Comfort of a Man (Arabesque)

by Byrd, Adrianne

“And I’ve never lied to you about what I wanted, either.”

  She walked to the fireplace and turned to face him. “So what do we have—a stalemate?”

  “Does the thought of getting serious with me terrify you that much?”

  More than you’ll ever know. “No.”

  He laughed. “Liar.”

  “Okay. Fine. The truth is the thought of being in a relationship with anyone scares the hell out of me.”

  “Ever?”

  She blinked, startled by the question. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far in advance.”

  “Maybe you should.” He stood and walked toward her. “Before I met you, marriage was never in the cards. Now, I think about it all the time.”

  Her laughter burst from her lungs. “Marriage?” She moved away in order to maintain distance. “Been there, done that, not interested in going back.”

  “But you’ve never been married to me.”

  Against her will, his white smile hammered away at her defenses. She closed her eyes and composed herself. “A relationship with you is impossible. You live in another state for crying out loud.”

  “Look. Knowing you, you can hurl excuses for the rest of the night. I’m just asking you to give me a chance—give us a fair chance. Everything else will take care of itself.”

  She clamped her jaw tight, not willing or wanting to diffuse her anger.

  Meanwhile, Isaiah erased the distance between them with long strides. Before she knew it, he was tilting her chin up so their gazes could meet.

  “So what do you say? Are you going to give us a chance?”

  She couldn’t help but pout. “Two weeks is a long time.”

  He laughed and kissed her. “I think we’ll survive.”

  Reluctantly, she smiled. “Speak for yourself.”

  “You never answered my question,” he said.

  How could she answer him? Where Isaiah was concerned, her mind and body raged an exhausting war every day. How could he believe that sex was the only thing that held them together?

  “All right.” She held out her hand to seal the deal. “Two weeks.”

  Isaiah shook her hand.

  Then with a mischievous smile, she opened her robe and allowed the silk material to slide from her shoulders. “I guess this means I should change into something more…appropriate.”

  His eyes lowered to her scantily clad figure as she walked past him to head for the staircase.

  “Lord, have mercy.” He exhaled in a long breath. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

  She glanced at him from over her shoulder. “Not on your life.”

  Chapter 22

  The next week, August rolled in and Isaiah and Brooklyn were nearly inseparable. Most mornings, after breakfast, he’d pack her a lunch and send her off to work. While she was gone, it left him plenty of time to care for his mother. When Brooklyn returned home, he’d either have prepared dinner or take her out on the town.

  However, tonight, he had something special planned.

  “Ballroom lessons?” she inquired, and then glanced up at the studio he’d parked next to.

  He shrugged and flashed her a smile. “You said it was something you’d always wanted to do.”

  “Y-y-yes. But I meant as a little girl. Sort of like when I told you I used to dream of being a princess.”

  “Then let’s pretend you’re a little girl.” He unbuckled his seat belt. “But I have to warn you—I’m no Fred Astaire.”

  Brooklyn gushed with excitement as she watched him get out of the car and walk over to the passenger side. “I can’t believe this,” she said, stepping out of the car.

  Isaiah slid his arm around her waist and kissed the lobe of her ear as he whispered, “How did I do?”

  She laughed. “You did great.” She leaned against him, relishing the warmth he exuded while they walked into the studio.

  “Good evening.” A silver-haired Italian woman greeted them at the door. “Are you here for the beginner’s class?”

  “That would be us,” he confirmed and extended his hand. “Isaiah Washington, and this is my girlfriend, Brooklyn Douglas.”

  Brooklyn smiled. The word girlfriend bounced merrily throughout her body as she offered her hand to the smiling woman. “Hello.”

  “Hi, my name is Cici Castillo. I will be your instructor this evening. If you two would just follow me I’ll introduce you to the other couples.”

  They nodded and obediently followed. Once introduced to the other five couples, they were pleased not to have been the oldest amateurs.

  Music filled the studio as Cici took her place before the class. Next to her stood a young male dancer who bore a striking resemblance. She clapped her hands to gain everyone’s attention. “For this evening, my dance partner will be my eldest son, Carlos.”

  Carlos nodded toward the group, and then mother and son faced one another.

  “Gentlemen,” Cici spoke again. “Traditional etiquette stipulates that the man asks the woman for the dance.” She smirked as her head turned toward her group. “I know times have changed and it’s perfectly acceptable for women to ask, but since I’m old-fashioned, let’s stick to tradition.”

  A small ripple of laughter coursed through the group.

  Cici faced her son again. “Men, bow slightly at the waist and simply ask your partner, ‘May I have this dance?’”

  Brooklyn’s hand fluttered across her heart as Isaiah bowed before her. She nodded and stepped toward him.

  Everyone mimicked the instructor’s stance as they faced their partners.

  With one hand resting on the other’s shoulder and their other hand pressed palm-to-palm, Isaiah and Brooklyn watched Cici and Carlos, and then had no trouble gliding in two-four time.

  “This isn’t so bad,” Isaiah said, proudly lifting his chin. “I’m a natural.”

  “You’re something,” Brooklyn joked, floating in his arms.

  “Ladies.” Cici raised her voice above the music. “If you see an oncoming couple about to collide into you and your partner, simply tap your partner gently on the shoulder.”

  Brooklyn smiled.

  “Men, when you receive the signal, don’t panic. Remain calm and gently guide your partner in the opposite direction.”

  While everyone whisked around the floor, Cici and her son approached the various couples and adjusted their arm tension: firm wrist, elbow, and shoulder for sideward, forward, and backward movement. Up-and-down motion should be free from resistance.

  The two-step slowly became the waltz and Isaiah and Brooklyn were the stars of the class.

  “You lied,” Brooklyn accused him with a broad smile. “You do know how to dance.”

  “Trust me, I’m just as surprised as you.” Isaiah’s eyes twinkled, making it impossible for her to discern the truth.

  The rest of their time flew by in a whirl and Brooklyn felt like the belle of the ball and Isaiah her Prince Charming.

  After class, they picked up Chinese food instead of keeping their reservations at the upscale Sambuca.

  When they arrived at Brooklyn’s house, Isaiah reached for a large package from the backseat.

  “A present?”

  “Maybe.” He leaned over, kissed her on the cheek, and then grabbed their dinner.

  She battled with guilt and pleasure.

  However, Isaiah refused to appease her curiosity. In fact, he seemed quite content to ignore the silver package while they ate their meal in front of the fireplace.

  “So, did you have a good time this evening?” Isaiah asked.

  Brooklyn’s gaze darted away from the package and back to his inquisitive stare. “Yes. I had a wonderful time. Are we actually going to finish the six-week course?”

  “Absolutely.” He thrust his chin up. “I think I might have missed my calling in life. Don’t you think?”

  “As a dancer?”

  “Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

  Brooklyn laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t mind se
eing you in a pair of tights.”

  He frowned. “Ballroom dancers don’t wear tights.”

  “Pity.” She shrugged and bit into her sesame chicken.

  “Of course, you weren’t too shabby yourself,” he complimented her.

  Brooklyn smiled as the memory of their evening played in her mind. “We make a good team.”

  “It’s about time you admit it.”

  “I was referring to dancing,” she informed him with a sarcastic grin.

  “I wasn’t.”

  When her eyes met his, her heartbeat quickened. She viewed the wicked glint in his eyes as dangerous. It held an underlying determination that threatened to steal her heart.

  “So what’s in the box?” she asked, wanting to alleviate the building tension between them.

  He shrugged as if it was unimportant. “A gift.”

  “I figured that much. When do I get to see what’s inside?”

  He lifted the last of his rice on his chopsticks. “Soon.”

  Brooklyn resisted the urge to throw something at him. She took the last bite of her food, wiped her mouth, and then crossed her arms. “How soon?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. How bad do you want to open it?”

  She stopped herself from saying she didn’t care, mainly because she feared he’d take it back.

  “Well?” he asked, carefully examining her expression.

  “Can I see what’s in the box?”

  “First, answer my question.”

  She gritted her teeth. He’d backed her into a corner. “I’d like to see what’s inside the box.”

  Amusement monopolized his features. “How bad?”

  “Bad.”

  He arched his brows. “Is that all?”

  She inched closer and bounced with exaggerated excitement. “Real bad.”

  He wiped his hands, moved the empty food cartons between them, and grabbed the package to set it beside him. “This gift comes with a price.”

  Her hands fell to her hips as her gaze narrowed. “What sort of price?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged and stroked his chin in thought. “I guess the going rate for gifts is a kiss.”

  “A kiss?” Her smile returned. “I can handle that.” With her hands, she crawled the scant space between them.

  When their lips were inches apart, Isaiah placed his index finger against her lips. “I have to warn you.”

  Brooklyn stopped with her eyebrows furrowed high above her eyes.

  Isaiah chuckled, obviously enjoying his little game. “This can’t be an ordinary kiss.” He lowered his hand and looped his strong arm around her waist. “This kiss has to be the mother of all kisses.”

  She laughed but could already feel the army of butterflies swarming inside her. “Talk about pressure.”

  He shrugged as his smile died away. “Well, if you don’t want it.” His arm fell from her waist.

  She quickly grabbed his arm. “I didn’t say that.”

  A lazy smirk curved the corners of his mouth while his brows jiggled playfully. “Up for the challenge?”

  Brooklyn’s gaze lowered to his full lips. Their humor vanished beneath the room’s sudden sensual intensity. She leaned forward, careful to just brush her lips lightly over his and place a hand over his quickening heartbeat.

  Then, as she expected, Isaiah’s passion took over and his lips nearly devoured hers.

  Her arms slid around his neck and she drew him even closer. Intoxicated by his kiss, the erotic caress of his tongue revived her physical ache.

  Their lips parted, but their hold on one another tightened.

  Isaiah continued to rain smaller kisses along her neck and the gentle slope of her shoulder.

  “How did I do?” she managed to ask between large gulps of air.

  “Better than your average bear.”

  His sexy rumble of laughter filled her ears. She pulled back and settled her weight on her folded knees. “Can I have my gift now?”

  “You got it.” He picked up the package and presented it to her. “For you, madam.”

  Never a delicate flower when it came to unwrapping gifts, Brooklyn tore into the beautifully wrapped package and stopped abruptly when she recognized the jeweler’s burgundy casing. Her mind raced with possibilities at the box size.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?” Isaiah inquired, his anxiousness reflected in his voice.

  Gently, she opened it and gasped.

  Isaiah leaned forward and kissed her. “I hope you like it.”

  Brooklyn stared openmouthed at the sparkling tiara, unable to pull her eyes away.

  Isaiah took the box from her hand and removed it from the velvet interior. “When you told me about your childhood dream, I had no trouble picturing you with this.” He slid the small crown onto her head, taking the time to make sure it fit properly.

  “I don’t believe this,” she said, finally recovering from her shock to bubble with laughter.

  He stood and reached a hand out to help her up. “How about some music?” He walked over to his jacket he’d draped over the sofa and extracted a CD case. “Let’s see if we can put what we’ve learned tonight to good use.”

  Seconds later, a slow instrumental filled the room and Isaiah approached her with a slight bow. “May I have this dance?”

  “Yes, you may,” she answered with a pounding heart. When he took her into his arms, Brooklyn lost herself in his beautiful eyes. She ignored the warnings bells ringing in her head, blocked out her vows of never falling in love again, and just submitted to the magic, which enfolded her whenever she was around Isaiah. Trust this feeling, her heart begged. Trust this man. And God help her, she did just that.

  Chapter 23

  Isaiah and Brooklyn stepped out of the Atlanta Civil Center arm-in-arm after seeing the Broadway tour of The Lion King.

  “I have to admit it was better than I expected,” Isaiah marveled over the production.

  Brooklyn’s eyes lit up. “Better than you expected? It was wonderful. I can’t thank you enough for bringing me. How on earth did you get tickets on such short notice?”

  Infected by her excitement, Isaiah brightened. “Let’s just say I have connections.”

  She leaned into him as she squeezed his arm. “Thank, you, thank you, thank you.”

  “You really enjoy the theater, don’t you?”

  “Ever since I can remember. Believe it or not, my mother was an actress once.” She laughed softly. “She had visions of being the next Dorothy Dandridge.”

  His brows rose in surprise. “What happened?”

  Brooklyn shrugged. “She met an athlete, fell in love, and had a little girl.”

  “Any regrets?”

  “None that she mentioned. She and my father are still going strong and if you’re ever around them, it’s like being around two teenagers.”

  “They sound wonderful.”

  She nodded. “They are. I’m lucky to have them. It’s been hard trying to get down to see them in Florida since…”

  He glanced at her. “Since the divorce?”

  “Yeah.”

  Smiling, he leaned over and kissed the top of her head. It was important to give her as much support as she needed. It was the only way to conquer the hurdle she kept between them.

  They reached his car in the parking lot, two blocks away from the Center and drove to Buckhead, a suburban city of Atlanta.

  “So tell me more about your son, Jaleel,” he said, glancing over at her in the passenger seat. “He’s coming home in a couple of weeks, right?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled and sighed. “Jaleel is wonderful…when he’s not angry at me.”

  “The divorce has been hard on him?”

  “Too hard. I’m hoping his time away with his father will help him put things in perspective, but I don’t know. Sometimes it seems like he’s just bound and determined to blame me for everything.”

  “How old is he?”

  “He’ll be seventeen in September.”


  Isaiah laughed and shook his head. “I can’t get over it.”

  “What?”

  “You just don’t look like you have a seventeen-year-old son.”

  “You certainly know the right words to a woman’s heart,” she said.

  “That’s good to know.” He pulled into the parking lot of The Prime restaurant and turned toward her in his seat. “Have you ever thought about having more children?” Her head jerked toward him and he met her startled gaze with his cool one. “Have you?”

  Her mouth moved, but no sound came.

  He laughed as he reached over and squeezed her hand. “Don’t answer that one.” He winked. “I’ll ask it at another time.” He got out of the car and smiled as he walked over to the other side.

  Brooklyn accepted his hand after he’d opened her door.

  “You purposely asked me that to throw me off, didn’t you?”

  “Did I?”

  She drew in a breath and then allowed her gaze to fall away.

  As they headed toward the restaurant, he slid his arm possessively around her waist. She loved it when he did that and her pleasure only increased when she, too, wrapped her arm around him.

  The hostess led them to a secluded table near the back and Brooklyn reveled in the ambience of the dimly lit restaurant.

  “So what do you think?” Isaiah asked once they were told the day’s specials and handed their menus.

  “This is quite cozy. I like it.”

  “Good. So far I’m two for two.”

  “Actually, I thought the score was much higher that that.” She smiled at seeing the sparkle in his eyes. She leaned forward. “It’s a shame.”

  “What?”

  She shrugged with the casual flare of a good actress. “That the night will have to end with a handshake. I’m just dying to express my gratitude for this evening.”

  His smile faltered as his gaze lowered to her lips. “A handshake might be a bit too formal, don’t you think?”

  She forced herself to frown and pretended to consider his words. “Mmm. I don’t know. We don’t want to do anything that might lead to…other things.”

  Isaiah inched to the edge of his seat. “Surely, we can handle a small kiss or peck.”

  “Can we?”

  He nodded and pulled himself erect. “Not to brag, but I handled myself rather well with that knockout teddy you had on last week.”