Tempted By You

by Stephanie Nicole Norris

  Jasmine stood with her eyes wide and her mouth agape. A mist of tears clouded her vision as she stared off at the door. What had she done? But most importantly, how could she clear up this misunderstanding?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Election Night

  Chicago Union Station

  It had been the most anxiety-filled four days Luke had ever experienced. He considered himself a confident man, and that much had remained true up until this moment. Even with the venue occupied to capacity with some of his closest friends, family, and the team of volunteers that had campaigned with him heavily throughout this race, Luke couldn’t help but feel incomplete without Jasmine by his side.

  The days leading up to the election had been rough. Sleepless nights, early mornings, and last-minute campaigning had taken a toll on his energy, but as if he were a testosterone-filled caveman, you wouldn’t be able to tell with the way the tailored suit fit the stature of his makeup, or with the way the freshly groomed haircut and beard laced his strong structural features. Thick brows were immaculately sharp, and the skin he was in spanned smoothly with a golden-brown hue. The fragrance that wafted from him was just enough to tease any woman’s healthy libido, but the only one Luke cared to tease tonight was the object of his affection.

  He pulled his arm up, and his sleeve rose, giving a peek of his golden cufflinks and Rolex. He lifted his wrist and checked the time, which he’d been doing off and on all night, eager but feeling hopeful that on this eve he would become Chicago’s next mayor.

  “You’ve done everything you could to win this race. And I’m proud to say you’ve been the best version of yourself, which is who you are all the time. It’s a rarity. This city is lucky to have someone like you on the verge of victory.”

  He heard her voice, and the rapid flutter of his heart made him inhale a shuddering breath. This was what life was like without her, but until she was ready to trust him, he would suffer in agony waiting.

  The door to the bar room opened, and an equally tall, debonair muscular specimen strolled through with the swag and all the added compliments of Luke’s face, complexion, and commanding persona. The older gentleman was clad in a custom suit that settled over his frame with expertise, and above his smile was a mustache that fit the rim of his smooth lip.

  “Son—I mean, Mayor Steele,” Luke’s father said, approaching him. “How are we doing tonight?”

  “Senator,” Luke responded, and the two men smiled and shook hands. “I’m doing about as good as I can be, considering.”

  Senator Warren Steele reached for Luke’s tie, and Luke held his chin up and stood still while his father adjusted it just a bit.

  “You’re a star, and I’m proud of you. I know running for mayor wasn’t something you’d originally cared to do, but I’m glad you were moved all the same. You’ll make a wonderful leader.” He paused before adding, “I won’t pretend to be selfless and say that is the only reason I’m excited for you.”

  Luke had an idea of what his father would say next, and he smirked waiting for him to continue.

  “I think every father is happy when or if his son follows in his footsteps, no matter the road he had to take to get there. As am I.”

  “Father, just because I didn’t plan to follow your path doesn’t mean I’m not pleased to make you proud.” Luke paused. “I am your son, after all, and I think all sons want to honor their father during their lifetime.”

  The two men smiled at each other, then with gratitude and a strong embrace, pulled one another in for a solid, gripping hug.

  “Your mom’s going to be jealous,” Senator Warren Steele said, and they guffawed, giving one another a stern pat on the back.

  “We’ll keep it our little secret.”

  “What secret?” Bernadette Steele said, sauntering through the door.

  The sixty-two-year-old fashion maven was dressed like Mrs. Obama on the night of her husband’s first election. The red and black number fit her feminine silhouette cleanly, and the two-inch heels lifted her from the five feet, five inches by a hair. Luke and Warren chuckled off their laughter and straightened to face her.

  “I was having a word with my son. Is that all right with you, boss?” Senator Steele teased. He enveloped Bernadette, to which she replied, “Mmhmm. I heard something about a secret. Anything I should know about?”

  “No, lest you become a co-conspirator to our crimes.”

  Luke chuckled just as Bernadette laughed and swatted her husband. She shook her head.

  “Boys will be boys, I guess.”

  Senator Warren kissed her cheek and winked over at Luke.

  “How’s my baby doing?” Bernadette asked.

  Luke nodded. “I’m good, just getting my thoughts together.”

  Bernadette wiggled away from her husband and coasted to Luke. She silently assessed his eyes, noticing the hint of sadness that lingered there. It was such a tiny fraction that it was missed with the common eye, but with her motherly gaze trained on him, it was as clear as day.

  “It’s Jasmine, isn’t it?” she concluded. “Whatever is going on between you two can surely be fixed with a mere conversation.”

  Luke smiled broadly, but the excitement didn’t register in his eyes.

  “I wish it were that simple.”

  Bernadette stared some more. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

  Luke’s smile faltered. “What are you asking?”

  “You’re the one pushing her away now.” His mother sighed. “You young people go back and forth, when will it end?”

  It wasn’t really a question, but Luke felt inclined to answer it anyway. He slipped his hands inside his pants pockets, but Bernadette interceded.

  “Don’t tell me it’s still her, for if it were, she wouldn’t be outside the door lingering on whether she should enter or not now.”

  Luke’s brows rose, and he glanced from his mother to his father, catching another conspiratorial wink from his old man. Luke didn’t even respond. His stride took him across the room to the tall mahogany door where he thought to pause just as he exited. His pace stopped once he crossed the threshold and his gaze trod down the carpeted corridor to see Jasmine perched in a lean against the wall with her head tilted against the mural on it.

  She pushed off of the barrier and stood straight when their eyes met, and the lingering clot in her throat sailed down in a ball of nervous energy.

  With his hands rested at his side, Luke slipped them back inside his pockets, and with each step he took, so did she until there was only enough space between them for a wind stream of air.

  “I hope you don’t mind me coming,” Jasmine said, her stomach now in a hot knotted ball.

  “Of course, I don’t.”

  She was a goddess. Her chestnut brown skin poured down her shoulders, spilling in a covering of her arms, hands, and fingers. The halter-top dress was cinched over her breasts and throughout her waist with a ballroom gown flair fit for a princess over a bold slip.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he said. “You cut your hair,” he paused, “again.”

  Her hands rose to her head where she patted her manicured fingers against her soft Toni Braxton cut.

  “This is the style I wanted all along, I don’t even know why I left one side long to begin with. Probably just hard to let things go sometimes, you know.”

  They both heard double meanings, and Luke nodded.

  “Jas, I thought we were past this. I know pushing you away when we were younger put a shield between us, but...” He paused and backtracked against his next words. “You know what, never mind. I don’t want to fight tonight. I honestly don’t want to think about us not being together. I just want to enjoy this moment right here, right now.”

  Jasmine had a storm of things she wanted to say, too, but Luke was right. Tonight, was important, and they should be celebrating regardless of the strain between them.

  “Will you celebrate with me?”

  She smiled coyly. “Yes.”

>   His hands reached out to her, grabbing her shoulders where he pulled her in for a forehead kiss. His mouth lingered there then drifted down the bridge of her nose where he hovered around her mouth, causing fever to burn between them. Jasmine’s heart rocked in her chest, and her lips parted as she took in a breath while on anticipated edge of his passionate kiss.

  “The results are in!”

  They turned to find Sarah Middleton entering the corridor with a fast-paced strut. Spotting Luke and Jasmine standing so close made her stop. For the past several days, Luke had been at the campaign office riding the midnight hour with her as they closed in on the last vital areas to crusade. She’d felt closer to him now than during the entire time she’d been volunteering, and finally, she thought they would make some progress. But clearly Jasmine wasn’t going away lightly, and it annoyed Sarah to the point that her lips turned upward, and her eyes cut slightly between the two.

  “You don’t want to miss this,” Sarah said, taking her attention to Luke without speaking to Jasmine.

  They turned and strutted with haste inside the bar room where their parents and friends were huddled in front of a plasma TV. Outside in a ballroom, a large crowd of Luke’s supporters held their breaths as they also waited on the results to be revealed.

  The host of the broadcast checked the iPad device in front of him, taking a second glance with a bewildered lift of his brow.

  “Is this right?” he asked, glancing around the studio for an answer. He received his response, and his eyes enlarged. He shifted in his seat and readjusted the glasses on his face.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, you’re not going to believe this, but for the first time in two decades we have a tie.”

  A sharp gasp flew from Bernadette, but the rest of the room remained silent.

  “Neither candidate won the majority with Luke Steele winning forty-three percent of the vote, Incumbent Samuel Jenkins winning thirty-two percent, Bruce McCarthy taking seventeen percent, Milton Brunner six percent, while Jefferson White takes only two percent.” The host glanced down at the tablet again. “Chicago, it looks like we’ll have a runoff between the two top candidates Luke Steele and Samuel Jenkins three weeks from tonight.”

  The silence that lapsed didn’t just take over Luke and his friends and family. The entire audience in the ballroom had gone silent with everyone in utter disbelief.

  “Okay…” Jasmine began. “This is not a bad thing. Luke has forty-three percent of the vote. With McCarthy and Brunner out of the race, this just means we need to win over their supporters, and we can do that,” she said, always the optimistic.

  Bernadette did breathe a sigh of relief, and slowly but surely, everyone else chimed in their agreeance.

  “How?” It was Sarah Middleton who’d spoken. “McCarthy’s and Brunner’s voters are old white men who believe the United States belongs to them. They’d be the first to shout racial slurs at Luke and tell him to get out of their country!”

  “Excuse me, young lady, but you need to watch your tone,” Bernadette said with a leering eye on Sarah.

  Sarah pursed her lips and turned her eye to Luke. “I’m just being honest.”

  “So, then you would know this how?” Jasmine asked. “Is it because you’ve knocked on every door of every one of their supporters? Or perhaps you’ve called them all. Even a phone call would explain your unsubstantiated claims.” Jasmine waited for her to answer only getting a light glower from Sarah. “None of those things? Hmm. Well, Miss Middleton, you’d be surprised how people will cast their votes when their candidate is no longer in the race. And the only way to make sure Luke is that person is to reach out to them, personally. Have you no confidence?”

  Sarah scoffed and mumbled, “You’re just saying that because you’re screwing him.”

  Another sharp gasp flew from Bernadette, and Jasmine’s mouth dropped open.

  “Young lady, you are way out of line, and I think you should find your way home, now.”

  It was Luke’s dark grizzly voice that growled out the command.

  Sarah stared at him for another second, then she tightened the purse under her arms and walked to the door.

  “And Miss Middleton …”

  Sarah turned back to look at Luke.

  “Don’t return to the campaign office. We will no longer need your volunteer efforts.”

  Sarah’s eyes widened, and she glanced from him to Jasmine who was two seconds away from marching across the room and slapping her across the face. With her head held high, Sarah left the room, pretending to be okay although she was everything but.

  “I apologize for her behavior,” Luke said to his parents and Jasmine. “I need to address the crowd.”

  He glanced at them all before leaving the room. Jasmine wanted to follow him, stand by his side, and let him know that everything would be okay. But she could tell what Luke really needed was a stiff drink.

  After giving his uplifting speech about staying the course all the way to the end, Luke left the ballroom in search of Jasmine, but it appeared that she’d already left for the evening. It was just as well; their relationship, or lack thereof, couldn’t deal with a serious conversation tonight. For the first time in the long stretch of his campaign, Luke was exhausted.

  He dropped down in his chair as soon as he strolled through the door of his townhome. In the dark, he sat like a shadow with thoughts of his campaign, thoughts of the continuously building protests, and thoughts of Jasmine running on a reel in his mind. Mayor Jenkins was currently losing the race to him. Luke was sure part of that reason was because of the unresolved incident with Darren King. Still, no charges had been brought against the officer, and some of Mayor Jenkins’ first-term supporters had crossed over to Luke. Maybe a part of what Sarah said was right. Maybe they should go after Mayor Jenkins’ supporters instead. With whatever they did, it was now or never. Luke sat in that chair contemplating, and it was the very spot he fell asleep in.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jasmine had waited about as long as she possibly could, but with no updates that charges would be brought against Officer Ronald Baker, it was time to take this fight to the street.

  The door to the Bentley Mulsanne opened, and Jasmine’s security personnel stood waiting for her to exit. She glanced to the leather seat next to her and gave another thought on adding the white hat that sat there to her crown. When Jasmine dressed herself this morning, she was donned in her signature wear, a Max Mara three-quarter sleeve coat, with white elbow gloves, crème pants, three-inch heels, and her white hat. Her plans were to show up like Olivia Pope, coming to bring motivation to the rally, to help not only the people get press for this serious demonstration, but to help their voice be heard. However, after much indecision, she removed the entire wardrobe. It didn’t seem to carry the message she intended to send with her presence. Now she sat in all black. Dark pants, a smooth silk V-neck black shirt that ran the length of her belly snuggly over her belt buckle, topped with a black and white chevron Armani jacket. She tossed a leg out then the other and stood on four-inch heels, leaving the white hat behind. After all, she wasn’t coming here to play nice like her previous wardrobe indicated. In her hand, a bullhorn rested, and in her eyesight was the front door of the Superintendent officer headquarters. With tunnel vision, Jasmine walked through the crowd, her heels tapping against the asphalt of the concrete road as her security parted the sea of demonstrators, allowing Jasmine to stroll right to the frontlines.

  Cameras zoomed in on her immediately from all angles, and her face became the center of attention on live news stations that were recording the protests in real time. For a long moment, the only thing she did was stand and stare at the front door, as if she was waiting for someone to exit on the other side. The crowd behind her was as quiet as the night before Christmas, but when her finger flipped the switch on the horn, and she lifted it to her mouth, a waving ripple of movement could be felt around her, as if the crowd’s energy was set to go off the moment she spoke.<
br />
  For days and weeks, the protestors had been there shouting for justice for Darren King. Jasmine was there to reiterate their message in the only way she knew how. Her voice rang out.

  “The equal protection clause of the fourteenth amendment to the United States Constitution states, and I quote, ‘All persons born or naturalized in the United States are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside. No State shall deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws’.”

  She paused, and the crowd behind her shouted its agreement, and a rumbling wave of vibration could be felt around her.

  “The Declaration of Independence states,” she paused and took her eyes straight to the camera hovering at her right. “And I quote… ‘All men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness’.”

  She paused again.

  “This rule is to ensure that no man is treated in a different respect than another regardless of race, religion, or social status.”

  The crowd shouted its agreement.

  “That includes government officials,” she continued.

  The crowd’s cries soared, and Jasmine held her tongue until their shouts died down. She then lifted the horn back to her lips, and this time her voice was angrier and more direct than before. Without trying, a frown crippled her brow.

  “The video of Darren King being beaten and dragged by the handcuffs without so much as an intelligible question being offered to him by Officer Ronald Baker is a direct violation of his human rights!”