“You going to be okay walking in those shoes?” The rig was a ways up the road.
JT looked down at the $250 Italian stilettos on her feet, then back up into his skeptical but still fine face. “I’ll be okay.”
He didn’t look convinced but began the walk to the truck.
Reese was sure she’d have trouble keeping up in the killer shoes, but the gravel shoulder didn’t seem to be an issue. She was striding beside him as confidently as a woman in sneakers and looking damn good doing it. The silky looking camisole and the hoops in her ears looked as expensive as the rest of her. She didn’t fit his image of a sports agent though. “What’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“JT.” She turned his way. “Blake.”
Reese knew the name right away and fought to keep the awe from showing on his face. The Lady Blake. The damsel in distress was one of the toughest and baddest sports agents around. She’d negotiated multi-million-dollar contracts for players in football and basketball. Being a big sports fan himself, he’d come across references to her in sports magazines and in articles on the sports pages, but had never seen a picture. Who knew she’d be a brown-skinned goddess? Wait until he told Pinky and the Brain. They were going to be too impressed. “Like I said, I’m Reese Anthony. Nice meeting you.”
A few cars and trucks whizzed by on the road. “Same here. You’re a lifesaver.” And he was, JT realized. There was no telling how long she might have been stuck on the side of the road had he not stopped. Granted, she’d had Carole on the line, but help would still have been a long ways away. Instead, she was going to get to ride in an eighteen wheeler driven by a good-looking Sir Galahad.
They finally reached the truck. He opened the passenger side door. “Hand me your things. You’re going to need both hands to climb up.”
She took one look at the height of the running board and without a word handed everything over. She grabbed hold of the rails on each side and as gracefully as she could climbed up to the step.
As she maneuvered herself, Reese tried hard not to stare at the sweet curve of her behind and the long brown legs, but it was futile. All he could say in response to all that beauty was,
Damn!
Once she was settled in the seat, the bright smile she gave him went straight to his groin. He closed the door. Mentally reeling, he shook off the aftershock, then walked around to the driver’s door and got in.
As her rescuer eased the big rig back onto the highway and slowly built up speed, JT looked around the interior. It was plush and way more modern than she’d imagined. Her high-backed seat was made like a recliner, and the soft leather was the color of dark caramel. Matching leather panels were inset into the doors. The same leather was wrapped stylishly around the steering wheel and accented the beautiful interior. The dashboard looked like something taken from a space shuttle. Above her head was an open tinted glass sunroof. “This is very nice.”
Reese was pleased by her praise. “Top of the line. In the back is an eighty-six-inch foldout sleeper, a built-in TV, a fridge, and a table that folds down when there’s paperwork to do. Got some reading lights, a couple of spotlights on the floor, and a skylight in the roof.”
JT was turned around in her seat checking out the amenities. “This is sweet. How long have you been driving?”
“Since I was eighteen.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“I do. It can be a pain if you’re in city traffic, but out here on the open road, nothing’s better.”
“I’ve never ridden in a semi before. It’s way more fancy than I thought. Didn’t expect it to ride this smooth either.”
“Trucks have come a long way.”
She peered down at the dash. “You have GPS too?”
He nodded. “The technology’s pretty standard these days. Even truckers get lost occasionally.”
JT looked out of the windshield at the road spread out before them and felt like a little kid.
Seeing her excitement made Reese reevaluate her yet again. He hadn’t expected her to be this down to earth. He’d always associated high-powered women with attitude. Not that he doubted her ability to turn it on, but at this moment she appeared relaxed and open. “If you’re thirsty, there’s pop in the fridge.”
She angled her head his way. “Pop? You must be from the Midwest.”
He couldn’t deny it. “Detroit. Soda is a drink we put ice cream in.”
She tossed back playfully, “We Texans, and the rest of the country, say soda.”
“Texas, huh?”
He met her eyes, and JT could feel herself responding again to their silent power. “Yep. Little town outside of Austin.”
“If you call pop soda, what do you call ice cream and pop?”
“Parfait.”
“We call it that too.”
JT thought he was even more handsome when he smiled. Everyday brothers weren’t usually comfortable with women like her because of their different worlds, but something about him made her want to know more about who he was. Needing to collect herself, she undid her seat belt and made her way to the back. Up close it was even more spacious than his description. The leather bed was folded up and ran the width of the cab. The trim above it was done in brown mud cloth. “I like the mud cloth.”
Reese was again pleased. “Nice touch, huh?”
“Real nice.” With the truck still rolling beneath her feet, JT moved to the small refrigerator nestled in a niche in the wall near the bed. She opened it and saw chilled bottles of water, cola, and fruit juice. There were also a couple of apples and a Ziploc bag holding some of the blackest cherries she’d ever seen. They immediately called her name. She loved cherries, but because it seemed she’d already imposed on the man enough, she didn’t ask for any. Instead, she grabbed a water. “Do you want anything to drink?”
“Yeah, bring me a water. There’s some cherries too. Do you like cherries?”
She wondered if he was a mind reader. “I do.”
“Then bring the bag and we’ll share. They’ve already been washed.”
She grabbed another bottle of water, and with the cherries in hand, closed the door and moved back to the front of the cab.
Reese took his eyes off the road just long enough to be bewitched by her golden behind as she retook her seat. Reminding himself that he was a gentleman, or was at least trying to be, he checked the traffic through his mirrors while she undid the cap on one of the bottles.
When JT handed over the bottle of water, her hand accidentally brushed against his and a shard of heat shot up her arm. Outwardly she gave nothing away, but inside she was resonating like a kalimba.
Reese felt the heat too, and like her, pretended he hadn’t. “Thanks.” Taking a long drink to cool himself down, he placed the bottle in the holder beside him and forced himself not to look her way.
Very aware of Reese the Fine, JT checked out the cherries through the transparent Ziploc bag. “Do you have a trash bag or something for these cherry pits?”
“There’s a receptacle built into the door. Just pull it down.”
JT did and was again impressed with the truck’s efficient design. “Do you have one on your side too?”
“Yep.”
“Here.” Holding the bag open and careful to keep her hand from touching his again, she moved it close so he could reach in. He grabbed a few, and she took out a few for herself and bit into one. That first taste was so wonderful, succulent, and firm, she moaned before she could stop herself.
He grinned. “That good?”
“Oh hell, yeah. Where’d you buy these?”
“Traverse City.”
She ran through a mental map of the state of California but drew a blank. “Where’s Traverse City?”
“Michigan. Western side of the state.”
“Michigan? They grow cherries in Michigan?”
“Yep. One of country’s biggest producers.”
“Learn something new every day.” She bit into another big fat one, and this time silently savored the flesh and the juice. “I could eat these 24/7. Did you have them shipped or can you buy them here?”
“Brought them with me when I came west.”
JT stared. “You drove this truck all the way from Michigan?”
“Yep. Drove it down to Dallas first.”
“Damn,” she said, awed.
Reese chuckled. Yes, he liked the Lady Blake with her bling, her tall svelte curves, and her blunt speech.
“I thought you were local,” she told him.
“Nope. As the kids say, I’m from the D.”
She cut him a playful look. “D stands for Dallas.”
“No, Dallas is the
Big
D. Detroit doesn’t need a qualifier.”
She liked this man. She studied his hands on the steering wheel. They looked capable and strong. The fact that he didn’t wear a wedding ring meant nothing these days, but she wondered if he was married. “What’s your wife say about you driving cross-country.”
He met her eyes. “Divorced.”
“Ah.”
“You?”
She shook her head. “Single all my life.”
Reese found that hard to believe. Was she a lesbian? He didn’t have the nerve to ask that. “Pass me some more of those cherries before you kill the bag.”
She hung her head in embarrassment, then gave him a chagrined smile. “I’m sorry.”
He reached into the bag. “It’s okay, I can get more.”
She bit into another one and delicately licked at the juice on her lips. “If I give you the money, will you get me some? I’ll pay whatever they cost. These are the best cherries I’ve ever had. In my life.”
It was the second time she’d offered him money, and Reese wondered if that was how her world worked. “I’ll send you some but they’ll be my gift for being such a good shotgun.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather pay you. You didn’t have to offer me a ride, and with the price of gas and everything, this has to be costing you good money.”
“Even a truck driver can afford cherries, Ms. Blake.”
JT winced. “I wasn’t trying to offend a brother. Sorry.”
“You didn’t, but there are men in the world who aren’t looking to be paid.”
“Not in my life there aren’t. Everybody’s chasing dead presidents.”
“Must be rough being a woman doing what you do for a living.”
She took another sip of water. “It was worse when I first got started. Now, its not so bad. There’s still a lot of stupid gender stuff, but less of it.”
Reese could only imagine what she must have faced having to deal with not only the gender issues, but being a Black woman as well. The lady had to be tough. “Tell me about the person you think cut your belt.”
“I’ll keep his name to myself to protect the guilty.”
“That’s your right.”
She saw the concern in his face and that touched her too. “He used to work for me. Had to fire him, though, because he thought the name on the office door was his instead of mine. Has his own agency now and considers himself my competition.”
“He’s playing hardball if he’s jamming your ride.”
“I know, but he’s having cash flow issues and thinks that if he gets rid of my shop he’ll be able to rise to the top. Jerk.”
The cop in Reese wasn’t happy knowing she was being harassed. “Are you going to file a police report when you get home?”
“No, because without tangible proof, the police will just tell me to go home.”
He knew that was true, but still. “Do you have any security?”
“Yep. A bunch of six-foot-four-, -five-, and -six-inch linebackers who’d stomp him like grapes if they ever find out.”
“Good.” That made him feel better.
“Do you like football?”
“As much as you like those cherries.”
Her smile seemed to light up the cab. “Then let’s talk some ball.”
Their grins met, and Reese was sure he’d died and gone to heaven. A beautiful woman who could talk football? When they reached Oakland, he just might keep driving so he wouldn’t have to let her out of the truck.
With the top down on his red Mercedes convertible
and a sharklike smile on his egg-shaped light brown face, Robert L. Garrett the Third, aka Bobby G3, drove toward L.A. He was pretty sure Bitch Blake’s new Lex had broken down on the 5 by now and he hoped she was out in the middle of nowhere. He’d been stealing cars since middle school, so bypassing her sorry-ass, factory-installed alarm system had been a snap. Hiking the hood and slashing the belt took two minutes, max. He hadn’t even gotten his hands dirty. If she figured him for the perp, so what? She had no proof, and the only witnesses were the cows and corn in the Owens’s family pastures.
Garrett’s grin spread, showing off crisp white teeth. Sooner or later she was going to have to recognize. The fresh-faced intern she’d fired without cause three years ago had his own agency now, one with a decent stable of clients even if a few had turned out whack, like running back Jermaine Crane, who instead of setting records for most carries in a season was sitting in state prison for betting on his own games. The conviction let the league void Jermaine’s multi-million-dollar contract, causing him serious cash flow problems, but that wasn’t at issue at the moment. All he wanted to do was gloat. He hoped she’d get jacked by some crazy trucker and never be heard from again.
Reese was rolling up I-5 enjoying the company of the most remarkable woman he’d ever met. Not only could she talk sports, she knew stats, tendencies, and it didn’t matter whether the athletes or teams played basketball, baseball, football, or soccer. She even threw in hockey, something few Black men were into, let alone Black women. But she knew her Original Six from her blue line, and he wanted to propose marriage right there and then.
“Any more cherries?” he asked.
They’d been riding for nearly an hour.
She held out the bag so he could reach in. As he did, he used the moment to feast on the gorgeous lines of her face, lingering for a second over the curves of her cherry-stained lips before turning back to the road. “How’d you get into sports negotiations?” But what he really wanted to know was if her mouth would taste as luscious as it appeared.
“A woman from my mother’s church. Her son was drafted in the first round. She knew I was a lawyer, so she asked me to handle his first contract.”
“Football or basketball?”
“Football.”
Reese didn’t ask for a name. Being a lawyer himself, he didn’t expect her to divulge the identity of her clients. “Did the owner try to jam you because you were a rookie?”
“Oh yeah, and for being female. The first contract was so insulting I tossed it back across the table and walked out. Told them to call me when they were ready to be serious.”
“And did they?”
“The next day. Their team finished dead last the season before so they needed my player, bad. We eventually got the contract done and my guy reported for training camp. On time.”
“Has to be pretty wild being around the athletes.”
“Most times they’re a lot of fun. There are a few idiots, but every profession has those.”
“I suppose you get to go to all the big sporting events?”
“Oh yeah. Super Bowl. NBA Finals. You name it, I get tickets.”
“Must be nice.”
“Every fan’s dream. I can send you a couple of tickets if you like. Maybe not the Super Bowl, but I can get you into the all-star weekends. I’ll even hook you up a stadium suite for coming to my rescue.”
“Nah. That’s okay.” Now that he’d agreed to Tay’s offer, more than likely he would be able to swing his own suite and tickets. He didn’t tell her about the new job, though. He’d been enjoying her company. If she found out he worked for the league, she’d shut down immediately. Everything he’d read said no agent worth her salt would be caught dead fraternizing with someone tied to the league office. Not only did it look bad, but it could impact her credibility with her clients.
“You don’t want to go?”
“No, I’m okay.”
JT studied him. “No strings attached.”
He smiled. “I know, but thanks anyway.”
She hoped she hadn’t offended him. Some men found it hard to accept gifts from a woman, but he hadn’t impressed her as the type. Was he afraid of not fitting in because of his profession? Not being a mind reader, she didn’t have an answer. In the awkward silence that followed, Frankie B sang softly about a southern girl. She turned to the window, sipped from her bottled water and watched the night roll by.
Reese wasn’t happy with the change in the cab’s atmosphere. As she sat looking out of the window, he could see the distance settling over her manner. The nice easy time they’d been having seemed on the verge of slipping away. “The reason I turned you down is because I’m not sure what I’ll be doing for work that weekend.” Which was technically the truth. He had no idea what he might be doing for the commissioner’s office. It crossed his mind that when they met again—and he was sure they would—he’d have some explaining to do.
“No problem. I understand.” She faced him in the faint glow thrown off by the small lights beneath their seats. “Thought I’d offended you.”
“No.”
Their gazes held. JT sensed time slowing, a sensation she’d never experienced before. Beneath all that chocolate fineness was a man she was becoming more and more curious about.
Suddenly, the cab began to shake violently, and whatever they were about to say was lost.
“What the hell!” Reese fought with the steering to keep the semi from leaving the road. “Hold on!”
The truck had taken on a life of its own, stubbornly resisting his efforts to bring it back under control. In his side mirror he could see headlights of the traffic behind him swerving wildly as cars tried to avoid rear-ending the truck or being totaled by it. Reese downshifted, working the clutch and the brake until the big eighteen-wheeler slowed enough for him to safely pull onto the road’s shoulder and stop.
Braced with her hand on the door, JT blew out a breath of grateful relief. “Lord.”
Reese’s adrenaline began to ebb. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Déjà vu.”
“Let’s hope not.” He reached beneath his seat and pulled out a flat tool chest and a flashlight. He checked his outside mirror for oncoming traffic before opening his door. “Be right back.”
JT sat in the quiet for a few moments, then decided to get out and join him. He might need help.
Mindful of her training under the steely eyes of Old Man Bowman, her high school automotive teacher, JT walked up but stayed silent. When a mechanic had his or her head under a raised hood, being surprised by another person’s presence was not a good thing.
That wasn’t the case here, however. He wasn’t under the hood. He was on the passenger side of the truck’s trailer crouched down beside an open panel that held the oddest looking engine she’d ever seen. He acknowledged her with a grim nod, then went back to peering into the works with the flashlight. A yellow lantern on the ground beside him added extra illumination.
“Thought you might need some help.”
He turned to her. “What do you know about engines?”
She wanted to smack him for the sexist question, but instead drawled, “I know that isn’t your standard Big Three issue.”
The surprise on his face almost made up for the crack.
“Took automotive shop in high school.”
Wonder filled his eyes.
JT smiled sweetly and asked, “So what kind of engine is it?”
“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you,” he said, grinning, and took out his phone.
Amused, she shook her head.
His bad mood banished by their banter, Reese stood and spoke into the phone, but kept his vision on her. Lord, she was beautiful. Even in the dark. “Bryce. Pick up. I know you’re there.”
When Bryce did pick up, he wasn’t happy. “You caught me in the middle of someone. You and that damn truck better be on fire!”
“Sorry,” Reese laughed. Bryce was a genius, but he liked the honeys as much as he did equations. “No fire, but I’m having steering issues. Need you to figure out what it is.”
“Shit.”
“My sentiments too, but that’s not going to get me and the lady back to the Bay area.”
“What lady?”
“Never mind that, just tell me what to do.”
When the eavesdropping JT smiled in response, Reese met it with one of his own.
Following Bryce’s instructions, Reese pushed a button on the palm-sized computer docked on top of the engine then waited while Bryce ran a diagnostic from the laptop in his bedroom.
A fascinated JT was sure Old Man Bowman had never seen anything this high tech, and neither had she. “Where’s your brother?” she asked.
“Detroit.”
“Wow.”
“We call him Bryce the Brain. Graduated from MIT at sixteen. This is his baby.”
“He built the engine?”
“Yeah. It’s a prototype. Some kind of melding of solar components and computer chips. I don’t understand half the things he says, but he’s got a brain the size of Lake Michigan.”
“How old is he now?”
“Thirty-three.”
“Any other siblings?”
“Brother named Jamal.”
“He an egghead too?”
“In his own way. He builds what Bryce designs.”
JT blinked. A family of geniuses. “Are you as brainy as they are?”
“In my own way.”
The tone of his voice and the playfulness in his eyes made JT’s insides tingle, but she played it off by gazing up at the moon overhead. “Nice night.”
Reese grinned, then switched gears as Bryce’s voice came over the phone. The diagnostic had pinpointed the problem. One of the chips had burned out. Bryce was in the process of rerouting the system to bypass it. Once that was achieved he said, “Okay. You’re set. Let her sit for thirty minutes so everything can reboot. There shouldn’t be any more problems.”
“Thanks, man. My apologies to your guest.”
“Just hang up.”
Chucking, Reese ended the call. “Thirty minutes and we can roll,” he said to her.
“Good.” JT’s job involved dealing with drop dead gorgeous hunks on a regular basis, so she considered herself pretty much immune to men like Reese the Fine, but he was something. On the ride, they’d discussed sports, politics, music, and movies. He’d shown himself to be intelligent, funny, and so good to look at that as far as she was concerned he didn’t have to utter another word. But within the sexy, well-built trucker’s body beat the heart of a man with a good mind, and she liked that. This morning, if someone had told her that by nightfall she’d be mesmerized by a sweet walking trucker with eyes that were even now teasing her, she’d’ve asked to see their crack pipe.
Reese knew they should be getting back to the cab, but he couldn’t seem to move. The wind had come up, and under his silent scrutiny she brushed her hair back from her face. She was beautiful enough to light up the night, but her intelligence was the draw. He’d always had a thing for smart women, and the Lady Blake definitely qualified. “Sorry about the delay. I know you’re probably wanting to get home.”
“It’s okay. Stuff happens, and as I said, I’m enjoying the company.” The sounds of the traffic roaring by on the road could be heard, but JT paid it scant attention.
“Let me set some flares so we don’t get rear-ended.”
“Probably a good idea.” Their gazes were still locked, and for a breath of a second, and the first time in her life, JT wondered what it might be like to be someone else. Were she a nurse or a teacher, or a woman with a regular job, she didn’t think he’d have a problem pursuing whatever was bubbling up between them. She could almost envision herself as the woman he came home to after being out on the road; the woman who had his dinner waiting; the one he called late at night to let her know where he was and when he’d be returning. Grabbing hold of herself, she shook off the vision, mainly because it scared her to death. She didn’t have a Suzy Homemaker bone in her body. “I’ll wait for you in the truck.”
As she turned and strode away, Reese mused on Ms. JT Blake. The vibe flowing between them was sparking like a downed power line. Being a gentleman, he turned the beam of the flashlight in her direction, ostensibly to light her way back to the cab. In reality, he just wanted to watch the sister walk.
In the cab, JT told herself there was nothing wrong with being attracted to a man she’d just met. The problem came when she started fantasizing about something that would never materialize. She’d never had a man affect her this way, and she wasn’t sure what her response was supposed to be. Men like him didn’t hook up with women like herself, and vice versa. She made a lot of money, and in the few relationships she’d had, the size of her bank accounts eventually became an issue; even with the men whose finances matched hers. If those men couldn’t handle her for whatever reason, survey says a blue collar brother would have issues, too. But lord, the man was fine.
He reentered the cab a few moments later, and as he settled in, she asked, “All set?”
Reese nodded. Normally, he would have considered the thirty-minute wait a pain in the butt, but not this evening. Until the truck rebooted he’d be able to give her his undivided attention. He slid the toolbox and flashlight back under his seat. “My brothers are going to fall out when I tell them I had you in my cab.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re famous.”
“I’m just me.”
“I like just you.”
The timbre in his voice shook JT’s insides again, and in a tone far more nonchalant than she felt, she said, “You’re not so bad yourself. Your cherries aren’t too bad either.”
“I’ll make sure you get more.”
He seemed reluctant to break the contact but eventually turned his eyes to his mirror to check out the traffic. She continued to watch him. Who would have ever thought she’d feel a connection to a truck driver? In the middle of that mental question, her earpiece beeped. She answered, “Hey, Carole.”
“Everything okay? Where are you now?”
JT relayed their approximate location based on the last visible road sign. “We had engine trouble, but it’s been fixed.”
“Reese the Fine being a gentleman?”
“Completely.” JT turned his way and checked out the chiseled lines of his mahogany face. “I couldn’t be in better company.”