He's A Smooth One...
Victoria's week had gone by fast, and tonight she was buried in work. Several business books were scattered across the table where she sat in the Emory University Library. She was in the stacks, and on Friday nights it was quiet there, like having the entire building to herself. When she started to yawn she knew that it was time to leave. She'd been there for almost three hours. She was closing her book when she felt someone standing over the table. She looked up and had to catch her breath. It was him!
She'd been thinking about him ever since their chance encounter at The Cheesecake Factory two weeks ago, and then seeing him while sitting at the stoplight last week. His smile had appeared to her in more dreams than she could remember, his lips had kissed her a thousand times, and his arms had held her through nights of peaceful slumber. Now she had to blink hard to figure out if she had just fallen asleep and he'd slipped into her dream, or if she was awake and this was God's good grace in action. When he touched her shoulder she knew her prayers had been answered.
“Hi,” he smiled.
Victoria was frozen, not saying a word but still gazing up at him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his face showing concern.
“Oh, yes, I'm fine. I've just been reading for hours. It can bog down the brain,” she finally managed to say.
“It's good to see you again,” he smiled. The concern was gone and now all she could see was a set of perfect white teeth and glorious dimples.
“Thank you . . . it's good to see you too,” Victoria smiled back.
He was holding a large book under his arm along with several issues of
National Geographic
. “Do you mind if I have a seat?”
Victoria cleared away her books to make room for him at the small table. Surprisingly, she didn't feel nervous at all. That night in the restaurant, she could barely look at him, and last week she couldn't move when he'd sped past her down the street. But now she was at ease, watching him carefully. She studied him as he slid into the chair in front of her. She thought his neatly creased khakis and black lambswool sweater made him look like a Banana Republic model.
Mr. Gorgeous spotted the pair of crutches leaning against the side of the table. “Are those yours?”
“Um, yes, I had an accident last weekend.”
“Oh no, what happened?” He set his books aside, not taking his eyes off her.
“I went jogging with a friend and had a bad fall. I was pretty banged up, but I've healed remarkably well.”
“Sounds like you've had a tough time staying on your feet. As I recall, that's how we met,” he winked. “But you're on crutches, it must've been some fall.”
“Yeah. I had to go to the emergency room and get a few stitches, but I'm doing much better. I barely need the crutches anymore. I just have them for support more than anything.” Even though there was nothing funny about what she'd said, they were both smiling.
“Which hospital?” he asked.
“Piedmont. The nurses in the ER were wonderful, and my doctor was great too.”
“Oh, yeah, what was his name? I know a few folks over there in the ER.”
“Dr. Obikwelu,” Victoria answered.
“Obikwelu . . . Ah yes, Wole. I know him. He's a good man, a good doctor.”
“It's a small world,” Victoria said with curiosity. “How do you know people in the ER at Piedmont Hospital?”
“I'm a surgeon.”
“At Piedmont?” She was impressed, but tried not to show it.
“No. I'm at Emory Crawford Long.”
“What's your specialty?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
“I'm a cardiothoracic surgeon.”
That explains the long slender fingers,
she thought. The hands that she assumed belonged to an artist really belonged to a skilled surgeon. “You look too young to be a
cardiothoracic surgeon
,” Victoria smiled, saying her words with emphasis. “But I bet you hear that from your patients all the time.”
He nodded his head. “Yes, I hear that quite a bit. I'm sure you look too young for whatever it is that you do as well.”
He's a smooth one,
she smiled to herself
.
“I'm a senior director in HR at ViaTech.”
“So, what's a beautiful woman like you doing in a library like this . . . on a Friday night?” Mr. Gorgeous asked.
If anyone else had delivered that tired line, Victoria would've rolled her eyes. But coming out of his mouth it sounded like a sonnet. She thought about telling him that she was on her way to meet friends for a late dinner so she wouldn't look like she had nothing else to do on a Friday night. She'd been alone on the Friday night they'd first met, and now here she was, alone again. But that was the reality of her life, so she spoke the truth. “I'm doing research for a project. When I come here I can get a lot done. How about you?”
“Research for a project? What a coincidence, so am I,” he said, nodding toward his books. Mr. Gorgeous looked into Victoria's eyes. “I have to ask you a very important question . . . what's your name?”
She let out a small laugh, extending her hand. “I'm Victoria Small.”
He took her hand in his. “It's a pleasure, Victoria. I'm Parker Brightwood, and now that we've been properly introduced, would you like to join me for a cup of coffee? Please say yes.”
His eyes were so deep, she could see her reflection in them. Victoria remembered how he'd looked at her all night with those eyes. And then it came back to her. He had to steal glances because he'd been with another woman that night. Now, he was sitting across from her, eyeing her again, and asking her out for coffee. Even though she'd been fantasizing about him and wanting to see him, she didn't know if she could trust this man who'd visited her in her dreams. For all she knew, the same woman he'd been with when they first met could be waiting for him to come home at that very moment. Her attitude abruptly changed. “No, thank you. That probably wouldn't be a good idea. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Brightwood.” And with that, she started gathering her books.
He was a little shaken, but remained cool. “Please, call me Parker. And why isn't it a good idea?”
“I don't think your girlfriend would approve. I know I certainly wouldn't.”
“I don't have a girlfriend. What makes you think I do?”
“Oh, let's see . . . maybe it's the woman you were with at the restaurant the night we met.” Victoria knew she was being sarcastic, but she couldn't help it.
Parker had almost forgotten about Sheila and their double date two weeks ago. All he'd thought about from that evening was his encounter with the beautiful woman who'd been holding his mind captive. He smiled.
“What're you smiling about? Did I say something amusing?” Victoria asked, clearly annoyed at this point.
“I'm smiling because I like your directness. And by the way, I don't have a girlfriend.”
Victoria ignored him and was now gathering her books, preparing to leave.
“Victoria, please give me an opportunity to explain?” he asked.
He said her name with a familiarity that made her shudder. “Okay, you've got five minutes,” she said, stopping to look down at her watch. “Go.”
“You're a tough woman.”
Victoria glanced down at her watch again. “Four minutes, fifty-five seconds.”
“You're really something,” he smiled, with a brightness that could've put the sun to shame.
“Four minutes, fifty seconds.”
“Okay, I get the picture,” he paused, “the woman I was with wasn't my girlfriend. We were on a blind date. I went out with her as a favor to the couple we were with that evening. They arranged the date, which by the way was a complete disaster. You were the highlight of my evening.”
Now it made sense to her. She thought the two had made an odd couple, and she could certainly relate to being mismatched on a blind date! But she wasn't completely convinced, and he read it in her eyes.
“Listen, I'm going to lay my cards on the table. I've been thinking about you since we met, wondering who you are, what you do, where you live, and when I'd see you again.” He blushed, slightly embarrassed and startled by his honest admission. “Now that I've found you, I don't want to let you get away again. I don't have a girlfriend, fiancée, wife, or whatever else you're thinking.”
Victoria's eyes still showed apprehension.
Parker leaned in closer across the table. She could feel his heat. “Victoria, I wouldn't be pleading my case to you if I wanted to play games. I'm far beyond that. If I wanted to be with that woman or any other woman of my choosing, I'd be doing just that, not sitting here in the library begging to share conversation and a cup of coffee with you. I'm a decent brother who wants to get to know you. That's the truth.”
They both sat very still. The stacks were so quiet they could hear each other breathe. Victoria looked down at her books, then back up at him. “Are you buying?”
The Logistical Protocol...
Parker walked Victoria to her car. He was parked in a lot on the other side of campus, so he gave her directions and she headed to the Java Café, a coffee shop located in a trendy section of downtown. He watched her drive away, then headed in a fast sprint to his truck. He couldn't believe his luck. He smiled, thinking about how she'd gotten him to do something so uncharacteristicâbegging.
The night they met, she'd shaken his normally cool exterior. He thought men who ogled women were weak and uncouth. Parker Brightwood was smooth, if nothing else. A man of his background, distinction, and good looks didn't have to hound women. Women hounded him. He came from a long line of self-assured men. His father was a retired judge, his grandfather, a retired surgeon, and his great-grandfather had been a family practitioner who'd run a successful medical practice out of his home. The Brightwoods were an established family among Washington, DC's black elite, and everyone who was anyone in the DC Metro area knew the family name.
That night at the restaurant when she'd taken a seat at the table across from where he'd been sitting, Parker felt something happen. It was instant. He knew he shouldn't stare, but he couldn't help himself. She'd drawn him in.
When his date came back to the table he'd almost forgotten he was there with someone. A week earlier, his best friend, Phil, had approached him with a proposition. Phil's girlfriend, Gayle, who was forever the matchmaker, wanted to introduce him to her cousin.
“Man, I'm not interested,” Parker had said. “Right now the only thing I'm concentrating on is getting things in order for the Africa Project. This is a career opportunity of a lifetime, so I've got to stay focused.”
“You've got the Africa Project in the bag so don't worry. Besides, you don't have to marry the woman. Just meet her and have a little fun,” Phil urged.
During dinner Parker was frustrated. He didn't want to be rude or outright disrespectful to Sheila, but he couldn't take his eyes off the mysterious woman sitting across from him. He faded in and out of the group's conversation throughout dinner. At one point it became uncomfortably obvious that his interest lay at the other table.
Parker drove fifteen miles over the speed limit in his rush to reach the coffee shop. He pulled into the small parking lot adjacent to the building and scanned the cars. He didn't see Victoria's silver Audi. “
Damn!”
he said out loud. He rubbed his hand over his slick bald head, jumped out of his black BMW SUV, and looked around the parking lot one last timeâstill no silver car. He hoped that she hadn't ditched him.
The Java Café was a cozy, smartly decorated coffee shop with several small bistro tables, club chairs, and love seats sprinkled throughout the room. Neo Soul music floated over the soft buzz of patron chatter. Parker walked through the door and scanned the tables. Finally, he saw Victoria. She was sitting on a small love seat in the far corner of the room. She waved to him and he felt relief give him a pat on the back.
“You made it,” Parker said with a big smile as he sat down close beside her. “I was worried because I didn't see your car in the parking lot.”
“When I got here all the spaces were taken, so I parked around the corner. It wasn't hard to find. And you were right, it's not far from the building where I work.”
“This is one of the best coffee shops in the city. I come here almost every day because the owner's a good friend of mine, plus I only live a block away, so it's really convenient.”
That explained why she'd seen him driving in the area on her way back to work. He lived nearby. Victoria almost laughed when she thought about the irony; she'd wondered over and over where he lived, and it turned out that he'd been close by all the time.
Parker ordered a regular coffee, Victoria ordered a cappuccino, and they decided to split a slice of chocolate cream pie. They sat facing each other; sitting so close they looked more like long-time lovers than two people just finding each other. Parker held the dessert between them as they each took small nibbles with their forks. It was a subtle, yet very romantic scene; they laughed and talked with natural ease. At times, Victoria touched Parker's arm for emphasis in her statements, purposely letting her hand linger a bit too long. He smiled each time she made the gesture.
As she observed him, it became clear that Parker knew he was incredibly handsome, and possessed a certain power over women. But he wasn't arrogant about it, he just knew he looked damn good and that was that! She wanted to know everything about him. “Can I ask you a question?” Victoria said, tilting her head with curiosity.
“Sure, ask me anything you like.”
She was trying to think of a polite way to pose the question. “Do you shave your head by choice, or is it because, um . . . ”
Parker finished her thought, “Because I have male pattern baldness?”
When he laughed, she knew he wasn't offended. Parker rubbed his hand over his glistening scalp. “I'm bald partly by choice, partly by vanity, but not because of necessity.”
“Vanity?”
“Yes, I guess that's what I'd call it. Like all the men in my family, I have a full head of hair. But a couple of years ago I shaved it off, just to see how I would look, and I liked it. I got a lot of compliments so I've been shaving it ever since. Why do you ask? Do you prefer men with hair?”
“Oh, it's not that. I was just curious . . . I think
bald
looks very good on you,” Victoria said, wanting to touch his soft-looking scalp.
“Thank you. And by the way, I think your hair complements you perfectly.”
“Thank you,” she smiled. She was hoping he wouldn't make the
good hair
comment. To her comfort, he didn't.
They continued on in their conversation: asking questions, giving answers, and growing more and more in sync with each hour that passed.
“Sorry partner, but I gotta close up shop,” the owner said as he approached their table. “It's one o'clock and we closed an hour ago.”
Victoria and Parker looked around and realized they were the only two customers left in the coffee shop. “Sorry, man,” Parker said, standing to greet the owner. “Don, I'd like you to meet a very special lady. This is Victoria Small. Victoria, this is Don Watkins, the owner of this fine establishment.”
Don extended his hand. “I see why Parker doesn't want the evening to end. It's a pleasure,” he bowed and smiled.
Don had a warm presence, and his angular face and long dreadlocks reminded Victoria of Bob Marley. “Thank you. You have a very nice place. The coffee and dessert were excellent,” she complimented.
Don gave Victoria a humble nod. “I'm glad you enjoyed it. You'll have to come back.”
“We will,” Parker smiled.
Parker held Victoria's crutches under one arm while they walked slowly to where she was parked. They reached her car faster than either of them had wanted to. When they exchanged business cards, Victoria was pleased to see that Parker had written his full contact information on the back, including his home phone number and address.
Men don't usually give out this kind of information if there's someone else in the picture, too easy to get caught,
Victoria thought to herself. She shivered as the chilly night air made her teeth chatter. “This weather is really crazy, isn't it?”
“Yeah, I guess you need to get in from the cold.” Parker took a step closer, and Victoria's heart started doing laps around her chest.
“Um, yeah. I guess so,” she answered. They stood in the silence of the crisp air biting around their bodies. “Parker, I had a great time tonight. Thank you for inviting me for coffee.”
He smiled and took another step closer until there were only a few inches separating them. “When can I see you again?” he asked.
“Call me. We'll work something out.”
“Work something out? I like the sound of that.”
Now came the awkward part of the evening. Victoria didn't know if she should hug him, kiss him, or shake his hand. She was deliberating the logistical protocol of first date goodbyes, when Parker brought her hand to his lips and kissed it ever so gently.