Caress (2 page)

“Nya, you insist on defying me. You insist on believing that you know better than your father.”

“Daddy, I’m not insisting on anything but common sense. We can’t let this charge go unanswered. This reporter has called our integrity into question. If we don’t make it crystal clear that we had nothing to do with this Art Sentries situation, we will only look guilty.”

“We will look guilty regardless. There is nothing you can say that will put all hearts and minds at ease. There is no way to undo this damage through words. It must be undone by action.”

“With all due respect, sir…”

“ ‘All due,’ you say, girl?”

Nya covered her eyes with a hand and took a long moment before continuing. “Daddy, please. In this day and age, communication is key. We need to get our story out there. We need to show that we are not monsters and at least address the question of negligence, if not the insinuation of organized criminality. The man didn’t come out and say anything, but he has impugned our honor.”

“You do love your words, girl.”

This was not a compliment.

She decided to change her strategy, search for his faith in her. “Father, when have I openly defied you?”

“All the time.”

“When have I taken any action of defiance? Please tell me one time.”

He didn’t answer, Nya knew, because there had never been a time when she went against him. She had always voiced her opinion, but in the end his word had always been law.

“Trust in what I am saying. Trust in what I am doing,” she implored him.

“Girl, I tell you that we don’t have to respond to anything. This reported—Harrison—did not have the courage to accuse us outright. In a month’s time, the man will look foolish.”

“We don’t have a month to get ahead of this.”

Her father sighed heavily. “If it must be addressed, and with this tiny paper, then I will return, and I will do so as president of Hatsheput.”

Nya’s jaw dropped. He had offered a compromise. Nyron Seymour never compromised. Never. Had he said this before she’d left their family home or even before she’d gotten on the plane, perhaps she would have relented. After all, as the head of the enterprise, Nyron’s words were what the people wanted.

But, even if it was his responsibility to handle this, she couldn’t turn back then. Stubborn determination ruled her sometimes. Seeing this as an opportunity to prove herself, she just couldn’t let him step in and act as if she was not capable.

Thankfully, the flight attendant came over the PA and announced the need to power down electronic devices. “Daddy, as I told you, I’ve got this handled. Now, I have got to go,” she said and hung up the phone.

Once she landed she would have to act fast; Nyron would be hot on her heels. Unfortunately, her father had the advantage as she faced the flight back to Birmingham before being able to make the appropriate contacts.

h

Michael glanced around, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Shaking his head after seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he sat down and tried to ease into his book. He would be interviewing an author the following week. In a matter of minutes, he put it down, unable to concentrate. He was tired. He wanted to relax, kick back until the plane landed. At the same time, he felt electricity coursing through his veins. An odd mood, to say the least. His thoughts drifted back to the beauty in the airport and back into fantasy.

Maybe he would have met her earlier. Maybe he would have started a conversation. He would have loved to walk the beach with her on one of those cool, breezy nights when the moon was round and honey-colored and hanging on the edge of the ocean. He imagined them talking, she in a deep, sexy, island patois. Maybe she would lean her head against his chest as they walked slowly in the sand.

“So, how’re you liking my island?” she’d ask him, looking up at him with an engaging smile.

“I love your island,” he’d say and kiss her forehead. “And right now, I’d love to kiss you.”

“Don’t think I’ll let you,” she’d say, laughing and turning her head away. But he’d capture her chin in his fingers and bring her face toward his.

Michael could feel her lips, pliant beneath his own. Soft, yielding to him. He was drowning in them. Hands with minds of their own traced a lazy, seductive path down her velvety brown back. “Michael,” she moaned softly as her arms slid up around his neck. Her willing response made him pull her closer. Michael laced his fingers through her twists, loving the smooth, ropey feel of them. She leaned her body into his, molding it to his hard chest. He felt ready to erupt as every sense told him she was his.

The pretty flight attendant seemed unnerved as she nudged him awake saying, “Mr. Harrison, we’ve landed.”

Nya couldn’t help herself. She was glancing around the baggage claim area wondering if the hunky passenger from first class was still around. More than once, she’d wound up leaning into the aisle trying to spot him. Unfortunately, he had exited the plane well ahead of her. Not that she planned to
do
anything if she did see him. She just… well… she just wanted to
look
at him again. It had been a long time since Nya had been up close and personal with someone who physically appealed to her so much.

When she didn’t see him, she divided her attention between the slow-moving baggage belt and her phone, which warmed in her palm as her fingers flew over the keys. She had to act quickly. Someone had to be able to get her connected to an executive at the
Harrison Tribune
. Paging through her contacts, she frowned as she saw an email come in from her father. He only emailed her when he knew she would argue over what he was communicating. Her thumb hovered over her phone as she debated whether to open the message or not.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a black bag with a hand-woven fuchsia tag attached to the handle. Unfortunately, it was already passing her. “Oh!” she yelped as she tried to reach out for it and dropped her phone. She knelt to retrieve it and, when she stood, she smelled something heady and masculine. Then her eyes connected with a muscled chest in a starched white button-down shirt. She looked up into dark brown eyes in a very handsome face.

He cleared his throat. “Is this yours, miss?”

“What?” Nya looked down and found he was holding on to the handle of her bag.

“Oh, yes, thank you very much. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled and slid the bag over to her. His teeth were brilliant, his lips divine. Close up, the man was even better looking than he’d been on the plane.

Warmth suffused her face and she wanted to say something more—he was obviously not in a hurry to leave her side—but her phone vibrated in her hand and she looked down. The call was from Lysette. Nya pressed ignore and looked up again. She never ignored Lysette’s calls, never, but her best friend would have to understand. She glanced up at the man again and started to ask his name. Her phone vibrated again and the screen lit up. “Sorry,” she offered before looking down. It was her father. She felt her smile droop as she apologized again and answered.

Listening to her father was exactly like listening to white noise in that the sound was incessant and didn’t really require any answers or participation. In another way it was the exact opposite of listening to white noise in that her father slowly drove the listener mad. Stress spread through her back and shoulders, knotting her muscles. Her face grew hot and her heart thudded hard in her chest. And no matter what he said to her, how angry it made her, all she could do was listen and respectfully say, “Yes, sir.”

In two minutes she walked away, phone tucked between her shoulder and ear, dragging her bag behind her. Thankfully, the valet had her car ready. Normally she didn’t use valet, but she’d been late for her plane when she left for St. Thomas. As the valet put her bag into the back of her car, Nya’s father said goodbye, and Nya remembered that she’d left a very handsome man where he stood. Her head snapped back toward the airport as if he would still be there. He wasn’t. Her father had ruined her day in more ways than one.

By the time Nya turned the key in the door lock of her plush home off Highway 280, frustration and exhaustion had started to take over. She dropped her bags just inside the front door and shuffled through her mail as she walked through the foyer. In her den she dropped hard into her favorite recliner, wishing for a brief moment that she hadn’t volunteered to end her vacation early. There had barely been enough time to see her sister Jenine get married because the article had broken that same day. Had her father told her about what was happening at Art Sentries earlier, or mentioned to her that a reporter had been trying to contact them regarding it, perhaps she could have gotten ahead of the story. But she understood her father well. She understood the man’s pride. He never felt a need to explain himself. To anybody. Ever.

She knew herself to be just as stubborn sometimes, and at those times she thanked the Lord for the temperance of her mother. So, while there was bitterness in her voice when she told her father she would take the first plane out and handle the situation, she soon calmed down and focused on her need to set things right. Her father wouldn’t even have to leave the island if he didn’t want to. But Nya would not leave this story out there without addressing it. Neither would she bury her head in the sand nor stick her nose so far up in the air that she ignored the reality of their dire straits.

Beneath her genuine worry over this issue and how it would affect the company, she was more concerned about Nyron. He might not show it, but this debacle had wounded her father to the core; it would certainly damage the global legacy he had built. To the world, Hatsheput was synonymous with creativity and social responsibility. This hint of impropriety would forever call that into question. Nyron wasn’t as young and hearty as he had once been. She didn’t know what having his company and family besmirched would do to his health. Maybe she didn’t always like him, but Nya didn’t want to lose her father.

She was going to contact the
Harrison Tribune
and have them apologize for the article and print their side of the story. The business had been cut deep, but hopefully she could staunch the blood flow or at least orchestrate a transfusion in the form of good press. Even though she didn’t agree with it, her father had ignored the reporter’s request for an audience for good reason. The investigators had already sent the message that too much press would be detrimental to their process, that it might tip off anyone who was implicated before they had enough evidence to convict. In an inexplicable, irresponsible act, the
Harrison Tribune
had taken that option away.

Hatsheput could no longer afford to stay quiet. The newspaper had let the cat out of the bag and now her family’s company had to appeal to the public with an explanation to save the company. Vendors and buyers alike would also be skittish if they believed association with Hatsheput would put them in a negative light. She would have to handle that as well. Nya didn’t kid herself about the situation. If she pulled it off, perhaps her father would show some gratitude and reward her with what she really wanted.

From the moment her mother had revealed that Nya’s father would be retiring as president of Hatsheput in the fall, Nya had felt a constant and nagging pressure to work even harder, hoping her single-minded dedication would prove to her father that she was the one person to succeed him. It was no secret her father didn’t want her to run the company. He had always tried to discourage her involvement in the family business. All his efforts had made her even more determined to run the company one day. God, if her father only knew the dreams she had for the company! She prayed she handled this situation so well that he finally would see her as worthy of taking the reins of their art empire.

She had to succeed and succeed quickly. Nyron was embarrassed and, as he had done for years, he was going to take it out on her. Within a day or two, he would be back, demanding to meet with the
Harrison Tribune
’s editor-in-chief. Here he was coming back to take control of a situation he’d chosen to ignore
until
she had taken up the gauntlet. There was no way on God’s green earth she was going to give her father the chance to be a hero. That time had passed.

Soon Nya found what she was looking for, the phone number of the
Harrison Tribune
’s editor-in-chief. Briefly, Nya considered contacting their legal eagles before making the call, knowing they were obsessively loyal to her father and probably wouldn’t advise her without him. She punched in Claudia Harrison’s number anyway.

“Excuse me, Ms. Seymour?” Ms. Harrison said on the other end after Nya identified herself. Her tone seemed non-confrontational but assertive as she interrupted Nya’s tirade.

“Yes?”

“The
Harrison Tribune
lawyers and I have already received a phone call from your father, his lawyers, and an FBI agent. I am aware of what is underway and we plan to print a prominent follow-up article indicating that we did not intend to insinuate that Hatsheput was in any way complicit with the criminals at the Art Sentries Foundation. We will also make it clear that you have cooperated with the authorities from the moment the corruption was discovered. I offer my sincere apologies to you as well for what has transpired. We are willing to do a longer, feature article setting the story straight as soon as the legal processes are complete.”