Tender Touch (6 page)

“About the project,” Damon added a little
too quickly, he thought. He shifted in his seat.

“Yeah, right.” Shaena arched an eyebrow at
them both. “Well, here is the food, thank goodness. I’m
starved.”

For the rest of the meal, Shaena helped jump
start a steady stream of conversation between Jade and Damon. They
talked about all kinds of topics. Jade could now see why women were
so wild about Damon Knight. He was not only charming and handsome
but almost courtly in his treatment of women, yet he did not make
it seem artificial. Jade found keeping her thoughts of him neutral
to be increasingly difficult.

Damon glanced at his watch. “Wow, look it’s
almost seven- thirty. Ladies, I’d better get moving. My parents are
probably wondering what happened to me. It’s really been nice
talking to you,” he said, gazing at Jade for several seconds.

“Yes, nice seeing you, too. I’ll call you
Monday...about the site visit.” Jade wanted to keep looking into
those eyes for just a few moments longer. She let out a sigh as he
walked away. Several female heads swiveled to watch him as he
passed through the dining room.

As though he finally came back to himself,
Damon turned around. “Good to see you again, Ms. Greene.” He
waved.

“See ya around, Damon,” Shaena called after
him. She wore a smirk. “Damn! The man was so mesmerized by you he
forgot I was even in the room.”

“You’re crazy.” Jade was exhilarated at the
thought despite her protest.

“Maybe, but I ain’t stupid. That man wants
you bad.” Shaena leaned toward her.

“Damon Knight comes on to a lot of women. I
want more than a casual thing.”

“There is nothing casual about it. I saw the
look in his eyes. The man is down with some serious feelings for
you.” Shaena shook a finger at her.

Jade held herself in check. “Don’t be silly,
Shaena. You don’t know what he’s thinking—or are you psychic
now?”

“Girl, I don’t need gris-gris or tea leaves
to tell me Damon is hot for you in more ways than one. The man
cares what you think. That’s a sign.” Shaena sat back with a wise
look.

“A sign of what?”

“In my experience any man who takes time to
find out what you think on some dry, serious subject wants more
than a slam- jam, thank-you-ma’am kinda thing.” Shaena nibbled on a
comer of French bread. “Don’t waste time. Bag it up!”

“You are hallucinating darlin’. Besides, I’m
not going to get involved. So there.” Jade stared at her friend
with a resolute expression.

“Save that act for somebody who might be
fooled by it, okay?” Shaena waved away her declaration with a
manicured hand.

“I’m not acting. I’m not going to be the
same fool twice. And that’s all there is to it.”

“Yeah, right,” Shaena said, her tone dripped
skepticism.

Jade ignored it and went on to talk of
something else. Yet for the rest of the evening, she kept getting
flashes of the way his lips, so full and inviting, curved when he
smiled. Damon Knight had left an impression that was like a hot
brand on her consciousness. A growing anxiety mixed with
anticipation at seeing him again took root. She could keep him in
check, but could she resist the temptation to give in to his
allure? The picture of how those other women looked at him brought
her up short. Yes, she would have to be strong. Damon Knight would
have fun with her and move on to someone in his league—probably a
long-legged beauty from another old Louisiana family. Better to
face reality now than be hurt again. Time to end this silly,
teenage fantasizing. Jade went home with a new determination to
protect herself.

* * *

“What about that office building job? Did
that new carpet come in time for you to meet the contractor’s
schedule?” Oliver Knight sat across from Damon in a large easy
chair. His salt and pepper hair was still thick despite his age and
recent illness.

The elder Knight held himself erect, though
his right hand curled slightly and he leaned to his left. It was
apparent which side of his body had been affected by the stroke
he’d suffered two years ago. Still he’d made a good recovery by
most standards. He was only a half inch shorter than his oldest
son. Dressed stylishly in an expensive long-sleeved sport shirt
with olive green chino pants, he was still a striking figure at
fifty-nine.

“Come on, Pops. Forget the business. You
should just relax now. How was your golf game?”

“Damn game,” Oliver muttered. “And Larry
Mayew is foul- tempered fool!”

Damon suppressed a smile. “You’ve been
saying that for twenty years now. Why didn’t you guys just quit
playing with him?”

“We did quit. We changed to a later tee-off
time. But he shows up every once in a while just to irritate us.
Now what about that Lancer job I just asked you about?” Oliver
switched back to his favorite subject, Knight and Sons, Inc.

“We were right on time, Pops. Say, that
fishing rod Trent gave you for Father’s Day is gathering dust. We
ought to take a trip down to Old River some time.”

Oliver blew hard. “Sitting outside in the
sun all day to catch one little old sorry fish. Forget that!”

“You need to develop some interests to keep
you busy. You used to love collecting stamps and coins. There’s a
big show coming to the River Center Saturday.” Damon tried another
way to divert his father’s attention to some activity that would
make retirement easier for him to accept.

“Son, when I expanded to five stores here
and in Lafayette, I didn’t have time for much else. I put my life’s
blood into that business. So don’t think I’m just going to be put
out to pasture.” Oliver wagged a finger at his son’s nose.

“Pops, the doctor made it clear you can’t
work anymore. Besides, you’ve more than earned a rest,” Damon said
in a calm voice.

“Hey, I’m your father, not some little kid.
Don’t patronize me, young man.”

“Well, you’re acting like a little boy who
won’t take his medicine, the medicine in this case being rest and
relaxation.” Damon wanted to laugh at the way his father’s frown
deepened into a perfect pout. But he knew better than to give in to
that particular urge.

“Damn doctor. I’ll probably be at his
funeral!” Oliver glowered as though the doctor was in the room with
them.

“Pops, the stores are doing fine. I’ve got
good managers,” Damon said, knowing that the doctor was not the
real issue.

Oliver jabbed a finger in the air between
them. “That doesn’t mean you can just leave everything to them.
You’ve got to be a hands-on businessman, son. Many a man has lost
everything, letting someone else run this business.”

Damon groaned inwardly. He did not feel up
to one of Oliver’s lectures on running a business. “I know, Pops.
Say, Trent came by the store last night. He and Carliss seem to be
very serious.” He patted Oliver’s arm. “Before you know it, you’ll
have grandchildren running around here.”

“Hope they have a wedding first,” Oliver
grunted. “And that’s another thing; Trent has no sense of family
responsibility. He’s letting you run those stores alone.”

“Come on now.” Damon wondered if there was
any subject he would pick that would not lead to complaints.

“Why in the world he went off on his own is
a mystery to me.”

“Pops, the problem is Trent is too much like
you. He’s independent and marches to his own beat.”

Oliver shook his head. “Yeah, but I never
questioned my duty to take over my father’s legacy. A slap in the
face is what it is.”

“Now hold on, Trent has nothing but respect
for you, and you know it. Why else does he come to you for advice,
even with all your barking at him? And you give it to him.” Damon
knew Oliver was just hurt that his younger son wanted to be on his
own. Yet Oliver admired Trent’s courage, though he’d never admit
it.

“As for getting married, humph! How many
women has he dated in the last two years? Six or seven.” Oliver
waved a hand. “I’ll grow old waiting for the boy to settle
down.”

“I don’t know. He’s talking commitment this
time.”

Oliver brushed away his comment with another
grunt of skepticism. He twisted around to stare at Damon with an
intense expression. “What about you? That Monique Benoit has been
asking about you, so your mother says.”

“That’s right.” Marlene Knight swept into
the room, wearing a floor-length lounge dress. Her hair was black
without a hint of gray. At fifty-four she moved with the same
self-possessed confidence she had at eighteen.

“Hello, Mother.” Damon gave her a respectful
kiss on the cheek. “Hello—and your father is right.” Marlene
arranged her dress after sitting down on the love seat across from
her husband.

“Mother, I’m a little old for matchmaking.”
Damon swallowed the rising irritation that threatened to force a
sharper response.

As usual, Marlene went on without commenting
on his protest. Any disagreement with what she wanted was ignored.
“Monique is quite devoted to you. Her parents were in school with
us.”

“Monique is devoted to money more than
anything, Mother.”

“So she’s used to the finer things in life,
what’s wrong with that? Her family has been prominent in this city
and Point Coupee Parish for the last ninety years. She’s perfect
for you, dear.” Marlene ran a hand over her styled hair.

“Let’s not get into this again,” Damon
mumbled low.

“I heard that.” Marlene tilted her head back
to stare at him. “Why shouldn’t you find her attractive? She’s
beautiful, smart and from a good family.”

“Mother—”

“She comes from the same background as you.
Tell him how important that is, Oliver.” Marlene prodded her
husband with a darting glance.

“Philip Benoit has the most successful
insurance bonding company in south Louisiana, not to mention a
string of funeral homes. Thriving concerns run by all three of his
sons,” Oliver said with more than a trace of envy.

“I know, Pops.” Damon had heard it all
before, several times.

“Just think of what that would mean in terms
of advancing African-American presence on the business scene in
this state.” Oliver rubbed his hands together in anticipation of
forging a commercial empire with his schoolmate Philip Benoit.
“Something we could leave our grandchildren with pride.”

“Choosing the right wife is important,”
Marlene added.

Damon gazed at his parents. Marlene Cormier
Knight came from a prominent family in West Baton Rouge Parish. His
parents met at a charity ball when they were still in college, she
at Xavier University and Oliver home from Morehouse. They married
with the approval of their parents, mainly because both were
old-money families. She and Oliver weren’t a passionate couple by
anyone’s standards.

Damon wondered how his mother had overcome
her distaste for anything as untidy as lovemaking long enough to
have two sons. And though Marlene wasn't unfeeling mother, she
wasn’t the warm maternal type. Now Damon realized why he’d been so
captivated by Rachelle with her penchant for emotional drama. She
seemed so gay and warm compared to what he was used to at home. But
Rachelle required constant admiration. She resented anything,
including his business or commitment to helping others, that took
his attention away from her. Her solution had been to find a lover.
His mother’s voice cut into the painful memories.

“So when are you going to call her?” Marlene
spoke in a firm tone that was more a command than a question.

“Remember how you pushed Rachelle and me
together for the same reasons, Mother?” Damon said with
bitterness.

“Well, you can’t compare Rachelle to
Monique. I mean the Balleaux side is fine, but on her mother’s
side...” Marlene shrugged. “They made their money from saloons for
goodness’ sakes.”

Damon barked out a harsh laugh. “Her
great-grandfather owned a bar a hundred years ago, Mother. And you
didn’t seem to care about her grandfather’s bar when you introduced
us ten years ago.”

“Let’s put that behind us, dear. There is no
value in dwelling on the past.” Marlene was untouched by his
implied criticism of her.

“It’s getting late,” Damon said in a clipped
tone. “I’ve got a long day ahead of me. Good night.”

“Call me, son. I want to visit the Thibodaux
location since I haven’t been there in a while. I know you’re due
to go there next week,” Oliver called after him.

“Sure, Pops.” Damon did not bother to argue
with his stubborn father.

On the drive to his apartment, Damon mulled
over his father’s words. Settling down was something he had been
sure he could live without for the foreseeable future. Yet a pair
of big brown eyes framed by black hair parted in the middle to
frame a lovely face had changed all that in a heartbeat. Jade
Pellerin inspired a physical reaction so strong Damon could feel it
even now. His breath caught just at the tilt of her head in his
direction. He wanted to be the one to make her smile. What would it
take? Damon imagined the taste of her skin, rich and sweet like
expensive chocolate.

Whoa, brother. This is how you got taken out
last time, remember? But even as the thought pushed through the
heated fantasy, something told him that Jade was so much more than
a fine body. Damon shook his head as though trying to clear the
confusion filling it. His head told him not to risk the hurt again.
His body and heart said go for it! With a sigh, he determined to
steer clear of Ms. Jade Pellerin. That seemed the best plan all
around. He would concentrate on his business, making sure his
father followed his physician’s orders and expanding his
philanthropic interests. Let Eddie meet with her. Damon would make
it a point to be too busy.

“Yeah, I’ll let Eddie keep me informed.
Besides, I really should spend time at the store in Thibodaux.
Might as well be Thursday night, right?” Damon spoke out loud.