Lost in a Stallion's Arms (Kimani Romance)

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

Luke raised a curious eyebrow. Vanessa Long was an old family friend by virtue of her long-time friendship with their brother Mark. There had been a time when the whole family had been certain that Mark and Vanessa would end up in wedded bliss, but shortly after high school Vanessa had come out of the closet, announcing her preference for women. Mark’s very best friend had suddenly become his very best lesbian friend.

  There was nothing unusual about Vanessa calling the office or their home, but usually she was calling Mark. Rarely did Vanessa call any of the others. If she spoke to any of them it was usually by default, Mark being unavailable. Luke couldn’t help but notice the look that crossed Matthew’s face, his brother suddenly seeming anxious. He couldn’t keep himself from prying. “What’s Vanessa calling about?” Luke asked, curiosity flooding his face.

  Matthew shrugged, ignoring his brother’s question. “Carol, tell her I’m in a meeting with Luke and I’ll call her back as soon as we’re free, please.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The intercom’s soft hum quieted as the woman in the exterior office severed the connection. Matthew turned his attention back to his brother.

  “And to answer your first questions, yes, I do think you sometimes take your wealth for granted. But that’s because you don’t have any memories of when we didn’t have money, not like the rest of us do. It’s all you know. Plus John and Mark spoiled you. You’ve always had everything you needed and most things you wanted.

  “But no, you are not selfish. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Now, I have a ton of work to get through, and I’m sure you have a long list to complete yourself. I’ll see you at the house later,” Matthew said, dismissing him.

  Luke smiled as his brother moved back to his desk and sat down. Matthew was good, but he wasn’t that good. He’d evaded Luke’s question, but curiosity was a strange beast, always intruding where it was least wanted. The younger man persisted. “So, you’re not going to answer my last question?”

  Matthew focused his gaze on the pile of papers atop his desk, feigning interest in the stack of manila folders. “What question was that?”

  “What’s Vanessa calling you for?”

  Matthew looked up, tossing his brother an easy smile. “I guess once you leave I’ll be able to call her back and find out, won’t I?”

  Luke laughed, heading toward the door, his brother’s smug expression following him out the exit.

  Chapter 6

  Between lending a hand in the recreational room with the younger kids, mentoring their older siblings with homework projects, driving senior citizens to doctor’s appointments and helping parents navigate government aid and applications, Luke spent a lot of time asking questions and familiarizing himself with the issues that were relevant to the neighborhood. And for each question he asked about what was needed and what was wanted, he was asking two questions about Joanne.

  Had Joanne been even remotely aware that so many people were discussing her, Luke knew it would have been a problem. He lifted his gaze to stare at her across the room, watching as she sat in discussion with a group of teen girls about their college options.

  Since their last extended conversation, when Joanne had questioned his moral principles, she seemed to be avoiding him, or at least avoiding any in-depth conversations with him. Initially, Luke hadn’t been sure how to take her aloofness, but he was still intrigued. The woman absolutely fascinated him.

  Clearly, Joanne had issues with his wealth. Luke couldn’t help but wonder if it was because her own history had been so substantially modest. If what everyone said about her was true, Joanne hadn’t been blessed with the privileged life that had been advantaged to him.

  Luke admired that Joanne had risen above the hand that had been dealt to her to be where she was today. Luke understood that without her will and determination and the strength of her convictions, her life could have followed a very different path. It was apparent that Joanne had challenged herself to do better, and failing had not been an option. Instinctively, Luke sensed that he knew exactly how to fix the issues between them. Joanne was clearly a woman who responded to a challenge, and Luke was intent on giving her one. The light-bulb moment had him grinning from ear to ear.

  Mrs. Woodrow, the octogenarian who sat beside him, chuckled into his ear, her voice low as if the two were conspiring together. “Don’t know that she ever been married or nothin’. Ain’t never seen her wit’ no man since I been comin’ here.”

  “Is that right?” Luke whispered back, dealing another hand of gin rummy.

  The old woman nodded. “Hear she live in ’dem apartments over on Fourth Street. You know the ones I’m talking ’bout, ’dem go’berment projects just befo’ you gets to the schoolhouse.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I know those.”

  “Now, ’um not one to gossip, but I hear her mama use to clean houses to put her through ’dat college she went to.”

  Amusement painted his expression. “You don’t say! What about her father? What did he do?”

  “Don’t know ’dat she had no daddy. But you might want to ask Miss Lucy. She ’da one come every Wednesday for the clinic with ’dat bad wig.” The woman shook her head, her expression voicing her displeasure. “Wig all tore up! And it’s so red! A woman her age don’t need to be wearing no red hair!”

  Luke laughed. “Maybe you should give her some tips, Mrs. Woodrow. Everyone knows you have some of the prettiest hair around here.”

  Devilment shimmered in the old woman’s eyes. She giggled softly, waving one frail hand in Luke’s direction as she pulled the other through the wealth of silver curls she wore. “Hush yo’ mouth!”

  Luke gave her a dazzling smile, moving the woman to giggle even more. “Sure looks pretty to me, Mrs. Woodrow,” he said, flattering her shamelessly.

  “Gin!” the woman cackled, snapping her cards to the table.

  The man shook his head. “Young lady, you keep distracting me! I’m never going to win a hand if you keep this up.” He smiled brightly.

  Mrs. Woodrow grinned, thin lips pulling back over ill-fitting dentures. She leaned in close, her voice dropping an octave as she resumed her whispering. “A girl like Joanne just needs to find her a good man. She spends too much time down here at this center. All the mens here are either old, married, worthless or all the above.” The woman tapped Luke’s chest with a wrinkled finger. “Yup, Joanne needs her a good man. You don’t have you a wife, do you?”

  A smile pulled at Luke’s mouth. “No, ma’am, I don’t.”

  “Didn’t think so. ’Cause if you did you wouldn’t a had no biz’ness to be asking so many questions about Joanne.”

  The conversation was interrupted as little Bryson eased his way between them, leaning a bony elbow on Mrs. Woodrow’s knee. The woman chuckled softly as she brushed a hand over his head, patting the child gently against his back. “What ’chu want, baby?”

  “Mizz Joanne wants Mr. Luke. She wants some help wit’ some boxes.”

  “What ’da magic word?” the old woman scolded gently.

  “P’ease. She said p’ease come help wit’ da boxes, Mr. Luke.”

  “I sure will. Thank you, Bryson,” Luke said, moving onto his feet. “Would you like to take my place and play cards with Mrs. Woodrow?”

  The young boy grinned widely. “Can we play Go Fish? I like ’dat game.”

  Mrs. Woodrow skewed her face, her cheeks sinking as if she’d bitten into something sour. “I don’t think I knows ’dat game, baby.”

  “I’ll show you, okay?” Bryson said, reaching for the deck of cards. “I’ll show you good!”

  Leaving the two to maneuver through Bryson’s version of Go Fish, Luke sauntered over to where Joanne was waiting. A hopeful expression blessed the woman’s face, her usual reserve heightened with a touch of anxiety. She met his smile with a faint one of her own.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but one of the local restaurants just donated cases of canned goods for the food bank and we need as many hands as
we can to get them off the truck.”

  “No problem. I’m glad to be of service,” Luke answered, following behind as she led the way to the delivery bay at the rear of the building. “So, how are you doing today?”

  Joanne nodded. “I’m well, thank you,” she responded. She cringed, painfully aware that her formal responses and extended periods of silence were starting to wear thin. She was grateful that he was behind her, unable to see the dismay on her face.

  The man had been volunteering for well over a week, and when she hadn’t been avoiding him, she would only allow them to exchange fragments of polite conversation until she could find reason to turn tail and run. She could only imagine what he had to be thinking about her. But this wasn’t her, and Joanne didn’t have a clue why she was reacting so nervously to Luke being around. But his presence was working her nerves like no other man had ever done before.

  Joanne couldn’t begin to explain why Luke Stallion had her so anxious, but every time she was near him she broke out into a cold sweat. The first few times they’d encountered each other it had been Luke who’d been bumbling and stumbling with anxiety. Now suddenly he was too cool, too smooth and too cocky as he strutted around the center like a prize bull. Joanne, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to get it together.

  Luke continued to chat as if nothing was awkward between them. He suddenly paused, stopping in his tracks as he gently touched her shoulder, moving Joanne to stop in hers.

  Luke took a step forward, sandwiching Joanne between him and the wall. He resisted the urge to draw his finger along the curve of her cheek, wanting to relish the sensation of her silken skin.

  “I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t offended by your attitude the other day.”

  “Excuse me?” Startled, Joanne lifted her eyes to stare at him, her eyebrows raised as high as the pitch in her voice.

  He repeated himself. “That attitude you gave me. In case you were concerned, I didn’t take it personally.” The look on Luke’s face was smug, amusement gleaming in his eyes. His gaze was so deep that Joanne felt every nerve ending in her body stiffen.

  Clearly peeved by his assertion, she suddenly crossed her arms over her chest, one foot tapping the concrete floor anxiously. She forced herself to bite back a caustic reply, saying instead, “I don’t recall giving you attitude. I was just expressing an opinion.” She was a bit chagrined by his arrogance, but that stare was unnerving her more. She found herself fighting not to stare back. She made herself focus on the fire alarm box that decorated the wall right behind his head.

  “Clearly you misinterpreted our conversation. I was just expressing my point,” she said, hoping that there was much attitude in her reply.

  Luke chuckled. “Oh, really. Well, I appreciate that. As you can see, I took your opinion to heart. That’s why I’m volunteering.”

  Joanne drew a hand beneath her chin, her fingers falling against her neck. “Good for you.”

  “I thought you’d be happy about that.”

  “You have to do what works for you, Mr. Stallion, not what works for me.”

  Luke nodded slowly. “What would work for me is if you and I could start all over again. Somehow I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I’d like to make up for that. I hope we can be friends. I would really like for us to be good friends.” Luke took a step toward her, seeming to tower above her full frame. “Maybe we can do dinner tonight? If you’re not busy?”

  Unnerved, Joanne took a step back, moving right up against the egg-shell-colored wall, visibly shaken by the nearness of him. The smile that pulled at his full lips seemed to widen with understanding. Luke sensed that he’d touched a nerve. What audacity! Joanne mused as she slipped to her left side, needing to put some space between the two of them. She spun about on her heels, feeling as if she were about to break out into a full gallop. As the man sauntered easily behind her, she still didn’t bother to answer his question.

  Minutes later, with their chore accomplished, Luke brushed the dust from his hands onto his jeans. His gaze met Joanne’s again, the woman fighting not to stare at him. He sensed that she wanted to say something, the words seemingly caught on her tongue. He didn’t give her an opportunity, instead saying what he had hoped to say before.

  “Do you dance, Joanne?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Dance. Do you dance?” he repeated.

  Joanne leaned her weight on one full hip. She met his stare. “I can.”

  “Do you salsa?”

  Joanne smiled. “I do.”

  “There’s a great club in downtown Dallas called the Tom Cat Club. Do you know it?”

  Recognition painted her expression. “I’ve heard of it,” she said casually.

  “It’s a nice place. The food is good and the music is on point. A group of us get together every now and then for dinner and dancing. I was thinking that maybe you could join us tonight. It’s a group thing. Are you interested?”

  A pregnant pause filled the space between them as Joanne assessed her options. If I say yes, then he might think I’m interested in him. If I say no, then he might think I’m not interested in him. But it isn’t a date. It’s a group thing. A group date couldn’t be taken the wrong way. I could do a group thing. Joanne blew a deep sigh, second thoughts flooding her mind. It wasn’t a good idea for her to be mixing center business with personal pleasure. But then again, she hadn’t gone out in ages. And dinner and dancing might be fun. After all, it wasn’t like they would be alone together, and he needed to know that Joanne Lake didn’t have attitude!

  “That sounds like fun,” she finally answered, her cheeks heated. She inhaled, filling her lungs with air, then blowing it past her pink-tinted lips. “I’d love to.”

  Luke grinned broadly. “Great. I’ll meet you there around seven o’clock.”

  She nodded. “I’ll see you then.”

  “See you later, buddy!” he chimed as he lifted his hand in a quick good-bye and moved down the hall away from her.

  Watching until he disappeared out of sight, Joanne shook her head in dismay. Buddy?

  Chapter 7

  Joanne was throwing clothes around her bedroom when her doorbell sounded. The ring was unexpected, startling her from her thoughts as she debated slacks or a skirt for her evening with Luke Stallion. She wasn’t expecting company, and she knew it wasn’t her friend Marley, who was supposed to be en route from her job at Starbucks to her philosophy class at the university.

  Moving to the door, Joanne peered through the peephole, her expression shifting from curious to annoyed. She had half a mind to ignore the man standing on the other side of the wooden door, but then he rang the bell again, this time holding it longer than necessary, seeming to demand a response from her.

  Joanne opened the door reluctantly, annoyance greeting annoyance, as she and her father locked gazes. It had been over a month since he’d last bothered to grace her doorstep.

  “What took you so long?” Dr. Charles Lake questioned, leaning to kiss his daughter’s cheek as he pushed his way into her home.

  “Hi, Daddy,” Joanne responded, not bothering to answer his question as she closed the door behind him.

  Dr. Lake smiled, nodding his head. “I would have called first, but I was on my way to meet the mayor for dinner and had a few minutes to kill, so I thought I’d drop these papers off to you,” he said, waving a large manila envelope at her. “How are you?”

  Joanne nodded. “I’m fine. How are you?”

  “I’ve been busy. Extremely busy. There’s a lot going on at the office.”

  His daughter shrugged. “There always is. Would you like something to drink?”

  He shook his head. “No. I just stopped to say hello. How’s business?”

  His question took Joanne by surprise, her father rarely asking about or supporting her design venture. Her excitement seeped into her voice. “It’s going very well. I’ve taken on two new stores and expanded the studio space. I would love for you to stop by and check
it out,” Joanne said expectantly.

  Looking everything but enthusiastic, Dr. Lake nodded. “Sure. So are you still spending all your time downtown at that center?”

  Joanne paused briefly before answering. “I’m still volunteering.”

  “Just like your mother,” he mumbled under his breath, as if there were something wrong with Joanne having any similarities to the woman who’d given birth to her.

  Joanne heaved a deep sigh, warm breath blowing into the cool air. “I was actually on my way out, as well. Maybe we can get together for lunch later this week?” Her expression was hopeful. Her father’s response was less than eager.

  “Maybe. I’ll have to check my schedule.” Dr. Lake gestured with the envelope he was still holding. “You need to put these away somewhere safe. I’ve added some stocks to your portfolio. One day you need to sit down with myself or my accountant and go over them so you understand what you have.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Joanne stared at the envelope before moving her gaze to her father’s face. “Yes, Daddy,” she said, enthusiasm waning from her tone. “Thank you, but I really don’t think you should keep—”

  Her father interrupted her, tossing the envelope onto the table in the center of the room. “Don’t argue. These investments are for your future, Joanne. If you won’t invest in it, I certainly will.” He looked around her home one last time. “I really don’t know why you insist on living here on your own like this when we have that big house.”

  “That’s your house.”

  “No, Joanne, it’s our home. You left because you wanted to, not because you had to. You can come home whenever you want.”

  Joanne sighed again, not interested in waging another argument about the same topics the two constantly butted heads over. She appeased him instead. “Yes, sir. I know.”

  The man nodded, his gaze shifting toward her as he looked her up and down. “Are you eating properly, Joanne? I really hope you’re not gorging on junk food. You really need to try to get some of that weight off. It’s not healthy for you.”