Naomi studied Joram, the smile still on her lips. Though uncertain what every word meant, she’d had a few days to research Jamaican patois. That coupled with her remembered experiences at the monastery helped her understand a little. “Ooman” was woman, “obeah” meant magic—something about Naomi making Joram linger using magic. “Nuh, I see no ting.”
Delighted, Joram laughed. “Dat be a irie ting! Good comeback.”
Blushing at the praise, Naomi took a sip of wine.
The tinny strains of music interrupted their levity. Joram’s demeanor immediately plummeted as she pulled her cell phone from a pocket. “Damn it.” She stared at the screen, a distasteful grimace marring her beauty. Apologetically, she eyed Naomi. “If I don’t take this, he’ll blow up my phone.”
Concerned at Joram’s abrupt seriousness, Naomi waved at the phone. “Go ahead. It’s all right.” She turned slightly in her chair, looking out over the courtyard in an effort to afford Joram some privacy. The sound of Mick Jagger’s voice cut off.
“Yeah?”
Naomi risked a glance in response to the chill tone. Joram’s expression was carved in stone, her eyes glittering green chips of ice. Naomi quickly looked away again. From the corner of her eye she noted Joram grimacing.
“Fine. What do you need?” Pause. “So?” That one word held a wealth of impatience attached to it. Joram took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. Naomi risked another look, watching as she lowered her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine.”
Was she talking to another woman? An ex-lover maybe? A thrill ran up her spine as Joram looked up, an expression of anger on her face as their eyes locked for a second.
“What difference does it make? You’ve never been interested before.” Joram’s face reddened as she looked away from Naomi again.
Naomi forced herself to study a nearby plant, to steer her thoughts away from the multitude of questions that plagued her. No, it couldn’t be an ex-lover. Joram had said “he’d” blow up her phone. There’s nothing saying she doesn’t like men too. Maybe she’s had a boyfriend.
“Okay.” The word was drawn out, as if Joram didn’t believe whatever had been said. “Anything else?” Joram’s next words dropped into a familiar growl, one that Naomi had heard onstage and through her earphones, the timbre she used when singing words of violence and destruction. “All right.” She ended the call without the normal pleasantries, dropping the cell onto the table. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay.” Naomi smiled, hiding her disquiet. “Is everything all right?”
Joram barked a bitter laugh, casting a wistful stare at the empty wine bottle. “Doan fret. All fruits ripe.” She seemed to shake the ire from her shoulders, visibly forcing herself to let go of the mysterious caller and his message. “Do you like ice cream? There’s a great shop a couple of blocks from here. They make their own.”
Naomi accepted the change of topic. Whoever the caller was, Joram didn’t want to discuss him, and Naomi couldn’t press. Her imaginary friend from the past had often clammed up about things that had distressed her. If there truly was a connection between her and the woman seated on the other side of the table, Naomi knew she had to wait for trust to develop between them, a confidence based in experience and caring rather than the fanciful memories of her childhood. “I like ice cream but I’m not sure I have room.” She patted her abdomen, rueful.
“We’ll walk it off,” Joram suggested.
“In that case, I’d love some.”
Joram gave her a winning smile and signaled the server for the check.
Naomi watched as Joram’s anger faded, replaced by the familiar cocky humor. A hint of something dark still hovered in her eyes, muting her natural devil-may-care attitude. A rush of affection washed over Naomi. She wanted to cradle Joram to her chest and protect her from whoever had been on the phone, from anyone who meant her harm. Despite Joram’s behavior, deep down inside she was vulnerable—Naomi could see it even if others couldn’t.
“Ready?”
Basking in Joram’s regard, Naomi smiled. “Yes.” She stood, Joram doing the same. When Joram took her hand, her smile widened. She gave it a firm squeeze as they left the restaurant.
Chapter Seventeen
“Want me to see you to the door?” Joram peered through the windshield at the second-floor apartment. Night had fallen and a light was on in the living room. She’d lay odds that Rebecca hovered inside, waiting to mercilessly quiz Naomi about her evening. Joram didn’t know whether to find the idea amusing or not. The friends and family of her dates had rarely crossed her mind in the past. She’d never paid much attention to their opinion before, probably because she knew any intimate liaison she had with a woman was fleeting—an itch to scratch, nothing more.
Why was this different?
Naomi’s response interrupted her internal dismay. “That’s not necessary but thank you. And thank you for a wonderful evening. I had fun.”
She turned her attention to Naomi, her soul captured by Naomi’s dark eyes. Joram’s heartbeat picked up as an unfamiliar threshold loomed before her. The majority of her “dates” ended up at her condo or the other woman’s bedroom. She was inexperienced with this slower nerve-wracking pace. Getting Naomi out on a date had been challenging enough; Joram doubted she’d win her way into Naomi’s bed this soon. Besides, the thought of kissing Naomi across the divide of a gearshift seemed juvenile, shades of some sweaty, groping teenage movie passing through her mind’s eye. Rooting through her prurient experiences, she chose and discarded a number of options. She wanted to impress Naomi, prolong their time together and maybe experience those heavenly lips upon hers.
Decided, she said, “I had a blast too. We should go out again sometime. Soon.” Before Naomi could respond, Joram held up a hand, palm out. “Stay there.” She popped her seat belt and jumped out of the car, hastening around to the passenger side. Naomi’s impish grin warmed her. Not many modern girls appreciated gallantry these days. Joram rarely exhibited such behavior with her dates. Though the chivalrous act felt unusual, there seemed a sense of rightness to it as she opened Naomi’s door. She patted herself on the back for guessing correctly that Naomi would enjoy the treatment. Carefully handing Naomi out of the car, she didn’t release her hold as she shut the car door. “Can I interest you in another date?” Naomi ducked her head, a gesture she’d used often throughout the evening. Joram thought it was a way for her to gain mental space, to pull back a moment and give herself a chance to think. She felt a frisson of worry. “Too soon?”
“No, not too soon.” Naomi smiled, returning her attention to Joram. “I’d like to see you again.”
Relief coursed through Joram, the sensation strange in its intensity. When had any woman twisted her into knots like this? A part of her enjoyed this unexplored avenue of emotion, plumbing it for future songs. But she also rebelled against the oddness, not liking the sense of treacherous uncertainty opening before her. Her life had been unreliable enough—why ask for more of the same? That didn’t stop her from closing the tiny distance between them. She raised Naomi’s hand, gently kissing the knuckles. “Can I call you tomorrow?”
Naomi licked her lips, convulsively swallowing as her gaze focused on Joram’s lips. “Yes,” she breathed.
Exaltation tingled through Joram, fanning the low-burning flames of desire she’d kept in check all evening. She leaned in and tasted Naomi’s lips for the first time, an incredibly soft kiss that made her ache from head to toe. Afraid of moving too fast and chasing Naomi away, Joram broke off. She leaned her forehead against Naomi’s and took a shaky breath. It took every inch of willpower to not escalate things between them.
“You’ll need to do better than that if you want me to answer the phone tomorrow.”
Joram pulled back in surprise. “What?”
On the verge of laughter, Naomi brought her free hand up to caress Joram’s cheek. “Was that the best you could do?”
“Much. Shall I show you?”
Oh, yes, please! Joram made a show of considering her answer. “I suppose.” The hand on her cheek slid back into her hair, cradling her. Desire flooded through her, burning away her flippant mood as Naomi pulled her close. This kiss was blistering in its intensity. Naomi’s lips opened, and Joram accepted the invitation, slipping inside to explore. Their tongues caressed one another, and Joram’s free hand slid around Naomi’s waist to hold her close. Breasts and bellies and thighs pressed together, unsettling her with the hyper-awareness of yearning. She mourned that there were too many clothes between them, wishing they were someplace other than an apartment complex parking lot.
Naomi ended the kiss with a murmur, her words unintelligible to Joram, leaning her head upon Joram’s shoulder. They remained embraced, Joram gathering her strength and slowing her beating heart. Eventually she chuckled. “I give up.”
“What?” Confusion flickered across Naomi’s face as she looked at her.
Joram grinned. “Your kisses are better than mine. Mi gotta inner luv fo mi empress.”
Naomi laughed, shaking her head. “Someday I’m going to understand you.” When Joram opened her mouth to translate, Naomi placed a finger upon her lips. “But not tonight. I really have to get upstairs. My professor doesn’t accept late papers.”
Reluctant, Joram pulled away. “Okay.” She looked back up at the apartment, noting the swaying curtain that bespoke Rebecca’s witness of their kiss. A devilish grin crossed her face. “I don’t think you’ll get much work done tonight anyway.”
Following her gaze, Naomi’s grin became crooked. “You’re probably right.” She turned back, quickly pecking Joram on the lips and releasing her. “Call me tomorrow and we’ll set up a lesson plan for your education.”
Arousal twisted in Joram’s gut as she considered the possibilities of such lessons. She slowly followed, stopping to lean a hip against the rear fender of her car. “You know, I could probably ‘educate’ you in a thing or two, ooman.”
Naomi backed away, wiggling her eyebrows. “Goodie!”
Joram huffed a laugh. “Nuh linga, gyal. Have a good night.”
“You too.” Naomi turned to reach the steps, giving Joram a nice view of her departing form. Reaching her apartment, she looked down to wave before entering.
Tender affection filled Joram’s heart as she got into her car. Starting the engine, she slowly pulled into traffic and headed for home. Reviewing the evening’s activities, she decided that the date had gone well. The only drawback had been Anders’s call during dinner.
Even the passing thought of him soured her mood. As much as she wanted to savor the night’s success rather than dim them with thoughts of her patron, she focused her attention upon his timely interruption. His call was a not-so-subtle power trip he’d used many times over the years. Those self-aggrandizing disruptions had become less frequent once she’d moved to California full-time but still occurred with random irregularity. Why he’d felt the need to interrupt her date with Naomi mystified her. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t dated since her departure from Jamaica, both while living on the mainland and on her occasional trips home. He’d kept meticulous tabs on her but hadn’t intervened before. Why do so now? It hadn’t been an issue of mistaken timing either. He’d specifically made comments regarding the food and what clothing Joram had worn. She wasn’t surprised that people reported her activities to him, though she found it odd that his spies had noted her interest in Naomi over every other woman with whom she’d spent time.
Freshly annoyed with his heavy-handed ways, she used the vehicle computer pad to punch up his number. His phone rang over the car speakers as she flew down the highway.
“Yes, miting?”
“What the hell was that about earlier? You knew I was on a date; what was the point of interrupting?”
A rich chuckle rolled from the speakers. “Poor Joram. Did I ruin the mood for you?”
She scowled but didn’t rise to the bait.
“I’ve heard that you’re unnaturally fascinated by this young woman. I wished to determine if that was so.”
That’s a crock of shit. “If you’re so curious, you could have called as soon as you’d heard about her. Instead you waited to disrupt my date. You’ve never struck me as the jealous type before.” As soon as the words were out, she shook her head. That was incorrect. Anders had always been jealous of her attentions, she reminded herself. Whenever she strayed from his path, he’d set her back on the straight and narrow regardless of who got hurt in the process. Dealing with him was a delicate dance of moves and countermoves, all taking place on the razor-sharp edge of a precipice.
“My, my! Such adamance. It seems I may have cause for concern after all.”
Abrupt fear stabbed at her heart. The one objective she least wanted was for Naomi to be a blip on Anders’s radar. He had a supernatural talent for perverting anything wholesome and good, both qualities that Naomi seemed to have in abundance. Forcing herself to scoff aloud, Joram said, “Hardly. She’s cute but I doubt she’s worth the effort.”
“Really?” Anders drawled.
Hating herself, Joram gave a bitter laugh. “You kidding? I only got two kisses out of her tonight.” She silently sent apologies to Naomi.
“I see.” There was a calculating pause. “Perhaps I’ve overstepped my bounds. My concern has always been your welfare, young Joram.”
She dared to breathe a gentle sigh of relief, sensing that his attention had been diverted.
“You are on the verge of stardom; I don’t wish to see you distracted by a piece of ass.”
Joram felt her lip curl as she fought the urge to argue. She suspected that Naomi Kostopoulos was much more than a sexual diversion to pass the time. His crude words had been said to get a rise out of her, and she forced herself to calm down. Gritting her teeth, she forced a laugh. “Got that right.”
She could almost see him nod in acceptance. “You’re on your way up the ladder of success, miting. You need to stay focused on your music. You are the harbinger of Invocation, you cannot be inattentive to your career. You Chose this path.”
You mean I sold out. Joram wallowed in the familiar self-disgust as his words washed over her, words of instruction for the band’s next gig and some suggestions for upcoming playlists. Life was so much better when Anders wasn’t involved. Perhaps when she reached this pinnacle of stardom he pushed her toward, she could give him what he needed and be free of him forever.
Unfortunately, she still hadn’t figured out what he wanted from her.
Chapter Eighteen
The indecipherable words on her laptop mocked Naomi’s attention span. She dropped her face into her hands and rubbed them vigorously. Her paper was due in three hours, and she still had to write a closing argument. She ran her hands through her hair, gaze straying across the university library and its studious occupants. All seemed engrossed in their books and computers, much more absorbed than her.
Again she rubbed her face, as if that would make a difference in her ability to focus on the assignment before her. If she’d been fatigued, at least she’d have an excuse for her inability to finish the paper. She’d arrived home in plenty of time for bed, even after spending an hour giving Rebecca a blow-by-blow account of her evening with Joram. Despite the post-date debriefing and a healthy dose of teasing for that wonderful kiss, she’d slept well enough. Neither was cause for her inattention. No, today’s problem was the fact that she couldn’t get Joram Darkstone or those kisses out of her mind.
Glaring at her computer, she attempted to corral her thoughts for the task at hand. Just a hundred more words. Sum up the paper and print it out. How difficult can it be?
A vision of Joram sitting across from her filled her mind. The slight gravel in her voice tickled Naomi’s ears and her sparkling green eyes drew Naomi close. She considered the exact color of Joram
’s eyes. They were a sea green, almost a hazel in color, and expressive. Naomi decided that it had been beneficial that she’d never seen her imaginary playmate at the monastery all those years ago. The depth of her emotion for that girl and that time period were strong enough already. She’d never have been able to pass Nathan’s stringent instruction with the additional visual distraction.
Naomi had almost brought up her childhood and the connection she felt with Joram. The strange phone call had interrupted her as she’d gathered her courage to broach the subject. She recalled the chill of Joram’s voice, the ice in those warm eyes. Who had been on the other end of the line? A man, Naomi knew that much. Could it be the man Joram had referred to as her patron, the man who’d taken her in when she was a child? Joram had said he’d adopted her but she didn’t refer to him as her father. There had seemed to be a wealth of antipathy toward him just beneath the surface.
Naomi shook her head. This wasn’t getting the paper done. She glanced at the clock on her screen, silently cursing. Where was the time going? She brought one hand up to rub her mouth and chin, scrunching over her laptop so the screen filled her vision.
Her phone rang, and an instant of exultation caused her heart to race. She scrambled for the cell phone, glancing apologetically at others nearby. Disappointment washed through her as she noted Inanna’s photo on the screen. It was rare that her mother called during the day, preferring not to interrupt her school schedule. Rather than answer and cause further disruption in the library, she muted the call. Gathering her belongings, she stuffed her laptop into her bag and stood, shouldering the load. Maybe she’d get more work done outside.
She exited the library and headed for the Central Quad of the south campus where she found a shady spot to sit down. Retrieving her phone, she returned Inanna’s call. “Hey, Mama.”
“Sweetness.”
Naomi smiled as her mother’s smooth tones washed over her. Memories of warmth and love bolstered the vague concern tugging at her. What with time differences and her class load, she and Inanna had long stuck to a calling schedule to guarantee no interruptions on either end. This phone call was two days early and at the wrong time. “Is everything all right?”
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