Читать книгу Sensual Winds - Carmen Green - Страница 8

There was a rhythm to New York City at 7:00 p.m. that no other city could duplicate. Throngs of people streamed down sidewalks and into streets, the innocuous traffic lights controlling every man and woman, car, taxi and bus.

Today Manhattan was a little different; brightened by the mayor, who’d declared it Smile Day. Dozens of volunteers had been dispatched around Manhattan to take pictures of anyone who was smiling, and then they were given their photo.

Today, everybody was smiling in New York City at dusk.

Ten floors up from the bustling streets, Doreen Gamble sat at her desk and touched the corner of her smiling photo. Her pace had been frenetic at lunch. She had been trying to balance a tray of two large cups of green tea, a boxy Crate and Barrel wedding gift for a coworker, a prized bag of Christian Louboutin silk lace-up sandals and a political magazine when she’d been asked if she wanted to brighten up New York with her smile. It didn’t hurt that the photographers had goofy Smile tiaras on their heads.

They’d been so irresistible, she’d been glad to show off her whitened, otherwise uncorrected thirty-twos. She didn’t even mind donating to the charity that supported the 9/11 memorial fund. She’d arrived back at work feeling as if she’d done some good for the world.

The back line rang, and her thoughts returned to the here and now. Doreen hoped it was Lucas. Lately, his no-news updates had left her disappointed, but she hoped he had some good news today.

“Good morning—evening, sorry,” Doreen corrected, shoving her long hair behind her ear. “How may I help you?”

“You work so much you don’t even know if it’s day or night? Tell that woman of mine to give you a day off.”

Lucas McCoy’s voice had the power to make her feel as if even on her worst day she was the prettiest girl in the room. If he made every woman feel this way, it was no wonder he did more renovation jobs for women than men.

Who could help having a tiny crush on him? She couldn’t.

“Put me on webcam, Doreen,” he said. She blushed, wishing she’d had a few extra minutes to fix herself up. Lucas wasn’t her man, but she still didn’t want to look bad to him.

She did as he instructed. “We’re on. Hey there,” she said, seeing the handsome man who was in his jeans and T-shirt.

“Hi.” He waved. “Now, about the crazy hours you work. You need to stand up for yourself. Stomp around your desk with your picket sign. She’ll get the hint.”

Doreen laughed. “Yeah, okay. I like having a job. Besides, would she care? I don’t think so. My job is to be here, at seven at night, waiting for a phone call from that crazy, distant place called Key West, and a man named Lucas who’s calling to tell me about an Alfiere Italian sink. Tell me you have good news.”

She’d said it all as if she were in a poetry reading, letting the words drop and roll in all the right places.

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head, trying to look sad. “This is a ‘bad news, good news’ webcam call.”

Doreen groaned. “I have to say, Lucas, I’m disappointed.”

“And if you make that sound again, I’ll be coming through the camera to make that disappointment go away.”

“Lucas McCoy, you’re an engaged man,” she chastised, her neck burning at the volley. Lucas’s good looks hadn’t been lost on Doreen. She had always been attracted to tall men, considering she was five-ten.

He looked like the corporate type, too, with short hair and a sexy goatee, and smooth, chocolate-colored skin that reminded her of melted kisses. She knew from her boss that he was thirty; in fact, Emma had boasted about dating a man nine years younger. But Lucas was the perfect age for her, only a year older.

“Doreen, where has that wandering mind taken you?”

She shook herself. “Nowhere, Lucas. What did you say?” Guiltily she paid attention.

“You know my fiancée hasn’t been down here in eight months, and if she doesn’t get her butt down here soon, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Emma wants to see you, but her promotion means big things here at Regents Cable.” Doreen sat back in her chair and crossed her legs, relieved he still sounded playful. “She’s the first black woman to hold the title of VP of urban development, and they’re expecting great things from her.”

“I know.” Lucas didn’t look like he cared one thing about the excuse. “I’m not begrudging her career success. Not for a second. But a man needs his woman, especially one he’s proposed to. Anyway, we’ll work it out. Meanwhile, let me update you on the renovations.”

Happy to be on safer ground, Doreen rested her elbow on the desk and sighed. “Let me guess. Which wall have you knocked down now?”

“I haven’t knocked down any walls. All fifteen rooms have walls. The library, great room, game room, kitchen, laundry room, both offices, tackle room and—”

“Hold it. What’s a tackle room?”

“A room for when I come in from fishing. I need a room for my tackle.” He looked serious as he said it until he started laughing. “I needed a couple sinks to gut and clean the fish, too. Not unless she wants me in the kitchen, and I just don’t see that happening.”

He sounded like the old Lucas now. The fun-loving, happy guy who used to call several times a day seeking Emma’s advice. Initially Emma had sounded happy about the house Lucas had been renovating for them in Key West, then she’d come in one day and confessed over a nonfat latte that she wasn’t interested in wallpaper swatches and drywall width, so she’d dropped the whole project and his calls into Doreen’s lap. Now they talked about everything from wood to wallpaper every day.

Doreen pretended to shiver. “I’ve seen one fish gutted and I don’t ever have to see it again,” she said. His laughter conjured up for her sexy, if illicit, images of him. “Go on.”

“The formal dining and breakfast rooms are done. Oh, and the master suite is done. One bedroom upstairs is done, but we’re still working on the foyer. The floor in the powder room on the main level needs a little work, and of course the other three bedrooms are unfinished. Those are rooms Emma won’t want to use right away, but if I have my say…”

He was talking about children, of course. Which Emma had confessed to her just last week she’d never really wanted.

“I’m sure you’ll compromise,” Doreen said, hating knowing Emma’s side while hearing the wistful dreams in Lucas’s voice. Doreen couldn’t look at him. Who wouldn’t want kids with him? She’d grown up alone and had longed for brothers and sisters, if only to fill the loneliness of losing her mother early.

“Doreen, I can practically hear my biological clock ticking.”

Laughter snaked out of her like a curl of smoke. “You are out of your mind today, Lucas. What’s up with you?”

He groaned. “The question is what’s right. Nothing. Must be this Hurricane Ana. Gorgeous name for a woman, but the storm’s a real witch. She came through a couple days ago and she’s still dogging our island. We need a break. I need some vitamin D, some sunshine, wine and a good woman.”

“I’ve heard the reports, Lucas. But I thought you grew up in Key West. You’re not used to the weather down there?”

“I am, but I spent a lot of time in New York as a young man. My father was from Harlem and my mother from the Keys. My father wanted me to be a stockbroker like him. I became one and hated it.”

“When did you have time for that and school to become an architect?”

“You have to have a major and a minor,” he said, smiling.

“My goodness,” she said, impressed. “You must have been some type of genius.”

Lucas pretended to straighten a tie he wasn’t wearing. “You know I try to tell my best friends, Stephen and Terrence, to bow to my brilliance, but they don’t give a damn. They’re always telling me to shut up.”

Doreen burst out laughing. “Do they beat you up a little, too?”

“They know better.”

“So, what’s going on with the marble? You never told me. Are you still holding out hope that it will come in? If you are, forget it. It’s not too late to go with bamboo. Innovative, right?”

She nervously fingered her hair, hoping he’d take the bait and not want to talk about Emma. Doreen didn’t think she could handle a talk about what he should do about her boss.

“More like crazy. Stop worrying. I’ve got a guy.”

Doreen started laughing again. She loved the expression “I’ve got a guy.” Here in the city, having “a guy” usually involved something illegal. “Lucas, I’m hanging up now. I’m not listening to your story about how something fell off the back of a truck.”

“Ms. Gamble, I’m appalled at the direction of your thoughts. I would never participate in anything unsavory.”

“What about Mo?”

“I plead the Fifth on Mo. I don’t know what the hell he does,” he said, and they both chuckled. “I thought you wanted to hear about your sink?”

Her sink.

Now that was quite an oxymoron. The sink was no more hers than the house was. She was merely stepping in for her boss. Emma had cringed at the idea of domestication, preferring the big paycheck. She’d been unflinching in her quest for success, practicing her acquired skill set of delegating with executive aplomb.

“Lucas to Doreen,” he singsonged when her attention wavered again. “What’s with you today?”

“Just thinking of all the things I have to do when I get home. Forgive me. Please tell me about m—the sink.”

“Okay.” The excitement was all over his face. “The Italian-designed, ceramic-valve construction and polished chrome fit perfectly in that small space. It totally complements the wall coloring you suggested last month.”

Lucas’s voice had dropped as if he were now reading poetry.

“It’s sexy, if I can use that term to describe a bathroom sink. One of the best choices you made for this house.”

Joy was one of those emotions Doreen rarely felt, but Lucas’s compliment made her feel a deep sense of satisfaction. She could hardly stop herself from floating out of her West Forty-Fourth Street window. Doreen planted her cheek on her hand. “You flatter me. Please, make me feel good some more.”

“When you say it like that, I feel obligated to tell you that I’m promised to another woman—but if I weren’t, I’d take you up on your offer.”

Doreen couldn’t believe that a tiny scream leapt out of her mouth. Lucas’s voice had struck the right note at the heart of her loneliness. “I’d better go. I believe that I have a brain leak that needs to be plugged with food and sleep.”

“No harm done,” he said, laughing.

Doreen put her hand over the webcam to experience the full bloom of embarrassment. Could she humiliate herself any further?

Lucas was so cool about everything, but she needed to sever these evening talks. All of her friends had said so. Doreen took her hand off the camera and stood up, the nonverbal cue that a meeting was over. “No harm except to my ego,” she admitted. “Have a good night, Lucas.”

“Hey, don’t go. We’re cool, okay? I still haven’t gotten my furniture yet.”

He didn’t want to hang up. Damn Emma!

Doreen shook her head, locking her knees, making herself remain standing. “You have lawn chairs. Bring them inside and watch your too-big television and eat off paper plates.”

“Now you’re being cruel. They’re reinforced cardboard or something.”

“Only the best for you,” she said, the marquee down the street flashing the start time of The Color Purple.

“I need to speak to Emma. Is she around?”

Doreen looked over her shoulder to her boss’s closed door and shook her head. “No, she’s in a meeting. I’ll leave a note for her to call you, okay?”

“Doreen, I hope I didn’t offend you earlier.”

“No. I have guy friends and they tease me all the time.” Liar. She straightened her already-tidy desk, willing her legs to relax before she got a charley horse.

“Good,” he said, unaware of the lingering pain she felt at not having a man for herself. But that wasn’t his business. “Emma knew I was calling, right?”

She felt as if he was right next to her. “Yes, I gave her your message this morning.”

“And her schedule was clear at that time.”

Doreen bit her lip, saying nothing. As big as her crush was, she couldn’t tell him that Emma had reviewed the message on her computer and deleted it within seconds. Doreen couldn’t say that. She wished he couldn’t even see her.

“I need to speak to her right now. I need to know what time to pick her up from the airport tomorrow.” He said it as if it were a challenge she could promptly rise to meet.

Doreen’s fingers quickly flew across the keyboard, accessing Emma’s schedule. She hadn’t known anything about Emma going to Florida this weekend. As far as she knew, her boss was scheduled to go to the annual sales meeting in the Poconos.

“Lucas, can I have her call you back? I can’t disturb her right now. In fact, I was just leaving.”

Lying to him wasn’t what she wanted to do, but she didn’t want to get fired for crossing the line of professionalism.

In truth, she’d been waiting for Emma to discuss the new job listing of director of special events that had just been posted. They’d talked about it months ago, when they’d gotten word that the position was being created, but Emma had been tight-lipped lately. Doreen hadn’t minded being her assistant when Emma was the director of promotions, but she’d just been promoted to vice president, and her new position would take her to the corporate office where an administrative assistant would be provided, so Doreen would have to make the adjustment to a new boss or become a boss herself.

If she hadn’t already been doing the job, maybe she wouldn’t have felt so strongly about applying, but she knew everything it entailed and she was up for the challenge.

No, now was not the time to go where this conversation with Lucas was heading. Lately his discontent was becoming more apparent, and Doreen didn’t want to be in the middle of his crumbling relationship with Emma. Neither seemed to be aware of the direction it was heading in, and Doreen didn’t want to play marriage counselor. She was single for a reason.

“It’s nearly seven-thirty, and you’re still there, Dorie.” Calling her by the nickname he’d coined ratcheted up her guilt like a crane with a bar of girded steel. Doreen felt caught in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel, except she didn’t know what the fight was about.

“Lucas, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening here.”

“I’ve left messages and she hasn’t returned my calls. We make plans for the house and she doesn’t follow through. Since I can’t get her on the phone—” He paused and Doreen waited a beat too long.

“This may be the last message you have to deliver. Tell Emma if she doesn’t come to Florida tomorrow, I’ll consider us over.” Then he hung up.