Читать книгу The Vow - Cheryl Ntumy S. - Страница 5

2

I knew this was a bad idea, Rethabile thought to herself. What was I thinking?

She stood at the door of a restaurant in a crisp white shirt and black pencil skirt, her hair pulled back with a clasp. The restaurant was closed to the public for a Grand Gesture event, a glitzy surprise engagement party. It was Criselda’s baby, but one of the ushers had pulled out at the last minute and Rethabile had offered to help.

She smiled and welcomed the guests, showing them through the dimly lit entrance and into the main dining area at the back. So far she had received three subtle come-ons, and she was kicking herself for agreeing to Reneilwe’s crazy plan. What kind of fool would choose celibacy when there were so many potential Mr Rights out there?

“Hi – is this the Hamilton party?”

Rethabile looked up into a pair of dark-brown eyes topped by thick brows. Beneath them was a strong nose, broad cheeks and full lips. Her vision zoomed out to take in the full picture. The man was in his late thirties. He had the neatest brush cut she had ever seen and a flawless goatee. He wore a black dinner jacket over a white shirt and black trousers. Her gaze travelled back to his eyes and she almost tripped over her own feet.

“Yes,” she said, when she finally found her voice. “Uhm . . . you must be . . . ” She glanced at the clipboard, annoyed with herself for dropping the ball. “Uhm . . . ” Sedibe, Daniels, Khumalo. Lucas Khumalo. “Mr Khumalo.” She beamed up at him and took a deep breath, which made her top button pop open.

Lucas Khumalo’s eyes dropped to her chest, then wandered back to her face. He smiled and raised an eyebrow. For the first time in her life, Rethabile felt self-conscious. She raised the clipboard to cover up the small V of exposed flesh. “Welcome. Please come in. The party is this way.”

As he brushed past her she caught a whiff of his aftershave. She closed her eyes, wishing she could wrap herself in the scent . . . and in his arms, while she was at it.

“Where should I put this?”

Her eyes sprang open. He was holding a small box wrapped in purple paper. “Oh, the gifts go here,” she replied, flustered. She showed him the basket behind the door.

“Thank you.” He gave her another smile and a lingering look before making his way towards the other guests.

Rethabile’s stomach performed several somersaults as she tried to pull herself together. Okay, he was a hot guy, but she was Rethabile Moemedi! Never before had a man caught her off guard. Where was all the smooth charm and sex appeal that had served her so well over the years?

She groaned and did up her top button. Celibacy! What a joke. Her knees were weak and despite the air-conditioning she was burning up. She stole a glance at the guests and spotted Lucas taking his seat. Her stomach did another somersault. There had to be a way out of this vow. A loophole, an amendment . . . something! There was no way she could allow a man who turned her to jelly to slip through her fingers.

She spotted two more guests approaching and looked down at the clipboard. Back to work, Thabi, she told herself, but it was difficult to concentrate. Her mind kept drifting to his eyes, his lips, his smile . . . and the way he had looked at her disobedient top button.

The party passed in a blur. Rethabile found her gaze straying to Lucas’s table, and every time she looked at him he would turn his head in her direction and she would quickly look away.

“What’s up with you tonight?” Criselda hissed in her ear. “Just because you’re an usher doesn’t mean you can’t be your usual bubbly self. Have you seen some of the guys in this place? Why aren’t you working it?”

Rethabile sighed. “There’s only one man here I’m interested in, Cris.”

“Then why aren’t you glued to his arm already?” her colleague demanded.

“Because . . . ” Rethabile cringed. “I’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

Criselda looked at her with a blank expression. Then she burst into laughter. “Ag, that’s a good one, skat. Celibacy!” She chuckled, moving away to check on the food.

Rethabile would have been insulted by Criselda’s reaction if she weren’t so annoyed with herself. She should never have allowed her sisters and friend to trick her into taking the stupid vow. By now she and Lucas Khumalo would be out on the balcony, getting to know each other. She could already imagine how those lips would feel against hers . . .

Thabi! Get a grip! She fled the main room and went to get the gifts ready for presentation, just to give herself something to do. She considered having a glass of wine to loosen her up, but Reneilwe always said that if she got any looser she would unravel completely. Maybe she should stick to water.

The party stretched on for a few more agonising hours. As the guests began to leave, Rethabile took up her position at the door.

Lucas was among the last to leave. “This was a first-class party,” he told her, approaching the door. “You people know what you’re doing.”

She felt her face grow hot as she thought of the way her button had popped open right before his eyes. “Thanks. I’m glad you enjoyed me – yourself! I mean . . . the party.” Oh God. She cringed.

He laughed. “Do you have a business card?”

Her heart leapt. She always carried business cards, just in case. There was no way Reneilwe could catch her out on this one – she hadn’t offered her number. She reached into her bag, produced a card and pressed it into his hand. Her fingers grazed his palm and a tingle went right through her. She thought she would collapse right there and then.

“Thank you.” He looked at the card, then pulled his own card from the inside of his jacket and handed it to her. This time she took it by the very tip, terrified that if he touched her again she would throw herself at him, vow or not.

“Good night, Rethabile. I hope we’ll meet again soon.” He flashed her another smile and sauntered off into the night.

* * *

“So you’re completely over Ras?”

Rebecca and Rethabile were relaxing in Rethabile’s Sunnyside flat.

Rethabile looked at her younger sister in mock confusion. “Ras who?”

“Good,” said Rebecca firmly, putting her feet up on the coffee table and digging into the bowl of chips in her lap. “He was a little bit creepy, anyway.”

“Noted,” said Rethabile, rolling her eyes.

“So who’s his replacement?”

Rethabile kept her eyes on the magazine she was reading. “Nobody.”

“Come on,” her sister persisted. “Let me guess – an artist. No, no – a writer.”

Rethabile scowled. “If you keep this up, I’ll change my mind about letting you stay here for the varsity holidays.” But her mouth twitched as she thought of Lucas’s sexy mouth and the even sexier things he could probably do with it.

“Aha!” Rebecca lowered her legs to the carpet and leaned forward. “There is someone. Tell me, Thabi! You know you want to.”

“Eish, wena!” Rethabile clicked her tongue in mock irritation. “I’ve taken a vow, remember? I’m off men.”

Rebecca shook her head. “He must be really hot if you’re being this secretive. When did you meet him? At that work thing last night?”

Rethabile heaved a sigh of surrender, knowing that her sister wasn’t going to let up. “Yes. It was a disaster – I stammered and made a fool of myself. All my skills went out of the window. But I think he was checking me out.”

“Of course – you’re gorgeous,” said Rebecca loyally. “And that white shirt you were wearing . . . ”

Rethabile bit her lip and frowned. “I shouldn’t have made that stupid vow! But don’t tell Reneilwe I said that,” she added, with a stern glance.

Rebecca laughed. “The vow shouldn’t hold you back. You’re allowed to hang out with guys. You just have to take it slow.”

“Right.” Rethabile pictured Lucas’s face and knew that there was no way she would be able to take it slow. “Anyway, everything happens for a reason. Maybe that’s why I lost my cool last night – so I can stay on track and keep my vow.”

“Or maybe he was just that hot,” Rebecca countered, giggling.

Rethabile threw a cushion at her just as her phone started to ring. She dug it out from in between the sofa cushions. It was an unknown number. “Hello?”

“Hi. Is that Rethabile?”

Her heart stopped. It couldn’t be. She looked at Rebecca, who was frowning in confusion. “Yes.”

“Lucas Khumalo here, from last night’s party. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

Rethabile beamed, feeling as if she were glowing from within. “No, not at all! Hi.” She just registered her sister’s knowing smirk before she slipped into her own world, where the only thing that mattered was the seductive voice at the other end of the line.

“You sound surprised to hear from me,” he laughed. “I didn’t take your card for nothing, you know.”

“Of course not,” she blurted out. “It’s just . . . I just . . . Well, I thought you might . . . you know . . . call the office or something.” She rolled her eyes at her unsophisticated response.

“But my reasons for calling are personal,” he went on. “I want to ask you to have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

Rethabile’s smile was so wide it was starting to hurt her face. Then she remembered the vow. Dinner definitely counted as romantic. Reneilwe would never let her get away with a dinner date.

“Rethabile?” A note of anxiety had crept into his voice. “Please tell me if I’m being presumptuous. I know it was a work function and maybe – ”

“Lunch,” she interjected.

There was a brief silence. “Excuse me?”

Slowly her head cleared and her confidence returned. “We can have lunch tomorrow. Our offices are in Menlyn, so it would be easier for me to meet you there.”

“Lunch is fine. One o’clock on the dot?”

“I’ll see you then.” She was thrilled to hear that the sultriness had returned to her voice. “Good night, Lucas.” She ended the call and heaved a sigh of contentment.

“You do realise that this has to be an innocent, friendly lunch, right?”

Rethabile glared at Rebecca. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Her sister grinned. “Hey, I’m on your side. I hope this one works out.”

“Me too.” Rethabile felt her stomach flip over. There was something about Lucas Khumalo that turned her into a quivering mass of overactive hormones. It was her luck that a man with that kind of sex appeal had appeared just when she decided to tame her passionate ways.

However, lunch was a safe option. There was no way she would tear his clothes off in a restaurant full of people in broad daylight. At least, she hoped not . . .

* * *

Rethabile’s heart was beating so fast, she was afraid she might have a heart attack. Just the thought of seeing Lucas again was enough to drive her to distraction. He had sent her an SMS to let her know which restaurant he was in, and she tried to walk slowly, in a dignified fashion, but she couldn’t wait to be near him.

She smoothed the red dress she had picked for the occasion. It was form-fitting, like most of her clothes, and the V-neck did wonders for her chest. She’d thrown a cropped jacket over it for the office, but as she made her way towards the restaurant she slipped the jacket off. Reneilwe hadn’t said anything about changing her wardrobe, after all.

She walked into the restaurant and her roving gaze caught him immediately. She ignored the admiring glances from other diners and walked right up to the table. The swing in her ample hips was natural; she couldn’t help it any more than she could help her small waist or smooth skin. She had always been aware of her effect on men, but at that moment the only man she cared about was staring at his phone.

“Lucas,” she breathed.

He looked up, and his expression of undisguised awe almost made her melt into the floor. “Hi.” He paused, his gaze wandering over her figure. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

She smiled and lowered her gaze, feeling suddenly shy. Rethabile Moemedi, shy! This man was bringing out a side of her she had never seen before. “Am I late?”

“No . . . uhm . . . I’m sorry if I’m staring. It’s just . . . that usher’s uniform you wore last night didn’t do you justice.”

She gave him a coy smile. “Thank you. Shall we order? I’m starving.”

They placed their orders and then settled into conversation.

“So you manage a hotel,” she began. “Is it fun?”

“Fun?” he laughed. “No one’s ever asked me that before. No, it’s not exactly fun. I do enjoy it, though. I suppose your job must be fun.”

Rethabile grinned. “The best in the world. I help create the kind of moments people remember for the rest of their lives. Some of them are low-key, but most of them really are grand gestures. Like this one engagement we had on a hilltop at sunrise.”

He smiled. “Wow. You’re really into this stuff. What’s your tag line again? ‘Making magical moments’?”

“That’s right.”

As they waited for the food, they spoke about work and family. Rethabile felt completely at ease with him. Her initial nervousness was gone, but every time he smiled or looked at her, her heart fluttered and her stomach threatened to jump into her throat. It was his twinkling eyes, she decided. Or maybe his soft, tempting lips. Or his broad shoulders, strong arms and large, manly hands . . .

She dragged her thoughts back to the conversation. “I can’t believe you have four siblings. I only have two and that’s plenty!”

“Well, my brothers are overseas and my sisters are scattered across the continent, so it doesn’t feel crowded any more,” he explained. “I love them, but I must admit, I hated being the middle child.”

They were halfway through dessert when he reached across the table and took her hand. A jolt of desire went through her body, shocking her with its intensity.

“I want to see you again,” he told her.

“I’m free on Saturday.” Don’t look at his lips, she warned herself.

“Do you swim?”

Rethabile frowned. “Yes . . . why?”

“Meet me at the hotel at noon. We’ll have lunch, take a swim in the private pool, and get to know each other better.”

She gulped. The idea of being alone with a half-dressed Lucas Khumalo was unbearably tempting. How could she say no? But then again . . . how could she say yes? “I . . . uh . . . what’s wrong with the regular pool?”

“Oh.” He looked flustered. “Sure, the regular pool, if that will make you more comfortable. I wasn’t trying to . . . ”

“I know,” she beamed at him. “I have to get back to the office, and I’m sure you do too. Thanks for lunch, Lucas. I really enjoyed it.”

“Me too.” He rose to pull out her chair. She couldn’t remember the last time a guy had done that for her.

“I’ll see you on Saturday,” she said.

“Saturday.” He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but didn’t.

She walked away from the table. She could feel his eyes on her. She hoped he was appreciating the way the dress hugged her figure. Imagine what could happen if she and Lucas were alone in a pool together, dressed in nothing but their swimsuits . . .