Читать книгу Sealed With a Kiss - Gwynne Forster - Страница 10

Chapter 3

They left the lecture in a playful mood. “Okay, I agree that he wasn’t a genius,” Rufus declared, “but he did make some good points.” His changing facial expressions fascinated her. Naomi watched a grin drift over his face slowly, like a pleasant idea dawning, and walked closer to him. She was not inclined to give the lecturer as much credit as he did, though, and they joked about the man’s shortcomings.

Arm in arm, they crossed the street to where two boys in their mid-teens stood beneath the streetlight. One cocked his head, gave them a hard look as they approached, and then ran up to Rufus.

“I don’t believe it, man. Look who this is! How ya doin’, Mr. Meade?” Naomi watched while Rufus autographed the boys’ shirts, since they had nothing else on which he could write, answered their questions, and gave them reasons why they shouldn’t hang out in the streets. The happy youths thanked him and promised to take his advice.

“Right on, man!” one said, as the two ambled toward what Naomi and Rufus both hoped was home. He’s a kind and gentle man, she decided. And not merely with his own children. What other celebrity with his stature, a best-selling author, would stand on a street corner at nine at night and give autographs to two street urchins? She frowned. And when had boys like those begun to read books on delinquency? Maybe they knew his journalistic writings, but she didn’t think so. No doubt there was something about him that she didn’t know.

At her car, he told Naomi, “I’ve enjoyed being with you tonight, Naomi. I enjoyed it a lot.” He paused, making up his mind, remembering his earlier vow to back off. She was a heady lure, a magnet, and he wasn’t going to get mired in her quicksand. He took his time deciding to walk away, all the while searching her face intently. Then he held the door for her. “Good night Naomi, I hope we meet again soon.”

Naomi drove away feeling as if he had dangled her from a long pole, gotten tired, and dropped her. She had learned one thing that evening, though: she wasn’t merely attracted to him; Rufus Meade was a man whom she could genuinely like, even care for. And therein lay the danger! But she knew he had not forgiven her for suggesting that he hire a woman to care for his boys. If he had, he would have kissed her good-night, she reasoned, because every move he made said it was what he wanted. And she had wanted him to do it. She had better watch herself.

She entered her apartment and didn’t stop until she reached her bedroom. At least I’m consistent, she joked to herself, looking around the dusty rose room, as she pulled off her dusty rose sweater and reached for her gown of the same color. She stretched out on a chaise lounge and thought about the evening with Rufus.

She could hardly believe that he had invited her to the lecture of that she had so readily agreed to go. She hadn’t said yes voluntarily; she had been drugged by his charisma. He was smoldering fire, and if she didn’t stay away from him, she would be badly burned. Her tinkling laughter broke the silence. All of a sudden, she understood moths.

Rufus took his minivan swiftly up Georgia Avenue, across Military Road, and north on Connecticut Avenue to Chevy Chase and home. His sister, Jewel, greeted him at his front door.

“Who on earth is Noomie? Preston and Sheldon have been telling me stories about her: she’s a fairy; she makes ice cream; she has a pink nose; she lives in Thessa; and you are angry with her.”

Rufus frowned. “She doesn’t have a pink nose, and she lives in Bethesda. Except for that, they’re right.” He had already learned that when you have small children, you have few secrets.

Jewel put her hands on her hips and wrinkled her nose affectionately. “Anything else?” He knew she always became suspicious when he didn’t satisfy her curiosity. Still, he was uncomfortable with the discussion.

“Not that I know of. Thanks for staying with my boys, Jewel; I hate for them to sleep away from home, and if you didn’t sit here with them, I wouldn’t have a choice.” He walked her to her car. “I’ll call Jeff and tell him you’re on your way so he can watch for you. Don’t forget to call me. You know when you babysit for me at night, I’m always uneasy until I know you’re safely in your house.”

She hugged him affectionately. “Rufus, you are such a worrywart. You know I’ll be all right. Look…”

“Go on, say it.”

“No. I shouldn’t interfere in your life.”

He opened her car door. “Of course I worry about you, Jewel. I look after you because you’re my sister. Heck. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t looking out for you. But I’d be equally concerned for the safety of any other woman leaving me and traveling alone this time of night—though that rarely happens.”

Jewel grabbed the chance. “Does that include Noomie? Or do you plan to keep her a secret forever?”

“Her name is Naomi, and there isn’t much to tell. She has pros and she has cons and right now, I’m shuffling that deck, so to speak.”

“Which side was winning when you left her tonight?”

Jewel understood him better than anyone else ever had, so he wasn’t surprised at her blunt question. She always said that pussyfooting around got you nowhere with him. Still, he didn’t like being transparent, not even to her. “You’re saying I was with her tonight?” He looked down at his sister, a beautiful, happy wife and mother, and grinned when he felt her grasp his arm lightly. Jewel always liked to touch when she talked. Naomi was a toucher, too.

“Yes, you were. There’s a softness about you that says you wish you were with her now.”

He leaned against her dark blue Mercedes coupe and folded his arms against his broad chest. “I think it best that I don’t discuss her just now, Jewel; I don’t know where our relationship is going or if it’s going anywhere at all.” He looked off into the distance. He didn’t want to talk about Naomi; he was too full of her.

“Rufus,” Jewel began apologetically, as if wary of breaching is privacy. “Are you beginning to care for this woman? If you are, give her a chance, a real chance. There must be a reason why the boys are so taken with her, talking about her almost nonstop.”

“I’d rather not go into this, Jewel.” He didn’t want to legitimize Naomi as the woman in his life by discussing her with his sister. He knew Naomi wasn’t like Etta Mae. And he knew that his loveless marriage with his ex-wife wouldn’t have worked even if she hadn’t wanted a career as a high-fashion model. She had never committed herself to the marriage, and when the twins were born, she didn’t commit to them. Only to her career. He hadn’t discouraged her; she needed the spotlight, and he had wanted her to be happy. But how could she have left her three-week-old babies and gone on an overseas modeling assignment? And she’d stayed there.

Jewel’s grip tightened on his arm. “This is part of your problem, honey. Don’t compare her with Etta Mae, whom you still refuse to talk about; it hurts you, so you bury it all inside, where it simmers and festers and gets bigger than it really is. She isn’t evil; she just has tunnel vision. Try to stop reopening those wounds; you’ll never be happy till you do. Let it go, Rufus.”

He moved away, turned, and voiced what he had never before mentioned to her. “What about Mama? She wasn’t there for us, either.”

Jewel shook him gently. “But she took whatever jobs she could get, and that meant traveling. She once told me that she didn’t have a choice.”

It was as if he hadn’t heard her. “She made a living, but she was never home, and in the end, she didn’t come back. When I knew that she wasn’t coming back, that she had gone down in that plane, I thought I would die, too. She was going to write a book on cocoa. Cocoa, for God’s sake!”

His sister’s startled look told him she hadn’t realized that after sixteen years he was still in such turmoil about their mother. “Rufus listen to me. You’ve forgotten something very important. Papa had been an invalid since before I was born, and Mama had to support us. Etta Mae worked because she wanted to. That’s a big difference.”

The only evidence he gave of his inner conflict was the involuntary twitch of a jaw muscle. “Maybe I shouldn’t have voiced my feelings. But I used to cry myself to sleep when I was little, because I missed her. You didn’t feel so alone, because you had me. When you were born, I swore I’d take care of you. Mama had a hard life: a breadwinner, a young woman married in name only and forced to be away from her children. Jewel, I don’t want a woman I love to be caught up in that kind of conflict, and if I married while my boys are little, well…”

He disliked speaking of his personal feelings, but his love for his sister forced him to continue to try and make her understand the choices he made. “Preston and Sheldon are my life. I left my job at the Journal to work at home as a freelancer because they needed me, and I wanted to be there for them. I remember what it was like to be left with a succession of maids, babysitters, and cleaning women to whom I was just a job. And my boys are not going to live like that. Jewel, I can’t expect a woman to put my children before her own interests; their own mother didn’t do it.”

He put an arm around his sister’s shoulder. “Naomi has a career and she’s devoted to it. She’s also very good at what she does, and she deserves every opportunity to reach the top of her field.” He paused, then spoke as if to himself. “And I’ll be the first to applaud her when she gets there.”

He opened the car door. “Enough reminiscing. It’s getting late.”

Jewel started the motor. “At least you’re thinking about her. That’s all I want, Rufus, that you’ll find someone who truly cares for you and whom you can love in return. When that happens, you’ll forget about these other concerns.”

Rufus looked in on his boys, got a can of ginger ale from the kitchen, and went to his study. But after an hour, still looking at a blank page, he conceded defeat. He couldn’t afford to become involved with Naomi. She was a complicated mixture of sweetness, charm, sexiness, simple decency, and fear. He enjoyed her fun and intelligence and, most of the time, loved being with her. Her cynical wit didn’t fool him, and didn’t matter much. He knew it was a screen, a defense. And he couldn’t dismiss his hunch that there was a connection between Naomi and that girl at OLC, or that Naomi saw one.

He answered the telephone on the first ring, hoping it was the woman in his thoughts.

“Rufus, this is Jewel. I want you to think hard about this. What can be so unacceptable about Naomi if Preston and Sheldon are crazy in love with her? You know they aren’t friendly with strangers; in fact, they shy away from people they don’t know well. Talk, Rufus. It might help.”

He hesitated, understanding that his response to her could become his answer to himself. He knew with certainty only that he wanted Naomi, but he wasn’t foolish enough to let his libido decide anything for him. He thought for a moment and answered her as best he could.

“I’m not sure I know the answer, or even that she’s as important to me as you seem to think. She has some strangely contradictory traits, and this bothers me. But worry not, Sis; I’m on top of it.” He hung up, walked over to his bedroom window, and let the moonlight stream over him.

She’s got a hook in me, he admitted. I’ll swear I’m not going to have anything more to do with her, but when I’m with her I don’t want to leave her; when I see her, I want to hold her. But I’ve got my boys, and they come first.

He stripped and went to bed, but sleep eluded him. One thing was sure: if he didn’t have the boys, he’d be on his way to Bethesda, and the devil take the morrow.

Naomi unlocked her studio, threw her shoulder bag on her desk and opened the window a few inches. The sent of strong coffee wafted up from a nearby cafeteria, but she resisted retracing her steps to get some and settled for a cup of instant. She had barely slept the night before. Rufus had weighted the temptation of kissing her against the harm of doing it, and harm had won out. It wasn’t flattering no matter how you sliced it, especially since she had wanted that kiss. When had she last kissed a man, felt strong masculine arms around her? She knew she was being inconsistent, wanting Rufus while swearing never to get involved. Keeping the vow had been easy…until she’d first heard his voice. When she saw him, it was hopeless. She sipped the bland-tasting coffee slowly.

Images of him loving her and then walking away from her when he learned her secret had kept her tossing in bed all night. She’d finished reading his first book, The Family at Risk, and had been appalled at some of his conclusions: the family in American society had lost its usefulness as a source of nurturing, health care, education, and economic, social, and psychological support for the young. Spouses, he complained, had separate credit cards, separate bank accounts, and separate goals. Oneness was out of fashion. Homemaking as an occupation invited scorn, and women avoided it if they could. He claimed that the family lost its focal point when women went to work, and without them as its core, the family had no unity. She hadn’t realized how strongly he believed that women had a disproportionate responsibility for the country’s social ills. He wouldn’t accept her past, she knew, so she’d put him behind her.

She laughed at herself. She didn’t have such a big problem, just a simple matter of forgetting about Rufus. But what red-blooded woman would want to do that? It was useless to remain there staring at the stark white walls. “I’m going home and put on the most chic fall outfit in my closet,” she declared, “and then I’m going to lunch at the Willard Hotel.”

The maître d’ gave her a choice table with a clear view of the entrance. The low drone of voices and the posh room where lights flickered from dozens of crystal chandeliers offered the perfect setting for a trip into the past, but she savored her drink and resisted the temptation; wool gathering slowed down your life, she told herself. Suddenly, she felt the cool vintage wine halt its slow trickle down her throat, almost choking her, and heated tremors stole through her as Rufus walked toward her. But her excitement quickly dissolved into angst when his hand steadied the attractive woman who preceded him. He wasn’t alone.

The sight of the handsome couple deeply engrossed in serious conversation stung her, and she lowered her eyes to shield her reaction. She looked at the grilled salmon and green salad when the waiter brought it, and pushed it aside. She just wanted to get out of there. Aware that she had ruined the day for the little maître d’, she apologized, paid with her credit card, and stood to leave. A glance told her that Rufus was still there, still absorbed in his companion and their conversation. She took a deep breath, wrapped herself in dignity, and with her head high, marched past his table without looking his way.

The furious pace of her heartbeat alarmed her, and she decided it would be foolish to drive. Dinosaurs. This was a good time to see them. But on her way to the Smithsonian Institute, the crisp air and gentle wind lured her to the Tidal Basin, and she walked along the river, deep in thought. Why was she upset at seeing Rufus with another woman? There wasn’t anything between her and him, and there couldn’t be anything between them. Not ever. She took a few pieces of tissue from her purse, spread them out, and sat down. She could no longer deny that he was becoming important to her, so she braced her back against a tree and contemplated what to do about it.

“Even if you wanted to be alone, you didn’t have to pick such a deserted place. Are you looking for trouble?”

By the time Rufus ended the question, she was on her feet, trembling with feminine awareness at the unexpected sound of his voice. “Don’t you know you shouldn’t frighten a person like that?” she huffed, not in annoyance, but in pulsing anticipation. “It’s downright sadistic, the way you suddenly appear. Where did you leave your date?” She blanched, realizing that she had given herself away, but pretended aloofness. She didn’t want him to know that seeing him with an attractive woman had affected her.

He cocked an eyebrow. “I helped Miss Hunt get a taxi, and she went back to her office.”

“Why are you telling me that?” she asked, as if he hadn’t merely answered her question. “It isn’t my concern.”

“I didn’t suggest otherwise. Are you okay?”

“Of course, I’m okay,” she managed to reply, and turned her back so that her quivering lips wouldn’t betray her. “How did you get here?” It was barely a whisper.

“I followed you. When you passed my table immediately after your lunch was served, you seemed distressed. I wanted to be sure you were all right.”

He walked around her in order to face her. “I was surprised to see you lunching alone in that posh place. I only go there because Angela, my agent, loves to be seen there. She says it’s good for her image.”

Intense relief washed through her, and she gasped from the joy of it. Her mind told her to move back, to remember who she was and that she had reasons to avoid a deeper involvement with him, but her mind and heart were not in sync, she learned.

Oblivious to the squirrels that were busily hoarding for the winter, the blackbirds chirping around them, and the wind whistling through the trees, she stood with her gaze locked into his, shaken by her unbridled response to him. She was barely aware of the dry leaves swirling around them and the wind’s accelerated velocity as they continued to devour each other with the heat in their eyes, neither of them speaking or moving. Feeling chill-like tremors, she rubbed her arms briskly, letting her gaze shift to his lips.

His sharp intake of breath as he opened his arms thrilled her, and she walked into them, her body alive with hot anticipation. He had lost his war with himself, and she gloried in his defeat. She felt him sink slowly to the turf, clasping her tightly. He lay with her above him, protecting her from the hard ground. She knew, when he immediately helped her to her feet without even kissing her, that their environment alone had stopped him. Blatant desire still radiated from him. She didn’t remember ever having encountered such awesome self-control.

“Chicken sandwiches and ginger ale taste about the same as grilled salmon and salad,” she told him, when they finished.

“Something like that occurred to me, too.” He smiled.

They stood at the curb, near her parked car, neither speaking nor touching, just looking at each other. She hadn’t noticed that he’d shortened his sideburns or that he had a tiny brown mole beside his left ear. And in the sunlight, she could see for the first time that his fawnlike eyes were rimmed with a curious shade of brownish green. Beautiful. A lurch of excitement pitched wildly in her chest. Back off, girl, before you can’t! Without a word, she turned blindly toward her car, but he grabbed her hand, detaining her, and forced her to look at him. Then he brushed her cheek tenderly with the back of his closed fist and let her go.

She drove slowly. She could stay away from him, she thought, if he wasn’t so charismatic. So handsome. So sexy. So honorable. And oh, God, so tender and loving with his kids. He was a chauvinist, maybe—she was becoming less positive of that—had a trigger-fast temper, and was unreasonable sometimes. But he made her feel protected, and he was the epitome of man. Man! That was the only word for him and, if she were honest, she’d admit that she wanted everything he could give a woman—his consuming fire, his drugging power and heady masculine strength—just once in her life. But most of all, she wanted the tenderness of which she knew he was capable. Naomi laughed at herself. Who was she kidding? Well, her grandpa had always preached that thinking didn’t cost you anything; it was not thinking that was expensive. She mused over that as she drove, deciding that in her case, both could cost a lot. Once with him would never be enough, she conceded, wondering how he was handling their…encounter.

Rufus steered into his garage and forced himself to get out of his car. He walked around the garden in back of the house, sat on a stone bench, absently turned the hose on, and filled the birdbath. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? It had taken every ounce of will he could gather to stop what he’d started down by the Tidal Basin. He couldn’t pinpoint what had triggered it, and he wondered how he managed to appear so calm afterward when he actually felt as if he would explode. And why had he felt obligated to ease her mind about Angela? He’d never even kissed her, thought he’d just come pretty close to it. Besides, he and Naomi spent most of their time together fighting. He had been discussing a three-book deal with Angela when Naomi had passed their table; one look at her face, and he knew she’d seen them. He had immediately terminated the discussion and followed her. Get a grip on it, son! He noticed two squirrels frolicking in the barbecue pit, walked over to the patio, and got some of the peanuts that he stored there for his little friends. He went to the pit, got down on his haunches, and waited until they saw him and raced over to take their food from his hand.

Why couldn’t he leave her alone? Nothing could come of it. The question plagued him. And another thing. Good Lord! She was jealous of Angela. Jealous! How the devil was he going to stay away from her if she reciprocated what he felt? They didn’t even like each other. Scratch that, he amended; only fools lied to themselves. He went up to his room, changed his clothes, and went to get his boys from Jewel’s house.

Naomi sat at her drawing board that afternoon and wondered whether she could do a full day’s work in two hours. She was way off schedule, and she didn’t have one useful idea. “Oh, hang Rufus,” she called out in frustration. “Why am I bothered, anyway? Why, for heaven’s sake, am I torturing myself?” She dialed Marva, who answered on the first ring. Naomi always found it disconcerting that Marva’s telephone rarely rang a second or third time. She would almost believe her friend just sat beside the phone waiting for a call, but Marva was too impatient.

“Are you going to One Last Chance this afternoon?” she asked her. “I think we ought to firm up the plans for our contributions to the Urban Alliance gala. If we don’t get a bigger share of the pot this time, OLC will be in financial difficulty.”

“I know,” Marva breathed, sounding bored, “but it’ll all work out. You ought to be concentrating on who’s going to take you and what you’re going to wear.” Suddenly, Marva seemed more serious than usual. “Someday, Naomi, you’re going to tell me why a twenty-nine-year-old woman who looks like you would swear off men. Honey, I couldn’t understand that even if you were eighty. Don’t you ever want somebody to hold you? I mean really hold you?”

Caught off guard, Naomi clutched the telephone cord and answered candidly. “To tell the truth, I do. Terribly, sometimes, but I’ve been that route once, and once is enough for me.” Well, it was a half-truth, but she knew she owed her friend a reasonable answer, and she would never breathe the whole truth to anyone.

She changed the subject. “Guess what happened while you were gone, Marva.”

“Tell me.”

“Well, Le Ciel Perfumes saw the ad I did for Fragrant Soaps and gave me an exclusive five-year contract. I get all their business. Girl, I’m in the big time now. Can you believe it? I talked to them as if I could barely fit them into my tight program. Then I hung up, screamed, and danced a jig.”

“You actually screamed? Wish I’d been there.”

“But, Marva, that’s what every commercial artist dreams of, a sponsor. I treated myself to a new music system. My feet have hardly touched the ground since I signed that contract.”

“Go, girl. I knew you had it in you. We’ll get together for some Moët and Chandon; just name the hour.”

On an impulse and as casually as she could, she asked Marva, “You know so many people in this town, do you happen to know Rufus Meade?”

“Cat Meade? Is there anybody in the District of Columbia who doesn’t know him or know about him?”

“I didn’t know him until recently, and I didn’t realize you read books on crime and delinquency, Marva,” she needled gently.

“Of course I don’t; I hate unpleasantness, especially when it’s criminal. What does this have to do with Cat Meade? Cat was the leading NFL wide receiver for five straight years. Didn’t you ever watch the ’Skins?”

“Oh, come on, girl. You know I can’t stand violence, and those guys are always knocking each other down.”

Marva laughed. Naomi loved to hear the big, lusty laugh that her friend delighted in giving full rein.

“Now I understand your real problem,” Marva told her. “You haven’t been looking at all those cute little buns in those skintight stretch pants.”

“You’re hopeless,” Naomi sighed. “What about Meade? Did he quit because he was injured, or does he still play?”

“From what I heard, he stopped because he’d made enough money to be secure financially, and he’d always wanted to be a writer. He’s a very prominent print journalist, and he’s well respected, or so I hear. Why? Are you interested in him?”

In for a penny; in for a pound. “He’s got something, as we used to say in our days at Howard U, but he and I are like oil and water. And it’s just as well, because I think we also basically distrust each other. He doesn’t care much for career women, and I was raised by a male chauvinist, so a little of that type goes a long way with me. Grandpa’s antics stick in my craw so badly that I’m afraid I accuse Rufus unfairly sometimes. Why do you call him ‘Cat’? That’s an odd name for a guy as big as he is.”

Marva’s sigh was impatient and much affected. “When are you going to learn that things don’t have to be what they seem? They called him Cat, because the only living thing that seemed able to outrun him were a thoroughbred horse and cheetah, and he moved down the field like a lithe young panther. My mouth used to water just watching him.” The latter was properly supported by another deep sigh, Naomi noted.

“I hope you’ve gotten over that,” she replied dryly.

“Oh, I have; he’s not running anymore,” Marva deadpanned. “And besides, it’s my honey who makes my mouth water these days.” She paused. “Naomi, I’ve only met Cat a few times at social functions, and I doubt that he’d even remember me. Of course, any woman with warm blood would remember him. Go for it, kid.”

“You’re joking. The man’s a chauvinist.” She told her about his statement when he’d appeared on Capitol Life, supporting her disdain, but she could see that Marva wasn’t impressed.

“Naomi, honey,” she crooned in her slow Texas drawl, “why are you so browned off? If isn’t like you to let anybody get to you like this. Lots of guys think like that; the point is to change him…or to find one who doesn’t.”

“Never mind,” Naomi told her, “I should have known you wouldn’t find it in your great big heart to criticize a live and breathing man.”

She assured herself that she wouldn’t be calling him Cat. “I don’t care how fast he was or is.” They’d been having a pleasant few minutes together the night he’d brought the boys to her apartment, and she had asked him a simple, reasonable question. After all, a working journalist couldn’t take twin toddlers on assignment, so who kept them while he worked? But he was supersensitive about it. That one question was all it had taken to set him off. Then, down at the Tidal Basin, he’d nearly kissed her. She should never have let him touch her. Why the heck wasn’t he consistent? The torment she felt as a result of that almost kiss just wouldn’t leave her. She hoped he was at least a little bit miserable. What she wouldn’t give to be secure in a man’s love! His love? She didn’t let herself answer.

Naomi’s contemplations of the day’s events as she dressed hurriedly that evening for an emergency board meeting at OLC was interrupted by the telephone. Linda’s voice triggered a case of mild anxiety in her; the girls at OLC were not allowed to call their tutors at home.

“What is it, Linda?”

The unsteadiness in the girl’s voice told her that there might be a serious problem.

“I hated to call you at home, but I didn’t know what else to do. My mama says I can’t go on the retreat. I won a scholarship, and it won’t cost anything, but she says I can’t go.”

Naomi sat down. Maude Frazier and OLC would wait. “Did she say why?”

“Yes. She said I’ll do more good here at home helping her and working in the drugstore than I will wasting two weeks with a gang of kids drawing pictures. She said she never wants to see another piece of crayon. What will I do?”

Naomi pushed back her disappointment; how would the girl ever make it with so little support? “I’ll speak with your principal. Don’t worry too much. We have two months in which to work out a strategy and get your mother’s approval, but I’m sure the principal can handle this. Why didn’t you tell me that you won a scholarship? How many were there?”

“One. I didn’t tell you, because I figured Mama wouldn’t want me to go.” Naomi beamed, her face wreathed in smiles. She wished that she could have been with Linda to give her a hug. She doubted the girl received much affection; she certainly didn’t get the approval and encouragement that her talent deserved.

“Just one scholarship for the entire junior high school, and you won it? I’m proud of you, Linda, and I’m going to do everything possible to help you get those two weeks of training. I’ll see you in a couple of days?” The conversation was over, but it had an almost paralyzing effect on Naomi. What was her own child going through? Were its parents loving and understanding? Did they encourage it? It! God how awful! She didn’t even know whether she’d had a girl or a boy.

She hurriedly put on a slim skirted, above the knee dusty rose silk suit with a silk cowl necked blouse of matching color, found some navy accessories, and left home having barely glanced at herself in a mirror. She knew that color always set off her rich brown skin, and when she wore lipstick of matching color, her only makeup, as she did now, the effect was simple elegance. She arrived precisely on time and was not surprised when, at the minute she seated herself at the long oval table, Maude Frazier, the board’s president and arbiter of social class among the African American locals, lowered the gavel. “Now that we’re all here, let us begin our work.”

Naomi considered Maude’s philosophy, that if you weren’t early, you were late, autocratic, and unreasonable. One morning, either in this life or the next, Maude was going to wake up and discover that she really wasn’t the English queen. Naomi got immense pleasure from the thought.

Maude’s announcement that they had a guest brought Naomi’s gaze around the table until she found Rufus Meade sitting there looking directly at her. Her reaction at seeing him unexpectedly was the same as always. Tension gathered within her and her heartbeat accelerated when he dipped his head ever so slightly in a greeting and let his lush mouth curve in a half smile. She knew the minute he responded to the fire that she couldn’t suppress, that the tension pulsing between them was a sleeping volcano ready to erupt. She felt her heart flutter madly and shifted nervously in her chair as Maude opened the discussion.

She would not have anticipated that the talks would become so heated. The meeting ended, and she realized from Rufus’s facial expression that he was furious with her. She believed her argument—that One Last Chance existed to be a buffer between distressed girls and the cruelty of society—was the correct one. And she was amazed when Rufus took the position that what she really wanted was for the foundation to be a shelter for delinquents. She hoped he wasn’t a poor looser; several board members sided with him, but the majority supported her.

She was wrong, and he would straighten her out, he vowed, forcing himself to remain calm while, oblivious to onlookers, he ushered her to the elevator and on to the little office where she tutored. “I know there are special circumstances, but we have to be very careful when we’re deciding what they are.”

“I’m already familiar with your brand of compassion,” she told him, with what he recognized as exaggerated sweetness; “it doesn’t extend to females. It does cover cute little replicas of yourself, naturally, but it amazes me that you allowed your perfect self close enough to a woman to beget them. I don’t suppose it was the result of artificial insemination, was it?” He wanted to singe her mouth with his when she looked at him expectantly, as if deserving a serious, friendly answer, though she knew she’d irked him.

He surprised himself and figured that he probably shocked her as well when he broke up laughing. When he could stop, he looked down at her and, in a playful mode, shook his head from side to side, his single dimple on full display. “Naomi, I refuse to believe that you are so naive as to issue me that kind of challenge. Don’t you know better than to tell a man to his face that you doubt his virility? Are you nuts?”

Her intent regard amused Rufus. If she had been aware of the look of fascinated admiration on her smiling face, ten to one she would have banished it immediately. Her answer riled him. He wondered whether her attention had strayed when she asked provocatively, “How far off was I?”

Abruptly, he stopped smiling, forgot caution, and felt his face settle into a harsh mask. He pulled her close to him and absorbed her trembling as he lowered his head and brushed her mouth with his lips. He drew back to look at her, to gauge her reaction, but fire raced through him when she braced her hands against his chest in a weak, symbolic protest and whimpered, and he knew he had to taste her. Her soft, supple body offered no resistance, and as he sensed the giving of her trust, a warm, unfamiliar feeling of connection with someone special gripped him. She burrowed into him, giving herself over to him, pulling at something inside him. Something he didn’t want to release.

He fitted her head into one of his big hands and gently stroked her back with the other, trying to temper their rapidly escalating passion. But her gentle movements quickened his need. He nearly bent over in anguish when she wiggled closer, caught up in her own passion. Capitulating at last and in spite of himself, he captured her eager mouth in an explosive giving of himself, his body shuddering and his blood zinging through his throbbing veins.

He sensed a change in her then—a feminine response to his own burgeoning need—and altered the kiss to a sweet, gentle one, easing the pressure before asking for entrance with the tip of his tongue. Her parted lips took him in, and he felt her tremble from the pleasure of his kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck in sensual enjoyment. He didn’t wonder that she returned his kiss so ardently, that she was caressing his arms, shoulders, and neck, that she was loving him right back. His only thought was that she felt so good in his arms, tasted so good, responded to him hotly and passionately, that she fitted him, that she belonged right where she was. He didn’t remember ever having had such a passionate response from a woman nor even having had one excite him as she did. He wanted her and he was going to have her even if she was… He jerked his head up and looked down into her passion-filled eyes. Not in a million years. Never! He told himself as he put her gently but firmly away from him.

Naomi grasped her middle to steady herself. He had to know that it was good to her, she surmised. Like nothing she had ever felt. Did he know that her body burned from his kiss? She had waited so long for it. Forever, it seemed. Nearly all her life. Those strong, muscular arms holding her, soothing her; the heady masculine smell of him tantalizing her; and the possessive way that he held her were more than she could have resisted. More than she wanted to resist. And she needed to be held, needed what he had given her, needed him. Her eyes closed in frustration. What was it with him?

“Look,” she heard him say, as he brushed his fingers across the back of his corded neck, apparently struggling both for words and for composure, “I’m sorry about that. You made me mad as the devil, and I got carried away. My apologies.”

She reeled from his blunt rejection, but only momentarily. With more than thirteen years of practice at putting up her guard, she slipped it easily into place. “Looks as if I was right, after all, Mr. Meade,” she bluffed, covering her discomfort. “You’ve got a problem.” She whirled around and left him standing there. He would never know what it had cost her.