up a bit. So what’s bothering you?”
I guess it wouldn’t hurt to vent. For sure, I couldn’t talk to Charlotte, didn’t want to talk about my love life with my sister, and my parents would be no help at all.
“Last time we met, you mentioned that I seemed…bitter.”
He smiled. “I recall something like that.”
“Well, you were right. I’m not the best judge of character where men are concerned. And yeah, some guy did break my heart. So now, out of the blue, he’s back in my life.”
He seemed truly concerned but then he was one of them, a man. How could he possibly understand what I went through? Plus, there was something about him, a smugness that irked me.
Even so, I was desperate to talk this out. But then I felt guilty. I’d been nothing but rude to him, barely listened when he told me his name. He was actually good-looking in that disheveled surfer way, if you liked that.
“What’s your last name?”
“I thought you’d never ask. Shall we?” He guided me to a set of chairs. “It’s van den Berg. Asa van den Berg.”
I sipped my coffee, watching him. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. “That doesn’t sound American.”
“My father’s Dutch and my mother is a native Creole of St. Martin. But I grew up in the States. My father got a job with the US government, so we moved.”
“You along with your three sisters who taught you to be a great listener?”
He laughed. “You remembered. Yes, me and my three sisters.”
“But you don’t have an accent.”
“Ah.” He laughed. “I’ve worked hard to sound American. Life is easier in America when you sound like you belong. But when I’m visiting family the accent comes out.”
He lowered his voice and leaned toward me, as if he were divulging a secret. He grinned. “I actually have a talent for voices, I can sound like almost anyone, really.”
“Interesting.” It wasn’t, but he seemed really proud of his talent. I guess everyone had something. I could cook and he could mimic voices. Okay.
I briefly recapped the story for him, glossing over the details of the fling in Jamaica, instead focusing on how I was dealing with Kael’s return and his condescending attitude and assumptions that we could just continue where we left off.
Smiling thoughtfully, he tugged at a hole in his jeans. “Sounds like a real asshole,” he murmured. “You know?”
I looked at him, surprised but he continued to speak. “You want to give him a second chance but you’re afraid of what those around you will think, right?”
A warm flush crawled over my cheeks. “Pretty much.”
“And you’re afraid he’ll break your heart. Again.”
Too embarrassed to make eye contact, I stared into my coffee mug. “That too.” But then I gave him a second look. His eyes were startlingly blue and direct, an appealing contrast against his sand-colored skin.
“Would you like some advice?” He stood up, dusting off his pants.
His shoes were clean and in excellent condition, I noticed. In odd contrast with the ripped-up jeans and t-shirt he wore.
“Sure. I’ll take some advice.”
He licked his lips. “Make him beg for it.”
My eyes widened. “Make him beg for what?”
“Your time, your attention, dinner. Don’t give him anything without making him work for it. If a man doesn’t work for something, he won’t believe it’s worth his time or respect.”
I could do that. I could definitely make myself unavailable when he called. Yeah, play hard to get. That was always sound advice where men were concerned.
I could feel the tension in my shoulders draining away. “Do you have any other advice?”
He looked at me, smile gone from his face and his eyes suddenly serious. “Don’t sleep with him.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but—”
“If you haven’t already. Don’t sleep with him. Don’t give him,” he jams his fists into his pants pockets and seems to struggle for words. He cleared his throat and smiled. “Don’t give him what he wants. He doesn’t deserve you.”
Was it weird that a guy that I just met at a coffee shop was telling me not to have sex with someone? It certainly felt weird. I don’t even know why I was asking this guy for suggestions on how to deal with Kael. Desperate, I guess.
“How do you know what he deserves?”
He looked at me thoughtfully. “Have you considered that you’re the problem?”
“Me?”
“You appear to have everything going for you. Why would you even entertain the thought of welcoming this man with obvious trust and commitment issues back into your life? Every word out of his mouth is a lie, isn’t it?”
I stopped breathing. That much was true. Kael lied often, and he lied well. My stomach churned. Too much caffeine, not enough food. I set my coffee cup down.
“Consider this, are you self-destructive? Are you purposely sabotaging your success?”
What the hell? This guy was line stepping to be sure. “Just stop right there. I’ve heard enough.” I stood up and grabbed my purse. My first assessment of this guy was correct. He was a conceited son of a bitch.
“Your self-esteem took a hit. Maybe you no longer believe you deserve better.”
“Shut up!” That came out louder than I meant. I looked around the room. Several patrons watched us with concerned expressions on their faces.
I pasted a smile on my face and lowered my voice.
“Like I thought, you have no idea what I’m going through or how to help me. I was an idiot to even talk to you.”
“I think I could be very helpful. I could be just what you need. And I mean that in the least possible arrogant way. But you’re stubborn, I can tell. You don’t want to listen.”
He followed me to the front door. “What are you afraid of? What’s holding you back?”
“Dude, I get it. You’re deep. You think you know women. Now drop it. I no longer want your advice.” I opened the door but he blocked my path, a worried look on his face.
“If you’re not attracting the man you need in your life, you have to ask yourself, what are you doing wrong?”
“Are you seriously preventing me from leaving?” I fished my phone out of my purse and unlocked the screen. “The police can be here in five minutes.”
He removed his arm from the door. “Hey, I’m just trying to help you. You said you wanted some advice. Here’s a tip, leave that guy alone. He’s bad news.”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
I left the coffeehouse without a second glance.
Chapter Fourteen
”Does she know why you’re here?” Zelie looked over her shoulder at me.
“Go back to brushing your hair.”
She turned around but continued to watch me in the mirror before her, dragging the heirloom silver brush through her long, heavy hair. Her lips parted into a glossy smile. “Does she think you’re here for her or me?”
I looked up from the blueprints I’d been studying for the past hour. “Zelie, she doesn’t know you’re here. In fact, she doesn’t know much of anything about you.”
“Why is that? Why do I know all about her and not vice versa? Who are you stringing along? And who do you really care about?
”
She rose from the vanity table and turned toward me. “Should I call her and tell her that I’m here?” She reached for me, sliding her arms around my waist. “Should I tell her that you’re only pretending for your job?”
I gently removed her hands and pressed them to her sides. “I am here to meet with your uncle when he comes here.” I tapped the schematics before me. “In secret.”
“Ah.” She dropped to the couch, allowing her silk gown to part, revealing shapely, porcelain-white legs. “Perhaps, it is me you are using.” She ran her fingers along my spine.
It felt good but I would have preferred that it was Rain beside me, nearly naked and caressing me. I shifted a few inches away from her.
“Tomorrow, you will arrange for me to speak to your uncle alone and I will tell him about the corruption in his cabinet.” I looked at her then. “No one is suspicious that you arranged this economic empowerment tour through the South for your uncle?”
She slid away from me, her eyes simmering with heat. “Of course not. It fits into his plan for international development. We purchased three factories in Wake County. The president and his advisors should see it firsthand.”
I rolled up the plans, confident that I could sneak in and out without the press or the president’s security detail seeing me.
“And your American girlfriend?”
“Will be helping me on another project.”
“For an accountant, you certainly get around.” She narrowed her eyes.
I reached for a pair of reading glasses on the table and slid them on. Accountants wore glasses, didn’t they? “Forensic accounting is a surprisingly demanding field.”
She stood, wrapped her robe around her and stalked to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of white wine. “I suppose I should be grateful you came across the budget discrepancies when you did.” She leaned against the wall, sulking and sipping a French Grenache. . “Uncle might be dead if it weren’t for you. And now at least, he’ll know exactly who the vipers are in his nest.”
I placed the plans into my briefcase, glancing at Zelie as I did so. With her dark hair, exotic features and milky-white skin, it was challenging to continuously fight off her attempts at seduction. She was hot sex on wheels and she knew it. But I didn’t want her in that way. Not anymore.
Tell Me No Lies: The Black Orchid, Book 1 Page 11