Читать книгу In the Light of Love - Deborah Fletcher Mello - Страница 13

Jericho stood against a rear wall of the large ballroom, his arms crossed evenly over his broad chest. He knew the woman from somewhere, but he couldn’t for the life of himself remember where. He’d noticed her the minute she’d walked in, his gaze following her to the buffet table, and watching as she’d engaged in conversation with the two men who’d stood like bookends beside her.

She was full-figured, a perfectly proportioned beauty who would have easily been labeled voluptuous. The dress she wore had hugged her curves like a second skin and he’d felt his body quiver with intrigue as he’d watched her. From where he’d stood, he thought she embodied the image of the woman the Commodores had sung about on that old song, “Brick House.” The old rap song by Sir Mix-A-Lot, “Baby Got Back,” was just as fitting. Although she was a definite beauty, there was clearly nothing vain about her. Her shoulder-length hair had appeared windblown, soft brown curls billowing around her oval-shaped face. Her makeup was simple at best, just a coat of lipstick across her mouth and a touch of eyeliner beneath her eyes. Not an ounce of foundation touched her clear, copper complexion. And there had been something in her eyes when her gaze had met his that had reduced him to a weak mass, spinning heat from one end of his body to the other. His thoughts were still on the woman he’d just met when his mother came up beside him, slipping her arm beneath his.

“Nervous?” Irene asked, leaning to kiss her son’s cheek.

Jericho shrugged, pushing his shoulders skyward. “Not really. Just ready for this to be over.”

“You need to relax and have some fun,” the woman said smiling. “There are some beautiful, intelligent women out there.”

Jericho shrugged again. “Did you get to meet any of the women at the reception?” he asked, his gaze meeting hers evenly.

“No, dear. I was too busy down here. How did it go?”

“There was one woman I met briefly. Her name was Talisa London. She looked very familiar.”

Irene’s expression was pensive as she mulled the name over in her mind. She shook her head from side to side. “Sorry, baby. It doesn’t ring a bell. Could you know this woman from the hospital?”

“I don’t know. I recognize her from somewhere though.”

His mother nodded. “Well, don’t let it bother you. The minute you stop thinking about it the answer will come.” She reached to adjust her son’s bow tie. “You look quite dashing.”

Jericho chuckled. “Thank you.”

“Do me proud,” she said, giving him a pat on the back as the event coordinator called him to get in line to await his turn.

Jericho grimaced, heaving a deep sigh as he stepped toward the front curtains.

Behind him, his mother called out his name.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Good luck, baby.”

The emcee had rolled Jericho’s name off his tongue with relative ease, the sound of it calling for her attention as Talisa shifted forward in her seat. As Jericho stood at the end of the runway, waiting to walk the length of floor ahead of him, she could feel her heart skip a beat. She clutched the bid paddle tighter in her hands.

“Dr. Jericho Becton, the only son of our gracious host this evening, is a graduate of Duke University’s medical school. He completed his surgical internship at Atlanta’s Children’s Hospital, and is currently in private practice with his father and mentor, Dr. Elijah Becton. Jericho is an avid sportsman. He loves to scuba dive in Bermuda, rock climb in the Grand Canyon, ski the slopes in Aspen, and hike the Georgia Mountains. His ideal woman is just as adventurous, intensely family-oriented, and fiercely independent.

“The lucky bidder will enjoy Dr. Becton’s company at the VisionarieSpa here in Atlanta as they get to know each other over luxurious mango body massages and strawberry facials.” The man laughed. “Sounds like a lot of dessert before the meal to me,” he chuckled before continuing. “Some lucky lady and the good doctor here will end the evening at one of his favorite restaurants, Paschal’s, where they’ll enjoy home cooking to rival that of my very own mother’s. So, brush off those credit cards ladies ’cause our lucky bidder is sure to enjoy a good time with this fine young man. I’m going to start the bidding at one hundred dollars.”

Talisa could feel herself beginning to perspire as she stared up at Jericho. Tiny beads of moisture were forming in the valley between her breasts and she fanned herself ever so slightly, fearful that she might break out into a full sweat. The man’s gaze sought her out as he sauntered slowly to the end of the runway. When he located her, he smiled seductively in her direction, an easy bend of his lips that deepened the crevice of his dimples and it was as if he’d lit a fire beneath her, causing her to melt like butter against her seat.

Leila grabbed Talisa’s hand and pushed it upward, waving the bid paddle in the air.

“I have five hundred dollars, do I hear six?”

“What are you doing?” Talisa said under her breath.

“Winning you that doctor. You can’t get him if you don’t bid,” Leila hissed back.

“I don’t have that kind of money, Leila.”

“Well, I do, so don’t worry about it.”

Talisa was prepped to give her friend a tongue-lashing when the emcee gestured in her direction.

“I have six hundred dollars. Will you give me seven? Do I hear seven?”

“Seven!” a tall, redheaded woman called out from the other side of the stage.

Talisa’s eyes widened in disbelief as Leila pushed her hand up again. “Eight,” her friend called out from behind her.

The room erupted in noise. Jericho grinned excitedly in her direction.

“Eight hundred dollars. I have eight hundred dollars for a day with Dr. Jericho Becton. Do I hear nine? Someone give me nine. I have eight hundred. Eight hundred going once…eight hundred going twice…”

“One thousand dollars,” a voice sang out from the back of the room and every head turned to see from where it had come. Women were rising from their seats to catch a glimpse of the woman who’d offered one thousand dollars for time with the beautiful black man who stood before them, an expression of surprise painted across his face.

Talisa watched as the woman made her way closer to the center of the room, her gold-trimmed bid paddle raised high in the air. She was exceptionally tall, a long-legged blonde with pale green eyes and skin the color of whole milk. Before Talisa realized what she was doing, her own paddle was sky-high, her bid rolling off her tongue. “Two thousand dollars.”

Behind her Leila laughed. “That a way. Go get your man, girlfriend.”

Talisa could feel a sudden wave of embarrassment drop over her. She glanced from Jericho, to the other woman who was eyeing her with obvious annoyance, to her best friend, and back again. Jericho was nodding his head in her direction, a wistful expression gracing his face. The room had gone quiet as everyone watching waited to see what the two women would do.

The auctioneer was waving his gaze anxiously from one to the other. “Do I hear two thousand, five hundred?” he asked, his excitement spilling past his words.

The blond woman nodded, lifting her bid mask high into the air. “Twenty-five hundred,” she answered, her voice loud and clear.

Leila poked Talisa in the back, hissing into her ear. “Do not let that woman get your man, Talisa. Bid!” she commanded, her breath hot against her best friend’s neck. “I’ve got you covered. Go ahead and bid!”

Talisa’s voice was much less assured as she rose to her feet, waving in the auctioneer’s direction. “Three thousand.”

Jericho beamed, the glaze in his eyes fueled by Talisa’s obvious interest. He pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his silk slacks, the easy gesture meant to hide his obvious nervousness. As he leaned his weight back against one hip, the motion made his six-foot-six stature appear comfortable, the pose accentuating the lines of his firm body. It caused every woman in the room to gasp and Talisa suddenly found herself fighting for oxygen. Jericho’s gaze was still locked with hers, his stare piercing right through her heart and when he smiled, the sweet bending of his lips calmed her and Talisa felt herself smiling back.

“Twenty thousand dollars,” the blonde called out, tossing Talisa a look that dared her to top so generous an offer. The sudden silence in the room was deafening as all eyes turned to see what she intended to do. The moment was surreal as Talisa’s gaze moved from Jericho’s face to her opponent’s and back again. Talisa blew air past her full lips as if she’d been punched in the stomach, clearly deflated by the turn of events. She dropped her paddle against the table and shook her head as the auctioneer turned to see if she would counter. She suddenly found herself fighting a rush of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

“Twenty thousand dollars once…twice…twenty thousand dollars three times…sold to lucky number six-seventy-four!” The man slammed his gavel against the wooden podium top. The women cheered, fueled by the excitement they’d all just witnessed. Through glazed eyes, Talisa watched as her opponent turned to give her a quick nod. Clearly defeated, Talisa smiled a faint smile and shrugged her shoulders, gesturing half a salute in the woman’s direction. The blonde turned, sweeping her long hair over her shoulders and gave Jericho a quick wink before heading in the direction of the checkout counter. On the center of the stage, Jericho stood stunned, his eyes still locked on Talisa’s face, the line of his smile pulling toward the floor in a deep frown.