Читать книгу Finding Mr. Right - Gwynne Forster, Gwynne Forster - Страница 10

Byron drove three blocks, stopped and put the car in park. Overwhelmed, he hadn’t reached his car before he wanted to turn around and go back to her. What the devil was wrong with him? He was his own man—always had been. But this sudden need for a woman he’d seen three or four times boggled his mind. He wasn’t upset. He just couldn’t understand it. He’d never felt about any woman the way he felt about her. It was if some vital part of him was missing the moment he left her. He shook his head, put the car in gear and continued home. It was probably a fluke. But she made him feel so good. God, please let it be real.

He hadn’t told Tyra about Andy. She didn’t know he had a son and, until that moment, he hadn’t thought it important. But it was. For if his feelings for her persisted, his having a child could become an issue. He’d have to do something about that, and soon.

He drove into his garage and entered his house through the passageway that connected the garage and the kitchen side door. Vowing not to allow anything to spoil his good mood, he took a bottle of ginger ale from the refrigerator, sat down in the family room, kicked off his shoes and flicked on the television. He switched between late-night talk shows, but didn’t see or hear much of either. Tyra had seemed to want him as much as he wanted her. Lord, she was so sweet. And she had an air of innocence that didn’t seem to fit with what he knew about her.

He remembered that he’d promised to call her and looked at his watch. A quarter to twelve, twenty minutes since he left her house, but too late to phone. But if he didn’t call, she’d probably think he wasn’t a man of his word. He dialed her number and prayed that the phone wouldn’t ring in anyone’s room but hers.

When she answered the phone by saying “Hi,” he knew he’d done the right thing.

“I almost didn’t call, because I was afraid I might awaken you or your family. But I didn’t want you to think of me as unreliable. I’ve been thinking about you, and about us, and I can hardly believe that I had you in my arms. If it doesn’t happen again and soon, I’ll think I imagined it.”

“Not to worry, Byron, if I thought you forgot it, I’d remind you.” Her laughter, warm and hearty, floated to him through the wire.

That comment surprised him. He hadn’t known many straightforward women. He was used to women who liked to play games with a guy. “It’s really refreshing. I hope the time soon comes when you’ll feel free to kiss me whenever you want to.”

“You promised to go slowly.”

“It seems to me that I’m crawling at a snail’s pace.”

“Really? A roller coaster is more like it. I enjoyed being with you tonight, Byron, but I’d better get to sleep. I have to get up at six-thirty.”

“Stay sweet. At least I’ll see you Friday at five. Good night.” He’d wanted to add sweetheart, but he knew she’d say he was moving too fast.

“Good night, dear.”

She hung up. He sat there staring at the receiver. She’d said, good-night, dear. Was he dear to her? He’d give anything if he understood women, any woman. He took a shower, dried off, slipped into bed and let the cool sheets tantalize his naked body. What he wouldn’t give if she were there to wrap her arms and legs around him! He couldn’t help laughing at himself. Every man had at some point knelt before a woman. Who was he to complain about the order of things? He had to wait, and he’d be glad to cool his heels while he waited for Tyra Cunningham.

Tyra strode into the Legal Aid Center office building the next morning feeling like a lottery winner, until Christopher Fuller blocked her way.

“Feeling frisky this morning, are we?” he said with a rakish grin. “I thought I saw you in the pool area yesterday at noon fully dressed. A beautiful woman like you should take a dip so we can appreciate you fully.”

She caught herself before she did something she’d later regret. “Not all of us are exhibitionists, Mr. Fuller.”

His eyebrow shot up. “When you’ve got it, flaunt it.”

She moved around him, and as she passed, she said, “When what you’re flaunting isn’t so special, you’re wasting your time.” His shoulders seemed to sag, so she knew she’d hit him where it hurt. He’d hoped she had seen him sprawled out in the lounge chair. She admitted to herself that he appeared well endowed, but he could bet she’d never know for sure.

But of all the men here, he’s the one who’s after me. He’s the only one that I don’t want near me, she said to herself. As far as she was concerned, all he had going for him was below his waist, and she didn’t need that from him.

She found a note on her desk from Lyle Riddick, the man Barbara Johnson said was her supervisor and whom she hadn’t yet met. “Ms. Cunningham, could we meet in my office at ten this morning. Thank you, L. Riddick.” She reread the note. At least he said thank you. Since he didn’t say what they would discuss, she couldn’t prepare, so she began drafting a questionnaire designed to obtain essential information from her clients—questions that would help her determine the best way in which to help them. Tyra walked into Lyle Riddick’s office at exactly ten and stopped short. Was she in a bird sanctuary?

“Come in. Come in, Ms. Cunningham. I surround myself with my favorite things…to the extent that I can. And birds and squirrels are among my delights. My yard is full of squirrels, by the way.” He stood and shook hands with her. “I’ve been away at a conference. Delighted to meet you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Riddick. I hope the conference was worthwhile.”

“Indeed it was. Are you satisfied with your assignment so far?”

She leaned back in the chair, assessing the man as best she could.

“Thank you for asking,” she said. “I haven’t had anything to do really. I’m sorry for being so blunt, but you asked, and I always try to tell the truth.”

“Honesty is a good thing. I have a case for you. The boy’s name is Jonathan Hathaway. He’s a great kid, but he’s got some family problems. If you have extra time after dealing with this problem, I’d like you to counsel Erica Saunders. After twenty-five years of marriage during which she never held a job and lived off her husband’s earnings, she got bored, had an extra-marital affair. She feels she’s being mistreated because her husband is divorcing her and refuses to pay alimony. She’s depressed, almost suicidal and thinks the whole world is against her. I thought you might be able to help her.”

She stared at him. “I hope you don’t think I’d sympathize with her.”

“I think we’ll work well together, Tyra,” he said with a hearty laugh. “And please call me Lyle. We have a couple of young turks here, but I see that you’re able to keep them in line.”

“Yes. I’ve met both of them, and I don’t anticipate a problem.”

“Good, Ron Parker took a turn with the Saunders case, but I decided he wasn’t the person to deal with it. Stop by his office and get the file. If you have any problems, I’m right here.”

She thanked him and left. A knock on Parker’s office door brought a response that was more akin to a growl than a greeting. He stood when she walked in.

“Well. Well. Things are looking up around here. I hope you’re the secretary I ordered. Hmm.”

Another one of those. “Mr. Parker, I’m Tyra Cunningham, and I’ve been assigned Erica Saunders’s case. Lyle said you have her file. May I have it?”

“Walked right into that one. No hard feelings, I hope. I didn’t know we were hiring women.” He searched through a stack of folders on his desk and handed her one of them.

“Thanks. I’m sure that’s not all you don’t know.” She couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Another lesson learned. If she’d met him at a party and he’d asked her for a date, she would probably have gone out with him, though she doubted she’d have done it a second time. She wouldn’t say that Ron Parker was a problem. Nor did she expect him to be one, but he was obviously accustomed to getting what he wanted, and he seemed to want what didn’t come easily. Or so it seemed. On the way back to her office, she stopped to get coffee.

“Can we have lunch today?” Matt Cowan asked her when she bumped into him in the coffee room.

“I have to prepare for a new client this afternoon, so it’s probably not a good time.”

He dropped three packets of sugar into his coffee and stirred, all the while gazing intently at her. “You have to eat, don’t you? Why not have dinner with me.”

She smiled, because she didn’t want him for an enemy. But she couldn’t imagine why anyone would care about a having lunch with someone who didn’t matter. “All right, but I’m planning to read while I eat.”

He put the coffee cup down and put both hands in his pants pockets so that his suit jacket hung at his sides and back. To her mind, exasperation was the only word that could describe him.

“Are you brushing me off?”

She didn’t try to control the smirk that formed around her lips. “Would anybody dare to do that?”

Matt ran his fingers through his silky curls, a testament to his Native American heritage.

She looked at her watch. “It’s eleven o’clock. Meet you in the lunch room at twelve thirty.”

“I’d almost given up hope.”

“Well, you’re nicer than I thought you’d be,” said Tyra.

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me?”

“No, but your brusque manner doesn’t impress me. Fuller and Parker impress me to the extent that I don’t like their company.”

“But I’m just another guy, eh?”

“I didn’t say that, and don’t put words in my mouth. See you at twelve-thirty. I have to work.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

She went back to her office and closed the door. What would Byron think about that? It was just lunch, but it was still a date. She told herself to tread carefully, and not risk ruining her relationship with Byron just to prove that she could find her own man.

She headed to the cafeteria to meet Matt for lunch and, to her surprise, he was already there waiting for her. She had assumed that he would be late. Once they had gotten their food, she decided to initiate the conversation. “How old are you?” she asked him.

“Thirty-five.”

“Are you married?”

He didn’t seem a bit taken aback, considering her question. “I am. But I’m at a different state in my life. I want stability and a family. Right now, I don’t have either.”

“Is it you or her?”

“It’s a combination of things, and it’s too bad. What about you?”

“I’m sorry. As for me, I’ve never married or even come close to it. But I met someone recently who seems interesting.”

“He’s a lucky guy.”

She was surprised that he was so open about such personal matters. But she realized that he was vulnerable and seemingly very unhappy.

“Are you separated now, Matt?”

He nodded. “Yeah, but it suits me. The longer it lasts, the more I learn about myself and the happier I am.”

She sipped sweetened ice tea as she waited for Matt to finish his apple pie. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t, because she knew he would see the pity in her eyes.

As they left the lunch room, she asked him, “Do you think you and your wife could make a go of it if she worked harder to understand your needs?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Neither is what the other needs.”

“Thanks for your company, Matt.”

“I thank you. Just talking about it has strengthened my resolve to put my life in order. You’re a good listener, and I’ll bet you’re a good counselor.”

“See you later.”

She sat down at her desk, leaned back and exhaled. She understood the wisdom of letting Byron know her feelings, and that meant letting him know her dreams and aspirations. She cared for him, and she wanted him.

At two-thirty, a tall, handsome and well-dressed teenager walked into Tyra’s office and extended his hand. She liked him at once. “Ms. Cunningham, I’m Jonathan Hathaway, and I hope you can help me,” he said. She asked him to have a seat.

“Thanks. My seventeen-year-old girlfriend is pregnant, and her dad won’t let us marry.”

“Did you date her without his permission?”

“No. I went to her house practically every evening, took her out or stayed there and did my homework with her. Sometimes he was at home, and sometime he wasn’t.”

“I don’t think the courts can give you permission to marry this girl so long as she’s under eighteen, but you do have some rights, and we’ll see that those rights are honored.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I sure hope so.”

She talked with him for half an hour and realized that they might be forced to go to court. “Where does your family stand in this, Jonathan?”

“They’re angry. She could stay with us and my folks would help me pay for everything, but her dad won’t allow it.”

“What is he demanding? He must want something.”

“Oh, he does. He’s asking for money.”

Tyra bit back her anger. “I’ll see what we have here and collect the resources that we need, Jonathan. Meanwhile, try not to worry. She’ll be eighteen in about six months, and her father will have no legal jurisdiction. Of course, we want marriage for the two of you before the child is born, if possible. You’re my number one priority.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I know you’ll do what you can.”

She said goodbye to Jonathan. She’d lost track of time and realized that it was past time to go home. She quickly packed up her things.

“How about a drink?” She looked up and saw Christopher Fuller holding the lobby door for her.

“No thanks. I’m in a hurry to get home.”

“If you’re in a hurry, why’d you stay so late? What were you doing? Making out with Cowan?”

“What I was doing is none of your business. I don’t have a damn thing to do when I get home. I just can’t stand you.” She whirled around and bumped into Matt. “Matt, this idiot says I’ve been making out with you. I’d appreciate it if you’d straighten him out.”

As she rushed off, she heard Matt say, “Come off it, Fuller. You wouldn’t know a lady from the pigs you lie around with. You’ve had one warning. If you don’t want a second one, you’d better change your tone.”

When she got home, she went to her bedroom, closed the door and kicked off her shoes. She’d decided it would be foolish to jeopardize her relationship with Byron merely to put her siblings in their place.

Byron was a block from his house when he remembered his promise to buy Andy a bicycle. A four-and-a-half year-old could handle one he reasoned. He turned the Cadillac onto Genstar Drive and headed for the Francis Scott Key Mall. Once inside the mall, Byron passed a bookstore window and saw a children’s book about Frederick, Maryland heroes. He went in and bought it. Andy loved stories that he could retell in his day school and was fast earning the title of class storyteller. Byron made a note to read the book first so that he could answer his son’s questions, and he knew there would be plenty of them.

Byron found the bicycle that he wanted, remembered to get a helmet and headed home. He pulled into his garage, left the bicycle and helmet in the car and entered the house through the kitchen. In his haste to greet Byron, Andy nearly fell out of the chair.

“I need a new story, Daddy. Kisha told one today, but nobody clapped.”

Byron lifted the boy into his arms and hugged him. “Why didn’t you clap?”

“I didn’t want her to be as good as me.”

“As good as I. You should have clapped. You’re good at it, and you can afford to be gracious to other children who try to tell stories.’

“Yes. But she wasn’t as good as I am.”

“Fine. Next time, I want you to lead the applause for her. Got it?”

“Yes, I will. But I don’t like the idea.”

Byron put Andy back in the chair and went up to his room. A search of the yellow pages in the telephone book gave him a choice of several gourmet restaurants, and he chose one. After ordering, he showered and dressed in black jeans, a T-shirt and black sneakers and went downstairs.

He handed his son the book he’d bought earlier. “Let’s read, Andy.”

“What’s the story about?”

“Important people who lived in Frederick long ago.”

“Good. I’m going to read slow, so I’ll remember it and I can tell it at school tomorrow.” The boy read the picture story in about fifteen minutes. “I love the story, Dad.”

Andy loved reading. Indeed, the boy had a sizeable library of books. It was becoming difficult to find new ones that challenged his skills. I’m going to have to start writing stories for preschool children, Byron said to himself. “If I get Andy’s imagination to working, it should be fun.”

At five-thirty, he rang Tyra’s doorbell, and, to his disappointment, Darlene opened the door. “Hello, Darlene. Are you the Cunninghams’ official doorman?”

“Hi, Byron. I think I detected a bit of sarcasm. Who do you want to see? Tyra or Clark? Clark’s in Baltimore.”

“Darlene, give me a little credit. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have a reason. Do you mind if I come in and wait for Tyra?”

“Sure. Something tells me that I get on the wrong side of you without trying.”

“Darlene, I told you I was expecting Byron at five-thirty.” Tyra walked in. “Hi. I’m sorry, Byron.”

He leaned over, kissed Tyra’s cheek. “It’s all right. We’ll make up for it.” Tyra cast a glance in Darlene’s direction, took Byron’s arm and ushered him out of the house.

“Do you realize I’ve never been to Gambrill Park?” she asked him as he opened the front passenger door for her. “And I’ve lived here all my life.”

“Something tells me that, when you were a teenager, you didn’t do much dating.”

“You’re right. I didn’t. I was seventeen when we lost our parents, and responsibility for my siblings and our home fell to me. I was scared to death of setting a bad example.”

He got in the car, eased his arm across her shoulder and turned to her. “I’ve waited all day for the greeting that Darlene deprived me of.”

She turned to him, snuggled closer and parted her lips. Heat plowed through him as she sucked his tongue into her mouth. He knew he should stop, but when he attempted to pull away, she clung to him. He braced his hands on her shoulders and eased her away from him. Her face bore a dazed expression.

He held her as close as he dared. “It’s still daylight, sweetheart. We could draw quite a crowd.” He’d meant it to be funny, but she didn’t smile. “What is it, Tyra? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I guess. I suppose I’m only now learning who I am. I surprise myself sometimes when I’m with you.”

Her words brought an inward smile and gave him a feeling she would never understand. If he was the man to teach her who she was, nothing would please him more. He knew she wasn’t an innocent. A woman without any sexual experience wouldn’t relate to a man as she did. But she’d missed something, and he couldn’t wait to fill the void.

“Don’t think you haven’t shown me a different side of myself. The good thing is that I like who I am with you,” he said, as he headed out Yellow Springs Road to Gambrill Park. “I’ve already picked out a space for us. It’s close enough to the bandstand, but far enough to protect the eardrums.”

After parking the car and locking it, he took a wicker picnic basket and a shopping bag from the trunk, walked with her to a big boulder and put the basket on it. “This boulder will not only make a great table, it’s a good back rest.”

“What’s in that?” she asked, pointing to the shopping bag.

“A blanket to sit on, and two longs-sleeved shirts, one to protect your arms from the mosquitoes and the other to protect mine. I also brought along some repellant. Mosquitoes hate that.”

He spread the blanket and sat down beside her. “Would you put your head on my shoulder for a few minutes?” he asked her. “I’m not rushing you, but I’d like you to be a little closer.” He was still hot from her kiss in the front seat of his car.

She did as he asked and put one arm around his back and the other across his chest. “I could go to sleep right here,” she said, her voice low and inviting.

“Tyra, you don’t want me to rush, so don’t feed my imagination with statements like that.”

“It was an innocent remark. What time does the music start?”

“It started when you appeared at your foyer.”

When the sound of musicians tuning their instruments reached their ears, Byron handed Tyra a copy of the evening program and opened his own. “You read it to me,” she said. “I’m too comfortable to move, and I’d have to let go of your waist.”

He read it to her and added, “We’re in luck, or at least I am. I love Italian baroque chamber music.”

“Me, too. The problem is that it puts me right to sleep.”

“We’ll have our picnic in a few minutes. I don’t suppose you can eat and sleep at the same time.”

She kissed his neck, and he wished she’d warned him. “I guess not. I don’t remember ever dreaming about food. And that’s weird, because I love to eat.”

He covered the boulder with a blue tablecloth, set the table with the matching plates and utensils the caterer supplied and placed their food on it.

“This is wonderful, Byron. A feast beneath the stars in a fairy-tale environment, listening to beautiful music in the company of a man who is literally a heartthrob. If I act a little giddy, who could blame me?”

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Don’t expect me to behave when you talk like this.” He held a glass of white wine to her lips. “I’ve been drunk on you since the minute I first saw you. If you keep talking like that, I’ll start staggering.” It was all right to joke and tease, but he was serious. “Tyra, I asked you if there was a man in your life, and you said that there wasn’t. Will you give me a chance to be the man in your life?”

She seemed taken aback. “Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”

“No, not yet.”

“If I know up front what your motive is I might cooperate.”

“Fair enough.” He swatted the side of his neck to discourage an offending mosquito. Then he opened the shopping bag and took out the shirts he’d brought.

“Thanks. You’re a very thoughtful man.”

“If you give me a chance, Tyra, I’ll always take good care of you. Always.”