The Sapphire Pendant (36 page)

He stood up, stiffly. “I’m fine. Trust me.”

She opened his shirt and pointed to his bruises. “You call this fine? I’ve seen fewer bruises on a rotten apple.” She gently stripped off his shirt to review the bruises on his back. “You’re an idiot.”

“You really need to work on your bedside manner.”

“If you weren’t injured, I’d hit you right now.”

“Why are you angry at
me?
”

“Because I care about you. Why didn’t you just let my hand go instead of letting those guys do this to you? Why didn’t you let me help you? You know I’m strong enough.”

His voice, though quiet, held an ominous quality. “Because if one of those guys had hit you, even by accident, I would have killed him.”

A chill raced through her. She took a deep breath. “You should have let my hand go.”

“I couldn’t.” His eyes burned into hers. “I wasn’t going to let you go this time, Jas.”
 

She looked away. “You need to see a doctor.”

“They’re just bruises.”

“And they look awful.”

He stiffened. “Then don’t look.”

She studied his bruises and noticed some faded marks and scratches. “What are these?”

He glanced down. “Nothing. I bruise easily.”

She turned away. “Damn it.”

He sat ramrod straight while she tied gauze around his middle. She finally pulled away, and placed her hand against his cheek and forehead. “You’re warm.” He also looked exhausted; his eyes were beginning to droop. She sighed resigned, a heaviness settled in her chest. “Looks like we won’t be able to go to the Hampton Charity Ball.”

His eyes flew opened. “But you have to go.”

She stared at him curious. “Why?”

He searched for words, trying to cover his blunder. “Because...because you’ve never been.”

She began putting her first aid items away. “So what? You need to rest, that’s the only way you’ll heal.”

“But my face is fine.”

She looked up shocked. “What?”

“I look all right. No one will notice.”

She shook her head. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t understand—”

“I said you’re not going.”

“But what about our bargain?” He hated how desperate his voice sounded.

“Kenneth, I’m willing to sleep with you whether you take me to the ball or not. I want you. Or has that escaped your notice?”

He didn’t understand. Why would she want a night with him, if she couldn’t use him as a trophy? Where was the exchange? He’d finally figured out the game and she’d changed the rules.

“The ball—”

She covered his mouth, her voice hard. “Hang the ball. The only thing I care about right now is you.” She gathered her things.

He didn’t know what to say. Jasmine Clifton, the woman who would do anything to win, would lose a bet, was willing to miss one of the most talked about events of the year, because of him.
Him
. He couldn’t understand it. It didn’t make sense. He was physically capable of going. His face hadn’t been injured. Wasn’t that all she needed? Wasn’t that the only part of Kenneth Preston that mattered?

He looked down at her bent head as she organized her kit in amazement. She really did care about him. She had been willing to fight with him, had tended to his wounds, and would rather lose a bet than see him ill. She truly was his friend.

He clenched his fist. No, it was dangerous to believe that. She had betrayed him—used him—as so many others had. He needed to hold onto his anger, the only shield against his weakness for her. Yet his mind and body were so tired and eager to surrender to her tenderness. He could feel it slipping underneath his armor, stripping the anger that had kept him safe.
 

He felt her touch his fist and met her eyes. He couldn’t describe the expression there—worry, compassion, something vastly more intimate—but it reached to something inside him forcing either his wariness or sanity to slip away. She did care. He believed that now.

Suddenly, his body didn’t feel the pain anymore, didn’t feel disappointment. His life was no longer a burden. With her he could accomplish anything. He took a deep breath, a healing, soothing warmth sweeping through him. And it was because of her. His decision was made. He was going to take her to the ball and make sure she had a night she would not forget. There’d be other nights as well, many others. He hoped to convince her to stay in his life. He wasn’t sure how, but eventually he would. He rested his head back. His body was battered, but he felt as if he could soar.

“Jasmine, I’ve never felt this way before.”

She patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. In a couple of days you’ll feel better.”

He smiled. “No, I mean....” How could he explain how he felt? What her simple act meant to him? How grateful he was that she was there for him when many others never had been? “Thanks.” It was an inadequate word, but all he could think of.

She smiled embarrassed by the admiration that shone in his eyes. “I can return the dress, right?”

“There’s no reason to return the dress. I’m taking you to the ball.”

Her smile fell. “No, you’re not.”

“If you won’t go with me, I’ll take someone else,” he said, hoping to spark her jealousy.

She didn’t fall for the bait. “Fine. Go ahead.”

He stared at her stunned. “What?”

“I am not taking a sick man to a stupid ball. I’ll be worried about you all evening.”

He held her face and gently rubbed his thumb against her cheek. “I’ve suffered worse.”

“When?”

When his father had beaten him in a drunken rage and bruised his ribs. Or when his father had whipped him so badly that he had to wear his coat all day at school so no one would see the blood through his shirt. “Other times,” he said vaguely.

“Then I’m sure the infant would love to go with you.” She lifted a brow. “Fortunately, she has a bedtime so you won’t have to stay out long.” She began to bite her nails. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” he asked softly.

“Never mind. We could rent videos.”

He frowned. “What for?”

“The night of the ball.”

“We’re going.”

“No, we’re not.”
 

He grabbed her hand, his voice urgent. “Please let me do this for you. Let me take you.”

She shook her head.

He squeezed her hand. “It will make me feel better.”

She hesitated then sighed resigned. “Okay.” She put her kit away. “The night of the ball you have to use the two magic words that will make a woman yours.”

“Which are?”

“You’re right.” She grabbed his arm. “Let me take you to bed.”

He perked up. “I like the sound of that.”

She led him to his room, pulled down the bedclothes, and then gently pushed him on the bed. He reached for her, but she ducked out of his grasp and began taking off his shoes.

“You don’t need to do this,” he protested. He wasn’t used to such attention and it made him uncomfortable.

“Lie down.”

“Look—”

“Lie down. You wouldn’t want me to lose my temper would you?”

He laid back and Jessie pulled the blankets up to his chin. He grinned. “Are you going to watch over me and make sure that I don’t die in my sleep?”

Her lips thinned. “That’s not funny.”

His hand escaped from the blankets, slid down her arm and tightened around her wrist. “Today wasn’t your fault. I was in a bad mood anyway.”

She turned away still feeling guilty. She spotted his chess game. “How long have you been playing?”

“Couple months.”

She examined the board for a moment then moved a piece. “Checkmate.”

He sat up too quickly and bit back a groan. “I didn’t even see that.”

She sat on the bed. “Try to go to sleep.”

“Are you going to sing me a song?”

“I can’t sing.”

“I thought all black women could sing.”
 

She rewarded him with a smile. “If you think you’re in pain now, just listen to me try to carry a tune.”

“Tell me a story then.”

“I don’t know any.”

“Fine. Then I’ll tell you one. There once was this guy who hadn’t had sex in—”

She covered his mouth. “Go to bed.”

“I’m not tired.” He wasn’t sure he would sleep tonight or even the night after that. “I want to stay up with my friend.”

Jessie shook her head. He sounded like a little boy and did a good imitation of looking like one with the covers all the way up to his chin, his brown eyes bright.
 

“Don’t bite your nails,” Kenneth ordered, grabbing her hand before it reached her mouth.

“Kenneth, we’re not going.”

“Not going where?”

“To the ball.”
 

He furrowed his brows. “But you said—”

“I know what I said, but that’s not the point.” Her gaze fell. “We’re not going because I accepted a bet from Deborah that I could charm you enough to get you to ask me to the ball. If I lost, I’d have to be her housekeeper for a year. If I won I’d get the Sapphire Pendant.” She traced a pattern on the bed. “Before I thought losing the pendant and working for Deborah would be the worst thing in the world…and it will be awful, but I’d rather…” She gripped the sheets and took a deep breath. “I’d rather have you as a friend.” She raised her gaze to meet his. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m glad you told me.”

She frowned. “You don’t sound surprised.”

“I’m not. I already knew.”

Her eyes widened. “You knew? Since when?”

He lifted a brow. “Does it matter?”

“No.” She bit her lip. “Did you ask me out of pity?”

He shook his head. “I asked you out of revenge.”

She laughed without humor. “So I guess I hadn’t won.” The fact hurt a bit, but she brushed it aside. “What was your plan? Were you going to get me all dressed up again and then decide not to go?”

He cupped her chin. He liked her best when she was like this: real, worried, vulnerable. Her eyes a place he could sink into. His voice deepened. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Because right now I’d like nothing more than to go to the ball and have you by my side.”

* * *

Brooke’s blood chilled as the man’s cool, threatening voice came through the phone line.
 

“The vote is coming up and I have yet to be persuaded.”

“I told you you’ll get your money.”

“I don’t want words. I want cash. You think you can play with me like the others?”

“Don’t get brave with me Uncle. Your gambling debts aren’t my problem. You should start thinking of this as a favor. Otherwise I just may think you’re not worth my time.”

His bravado faltered. “I could tell people what you’re up to.”

“Sure you can,” she said sweetly. “But who will they believe?” She hung up the phone and swore. Why hadn’t anyone answered the ad? It was a stupid wooden bracelet and the reward money would be worth its return. Brooke took a deep breath. She wouldn’t worry. She would have it back soon. She scowled at the phone. She hated old men who tried to be tough. Her uncle was only useful as a puppet, but she needed him. He was respected by the elder members and would be a great support once Stephanie was in power. It hadn’t been hard to find a weakness to use against him. Fortunately, everyone had one.

Brooke suddenly clapped her hands. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Kenneth’s image was a little too pristine. She knew he had a few skeletons in his closet. The question was what was the best way to use them against him?

Chapter 23

Jessie glanced at her watch. She was going to be late if she didn’t hurry. One of the most exciting nights of her life and she was ruining it. That morning Kayla came by to fix her hair and Ana had helped her with her make up. Unfortunately, hours later she’d ruined two stockings, misplaced her lipstick and a pair of earrings, and she’d broken the latch on her bra. But now she was ready. She stared at the attractive woman in the mirror, draped in a gorgeous turquoise dress. Tonight victory was hers. She grabbed her bag and shawl then ran down the stairs.

“Never run in a dress,” Kenneth said, adjusting his collar in the hall mirror. He wore a sharp conservative evening suit that reminded her of the stranger she sometimes met in his office.

“I don’t want to be late,” she explained, trying to fix her shawl.

He turned and his mouth fell open; he stood paralyzed.
 

She touched his sleeve concerned. “Is something wrong?”

“That’s not the dress you showed me at the boutique.”

No it wasn’t. It was a fitted velvet-lace dress with off the shoulder spaghetti straps and hand sewn sequins along the hem. She smiled. “I know.” She wiggled. “Surprise!”

“Go back upstairs.”

“Why?”

He folded his arms and waited.

She mumbled under her breath, but climbed the stairs. “Okay now what?”

“Come down, slowly. I want to enjoy this.”

She descended, feeling like a clumsy, awkward teenager going to her first dance. Kenneth’s look was so intense she felt her entire body grow hot. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“No, I’m admiring you.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I am charmed indeed.”

She felt tingles explode throughout her body. Hypnotized by his eyes she missed a step and crashed into him. Kenneth grimaced when her elbow made contact with one of his bruises.