In addition to the spectacular view, the room boasted a spacious bathroom. A desk area with a cozy eating space was positioned near the rear alcove where Davia stood marveling over the landscape.
“The winter views are incredible, given the snow and all, but you’ve seen nothing until you get a load of the view in summer with the sun rising or setting behind the cornfields. Incredible.” Pride shone on Barry’s face as he made the boast. He winced suddenly, though, and made a zipping gesture across his mouth. “I should really go before I start talking your heads off again. Kale? Can I show you to your room on my way?”
It was Kale’s turn to wince. “Actually, Barry, I need to go over some things with Davia first.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you both in the morning, then.” Turning, Barry moved to a wall where he retrieved Davia’s baggage from behind the panel that secured the mini freight elevator. He then used a similar key to lock the car and then handed both keys to Davia. He handed Kale his room keys next and then saluted his guests.
“Good night to you both,” he said.
When the door closed behind Barrett Waverly, Kale and Davia traded exasperated looks. Then Davia collapsed onto the bed and sighed.
“Bet you never thought such a small town would be in the middle of such high drama,” Kale said.
Davia gave a throaty laugh. “If this were a TV movie, I wouldn’t be surprised at all. But this...” She raised her hands toward the high ceiling and let them fall to the mattress with a decisive splat. “This I definitely didn’t expect.”
Kale walked the spacious room. “You still set on making a go of the property knowing there’s...all this hanging around it?”
Davia sat up and began removing her boots. “Well, we still haven’t seen it yet or heard what the council has to say.” She gave a quick tilt of her head. “I’m willing to hold my answer till then.” She grew rather solemn while tugging her feet free of the chic boots. “Chase Waverly was some kind of guy, huh?”
“Seems so, given what we’ve heard so far.” Kale was nodding. “I got a feeling we haven’t heard the half of it. Humph.”
“What?” Davia asked of Kale’s gesture and his resulting smile.
“Just thinking of some things my uncle used to say.” He took a seat on the low windowsill. “They’re starting to make more sense now.”
“Like what?”
Kale rested his head back on the window. “He was real big on doing the right thing. Always said being a man wasn’t a designation based only on what you had below your waist, but in your heart and your head.”
Davia’s smile echoed approval. “Your uncle sounds like he had a good brain inside his head.”
“Oh, he did.” Kale’s expression was a rueful one. “For a long time, I thought that the fact that my own dad didn’t stick around lent to a lot of what he said. I figured he didn’t want me to be that kind of guy.” Kale pushed up from the sill. “Later, I started thinking that it wasn’t my dad he meant, but some other man entirely—the kind who was the sort of man deserving of the designation.”
“Chase Waverly sounds like he’d be deserving of the designation,” Davia noted.
“He saved two lives, so I’d have to agree with you.”
Davia watched Kale’s easy expression grow tight, guarded. “Kale?”
He needed no prompting. “Saving a life was what I thought I’d been doing when I blindly involved myself in Martella’s business. I guess, without knowing it, I was trying to live up to my uncle’s perception of what a real man was.” He laughed softly but the gesture carried a decided edge. “All I managed to do was put her back against a harder wall.”
Davia shook her head to that thinking. “You gave her a way out and she didn’t take it. Or...she did take it only to put herself into a deeper hole when she gambled it away.”
“I should’ve found a better way.” Kale massaged a drawn fist against his palm.
Davia left the bed, shaving off some of the distance between them. “What happened to Tella...what she did...Kale, it wasn’t your fault. She needed the kind of help that went beyond money.”
His grin betrayed none of the earlier edginess of his smile. While he rubbed the nape of his neck, he watched her with mounting interest. “I wish you’d stop trying to make me feel better.”
“And I wish you’d stop making yourself out to be the bad guy.” She gave him a tense, lopsided smile. “I think I’ve done enough of that and for long enough.”
“Davia...” He drawled her name in a manner that urged her to stop.
She didn’t listen. “If we’re going to do...whatever needs to be done here, we’re going to have to work together. That means no more harping on past drama. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, Kale. I know you’re not the kind of guy to use—”
His mouth was on hers before she could finish.
The act was seeking, hungry, claiming, and, at first, Davia could do nothing—nothing at all but stand there and take, welcome, enjoy.
Kale didn’t seem to mind her inability to respond. The kiss heightened in intensity with his tongue making slow, lazy circles against hers and then repeating the action against the roof of her mouth. His hands fisted the lapels of her jacket and added more provocative stimuli to the act.
Davia could feel an urgency akin to possessiveness in the way he held her. The kiss began in the center of the room but the pressure of his mouth on hers, not to mention that of his body claiming her space and crowding her, sent Davia retreating as he advanced. Soon her back was meeting the wall. Hitting the barrier not only stopped her retreat, it stopped the kiss, as well.
Kale broke contact with her mouth but pressed his forehead to hers while he labored to steady his breathing. “Don’t tell me I’m not that kind of guy. Seems I’ll use whatever it takes when it comes to you. Good night, Davia.”
He left her without another look back.
Frozen as she was, Davia could only stare after him.
Chapter 7
Kale half expected Davia to request her breakfast by dumbwaiter the next morning. He half expected—and he half hoped. The latter was for his benefit, though. He didn’t want to see her again first thing in the morning. Not after last night. He made a fist out of frustration, taking advantage of the fact that his hand was under the table and out of Estelle and Barrett’s view.
The couple had already been up for who knew how long when Kale arrived downstairs. He’d been led by his nose following the aroma of coffee, eggs, bacon and what smelled suspiciously of blueberry muffins.
He found Estelle and Barrett in the kitchen, and as he sat at the table, they discussed the plan for the day. First up was a visit to the property site later that morning.
“You’ll probably lose your appetite for seeing it after sitting through that town council meeting,” Estelle called from where she removed a fresh batch of muffins from the oven.
Kale chuckled into his coffee mug. “That bad, huh?”
“It’s been known to be.” Barrett sighed, sitting down and helping himself to bacon before passing the platter to Kale.
“This all happened so long ago, it’s surprising that it’s still an issue.” Kale accepted four of the hearty-looking strips.
Barry shrugged. “People tend to raise their kids with knowledge of the same drama they grew up with. Then they pass it on down.”
Davia arrived in the kitchen then and Kale felt his hand, once again hidden beneath the table, draw into a fist. The last thing he’d wanted had been the very thing to happen. He’d told her the real story of his attempt to help her friend as opposed to taking advantage of her. Davia had seemed to take him at his word and then what did he go and do? He proved he was exactly the kind of guy she thought he was from the start. Nice goin’, K.
“Morning, everybody.” Davia sent the bl
anket greeting and was greeted by the group. “Estelle, that coffee smells as good as the tea did last night,” she commented while moving into the kitchen.
“Thanks, girl. It’s a local blend from a company out of Des Moines.” Estelle laughed when she glimpsed Davia’s surprised look over her shoulder.
“That was my reaction, too,” Estelle went on, “but once I tasted it, I had no complaints or doubts.”
“It smells fantastic.” Davia continued to rave and went to pour herself a cup at the sideboard.
“Davia’s into local brewing herself,” Kale informed the Waverlys while Davia worked on her coffee. “Got her own beer label and everything.”
At the sideboard, Davia smiled broadly as the couple voiced their surprise and interest over the news. “My partners and I have a few Midwest restaurants carrying the brew, but you’ll probably have to head out to Des Moines to find them.”
“You might want to talk to Rich and Troy Ayers while you’re here,” Barry said while breaking open a blueberry muffin. “They own the local sports bar.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea. I discovered that Des Moines coffee brewery after a few cups of the stuff at Rich and Troy’s place,” Estelle said.
“Those guys detest anything imported,” Barry explained. “They’d probably be open to finding another good domestic beer to add to the menu.”
“That sounds like a plan. We could head over to Ayers for lunch after the council meeting,” Estelle suggested.
Barry slathered butter to one side of his muffin. “You should call over there first and have a table waiting. The place is likely to get stampeded after the meeting.”
“You make that council meeting sound like quite the event, Barry,” Kale said.
“It is!” Barry practically bellowed. “More so today given what’s up for discussion and having you guys in attendance.”
“We were just telling Kale that we want to take you guys to the site before the meeting.” Estelle went to get fresh plates and silverware for Davia who had just settled at the table.
“When do we need to be ready?” Davia reached for one of the huge muffins.
“Oh, there’s plenty of time, so eat up.” Estelle took the liberty of filling Davia’s plate with some of the fluffy scrambled eggs and several slices of the thick bacon. “You’re gonna need this fuel when that wind hits you out there.” Estelle set down the loaded plate. “You guys must’ve turned right in when Barry took you up.”
Kale and Davia made a point of not looking at each other then.
Davia cleared her throat and smiled. “It seemed so late.”
Estelle laughed. “Probably because we spent so much time talking. Plus, the days are shorter and you guys had already packed so much into your day with traveling and all. Probably made it seem much later than it was.”
Barry was standing, his plate and coffee in hand. “Well, we won’t talk your heads off just yet. Enjoy your breakfast. We’ve got some things to do around the inn.” He looked to Estelle who was taking her plate to the sink. “We’ll head out to the site in a few hours. Give you guys time to head back here and change for the meeting. Sound good?”
“We’re in.”
Davia was thankful for Kale’s confirmation. She was uncertain about being alone with him and was finding it rather difficult to speak.
The Waverlys left the kitchen and, for a while, only the sound of utensils against plates filled the silence. Davia rose to top off her coffee even though she didn’t need to.
“I know what happened last night probably has you thinking you were right about me all along, but if you’re expecting me to apologize for it, I won’t.” Kale’s rich voice seemed to echo across the kitchen. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I met you. It’s pretty much all I’ve been thinking about. You probably hear that line from men so much that it’s pathetic and, for that, I’ll apologize. I just can’t think of a better way to phrase it.”
Davia remained turned to the sideboard. “Well, now you’ve eased your curiosity.” Her voice carried a phony, refreshed tone. In the time it took her to blink, she felt him at her back. He didn’t touch her, not even when he set his hands on either side of her against the sideboard.
“You really believe that?” he asked.
“What should I believe?” she countered, turning to him.
His molten-chocolate eyes wandered her face in an almost hopefully bewildered fashion. “You should believe that I like to spend my time doing what I think about.”
He kissed her then and Davia could think of nothing other than responding. She would’ve settled back against the edge of the sideboard, but there was no chance to.
Kale had moved his hands from where he’d set them in the makeshift trap along the sideboard. He skimmed the backs of his hands, powerful and elegant, along her sides, outlining the curve of her figure. Then he was using those hands to cup her bottom and pull her snug against him.
Davia’s hands weren’t still, either. She indulged in the moment to mold them to the sculpted plane of his chest beneath the black fisherman’s sweater he wore. A slave to the desires of her hands, she was curving them over his broad shoulders and up to his nape. Lightly, she grazed the fine hair tapered at his neck.
Soft, distinctive sounds of sheer hunger left Kale’s throat. They kept an easy rhythm to the thrusts his tongue made against hers—thrusts that deepened each time Davia gasped and allowed him more room to explore her mouth.
His grip firmed on her bottom and then he was tugging Davia closer until her feet left the floor. Instinctively, she locked her legs around his waist, her fingers curving tighter into his hair to draw him closer and deepen their kiss.
Kale suckled her tongue deep into his mouth, keeping it locked there in a manner that both relaxed and stimulated. He released it only to recapture it seconds later and begin the act all over again. He found her reaction to him to be an undoubted enticement, but somehow Kale managed to break the kiss. He appeased his hunger for her then by targeting the curve of her jaw. The elegant line of her neck, he treated to a succession of openmouthed kisses until he was applying his lips to her clavicle.
He made an honest effort to speak, but could—at first—only groan his pleasure. Finally he triumphed over his desire. “Davi?” he murmured.
Davia warmed at her name shortened and sounding sensually tormented on his tongue.
“You’re gonna have to stop me this time.” His voice was still a tormented murmur. He set her to her feet, but still feasted on her clavicle with the irresistible openmouthed kisses.
Hands free of her derriere, Kale eased his curiosity about what her breasts would feel like against his palms. Deliberately, he took their fullness in his hands, wrapping his fingers over the long-sleeved mauve tee she sported with a pair of black yoga pants.
“Davia, please.” He was treating her nipples to a delicious thumb massage. “Stop me,” he begged.
“Why would I do that?” Her teeth grazed his earlobe. She was potently aroused and pleased to be in such a state.
“Davia.” Kale’s voice was muffled as his face was buried in the side of her neck. He inhaled desperately, somehow finding the will to exercise the cooler head. He eased back, raising his hands to keep distance between them that time. He looked away, frowning fiercely and blinking as though he were making an attempt to recover his bearings. This wasn’t the time and it definitely was not the place, he told himself.
“You should eat,” he said upon focusing on the table and latching onto the first excuse he could find for leaving her alone. “It’s gonna be a helluva day,” he added.
Davia, still clinging to the sideboard, waited until Kale was gone before she sighed. “You can say that again.”
* * *
About three hours later Kale and Davia stood in the midst of the property they ha
d inherited from Bryant Leak and Gloria Sands by way of Chase Waverly. To most anyone else, the area would instill more despair than inspiration.
Kale and Davia, however, were undeniably inspired. The Waverlys had driven their guests to the tract of land about ten miles outside the Mullins town limits. Desolation would perhaps be another accurate descriptor. The label was one the entrepreneurs could agree with as they observed what lay before their eyes.
The fifty-acre tract of land was an expanse of wintry-white dotted intermittently with tufts of snowcapped brush. In the center of the space stood the brick construction that held Kale and Davia in a captive state.
“It’s a theater. I—” Davia gave a mystified shake of her head. “I knew that was the project, but I didn’t realize...so much of it had gotten under way. I didn’t think your uncle had accomplished nearly so much.”
Chase Waverly’s confidence in his project was evident if one took the stately signage standing some fifty yards beyond the construction as fact. Overgrown with weeds and nests that were home to a variety of species, the decades-old marquee still carried its fading message. The message was painted in large block letters against burned-out lights, many of which were missing. The billboard atop the tall, brick post read C M G TH S UMM R.
“Coming this summer,” Kale said. “They really were working on it.” He looked to the building in the distance. It was equally overgrown with weeds and vines, and coated with snow.
“Yes and no,” Barry told them. “Mr. Leak and Ms. Sands had been more involved at the planning stage. That required lots of interaction with community leaders for the requisite permits and such.” He looked around the abandoned lot. “My uncle saw no cause for concern and everything was going smoothly. His plans to build the theater had been highly supported. The bank was quick to loan him money, sure they’d make a quick turnaround on the deal.”
“Until they saw they’d have to deal with two black kids to get the job done,” Kale finished, not even trying to mask the biting tone in his voice.
Silver Screen Romance Page 6