But there were moments when their eyes met across the room. There were stolen glances and easy smiles, quickly corrected, so they weren’t apparent to anyone else in the room. There was that abiding feeling that neither Siobhan nor Ameer could shake.
“Did you have a good time, Messiah?” Siobhan asked when the meeting was over. The answer was clear, though, evidence by the smile on his face.
“Yes, I did,” he answered.
“I’m glad,” Siobhan smiled in return.
“Excuse me.”
The baritone of his familiar voice rumbled through her even before Ameer physically came into view.
“Messiah, how are you doing, young king?”
“I’m good,” Messiah replied, accepting Ameer’s extended hand.
“Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Mmhmm,” Messiah replied.
“Use your words, son,” Siobhan reminded.
“Yes, I did.” Messiah’s attention was drawn to a group of students standing nearby.
“Is it okay if I go talk with them?” He asked his mother, leaning his head in the groups’ direction.
“Of course,” Siobhan answered. “But don’t go past this hallway, okay?”
“Got it,” he smiled before walking away.
Siobhan watched as her son joined the group. She loved the fact that they welcomed him in. They all talked and laughed like they were old friends. This was going to be good for Messiah. That’s all that mattered to Siobhan was her son’s happiness. Ameer watched Siobhan watching her son and once again saw the delight in her eyes.
“It’s good to see you again,” Ameer crooned as he turned his full attention to Siobhan, gaining hers in the process.
“It’s good to see you again, too.” Her eyes were slow to meet his gaze. But when they did, Ameer felt the unspoiled ferocity of Siobhan’s eyes in his soul. What she saw in Ameer’s eyes was heart-rending tenderness. She’d seen it before, the first time she met him. His words mirrored that same tenderness. There was something so comforting in the space they shared. Although Siobhan felt fluttering in her stomach and the escalation of her heartbeat, Ameer enticed her mind and calmed her spirit simultaneously. She could easily lose herself in his gaze. So, she had to be careful. Siobhan also knew that in her soul.
“Uhm, I brought the permission slip,” she said, pulling her eyes from Ameer’s capture. Siobhan found respite from his provocative gaze by reaching in her purse and retrieving the paperwork.
“Thank you,” Ameer hummed, accepting the form from Siobhan; their fingers barely touching in the exchange. But once again, that touch was enough to awaken sensibilities in Siobhan that had long since been supine. There were those nerves again, skittering and firing and flaring from a single touch. And it was equally as undeniable for Ameer, the magnetism, the mesmerism. The kinetic energy he felt from her aura was intoxicating. So, he had to be careful. Ameer knew that in his soul.
“So, what do you think,” he asked, taking a small step to the side, opening up their spatial communication.
“I think it’s good,” Siobhan replied. “I think it will be good for Messiah.”
“Excellent,” Ameer answered. “That’s most important.”
“It is,” Siobhan agreed.
Ameer sensed the complexity and simplicity of her response. But he wasn’t willing to completely give up on the notion that he desired to get to know Siobhan better, even if it meant taking things slow.
“Can we talk again,” Ameer proposed, “soon?”
A shift in Ameer’s position accompanied his question, his prodigious height eclipsing her. Siobhan was acutely conscious of his imposing physique, requiring that her eyes lift and her head tilt to find his handsome face.
“Soon,” Siobhan replied. Instinctively, she knew it was time to leave regardless of the temptation to stay and spend more time with him. Her feet moved before she changed her mind. Ameer couldn’t resist surveying her form, so elegant, so regal. She could feel his currant black eyes boring into her as she walked away. And when she felt his gaze, she smiled.
Chapter Twelve
Messiah was a chatterbox all evening, talking about the program as if his mother hadn’t been there with him. Siobhan didn’t mind at all. He was excited about the group, what he learned, and his enthusiasm was contagious.
“Are you still up for a bedtime story?” She asked.
“Yes, mom, I still want my story,” Messiah respectfully insisted.
Before climbing into bed, Messiah perused one of the bookshelves in his room for the perfect bedtime reading material. Siobhan smiled and shook her head as her son paced back and forth in front of the shelving contemplating his decision. When he turned around with nothing in hand, Siobhan lifted her hands in inquiry. Nothing on the shelves would do, apparently. Messiah checked one more place, finding the book of his choice under other books on his bedside table.
Siobhan waited until Messiah climbed into bed, positioned his pillows exactly right behind his head, and pulled his covers up over his lap.
“Are you ready?”
“Mmhmm,” Messiah hummed.
Although Siobhan always instructed Messiah to use his words, this time, she didn’t correct him.
“Percy Jackson and the Olympians,” Siobhan read the hardback cover. “Maybe I should have you read to me,” she mused aloud.
“Not tonight, mommy, next time.”
“Is that a promise?”
“I promise,” Messiah uttered.
“Okay, little man.”
Siobhan adjusted herself on the side of her son’s bed and opened it to the first page of the chapter book. By the time she’d come to the end of chapter one, a low humming sound pulled her from the page. Messiah was fast asleep. He never looked more sweet, more innocent, more perfect than he did at that moment. Her heart melted all over again. She was exceptionally quiet as she left Messiah’s room. All that engineering and socializing wore her baby out.
After setting the alarm and a hot shower, Siobhan put on her favorite pajamas, a nondescript tank top, and an oversized pair of cotton sweatpants, she climbed into bed. It had been a long day for her as well, but like her son, Siobhan picked up a book to help her drift off to sleep. She had always been an avid reader, which is why Siobhan was not at all surprised by Messiah’s love of books. She read aloud to him from the time he was in the womb. One of her first gifts to her son was a book. Reaching over to her nightstand, she picked up the closest book to her. It didn’t matter which book it was. Siobhan could get lost quickly in the words, and that was her plan.
When her cellphone buzzed, the noise pulled Siobhan from the pages. Siobhan’s reaction to seeing Ameer’s name across her screen was the same as it was the first time.
“Is it too soon?”
The smile on her lips turned into a giggle in her spirit. Siobhan tried to discipline her voice so as not to reveal herself, to maintain some semblance of control.
“I suppose not,” she replied, her delicate, reedy voice dancing in his ears.
“Glad to hear that, Siobhan,” he replied in his sensationally sexy voice.
I wonder if he has any idea how incredible he sounds, she thought to herself as she closed her book.
“Did you have a good day?”
Although Ameer’s questions were general and typical in getting acquainted, Siobhan ignored the mocking voice inside that wondered why she was so interested. She answered.
“It was good,” she replied. “It was really good.”
“Tell me more,” Ameer suggested as he laid across his bed, relaxing in a pair of gray shorts.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” Ameer crooned. And it was true and honest. He did want to know everything about her. There was such a coaxing timbre to Ameer’s voice that playing coy and acting like she didn’t want to talk to him was counterproductive.
“Well,” she guffawed, “I had some really good sessions with my private clients today, taught a few cla
sses, went to my son’s school after,” she paused. “You know the rest.”
“Private clients?”
“Oh, Lord,” Siobhan smiled. “I can only imagine how that sounds.”
“Interesting,” Ameer confirmed.
“Let me explain,” Siobhan added.
“Only if you want to,” Ameer chortled.
“Or I can let your imagination wander, huh?”
“I have a good one,” Ameer laughed.
“I bet,” she laughed with him. Siobhan enjoyed the gentle sparring as much as Ameer seemed to.
After their laughter faded, Siobhan continued. “I’m a dance instructor.”
“That makes perfect sense,” Ameer replied.
“I’m so glad it does.”
“Where do you dance, instruct, I mean,” he asked. They shared another laugh.
“Move with Me,” Siobhan explained. “My dance studio.”
“Ah, an entrepreneur.”
“Yes,” Siobhan agreed. “I prefer it that way. It makes it easier to be available for Messiah.”
“That’s very selfless,” Ameer admired.
“Selfishness is not an option when you have a child,” she offered.
“I agree,” Ameer said. “So, Siobhan, tell me more about dancing. What styles do you teach?”
“Quite a few,” Siobhan smiled. “Contemporary, ballet, jazz, hip-hop, the rumba, Mambo, salsa, and kizomba.”
“Nice,” Ameer uttered. “And if say someone was interested in taking private lessons, how would they go about it?”
“Would that someone, by chance, be you?” Siobhan coyly challenged.
“Possibly,” Ameer chortled, “of course avoiding self-incrimination.”
“Mmhmm,” she hummed. “Ameer, are you flirting with me again?”
“I told you I wouldn’t stop unless my flirting offended you. And if it does, I will cease immediately.”
“It doesn’t,” Siobhan admitted. “Of course, avoiding self-incrimination.”
There was another light-hearted moment. Siobhan was barely able to keep the laughter from her voice, but it soon cooled as she relished in the sound of his low, throaty, full-hearted timbre.
“I won’t hold it against you, Siobhan, I promise,” Ameer assured.
“I hope not.”
“I won’t,” Ameer affirmed. “Besides, when I make a promise, I keep it.”
There was such levity in Ameer’s tone that Siobhan knew he meant every word.
“That’s good to know.”
Ameer paused, hoping that his words resonated with Siobhan. It was important to him that she got a chance to know him because he genuinely wanted to know more about her. But he couldn’t rush. There was too much at stake to move too fast. So, Ameer kept the conversation light.
“But if I did want to schedule a dance lesson, how would I go about it? Do I need to call first, book with the receptionist, answer a questionnaire?”
Siobhan’s sense of humor took over, and she laughed in answer.
“First of all, Move with Me is a small operation, so there is no receptionist. Well,” she chuckled, “I guess that makes me the receptionist. Secondly, there is no questionnaire to fill out, but you do need to call to book a session.”
“Does this call count?”
Ameer couldn’t see the blush that heated her cheeks. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.
“For you, Ameer,” she purred, “yes, this call counts.”
“Good to know.”
Ameer and Siobhan’s conversation lasted long into the night and into the early morning. They talked about everything and nothing, yet it didn’t matter. They talked, and it was refreshing for both of them.
“I can’t believe it's so late, or so early or whatever the case may be,” Siobhan sighed.
“I didn’t mean to keep you up,” Ameer offered.
“If I didn’t want to talk to you, Ameer, I would have ended this conversation a long time ago.”
“Good to know,” Ameer smiled. He liked the fact that Siobhan was sharp-witted, feisty in the best possible way. “I guess I should let you go,” Ameer suggested.
“Don’t make it sound so fatal,” Siobhan warned. “I’m sure we’ll talk again, at some point,” she added. She was smiling. He felt her vibration.
“You make it sound so fatal,” Ameer bantered.
“I promise it’s not,” Siobhan laughed.
There was that sound again, sweet, melodic. Ameer inhaled deeply, allowing the lilt of her voice to soothe him. It was clear by their exchange that neither of them was ready to end the call. But Ameer decided to be a gentleman about it and let her go for real, even though he had no desire to.
“I’ll talk to you soon, Siobhan. Have a good night or morning or whatever it is.”
“You, too.”
Chapter Thirteen
Having Shannon attending to Ameer was utterly insufferable. Cheri didn’t know how much more she could take. She marked the time of her suffrage, crossing out the date on her calendar for every day Shannon would have to be a part of her life. There were only a few more days to go; however, for Cheri, just one more day was too many. As she prepared for work, her thoughts remained obsessively focused on how she could make Shannon Young’s secretarial life miserable enough for the weakling to abandon her post, thus giving Cheri the spot she deserved all along.
“They should have picked me in the first damn place,” Cheri murmured as she absentmindedly poured cereal in her favorite green bowl.
“Damn,” she huffed when the pour exceeded the bowl’s capacity spilling onto the counter.
“Don’t eat that Misty Blue,” Cheri spat, chastising her tabby cat. “It’s not good for your digestion. You know that.”
The cat resisted the chastisement, stealing bits of Captain Crunch, requiring Cheri to push him away. Misty meowed loudly in response. Cheri used her hand to scrape the cereal into a pile before getting the broom and dustpan to pick it up.
“Wasting my damn stuff,” she cursed, pouring the spoiled cereal into the trash.
It was all Shannon’s fault. Everything was her fucking fault.
“Bitch,” Cheri fumed as she reached for the handle of the refrigerator and opened the door. She grabbed the half-gallon of milk and then pushed the door with her hip for it to close. Her thoughts returned to Shannon, as they always seemed to do since her assignment. Just as with the cereal, Cheri poured without thinking about what she was doing. It wasn’t until the pungent smell of sour milk reached her nose that she shifted her focus to the bowl. The clumps of coagulated milk repulsed her and spoiled her cereal.
“Fuck me!” Cheri yelled, angrily swiping the bowl off the counter. “Stupid bitch!” Cheri seethed as her eyes traveled over the mess Shannon forced her to make. Misty didn’t dare reenter the room. His animalistic instinct told him it was not okay to do so, not when his human was so angry. Now because Cheri had to clean up another mess, it would cause her to run late for work, which would, in turn, cause her to miss the coveted ride on the elevator from the parking garage to the executive floor with Ameer. She was not going to miss her opportunity to have that man all to herself, not over spilled spoiled milk.
Turning her back on the mess, Cheri grabbed her purse and her keys and headed out the door of her apartment. It took her only a few seconds to lock the door. But Cheri knew she had to hurry so she wouldn’t miss the bus. Her kitten heels clicked loudly as she marched down the hallway towards the stairs that led to the front door of her apartment building. When Cheri reached the first floor, she swung the door open widely, not caring if it struck the wall behind it. Cheri was on a mission, and nothing was going to stop her. When she descended the three stairs in front of her building, she cast a sweeping glance down the street in the direction the bus would come from. When Cheri didn’t see it, she started to panic. She looked down at the Timex on her wrist. She wasn’t late, at least she didn’t think so. Then Cheri looked up the street. Seeing the rear end of the bus,
Cheri knew the bus had arrived just seconds earlier than it was supposed to.
“Hold the bus!” She yelled at the people on the next block in line to board. “Hold the bus,” she yelled again as she started to speed walk in that direction, crossing the street without paying attention to the don’t walk sign. The whishing sound of Cheri’s pantyhose rubbing together on her thighs was secondary to the sound of her heels striking hard on the concrete sidewalk. She saw the red lights on the back of the bus brighten then dim. The driver had the bus in gear to pull off.
“He bet not pull away from that motherfuckin’ curb,” Cheri mumbled. There was only one more person left attempting to board the bus.
“Hold the bus!”
The man turned in Cheri’s direction like he heard her, but she didn’t see acknowledgment on his face. He stepped onto the bus. Cheri knew that if that man didn’t say anything, the bus driver would pull off. She had no choice but to pick up the pace. Cheri panted loudly as she jogged toward the bus. Finally, she was close enough to touch it, but just as soon as she did, she felt the bus move under her fingers. She banged on it.
“Stop! Stop! Stop!”
The bus responded, pausing again in response to the sound. It was a good thing the driver stopped. Cheri was fully prepared to take down his bus number and file a complaint if he hadn’t. When the doors to the bus opened, inviting her in, Cheri stomped up the steps. Her nose flared wide and her teeth clenched under her tightly held jaw as she fished out her bus pass, roughly swiping it against the scanner.
“You’re welcome,” the driver scoffed in response to Cheri serving him the death stare.
“I don’t need to thank you for doing your job,” she sniped as she started down the center aisle. The driver didn’t wait any longer, nor did he care that she was still walking when he pulled away from the curb. If the passenger stumbled, especially that passenger stumbled, then too damn bad. It was too early in the morning for her to be so fuckin’ mean.
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