Читать книгу Her Kind of Man - Pamela Yaye - Страница 11

“Class, don’t forget to bring your permission slips on Monday. The field trip to the Philadelphia Zoo is only a few weeks away.” Walking the length of the room, Makayla cleaned the chalk residue from her hands. She crouched down and helped Kiska tie her sneakers, then separated two boys who were using the rulers as swords.

After reminding the students to do their homework, she opened the door and took a fleeting look down the hall. Weaving his way through the throng of elementary students was Kenyon Blake.

What did he want now?

The bell rang and students swarmed around Makayla for hugs. Kids waved frantically as they scurried out the door and down the congested hallway. Returning to the safety of her desk, she yanked a random book off the shelf, sat down and started reading.

Terrance’s high-pitched laugh rippled outside the classroom door.

“All right, li’l man. I’m going to talk to Ms. Stevens while you play outside. I’ll be out in five minutes, so don’t drive off without me.”

“But I can’t drive!”

“Aren’t you eighteen?”

Terrance giggled. “No, I’m five!”

Burying her head in the science curriculum guide, she picked up a ballpoint pen and pretended to be making notes in the margins. Makayla could hear Terrance running down the hall and resisted the urge to call him back into the classroom. She had told him countless times that hallways were for walking, not running, but like everything else she said, the message obviously wasn’t hitting home.

“By the way you took off, I can only assume you’re not happy to see me.” Kenyon chuckled lightly. “Now is that any way to treat a concerned parent?”

Makayla kept her eyes on the book. She wanted to ask the two-timing snake what was so funny, but she bit her tongue. His cocksure attitude made her sick to her stomach. “What do you want, Mr. Blake?” Her tone was brisk and professional.

“I came to see you.”

“Is there a problem?”

“I’d say so. You think I’m an asshole, don’t you?”

“Yes.” The word slipped from her mouth with ease. Feeling contrite, she dropped her pen and looked up at him. He was even more attractive today, if that was at all possible. In a black leather jacket, turtleneck sweater and jeans, he reminded her of her favorite detective from the hit series New York Undercover. There was a gravity about him, a raw, sexual energy that was so intense, if she wasn’t careful she’d lose the good sense God gave her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“By the way, I like your dress. It hugs your body in all the right places.”

Makayla folded her hands. It was a good thing there was a desk between them or he would have her hand impression on his right cheek. If there was one thing she hated, it was conceited men who thought they owned the world. And Kenyon Blake was arrogance personified. “I don’t think your wife would appreciate you hitting on me.”

“I’d better stop teasing you before things get ugly.” Kenyon pulled a chair up to her desk and straddled it. “Veronika and I aren’t married.”

“Common-law unions are now recognized by the courts.”

“We don’t live together.”

She eyed him warily. “Don’t insult my intelligence, Mr. Blake.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“Veronika’s my sister-in-law, not my wife.”

Makayla searched his face for the truth. His smile was sincere and he sounded convincing. “But last night you said you were having problems at home. I took that to mean you were separated.”

“My brother was—he was murdered a year and a half ago.” His voice filled with emotion. “Felix loved his family. Terrance and Veronika were his whole world. They’re still having a really hard time dealing with his death. We all are.”

Makayla grappled with what to say. It had been almost fifteen years since she lost her mother to breast cancer, but the pain never went away. Overcome with sympathy, she said the only thing that came to mind, “I lost my mom years ago and I still miss her. I am so sorry for your loss.”

Kenyon nodded absently. “I tried to explain, but you blew out of the restaurant so fast, I didn’t get a chance.”

Makayla wanted to crawl into a hole so deep archaeologists wouldn’t be able to find her. “I had no idea.”

“I thought you knew. Terrance never mentioned it?”

Makayla didn’t want to tell Kenyon that every other word out of his nephew’s mouth was a lie, so she said, “Kids talk a lot. Sometimes it’s hard to separate fact from fiction.”

“You’re right. Terrance and his friends come up with the craziest things.”

They shared a smile.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?”

“Felix was on the Criminal Apprehension Unit. He was shot while trying to arrest a gang member out on parole. It’s still hard to believe he’s gone.”

Kenyon glanced out the window. Seconds passed before he returned his gaze to Makayla’s face. His eyes were narrowed slightly, and his face was pinched in determination. “I’m going to help Veronika and Terrance get through this. That’s why I want you to call me the next time there’s a problem. Veronika has a lot on her plate right now and she doesn’t need any more added stress. You understand, don’t you?”

“I do. And I’m sorry I blew up at you. I didn’t mean what I said.”

Kenyon’s smile resurfaced. “You called me a womanizing jerk.” Clutching a hand to his chest, he used the other to wipe away an imaginary tear. “That hurt. I may be a womanizer, but I’m not a jerk.”

Makayla laughed. The delicious warmth of his smile alleviated the tension in the room. “Again, I’m deeply sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes alight with mischief. “What are you going to do to make it up to me?”

“Excuse me?”

“I think restitution is in order.”

“What do you expect me to do? Cook you a five-course meal?”

His face lit up like the Rockefeller Christmas tree. “Sounds great!”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“I don’t date parents.” She was quick to add, “Or relatives.”

Kenyon opened his mouth, but when he heard his nephew’s voice, he swallowed the flirtatious comeback.

“I’m hungry, Uncle Kenyon.” Terrance trudged into the classroom, dragging his backpack behind him. “Can we go home now?”

“Sure, li’l man.” Kenyon rested his hands on his nephew’s shoulders. To Makayla he said, “We’ll continue this discussion another time.”

Makayla smiled down at Terrance. Learning about his father’s sudden death made her heart soften toward him. She wasn’t going to let him continue to undermine her authority, but it wouldn’t hurt if she relaxed some of the rules for him. “Bye, Terrance. Have a nice weekend. I will see you bright and early on Monday morning.”

He grumbled in response, and Kenyon rumpled his hair. “Playing on the jungle gym must have tuckered the poor kid out.”

As she watched them exit the classroom, Makayla wondered just how long she could keep Kenyon at bay. Because one thing she remembered about the former football star was that when it came to the ladies, he didn’t take no for an answer.

Makayla poured herself a cup of coffee and took a bite of the lemon-filled doughnut she’d treated herself to. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she opened The Philadelphia Blaze to the Real Life section and skimmed the page for her article. Nothing. Brenda had promised her it would be on the front page, though this wasn’t the first time an editor had lied to her.

“It has to be here somewhere,” she said, ruffling the paper in frustration. But her article wasn’t on page two or three, either. Just as disappointment set in, she found what she was looking for. “How to Unleash Your Inner Vixen” was on the bottom right-hand corner of page six. Okay, so it wasn’t the front page but at least her article had made it into the third largest newspaper in Philadelphia.

A smile bloomed on her lips. Makayla got goose bumps seeing her name in print. Or rather, seeing her pseudonym in print. After all these years, her hard work was finally starting to pay off.

Makayla knew the article by heart, but that didn’t stop her from reading it out loud. Writing had been part of her life ever since college when she became the editor of the school newspaper. After stumbling across an old episode of Loveline on cable, the idea for an anonymous sex column was born. Over the next month, Makayla penned articles on everything from self-gratification to sex toys to finding the elusive G-spot. The articles were carried in the Friday edition of the paper, and when sales shot through the roof the first week, “The Lady Sexpot Files” became a daily column. To this day, nobody at the university knew Makayla was behind the racy articles.

She opened her laptop. Depending on the response to “How to Unleash Your Inner Vixen,” this could be a one-time piece or a weekly column. Makayla decided not to get her hopes up. But when her inbox came up on the screen, her eyes spread wide.

“Thirty-nine messages!” Makayla scrolled down the page. “This has gotta be a mistake!” She scanned the inbox. All of the e-mails were addressed to Lady Sexpot, her pseudonym.

From the common questions such as “Is whipped cream really an aphrodisiac?” to the crazy ones—“Will you marry me?”—Makayla read them all. She couldn’t erase the giddy smile on her face.

The strength of her article was in the frank, straight-talking interviews with self-proclaimed “vixens.” Not strippers, dancers or escorts, but housewives, bank tellers and flight attendants. All were intelligent, outspoken women who weren’t afraid to break the rules or chart new ground in the bedroom. Makayla had never done any of the things she had written about in the article, but when the right man came along, she would put all of her notes to good use. Three weeks of belly-dancing lessons had helped her feel more in tune with her body and increased her confidence. She couldn’t work her hips like Shakira but she could swivel her behind better than the other fourteen women in her class.

Makayla spent the next hour responding to her messages. The tremendous response to her article was bound to bring further success. She was sure of it. Makayla loved teaching, namely building relationships with her students and tracking their progress. Walking into a classroom and seeing children’s faces light up was the greatest feeling in the world. But as much as she enjoyed her job, she was ready for a change.

She could see it now. First-class flights. Stays in luxurious hotels. Hours spent at historical monuments. Cozy chats with the locals. It was the kind of life she had always dreamed of, and if everything went as planned, it wouldn’t be long before her dream became a reality.

She opened the last message in her inbox and her face radiated with pure joy. The message was from Brenda Van Buren, the senior editor at The Philadelphia Blaze.

Your column is a hit! Let’s set up a time next week to discuss your future.

She sent Brenda a reply and then logged off the computer.

“Time to celebrate!” It had been months since she had had lunch at Alfredo’s. The last time she had been at the Italian bistro was with Reggie, and he had spent so much time complaining about the food she hadn’t enjoyed her meal. Today there would be no distractions. Makayla licked her lips. She could almost taste the Louisiana-style chicken already. Her eyes strayed to the clock. It was still early. She had enough time to shower, dress and make it downtown for the start of Alfredo’s eleven o’clock brunch. Humming softly, she exited the kitchen and headed toward her bedroom.

“Welcome to Alfredo’s. How many in your party?”

Makayla smiled at the hostess. “Just one.”

“Would you prefer to dine in, or on the patio?”

The weather was unusually warm and the sky was clear. What better way to enjoy the day then spending it out in the sun? “Outside.”

“Please follow me.” The blonde led her outside to a table shielded by tall willow trees.

Makayla glanced around the patio. It was lined with chatting people, loners reading the newspaper and canine partners with their respective owners. “This will be fine. Thanks.”

“Your server will be with you shortly.”

From her corner seat, she enjoyed watching the world go by. Three college-aged girls were making eyes at a suit-wearing brother talking on a cell phone, an Asian couple argued in their native tongue and a group of professional women sang “Happy Birthday” to the stick-thin redhead at the head of the table.

Makayla picked up the menu. After a few seconds of perusing the day’s specials, she placed it off to the side and pulled out the book poking out of her handbag. If she wanted to have Sins of a Co-ed finished by the next book club meeting, she had to get going.

“Hi. I’m Cordell. I’ll be your server this afternoon. How are you?”

Makayla looked up at the waiter with a dreamy smile and a friendly face. “Fine, thanks.”

“Are you dining alone?”

“Yes, why?”

He winked. “Just checking.”

They traded looks. He checked her out; she did the same.

“Do you need a few more minutes with the menu or would you like to order?”

“I’ll have the brunch.”

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

Makayla smiled. As he eyed her up, something came to mind that one of the women in her book club group said last month. “Men love assertive women,” the chef-by-day-dominatrix-by-night had shared. “And the more daring, the better.”

“Are you single, Cordell?” Makayla had never been so bold.

“Very. Why don’t you give me your number so we can kick it sometime?”

“I don’t know—” Suddenly, her decision to swear off men seemed silly. Cordell was cute and he wanted to take her out. Just because she’d had a string of bad dates didn’t mean she should take herself off the market. Besides, her column was a hit. What better way to cap off a good day than with a date?

“So, can I get that number?”

“Sure, why not?” She recited her number.

Cordell scribbled it on his notepad and tucked it into his back pocket. “Cool. I’ll call you next week.”

“I’d like that.”

As Makayla watched him go, she wondered why she hadn’t been that confident when she talked to Kenyon yesterday. Stop thinking about the man, for God’s sake, she ordered herself. But blocking thoughts of Kenyon was impossible. He was outspoken, had the face of an Adonis, the body of a sculpture and although she didn’t have telepathic powers, she had a feeling he was a first-rate lover. If he didn’t have so much personal baggage, Makayla might have gone out with him.

Cordell returned to the table with her drink, then escorted her inside. While she skimmed the salad bar, he told her more about himself. He worked two full-time jobs, took night classes at the local community college and hoped to be a concert promoter one day. Despite his tight schedule, he offered to take her out for dinner next week. Makayla was weighing the pros and cons of dating someone eight years her junior when she spied Reggie standing at the bar. He was talking to a taller, lighter, more handsome version of himself. Funny, he had never mentioned having a brother.

If Reggie saw her, he’d stick to her like glue and Makayla couldn’t stomach any more of his worn-out lines. Water had spewed out of her mouth when Reggie had labeled himself “the last good man around” and squeezed her thigh. Laughing at the memory, she said goodbye to Cordell and hurried back out to the patio. If Reggie Ford was the best the world had to offer, then Makayla would die a lonely spinster.