On the Line (9 page)

“I need to see Carter.”

No “Good morning,” not even a smile. Her nose so far up in the air that if it rained she'd drown. The thought almost made me smile.

“Did you hear me?”

Hilary had never been friendly to me, but at least she had been cordial. How could any man fall for such a rude woman?

She sneered when I didn't move. “Don't think I don't know you're after Carter.” I gasped and she smiled nastily. “Just look at you in that awful dress, flaunting yourself. It won't do you any good. You have nothing to offer him. Nothing. He's mine for the taking.”

“Hilary.” Carter's voice came from behind us. I cringed. Just before I shut my eyes in misery I saw Hilary's face light up. She quickly brushed past me.

I stood there, feeling exposed, wanting to run to my room and hide. Had he heard? I didn't want to turn and see the look of pity—or worse, revulsion—on his face.

“Carter, I'm so sorry to disturb you, but a group of us are flying to New York on a friend's jet,” she exclaimed. “You could see Professor Sampson in person and I could help you persuade him to accept your invitation to the association meeting.”

Dr. P. Sampson, the leading authority on dinosaurs, was the one guest Carter desperately wanted but hadn't been able to confirm. I made myself close the door. Perhaps she was right. I didn't have the connections to help Carter in the ways she could. All I had was my love.

“Sampson knows I want him, I don't think my bothering him while he's trying to finish an important research project is going to help my cause,” Carter said.

“The man has to take a break sometime to eat or just stretch,” Hilary went on. “We'll leave it open. We could drop by your parents' and take them to dinner tonight.”

“They're out of town,” he told her, his gaze going over her shoulder to meet mine. “Marissa and I were about to start work.”

“Marissa.” Hilary spit my name out as if it fouled her mouth to do so. She faced me, her hard gaze flicking over me with obvious disapproval, then she turned back to Carter. “Carter, you must see what she's trying to do.”

“Hilary, don't!” I blurted. “Please.”

She laughed. “Lost your nerve?”

Carter frowned. My hands clenched. I jerked my eyes away. I thought, if I could get my hands on Joy at this moment, there's no telling what I would do to her. She's the cause of all this.

“I appreciate what you're trying to do, Hilary, but Sampson has my number and Marissa and I have a lot of work to do today.” Carter took her arm and started toward the front door.

“Work isn't what she has in mind unless it's the two of you in bed.”

My head snapped up. My face heated with embarrassment and anger.

“You can't be falling for her pitiful attempt at seduction,” Hilary said. “She looks—”

“That's enough, Hilary,” Carter interrupted, his voice tight.

“You're too kind to see what she's trying to do,” Hilary declared, placing her hand on his arm. “She's overplayed her hand. When I tell my brother, she'll be looking for a job and out of your life for good.”

“You're that scared of competition?” I asked her. I had nothing to lose. I wouldn't go out like a wimp.

“Ha!” she harrumphed. “What competition? I look better, dress a damn sight better, and have connections, culture and money. What do you have?”

“Me, if she'll have me,” Carter said softly.

I had to grab the table in the entryway to keep upright. I began to tremble. Carter stared straight at me with a look of such tender devotion that tears crested in my eyes.

“Wh-what?” Hilary said.

Carter, his hot gaze never leaving mine, came to me, then circled his arm around my waist. “Besides me, Marissa has compassion, strength, courage, and a sweetness that can't be faked.” Reaching over, he opened the door. “Goodbye, Hilary. Don't miss your plane.”

“But—” She stood there as if she couldn't comprehend what was happening. “You—you can't be serious.”

“Hilary, contrary to the circulating myth, professors aren't stupid. I knew what you were doing from day one. I respect your brother and didn't want to create a problem. Your uncalled-for attack on Marissa changed that.”

His arm tightened around my waist, and his expression hardened. “No one talks to her that way. No one.” There was sharpness in his voice that I had never heard before.

Humiliated, Hillary rushed from the house. Carter closed the door after her.

“I'm sorry you had to go through that.” His fingers beneath my chin lifted my head, then grazed across my lower lip, causing me to shiver. “Sweet Marissa. Forget what she said. She couldn't hold a candle to you. No woman could.”

I could barely take it all in. Was I dreaming?

“Please say something.” His hands palmed my face. “I think you care about me just a little bit. Am I wrong?”

A little bit?
I kissed him, my arms going around his neck, my body pressing against his as I'd dreamed of and wanted for so very long.

“Marissa…Marissa.” He chanted my name between bold, hot kisses that took my breath away.

Staring up at him, I felt powerful and so very blessed. “Carter, I don't like you a little bit. I love you with all my heart.”

I felt his hands tremble around my waist. “I've loved you for so long, but was afraid to say anything for fear I'd offend you and you'd leave. Loving you and not being able to tell you was the most difficult thing I have ever done.”

I grinned up at him. “You won't have to worry about that now.”

His hand palmed my cheek. “There's still the policy on dating subordinates at the university.”

My smile died. “I love working with you.”

“I love having you and I think I have the perfect solution.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a diamond solitaire.

My heart thudded. My eyes went from the sparkling ring to him.

“I've carried this for the past six months. It was a sort of talisman that one day I've have the courage to risk it all for love.” He tenderly picked up my left hand. “Marissa, my heart, my love, will you marry me?”

Through tears, and with a heart overflowing with love and happiness, I managed to say, “Yes.”

He slipped the ring on my finger and fitted his lips to mine.

 

Joy, during winter break we visited his parents and mine. The end of May we were married in a beautiful ceremony at the chapel at the university. That summer I went with Carter as his assistant, with wonderful results.

Our first child, Carter Jr., the most beautiful, happiest baby in the world, was born exactly nine months from our first night there. I owe it all to you for advising me to risk it all for love.

Glowing with happiness,

M. in Dallas

 

I lean back against my pile of pillows and grin. I remembered the letter and the sound of desperation that came through in “M.'s” words. I
was
good for something. Every now and again I get it right. I put the letter aside then get up for another cup of tea. Instead of feeling sleepy I'm oddly rejuvenated.

With a fresh cup of piping hot tea, I hop back in bed and hunt around in the mailbag for another letter. If my luck holds up I'll get another goodie to help soothe me to sleep. I open the letter that's titled My Brother's Keeper. Uh-oh…

D
ear Joy,

We never know what life has in store for us. Only one thing is guaranteed as far as I'm concerned, and that is death. I learned that lesson when I was twenty-one years old, away at college, with a “great” future ahead of me. Then the unthinkable happened: a terrorist attack claimed the life of both my parents. As fate would have it, I had to raise my pain-in-the-butt, sixteen-year-old brother, Curtis.

I admit I was angry—at the attacks, at my parents, at my brother and at God. I had plans. It wasn't fair. I was bitter for having to leave college in my last year. But I loved my brother, so I took on the responsibility of raising him the way Mom and Dad would have wanted.

That was five years ago. We made it through the worst of it. I finished my last year at Fordham University and worked hard to gain a position as an anti-money-laundering specialist at a large community bank. Curtis was a journalism major at NYU, with a promising career ahead of him. Living in New York after the attacks was still tough but, for the most part, life was good again. That was until three days ago when I got the call that had me sitting in an emergency room at two a.m., waiting for the doctors to tell me the fate of my brother's life.

Every part of my body felt numb. I feared I was losing Curtis, too. Riddled with shock I sat and stared at a blurred figure that stormed across the emergency room in my direction. Within seconds, Rachel came into focus.

“Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted? If he dies, he'll be out of both of our lives!”

I couldn't respond. Rachel's words slashed me. I was dying inside as my brother slipped away. I bowed my head down and squeezed my hands together. I hadn't prayed since my parents died. I hoped He was listening to me now, because I was praying fiercely for my brother's life. If Curtis died, it was my fault. I couldn't help myself. I didn't want anything to happen to him. I just wanted that hussy, Rachel, out of our lives.

I should start from the beginning. Two weeks ago to be exact…

 

It was eleven-thirty on Friday night, and I could barely keep my eyes open. I'd been trying to reach Curtis since eight-thirty and his dinner was way past cold. It wasn't like him to stay out late without calling. He must have been deep into a story. I'd decided to wait ten more minutes before putting the food away. It wasn't long before Curt came traipsing through the door.

I automatically slipped into mother mode. “Boy, where have you been? Do you think that because you're almost twenty-one you can do as you please?”

He placed his laptop bag on the sofa and walked toward me with his arms wide open. “Sorry, Maya. I got caught up in some festivities at school.”

I slapped his arms away, avoiding his attempt at a hug. “Well, I forgive you this time. Let me warm up your dinner.”

“That's okay, Maya. I already ate. I'll have it for lunch tomorrow.”

Something was different about my brother. Managing to get his hug in, he squeezed me tighter than usual to say good-night. The sweet, flowery scent that tickled my nose wasn't the cologne I'd given him for his birthday. I could only imagine the festivities he was wrapped up in. And whoever she was had my brother's nose wide open, 'cause he couldn't stop smiling. I felt a bit concerned at the thought of a girl in Curtis's arms.

I shrugged it off. If she was anything special, Curtis would have mentioned her. I was blowing the situation out of proportion. I watched Curt make his way to his room. What woman wouldn't want to be near his six-foot-four chiseled body? My brother could be a model looking like Shemar Moore, with his fine self. Well, at least one of us was having fun.

“Have a good night, Curt.”

“Thanks, sis.” He cleared his throat before he continued. “By the way, can you make your special lasagna tomorrow night? I'd like to bring a friend over for dinner after work.”

“Sure. It'll be fun to have one of your friends over. Who's coming? Junior?”

“Um, not exactly. I mean, no. Her name is Rachel.”

The already tight curls on my head seemed to get tighter at the sound of her name. Alarm rang in my ears and my head began to pound.

“Does she wear Beautiful?”

“Huh?” I'm sure he was playing stupid.

“Never mind. Don't be late tomorrow.” I couldn't wait to meet this woman in person.

“I love you.” Curt took off, and I dragged myself to my room in his wake.

 

I was the only staff member crazy enough to work on Saturday. I hoped the peace and quiet would help me flow through a few investigations. What a joke. I must have stared at the same file for forty-five minutes. It was a waste of time. I packed up and headed for home.

I set the table for three and hoped the evening would go smoothly. I dropped into my favorite chair, my dad's black leather recliner. Apprehension clenched my stomach as the fear hit me. Rachel was the first girl Curtis ever asked to bring home.

A car pulled up to the front of the house. I peeked out of the window to catch a glimpse of Curt and his “friend” getting out of the cab. Only there wasn't a cab. Curtis exited from the passenger side of a white Mercedes. Just as a gentleman should, my brother opened the driver's door.

I knew she was older than my brother right away. The curly ponytail swinging from her head wasn't fooling me one bit. She appeared much more sophisticated than most girls in their early twenties. Her tall leather boots matched her buttery-brown leather jacket. Confidence sprang from her long, purposeful strides. For some unexplainable reason, I felt jealous.

I rushed to the kitchen. The quicker I fed them, the quicker she'd be out of the house. The introductions were cordial and standard; it was the conversation over dinner that did it for me.

“How did you two meet?”

Rachel reached over and caressed Curt's hand; he squeezed it gently in return. “Your brother's dedication to his work caught my attention.”

He continued with a goofy smile. “If I said I didn't notice her until she treated me to a cup of coffee, I'd be lying.”

“He ordered the same coffee every day—mocha nublado.”

“With extra mocha,” they added in unison.

Oh, brother. “So you're a waitress?”

“Not exactly. I…”

“She owns Grounded, a café near campus, where I've done my homework and completed some of the best stories I've written for the newspaper.”

Oh Lord, they were finishing each other's sentences. I took a deep breath and slowly rubbed my palms together, which usually calmed me. Usually.

“This lasagna is delicious. Is this your own recipe?” Smart girl, that Rachel—changing the subject. I retracted my claws, for the moment.

“Thank you. It's one of Curtis's favorites.”

“Yeah. I have no idea what she puts in it, but no one can beat it.”

One point for me.

The remainder of dinner was spent in silence. Curtis was kind enough to clear the table. An uncomfortable tension filled the air as we all struggled to be civil.

“Rachel, we better get going. You know how long the line gets at the club.”

“I didn't realize you had other plans. You two get going—I'll clean up.”

It was finally over. I released the breath I'd been holding most of the evening. Rachel and I exchanged civil goodbyes. Curtis blessed me with one of his bear hugs and whispered in my ear.

“Thanks, sis. I know that was hard for you.” He knew me well.

 

That Monday, I dragged myself into work. I needed a strong cup of coffee. Curtis didn't come home the rest of the weekend. He was kind enough to leave me a message, but sleep didn't come easy. I missed his company.

My girl, Rosa, plopped her “J-Lo wannabe” ass on my desk, like she always did when she had something juicy to share.

“Ooh, girl. I was at the Copa this weekend with Hector, you know that
papi
I met at the Puerto Rican Day Parade.”

I simply nodded so she could continue. She sounded just like Rosie Perez when she was super excited.

“We were groovin'to Don Omar and I saw your brother across the floor getting down with a hot
mami.
”

“Yeah. He's dating an older woman.”

She crossed her legs and folded her arms. “Damn. I wish I knew he was into that, because your brother is fine.”

I couldn't join her usual infectious laughter. I wasn't amused. “Are you up for a cup of coffee?”

“Maya, don't take it so seriously. Your brother is enjoying himself.”

“I know, but…”

“But nothing. What you need to do is get your ass a man and let Curtis live his life, or you're going to end up alone one day.”

I understood Rosa's point. But she had a different boyfriend every six months. I didn't have time for that. I promised my parents I'd take care of Curtis, and that included monitoring his choices for a partner.

For the remainder of the week, things appeared to be back to normal for Curt and me. He was home for dinner every night. He never brought up Rachel and neither did I. In a way, I felt bad. He was probably hurting, but I felt it was best to leave things alone. When the time was right, he'd find someone else.

It was Saturday, and when Curtis came home from work, I had his favorite devil's food cake with my special cream-cheese frosting prepared. I couldn't wait to surprise him.

Rachel's voice, coupled with my brother's laughter, paralyzed me. Shame on me for assuming they broke up. I couldn't believe she dared to step back in my house again.

“Hello, Rachel.” There was no need for small talk. I wasn't going to pretend I liked her.

Curtis lifted his face and sniffed the air. “Mmm. Damn, it smells good in here.”

“I baked your favorite cake. The bowl's in the kitchen. I know you love to lick it clean.”

Rachel giggled.

“That's what I'm talking about.” He looked at his girlfriend with his Kool-Aid smile, not the least bit embarrassed. “I don't usually share, but I'll make an exception this one time.”

Rachel's giggle rolled into a full-bodied laugh. “Enjoy, honey. I'll wait for a slice of the finished product.”

“Curt, why don't you bring out the cake. I'll get the coffee.”

Rachel raved over my cake. I didn't need her compliment. I knew my confections were tasty. She found my sweet spot. Maybe she wasn't so bad. My brother seemed happy. I owed it to him to give her a chance.

“So, Rachel, tell me a little more about yourself.”

She took a noticeably deep breath. Curtis whispered, “It's okay,” before she started.

“I'm divorced. I was married at twenty-one. I was young and pregnant. My son is seven now and barely sees his father.”

My heart stopped. What was this woman trying to tell me? “Are you looking for a new father?” I put my right hand up into the air, silently asking the Lord for strength and turned the question to my brother. “Are you ready to be a daddy? I didn't give up my future for you to turn around and do this to me.”

Curtis jumped up from the sofa, and the cake platter went flying. “Damn it, Maya. Everything isn't about you. Rachel was just…Never mind. Why am I wasting my time trying to explain things to you. You've already made up your mind about her.”

“Curtis, I better get going. Maya, I'm sorry our evening ended on a bad note. Good night.”

Oh,
hell
no, she wasn't leaving my house with the last word. My pride wouldn't allow it. “Don't let the door hit you on the way out.” I knew it was stupid, but I couldn't think of anything better at the time.

She ignored my comment and kissed Curtis.

He whispered into her ear, but I heard every word. “Baby, I'm sorry about my sister. I'll call you later.” They walked to the door and hugged good-night. Then my brother turned his pent-up anger on me.

“What's your problem? That's why I never brought any of my girlfriends home to meet you.”

I didn't care that he had other girlfriends. I just felt Rachel was wrong for him. “She's using you.”

Curtis was bursting with laughter. I didn't see what was so funny about the situation. “Let me get this straight. A woman who owns her own business, drives a Mercedes and lives in a slammin' house, is using me. Me—a college senior, living at home with his sister.”

He was right—it sounded ridiculous. But something didn't sit right with me. I'd have to sleep on it. “Clean up the kitchen. I'm tired.”

“Good night, sis. I still love you.”

I loved him, too. I hope he realized that.

Work followed another sleepless weekend. To clear my mind, I jumped right into work. Curtis called to meet me for lunch between his classes. I had a huge caseload stacked before me, which already guaranteed me an all-nighter. Curtis was worth it, so I squeezed him into my schedule.