Читать книгу Tempo Of Love - Kianna Alexander - Страница 12

Chapter 4

As dawn painted the sky on Thursday morning, Nona stood by a bench in Freedom Park. Dressed in her close-fitting running pants and a black tee, she stretched by lifting first one ankle, then the other, behind her bottom. Sheba sat dutifully at Nona’s feet with her leash looped around the bench armrest. The dog’s steady breathing was the only sound that competed with the chirping of birds and the soft morning breeze rustling the grass and trees.

The bench Nona had staked out was strategically located near the only entry point to the park’s running trail. As she stood, bouncing in place to prime her muscles for the upcoming run, she smiled.

He’ll be here any minute.

She’d spoken with Ken briefly by phone Wednesday evening and had asked if she could accompany him on his morning run in order to chat with him. To her surprise, he’d agreed right away. Now all that was left was to keep up with him, but she didn’t have any worries about that. She was in incredible shape due to her own running and other fitness habits.

The sound of an engine pulled her attention toward the nearby parking lot. The two-door coupe slipped into a spot a few places down from her car, and the driver cut the engine.

When Ken stepped out of the car, Nona’s gaze fixed on him.

He looked somewhat different in the early morning light, dressed in his running clothes. He wore a sleeveless white shirt and a pair of dark blue running shorts, which left the muscled expanse of his arms and legs visible. As he walked her way, the muscles flexed in time with his movements.

Her heart began to pound in her ears. When she’d met him a few days ago in his business casual dress, she would never have imagined he was built so solidly. She swallowed to empty her mouth, which suddenly watered. Reaching to her waist, she pulled the water bottle from her pack and took a quick swig.

Entering her space with an easy smile, he spoke. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” she managed.

He stooped down to give Sheba’s head a rub. “Cute pup. You two ready?”

She smiled. Sheba hadn’t backed away from him to indicate any dislike. That was a good sign. “Yes, we’re ready.”

They walked to the trail ahead as Nona held the end of Sheba’s leash.

“I see you’re on time today,” Nona teased.

“I’m never late for my runs.” Ken squatted to tie his shoelace, moving fluidly into the runner’s mark stance. “I suppose you have more questions about my life?”

She shrugged. “Of course I do. You didn’t give me anything last time.”

“You knew I run here.”

“I found that out on my own.”

He chuckled. “Beat me back to the trailhead, and we’ll talk.”

Her face scrunched into a frown. “You didn’t say that on the phone.”

“Those are my terms.” He raised his hips, indicating his impending start.

Matching him, Nona drew a deep breath.

He took off like a shot, his powerful legs propelling him forward.

She followed a second later and soon matched his pace.

Sheba kept up with both of them, allowing her youthful energy to have its head.

While Nona ran, cutting through the humid morning air like a knife, she thought about his trickery. In his overconfidence, he obviously thought he’d beat her in this impromptu footrace and then be released from any obligation to speak to her. She had no intention of letting him off the hook, so she made sure to keep her strides long.

When he glanced to his left and saw her easily keeping pace with him, a flicker of worry crossed his face. It was only there for a moment before he kicked into second gear and picked up his pace.

With a smile, Nona sped up as well. The wind whipped her ponytail as Sheba ran alongside her. She felt powerful, exhilarated. There was nothing like a morning run to get the blood pumping and the gears turning.

Sheba reached the trailhead first, followed closely by her mistress.

When Ken got there, he leaned over, placing his large hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

Nona, still standing upright, felt winded yet triumphant. “What’s the matter? Didn’t get your coffee this morning?”

He stood, making a show of rolling his eyes at her. “Oh, please. The dog obviously tugged you across the finish line.”

Sheba cocked her head to the side, as if she took offense.

Nona waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever. Don’t be a sore loser.” She pointed to the bench. “Now, you owe me an interview, sir.”

As if admitting defeat, he trudged over to the bench and plopped down. “Three questions. Ask away.”

Parts of her wanted to kick him in the shin. “After all that, all I get is three questions?”

He nodded. “For now, yes.”

She shook her head. He certainly had an odd way of approaching things. Having interviewed artists in the past, this wasn’t her first time encountering this type of behavior. “Fine.”

He watched her as she called Sheba to sit and joined him on the bench. “What do you want to know?”

“Plenty, but we’ll start with this.” She laid her smartphone on her lap and set it to record. “Mr. Yamada, when did you first sense that you wanted to pursue the arts?”

He raised a hand to scratch his chin, his gaze fixed on some faraway point. “I was in college, majoring in computer graphics. We completed a class project that involved developing plans and schematics for a fictional skyscraper. I’d always loved to draw for as long as I could remember. But when we worked on that project, I fell in love with architecture. It’s the meeting of math, science and art.”

She nodded, both impressed and intrigued by his answer. “I see. My next question is, what was the first architectural design of your professional career?”

“Hmm. When I first opened Yamada Creative a few years back, I took on a project to build a new library for Duck, North Carolina. It’s a very small town, and their entire collection fit into a one-story building of about seventy-five hundred square feet. It wasn’t a glamorous project, but I was able to provide the residents of Duck with a new facility that met their needs.”

She was enjoying discovering some facts about Ken’s architecture work. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that she was also enjoying his company. Aware that she only had one question left, she decided to make it a good one. “What has been your favorite project so far?”

He didn’t hesitate. “The children’s hospital in Lillyville. My team and I worked on the design over the course of eight or nine months. The town didn’t have a proper facility for kids with serious injuries and diseases, and we took that into consideration in our design. We wanted to build something that incorporated meeting the medical needs of very sick children while also conveying a sense of whimsy and playfulness. I think we accomplished that.”

“Wow. You speak very passionately about the hospital project.”

He smiled, turning her way. “It’s definitely the one I’m most proud of. I still go over there about once a month to visit with the patients and just enjoy what I created.”

Her eyes connected with his, and a prickle ran up her spine. Hearing the way he spoke about the children’s hospital touched her in a way she hadn’t expected.

His voice broke into her thoughts. “That was your last question.”

“I know.” She continued to keep eye contact with him, not wanting the moment to end.

He leaned closer, the heat of his body radiating out to mingle with hers. “Are you saying you’re satisfied?”

She didn’t move away. “Not at all. I’d love to see your office.”

“Why?”

“Seeing your workspace may help me understand you better. I may not even need to ask you much else.” She inhaled, taking in the scent of his woodsy deodorant.

“I’m okay with that. Call me and we’ll set it up.”

Before she could draw her next breath, he placed a peck on her cheek.

“What...?” she stammered. She’d been caught off guard, but she couldn’t say she hadn’t enjoyed it. The warmth spreading from her cheek made her reach up to place her hand there.

He smiled, his dark eyes twinkling.

She got the distinct sense that he enjoyed seeing her so off-kilter.

“Have a good day, Nona.”

Without another word, he strode to his car, got in and drove away.

Nona sat on the bench for several minutes, gathering her focus.

* * *

Saturday morning, Ken gathered with the rest of the Queen City Gents at Marco’s house for band rehearsal. As the four of them set up their instruments in Marco’s spare room, Ken looked around at the faces of the men he considered to be his closest friends. Each man wore a smile, one that seemed to have been put there by the woman in his life. Shaking his head, Ken eased onto the stool behind his drum set, and began tapping out a simple rhythm on the snare and kick tom to warm up.

Soon, Ken segued into “Drum Waltz,” which he’d learned from the techniques of his idol, jazz drum great Max Roach. The cadence moved in three-quarter time, making use of almost the entire drum set. As Roach had done, Ken threw in taps on the rims and outer casings of the drums to increase the depth and variety of sounds he could make.

As was usually the case when the guys sensed Ken was in the zone, conversation in the room ceased as Ken ran through the waltz a couple of times then moved into a freestyle, improvised rhythm. He was used to having inspiration grab hold of him this way, but the source of today’s inspiration was a surprise. In his mind’s eye, he pictured Nona in her fitted running gear. She had a body built for pleasure, and he would have to have been blind not to see that. As he remembered her tall, lithe figure, his drumming slowed but became richer, more passionate. Before he knew it, he’d slipped into a sensual, lilting ride cadence. His sticks struck the cymbals and the snare in a pattern reminiscent of the movements of her body as he imagined her slowly strutting toward him. His lips stretched into a smile.

Nona Gregory is a whole lot of woman.

When Ken finally looked up from his drum set, he saw Darius, Marco and Rashad all staring at him. No one said a word.

Ken’s brow crinkled. “What?”

Still, no one responded.

Ken chuckled, shaking his head. “You act like you never saw me get into a groove before. Darius, pick your jaw up off the floor. And Rashad, you look like your eyes are about to pop out of your head. Fix your face, man!”

Marco spoke first as the other two men tried to straighten up. “Sure, we’ve seen you in a groove before. We’ve all been there. But this is different.”

Ken shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Taking a few steps closer to Ken, Darius looked closely at him. “It’s a woman.”

Ken frowned.

“Oh, it’s definitely a woman.” Rashad clapped his hands together. “Wow. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Marco added, “I know who it is. It’s the reporter from the newspaper, right? The one who’s writing the story about you?”

“And what makes you think I have any interest in her?” Ken set his sticks on the snare, folding his arms over his chest.

“You spent almost an hour complaining about her when we sparred in kendo this week.” Marco folded his arms over his chest, mirroring Ken.

“You’ve never cared enough about a woman to mention her name to any one of us, let alone talk about her for that long.” Darius shook his head, eyes wide with amazement. “I think it’s finally happening.”

Ken groaned. He never would have thought someone could make him regret his fantasy. If he’d known his thoughts were so plainly displayed on his face, he’d have tucked his daydream away until he was alone.

“I’m glad a woman has finally gotten under your skin. I was beginning to worry about you, bro.” Rashad took a seat behind the keyboard he used for rehearsals.

“Looks like our last single member is about to be taken down, boys.” Darius chuckled as he set his upright bass, Miss Molly, on its stand.

“Whatever. You guys are full of crap.” Ken waved them off, already sensing the futility of the discussion. His bandmates were always bringing up his singlehood; it had been that way ever since Marco had married Joi a couple of months ago. Now that they knew he’d been thinking about a woman, there was no way they’d quit harping on it.

“I just want to know her name.” The remark came from Darius.

When Ken didn’t answer, Marco volunteered the information. “Her name is Nona.”

“I’d love to meet her.” Rashad played his hands over the keys. “Just to say thanks for taking Ken down a peg.”

Rolling his eyes, Ken vowed not to mention that he’d kissed Nona. He saw no need to add fuel to this fire. “Can we just get on with rehearsal?”

Darius grinned. “As much as I like teasing Ken, he’s right. We really should get to work on this week’s set.”

Conversation turned toward the music the band would play and away from Ken’s personal life. Relieved, he grabbed his sticks and waited for Rashad’s cue.

In the back of his mind, he thought of Nona and the problem she presented. He’d agreed to let her interview him for the newspaper because no sensible businessman would turn down good publicity. But being attracted to Nona had come as a surprise, something he’d never considered would be part of the equation. The way she made him feel only served to further complicate an already complex situation. He was a private man, and letting someone into his personal life was difficult enough without the added burden of growing attraction.

He knew he’d have to work doubly hard now. He had to protect his single status as well as his privacy, no matter how intoxicating the determined reporter might be.