Malik nodded.
“Well then, show her that you can take things as slow as she wants,” Dante continued, “Show her all that Malik Williams charm that we know you have.”
“I guess.”
“Not you guess, you know,” Quentin stated. “The next time Peyton Sawyer sees you, be the perfect gentleman.”
“Dr. Sawyer, may we come in?” Kendra asked from the doorway before class on Friday.
Peyton glanced up and saw Kendra standing with an imposing young man who she could only assume was Omar, Kendra’s boyfriend and the father of her child. He was dressed in jeans and a sports jersey and wearing a baseball cap. Peyton surmised he was over six feet, and with his football player physique he could intimidate anyone—but not her. She’d failed several young men just like him when she’d been in Cleveland, those who’d thought their athletic scholarship guaranteed them a free ride. That’s until they’d come to her class and discovered they actually had to work to earn a grade.
From the scowl on his face, it was clear Omar did not want to be here, but Peyton welcomed him anyway.
“Come on in,” Peyton stood and extended her hand. “Please have a seat.”
“Omar Bishop, this is Dr. Peyton Sawyer, my professor.” Kendra smiled as they both sat across from Peyton.
Omar gave Peyton a cold stare. “And here I thought she was white.” Omar laughed to himself.
“Mr. Bishop, there are black professors,” Peyton responded. “And because I am a minority, I understand how important it is to get a quality education, which is what I want for Kendra.”
“That’s what you want, Doctor,” Omar replied. “If it were up to me, Kendra here—” he roughly pulled Kendra toward him “—wouldn’t work at all. She’d be content being my baby’s mama. But now she’s got all these ideas in her head about getting into social work.”
“They are not ideas, Omar.” Kendra pushed him away. She was extremely annoyed at his comment. “It’s a career.”
“One that would be well served by Kendra volunteering at the community center,” Peyton said. “I took the liberty of pulling together some literature on the center as well as the areas she’d be exposed to when volunteering.” Peyton leaned over to hand Omar several pamphlets.
When he didn’t accept them, Kendra took them. “Thank you.”
Omar clapped his hands slowly at Peyton’s impassioned speech. “That’s all well and good, Dr. Sawyer, but what’s in this for you?” he asked, lounging back in the chair and staring back at her.
“What do you mean?”
“I said what do you get out of all this? Why are you helping Kendra? Because no one does something for nothing,” Omar stated.
“I’m helping her because I believe in her talent,” Peyton countered. “Don’t you?”
“What I believe is that Kendra hardly has time for me now, and volunteering at some center won’t help it none.” Omar rose from his chair.
“But it might help.” Peyton stood. She refused to believe that she could not get through to the young man.
“C’mon, baby.” Omar grabbed Kendra by the hand and pulled her towards the door.
“I’m sorry.” Kendra mouthed the words as she left.
Peyton threw the pen in her hand across the room, frustrated that now one of her most promising students was going to miss out on a great opportunity.
“Guess who’s here?” Theresa poked her head inside Malik’s office.
Malik shrugged. “I don’t know, who?”
“Peyton Sawyer and her students. Denise arranged for them to help out in the day care and Headstart programs, as well as tutoring and homework assistance in our afterschool programs.”
“Sounds great,” Malik replied. “And what did Dr. Sawyer choose?”
“Mentoring,” Theresa replied. “She wants to encourage African-American and Latina women and help out with the college preparatory program.”
“Sounds right up her alley.”
“Sure does. You should stop by and say hello,” Theresa urged.
“Now really isn’t a good time,” Malik replied.
Theresa didn’t understand. “All right.” Malik had been so excited when Peyton had asked him to dinner last week, Theresa was sure they were headed in the right direction. What could have gone wrong?
Malik rose to his feet, grabbed his folder and rushed out the room before Theresa could say another word.
Once he found out her schedule, Malik continued avoiding Peyton for the rest of the week. He was walking back to his office on Friday afternoon after checking in with the center’s business manager, Greg Burns, on the particulars for the homeless dinner that evening when he ran smack dab into the object of his desire in the hallway.
“Peyton,” Malik gasped as she grabbed ahold of him to steady herself.
When she glanced up, he captured her eyes with his and Peyton’s heart jolted and her pulse pounded. “Malik.” She nodded when he released her. Peyton had wondered when she would run into the elusive director. “How are you?” She felt foolish for running off last week like a scared school girl.
“Good. And you?”
“Fine.” Peyton watched Malik with a keenly observant eye, but she could read nothing from his expression. “I saw the article in Manhattan Weekly, congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Malik smiled. “I’m hoping it will help draw some sponsors.”
“I’m sure it will,” Peyton said, smiling.
“Okay, well I guess I’ll see you later.” Malik tried to make a fast getaway, but Peyton placed her hand on his forearm.
She felt the impulse to explain that she’d suffered a terrible tragedy and had been scared of forging ahead. Maybe, just maybe, she could try with him. “Malik, can we talk?” Peyton asked. She didn’t realize she was still holding his arm until he glanced down. So she let go.
“Um, now isn’t a good time, Peyton.”
“You can’t spare five minutes for a friend?”
“Is that what we are?” Malik looked deep into her eyes. The feelings she evoked in him and the kiss they’d shared had been far from friendly.
Peyton was about to respond when Theresa came bounding down the hall. “There you are!” Theresa exclaimed, out of breath.
“Were you looking for me?” Malik asked.
Theresa glanced at the couple. She could cut the tension between them with a knife. “No, for Peyton,” she responded. “We’re shorthanded for servers tonight for our dinner for the homeless and I was hoping she’d be willing to help out. That’s if you don’t have any plans for the evening?” Theresa looked hopefully up at Peyton, who was several inches taller than she.
“Sure.” Peyton smiled. “I don’t have any plans.” She glanced in Malik’s direction, but his face was stone. Was he happy or upset that she would be staying?
“Great, you’re a lifesaver,” Theresa said. “Carry on.” She waved and nearly skipped away. She had stepped in just in the nick of time.
“Well, I have to go,” Malik replied, walking backward. “Tons to do to make sure tonight goes off without a hitch.”
Peyton sighed as she watched him walk away. She wanted to explain to Malik why she’d run, but he wasn’t giving her the chance. She was going to have to create an opportunity.
As Peyton served spaghetti and meatballs to the homeless, her mind wandered to Kendra as she looked at her volunteer students. She had hoped that Kendra would have the fortitude to volunteer despite her boyfriend’s lack of support, but she’d been wrong. Kendra was a no-show.
She was heading back to the kitchen to refill the empty foil pan with more spaghetti, when she caught Malik staring, but then he immediately looked away. Peyton wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing. As she filled the pan, Peyton vowed to tell Malik about her past, whether he liked it or not.
Malik sighed. Peyton had caught him staring. He couldn’t resist watching her. She’d piled her shoulder-length hair on top of her head and out of her face, and didn’t seem to mind that she was we
aring her fashionable clothes underneath a stained apron. She’d pitched in on a moment’s notice and hadn’t hesitated to make marinara sauce or cut up onions.
Malik supposed that’s what he liked about her, her willingness to give. He’d wanted to reach out to her tonight, but he didn’t want to get rejected again.
On the other side of the room, Theresa caught Peyton glancing in Malik’s direction as she placed garlic bread on several patrons’ plates. “You know, all you have to do is talk to him.” She bumped Peyton with her hip. “He doesn’t bite.”
Peyton laughed. “Are you sure about that?”
“Positive. Go ahead.” Theresa pushed Peyton away. “I’ve got this covered.”
“Thanks,” Peyton replied. She caught Malik as he came back inside after throwing out the garbage. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself. Great job on the spaghetti sauce.” He’d seen several men wiping their plates with their garlic bread. “You’re a hit with the locals.”
“Thanks, but I didn’t do too much, except doctor up the bottled stuff,” Peyton admitted. “Listen, can you help in the pantry for a minute? There’s a can I can’t reach.”
“Sure.” Malik followed behind her and flicked on the light in the closet. “Which one?”
She pointed quickly to an unknown can. “The one on the top.” Just as she fibbed, they both heard the door shut behind them. “What was that?” Peyton asked.
Malik walked over and turned the handle. They were locked in.
On the opposite side, Theresa smiled at her handiwork. Malik and Peyton needed some help in the communication department. Some time alone in a confined space might do the trick.
“Did you do this on purpose?” Malik asked, whirling around.
“Why in Heaven’s name would I do that?” Peyton argued.
Malik reached up and pulled down a can of salmon. “Did you really need a can of pink salmon?”
Peyton couldn’t resist bursting into laughter. “No, I suppose not, but you’ve been avoiding me all night. Make that all week. I had to resort to devious measures.”
“After you ran off the other night, I thought that’s what you wanted,” Malik replied, eyeing her suspiciously.
“No, it’s not.” Peyton came forward and took Malik’s large hand in her small one. “You were right. I was scared of what’s happening between us.”
“Why? I thought we’d connected.”
“We did.” Peyton lowered her head. “But there’s a lot you don’t know about me, Malik.”
“Such as?”
“I was married.”
Malik used his index finger and tilted her chin upward to look at him. “I hope by the word ‘was’ you mean past tense?”
“Yes, I do. You see,” Peyton paused for several moments before she spoke softly, “my husband David died in a car crash five years ago. And I’ve only casually dated since.”
“I see.” Malik turned away. Now it all made sense. At least now Malik knew what he was up and against and could bow out gracefully. He wouldn’t compete with a ghost.
“No, you don’t.” Peyton grabbed him by the arm. When he turned around, Peyton didn’t like the look she saw in his eyes.
“I don’t want or need your pity, Malik Williams. The reason I ran when you kissed me the other night is not because of David. It was because I’d never wanted another man as much as I wanted you that night.”
Malik was stunned by her bold declaration. She and David had been so young they’d never really known anyone else but each other. But with Malik, she felt the passion of a woman fully aware of a man.
“You mean that?” he asked.
“Yes, I do.”
Before Peyton could think, Malik crossed the short distance between them and pulled her into his arms. He captured her lips in an onslaught that sent fiery flames shooting through her. Malik was a seasoned kisser and did deliciously erotic things to her mouth, so that Peyton felt compelled to wrap her arms around his neck to keep from falling.
When his tongue entered her mouth, desire rushed through Malik, and he brought Peyton’s body closer to his. She tasted so good and so sweet, Malik wanted to ravish her in the pantry, but the door swung open moments later to reveal Theresa beaming from the doorway. “See, I knew all the two of you needed was a little one-on-one time, if you know what I mean.”
“You’re such a matchmaker,” Malik said as he came up for air, but he didn’t move his arm from around Peyton’s waist.
“And it’s a good thing that I am,” Theresa said, and nodded at Peyton’s top button, which had sprung loose.
Malik immediately released her and Peyton buttoned her top. “If you two lovebirds are finished, we need your help cleaning up.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Malik saluted her and turned to Peyton. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Peyton leaned over and brushed her lips across his. “I wanted you to kiss me.”
“Really?” Malik whispered. “Because there’s more where that came from.”
“Down boy.” Peyton patted his shoulder.
“We’ll have to pick this up another time,” Malik commented.
They returned to the dining hall and found most of the crowd had dispersed and the volunteer crew was cleaning up. They pitched in and wiped down tables and washed dishes. Afterwards, they sat down and took a breather.
“Whew!” Malik said. “I’m beat.” After working all day and volunteering this evening, he was exhausted.
“Me too.” Peyton plopped down beside him.
“How about we go on an official date tomorrow night?” Malik asked.
“I’d like that,” Peyton said, smiling. She wanted to move forward with her life. “What do you have planned?”
“Leave that up to me,” Malik said. “I’ll take care of all the details. Just be ready for me.”
Was there a sexual overtone to his directive? Peyton wondered. “Oh I’ll be ready,” she replied.
Chapter 5
The next evening Peyton was more than ready. Surprisingly, she wasn’t nervous at the prospect of spending time with Malik that night. She welcomed it. When the doorbell rang, Peyton buzzed Malik up to her apartment.
“Hey.” Peyton swung open the door. “Come on in.” Peyton pulled him inside. He was looking ruggedly handsome, dressed in a royal-blue dress shirt, black slacks and a black leather bomber jacket.
“You look great,” Malik said. His eyes roved over her and feasted on the burgundy silk wrap dress that emphasized her slender waist, accompanied by strappy sandals. When his eyes finally gazed into Peyton’s, he nearly lost it. The minimal makeup and the luxuriously big curls made her look sexy as hell. “Let’s go. Otherwise I won’t be responsible for my actions,” Malik rasped huskily.
Peyton grinned. She understood because she’d felt it too, an underlying current of sexual tension.
“I hope you’re in the mood for a fusion between Southern and Latin food, along with some good jazz,” Malik asked.
“Why’s that?” Peyton asked once they were out of the door.
“Because the place I’m taking you to has a Southern-Caribbean-African influence.”
“New York is all new to me. So I’m sure I’ll love wherever you take me,” Peyton responded honestly.
Malik led her out to his BMW, which was usually housed in his garage. He lived so close to the community center in Harlem, he took the train or he could walk. But since Peyton lived in Brooklyn, a car was a necessity.
When they arrived at the Riverbank State Park, Malik pulled up right outside the restaurant and a valet parked his car. The River Room had an expansive pyramid-shaped ceiling, rectangular and circular wall motifs in alternating green, gold, fuchsia and indigo colors. Peyton enjoyed the supper club feel and the view of the George Washington Bridge.
“This place is great,” Peyton said enthusiastically. “Thanks for bringing me.”
“It was my pleasure.” Malik said. He took charge and ordered a bottle of sauvignon
blanc with his Caribbean crab cakes, while Peyton ordered the spiced duck with collard greens and sweet potato puree.
After their delicious meal, they enjoyed the soulful sounds of a solo singer-keyboardist. During the set, Malik scooted his chair back and rose to his feet. “Let’s dance.” Several couples had already taken to the floor.
“All right.” Peyton slid her hand into his.
Once they were on the dance floor, Malik slid his arms around her waist and Peyton circled her arms around his neck and together they swayed to the music. Malik used the opportunity to nuzzle her earlobe. He couldn’t decipher what scent Peyton was wearing. All he knew was that she smelled fragrant and deliciously sweet.
When Malik’s rock-hard chest came into contact with her, an electrifying shudder reverberated right through Peyton. He must have felt it too, because when she glanced up he rewarded her with a smile, and a sensuous light passed between them. They danced to several songs, before the band changed to some up-tempo music.
After they’d listened to a couple of jazz sets, Malik suggested a walk along the pier.
“That sounds great.” Peyton accepted Malik’s hand.
They walked in silence for what seemed like ages, listening to the sounds of nature, when Malik broached a subject that had been on his mind.
“How long were you married?” Malik asked out of the blue.
Peyton was shocked, even though she shouldn’t be. It was a logical question. He had to be curious about her past. “A little over seven years.”
“Long time,” Malik commented at her side.
“Does that bother you?” Peyton asked. “That I’ve been married before?”
“No, not really.” Malik shook his head. “It’s just hard for me to imagine that kind of love and devotion.”
“Haven’t you ever been in love?” Peyton asked, stopping their walk. She knew that love was a beautiful thing with the right person.
“No,” Malik replied, turning to Peyton. “There were moments I thought I was—was sure I was—but looking back, I know I wasn’t. Sometimes I wonder if I’m capable of loving another person.”
This Time for Real (Kimani Romance) Page 6