Again, Davia felt tears pressuring for release. Again, she willed them back before she turned to Kale. “Why didn’t you ever say what really happened instead of letting folks believe you—?”
“Because letting them believe that bile was better than the true filth of it. At least, what I saw as being filth.”
“You tried to help.”
Kale snorted. “I’ve wondered about that over the years. Wondered if it was all about me trying to make myself feel better in the moment. Like I’d come to the rescue and been the kind of gentleman my uncle always swore a real man should aspire to be.”
He rolled his eyes. “That was someone I had no interest in being. Women always gave me what I wanted without me ever having to play the gentleman’s role.”
“Gave? Past tense?”
Thoughtful listener indeed, Kale mused. “They still do. I guess somewhere along the way I started having a problem with it.” Suddenly he laughed. The gesture held no amusement. “Had I thought more about what Martella really needed—”
The phone’s shrill buzz filled the room and Davia didn’t know whether to celebrate or curse the interruption. Moreover, she didn’t know what to do with the sudden empathy she was feeling for a man she’d practically loathed for the past several years.
Pushing up from the chair, she leaned over the desk to grab the phone. It was her assistant. “Hey, Maggie.”
“Davia, sorry for the interruption.” Maggie Phelps’s airy voice breezed through the receiver. “Leslie told me you were in there with Kale Asante. Is he as sweet and sexy as she claims?”
In her own sly manner, Davia surveyed her guest, who had turned to stare out at the view. “A definite yes to the second and a possible yes to the first.”
“Well, I’m sorry to take you away from your meeting, but I figured this concerned you both.”
“How so?”
“I’ve got an Estelle Waverly on the line. She’s calling from Mullins, Iowa.”
“A call from Mullins?” Davia said for Kale’s benefit.
He turned, curiosity alive in the chocolaty pools of his deep stare.
“Put it through, Maggie,” Davia instructed and then put the phone on speaker. She waited a beat before greeting the caller. “Mrs. Waverly? This is Davia Sands. I’m here with Kale Asante.”
“Oh, that’s great! I’m so glad I caught you both together.” The woman’s voice surged into the room.
Kale reclaimed his preferred spot at the edge of Davia’s desk. “Mrs. Waverly, is there a problem?” he asked.
“Will the two of you be able to make it to the town council meeting? Did your attorneys tell you about it?” the woman asked.
Kale and Davia traded looks.
“We know about it,” Davia said.
“Are we expected to attend?” Kale picked up on the anxious quality in the woman’s voice.
Estelle Waverly chortled. “It depends on who you ask. My husband’s uncle—Chase Waverly—was the original owner of the property. The story of how you two came to own it is an involved one best saved for when you arrive. Can we count on you to be here?”
“You’ve got us curious, Mrs. Waverly,” Davia replied. “I can’t help but say that curiosity does include a fair amount of suspicion.”
“Sounds like this is about more than Ms. Sands and I coming to take a look at property we’ve inherited,” Kale tacked on.
Estelle Waverly released another of her delicate laughs. “Oh, Mr. Asante, it’s definitely about more than that. Please tell me you’ll be here for the meeting.”
Kale and Davia exchanged another look before she accepted the invite. “We’ll be there, Mrs. Waverly.”
“Fantastic! Thank you both so much!” The smile was evident in the woman’s voice. “There’s no need to make hotel arrangements,” she was saying. “My husband and I own the town bed-and-breakfast, and your rooms are already prepared. Pack warmly, it’s January and this is Iowa, after all.” She sighed. “Our apologies for this all sounding so unorthodox, but I think you’ll have a better understanding of things once we’ve had the chance to speak in person. Thank you both again.”
The connection broke. Kale and Davia stared at the dead phone for several silent seconds.
“What is it we’re considering exactly?” Davia queried finally.
Kale was shaking his head slowly. “Guess we’ll find out when we get to Mullins.”
“Why do I get the feeling we’re going to be there for more than a few days?” Davia tapped her nails along the top of her desk.
Kale grinned. “At least we know our rooms are ready.”
Davia wasn’t feeling so at ease. “Did you come to San Francisco on your own, Kale, or is your lawyer here?”
“I’m alone. I hadn’t actually planned to go any farther.”
“Well, it looks like we’re both heading out there without anyone to watch our backs, then. I kind of left my lawyer hanging on whether I wanted her along on this first trip. Now I’m regretting I didn’t ask her to join me.”
Kale nodded. “You know, some might argue if I claim I’m not a sexist, but I’m perfectly fine with you watching my back.”
Davia had to smile.
“I won’t take offense if you don’t feel comfortable saying the same, but I’ll watch your back, anyway.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Her smile held. “So why do you think Estelle Waverly wouldn’t say more over the phone?” Though she honestly wanted to hear his answer, Davia was more interested in avoiding answers about where she stood on the subject of his true involvement with Martella Friedman.
Kale got to his feet. “At least she told us our coming there is about more than just looking at property we inherited.”
“I feel like I should be exercising some sense of precaution, but my curiosity is winning out.”
“Mine, too.” Kale was heading for the bar but paused midstep to gesture toward it instead. “That offer for a drink still stand?” he asked.
Davia gave a consenting wave and began to pace the perimeter of her office. Moments later she was dialing her assistant.
“Maggie, have you printed my tickets to Iowa yet?” Davia felt a hand at her elbow while Maggie’s voice filled her ear.
“Have her cancel the tickets,” Kale was saying.
Frowning, Davia slowly tuned into Maggie telling her the task was next on her list. “Hey, Mag, hold off on that, will you? I’ll call you back in a sec.” She hung up and looked at Kale. “Cancel the tickets?”
He gave her a look of phony discomfort. “Would telling you that I own a jet make you hate me even more?”
“I already know you own a jet. That fact is more than obvious.”
“Hell.” Kale looked decidedly uncomfortable as he released her elbow. “How?”
Davia’s laughter made a boisterous entry. “Surely the guy who envisioned the era of the luxury multiplex rates such perks!” Her eyes narrowed to fix him with a lightly discerning look. “Do trappings like that disturb you?”
“They do when I’m trying to gain the approval of someone who’s already got me in the doghouse. And since the cat’s out of the bag,” he continued before Davia could refute his doghouse claim, “and since we’re going to the same place, the least I could do is give you a lift.”
As her sense of precaution and treading carefully had pretty much abandoned her, Davia didn’t see the harm in going all-in. “Lift accepted. Thanks.”
Kale nodded his satisfaction and tilted his head toward the desk where a beer mug waited next to a frosted bottle of the brew. “Enjoy your drink. I’ll see you later.”
“Aren’t you having something?” she called, realizing he was leaving.
“I’ve got it stocked on the jet. I’ll have one later.”
Davia gla
nced at the bottle, noticing it was her own label. “How—?”
“My attorney’s file was very detailed.” Kale’s eyes sparkled as he enjoyed her surprise. “It’s a good product, Davia. You should be proud that you’re a partner in that brewery. See you later.”
“And I suppose you already know where I live?”
Hand on the office doorknob, Kale paused and turned to her. “Like I said, my attorney’s file was very detailed. I’ll see you, Davia.”
The door closed at his back just as Davia released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Chapter 4
Davia headed home to pack more. The turn of the discussion with Estelle Waverly had clearly indicated that more than a three-day stay would be required. But why?
Realizing her thoughts had rendered her immovable inside her walk-in closet, Davia shook herself. She pulled a few more garments from the rack that held everything from fisherman’s sweaters to ankle-length cardigans and shearling coats.
She had a pretty good idea that her questions pertaining to the Mullins affair would be answered soon enough. What she wasn’t sure of was whether her questions pertaining to Kale Asante would be answered. Her conversation with him had taken an intriguing turn, as well, she recalled.
What he’d had to say about Martella...was it really true? She had spent so long living under a completely different version of the truth. That version of the truth felt good, it felt safe. Yes, that truth was like a warm blanket, because the more time she could spend despising Kale Asante for Martella, the less time she had to despise herself for not doing more to help her dearest friend. Still, she hadn’t been able to shake the man’s explanation. Something about what he’d shared stuck with her. When he’d spoken, she’d felt a tug of sincerity in his eyes.
She couldn’t stop the snicker that tickled the back of her throat. A tug from the sincerity in his eyes? While she wouldn’t claim Kale Asante wasn’t sincere, that element hadn’t been at all responsible for the definite tug she’d felt in his presence.
Earlier, she’d been amused by her receptionist’s clearly dazed demeanor around Kale. While he’d been exceptionally polite to Leslie, Davia had the sense the man was both accustomed to and appreciative of the reactions he drew from the women fortunate enough to make his acquaintance.
Davia tossed another sweater into the case a bit more forcefully than necessary. She cringed over her selection of the word fortunate but...hell, she was alone. She could admit she’d felt fortunate indeed to have been given the opportunity to look upon such a specimen like Kale Asante.
His looks were assuredly a study in patient craftsmanship. It was rare that she met a man who managed to make her feel dwarfed by his height when she was decked out in heels, for which she had what had to be an unhealthy obsession. With her feet encased in a chic, strappy pair like the ones she wore, her height could top out at a whopping six-two.
Not that such things mattered. The men Davia met were usually business-related instead of personal. She hadn’t been thinking of Kale Asante in a business sense...
Davia shook herself again, selected more sweaters from the closet and dumped them onto her bed where the open suitcase sat already half filled.
No, she hadn’t been thinking of Kale in a business sense. Ironically, it was for that reason she’d been so quick, so certain, of her belief that he’d used his allure to deceive her best friend.
Was it so inconceivable that Tella was made of stronger stuff? After all, her interests at the time had involved elements that threatened her very safety. Whatever Martella may’ve been preoccupied by at the time, Davia was pretty sure Kale Asante’s looks hadn’t gone unnoticed by her best friend.
What woman wouldn’t notice such a body and face? The athletic build, the length of him that had to top the six and a half feet mark at least. His skin was the tone of molten caramel. His deep-set stare possessed the same coloring. Not to mention his close-cut crop of light brown waves. The rich coloring was an attraction on its own.
Holding on to intense dislike in the presence of such an erotic distraction was virtually impossible and now it was only going to get harder. Now they were to be in close proximity for however long it’d take to unravel the mystery they’d inherited.
Davia had enough confidence in her abilities to know she could set aside the allure of Kale Asante, but she still had to admit the man had far more going for him than his good looks. That quiet voice of his was deep but noticeably soft in its delivery. She wondered if he ever raised it. She mused it’d hold a raspy quality if he did. Such was the case with her own husky tone, she knew.
Beyond the voice, there were additional mannerisms that had captured her attention. The way he’d handled her elliptical, the slow brush of the back of his hand along the machine’s bars and levers... She wondered if his touch was so gentle with other things.
Then there was the grin and the playful wince he gave when she’d managed to surprise him or challenge him on some point. She’d been attracted by his looks, but his mannerisms...those were the elements that had intrigued her.
And now you’ve got no reason to hate him.
Davia shook her head free of the unwanted reminder. No, if she took his explanation as fact, she had no reason to dislike him, but that didn’t mean she could fall into bed with him. Well, she could...but should she? And why the hell was she even considering that? Aside from his comment about wanting to know if she was incredible to look at, he’d been the consummate gentleman. She was the one with her mind in her...lingerie drawer.
The accusation had her leaving the suitcase to check the aforementioned drawer for tights and other undergarments.
Davia was tossing an assortment of socks and underthings into the case when the doorbell rang.
She checked her wrist but found she hadn’t yet put her watch back on. Then she looked to the small grandfather clock on the second-floor landing of her town home. She had over an hour before the car arrived. Davia gritted her teeth in dread of an unforeseen business emergency that might be about to throw a wrench into her plans.
She ran downstairs and was surprised when she opened the door.
“Kale?” She gave a self-conscious tug to the hem of the T-shirt she wore with an old pair of denim capris. Once again, she checked her wrist for the watch she still wasn’t wearing.
“You’re not late. I’m early.” Kale met her gaze and smiled.
“I, uh, I thought you were sending a car for me?” Davia’s tone was cautious, curious.
“I did.” Kale turned from the doorway where his frame had eclipsed her view of the cobblestone drive beyond the courtyard where a silver Land Rover waited.
Davia blinked as if mildly stunned. “You drove?”
“I’ve been known to.” His manner was playfully bland.
“So are you trying to make a statement?” Davia joined in on the tease.
“Trying to. I hope it’s one that’ll impress you.”
It occurred to Davia that they were still in her doorway. Quickly she inched back to wave him inside.
“I’ve only got to get dressed and throw a few more things in my suitcase,” she said.
“No rush. It’s not like we’re gonna miss our flight.”
“Right.” Inwardly, Davia gave herself a few mental kicks for behaving like a nervous girl on her first date. She was so not that and a date was so not what this was.
“I was just going to take a quick shower before I got dressed.” Her tone was still breathy and anxious. She wanted to kick herself for real.
Kale laughed. “Davia, it’s all right. We don’t have bags to check. No security gates to clear. I’m ready when you are. Call down to me when you’re done with your packing and I’ll come up and get your suitcase.”
“Oh, no, you...you don’t have to do that,” s
he told him, only to have him move into her personal space.
“I want to do that,” he said.
Her actual height of five-eleven was greatly dwarfed by him. She admitted to feeling appreciatively overwhelmed and knew it was time to go.
“The kitchen’s behind the bar around this side of the stairway...” she began in an airy, much lighter tone. As she motioned in the direction, she noted, “Just help yourself to anything you want.” Then, turning, she quickly sprinted back up the way she’d come.
Only when Davia had disappeared around the corner at the top of the stairs did Kale look away. Just help yourself to anything you want. Her words reverberated in his head. He muttered an obscenity to criticize himself and wondered if he should tell her to be careful what she said to him.
No...he shouldn’t tell her because it would confirm that solving the mystery of what she was like in bed had consumed the bulk of his thoughts since they’d met. Correction—since he’d seen that picture of her in Felton’s file. And wouldn’t that just take her right back to hating him?
Back to? Had the truth of what really happened between him and Martella Friedman changed or at least softened her perception of him? He wanted Davia to believe that hustling a woman into his bed was not the first thing he thought of when he conducted business. He wanted her to think that because it was actually true. He wanted her to think that even though all he could think of in that moment was having her amazing legs wrapped around his back and that smoky voice of hers moaning his name while he lost his mind inside her.
Muttering to himself, Kale charted a path for the bar and didn’t stop until he tossed back a swig of her fine, locally brewed beer. Why the hell should he care about any of that? Before two days ago, he never thought he’d meet Davia Sands. Providing the truth about Martella hadn’t even been a blip on his radar despite the fact that he didn’t appreciate dark marks being put on his business reputation unless he put them there.
Now he was...what? Trying to pass himself off as a better man when he was nowhere near that? It was as he’d told Davia earlier. He had no interest in being that type of guy.
Silver Screen Romance Page 3