Wayward Dreams (20 page)

“Ready?”

He nodded, glad it hadn't taken quite as much time from their day as he'd first feared. The Roppongi project was proving more problematic than it should have been. Snatch-and-grab theft was hard to deal with because there was no art or rhythm to it, just brute force; take what you want and damn the consequences.

And it was snatch-and-grab theft that forced NeoTech to rework all of the security plans for Roppongi. And it was in the reworking of the plans that Harry found his fun. Weight-sensitive floor plates, computer-generated anticipation codes, and electronic gadgetry that not even James Bond could foresee were part of his upgrades, and doing it all within the project budget made it more interesting. Wondering why in the world was there even a need to protect against people who were willing to work harder at stealing than they would have had to at a real job, he pushed away from the desk.

Still captured by the serene beauty of the wall of water, Bianca's voice struck him as wistful. “I think I should drive.”

“Forget it.” He strolled close enough to loop an arm around her waist and lead her from the office. “Today is my day to learn about you, so I'm driving and you'll sit back and give directions. Tomorrow is your turn.” He raised a hand to Deb in farewell, and, looking back over her shoulder, Bianca had to fight to keep her smile from going straight to smug. She was still smiling when Harry stopped at the side of a sleek, low-slung car.

“Ooh, pretty.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, opening the door of the Ferrari F430 for her. “I think so, too.”

“Are we stealing it?”

Keeping his face straight, he looked at her. “I thought we agreed; we are not jail material.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” Sliding in, smoothing her hand over the leather, Bianca nearly purred with appreciation. When Harry slid in beside her, the smile was almost sexual. “I don't know where you got this, but can we keep it? I would grant you any number of favors if you let me drive it.”

“It's a short-term lease, and somehow, I knew you would say that.” Harry grinned, sliding his sunglasses on.

“That's because you know this car is made for sin.” Bianca passed a hand over the leather again. “I could arrange for some of those favors to include this car…”

“I'm going to give that a lot of thought.” He gunned the engine and could have sworn he heard a little orgasmic outburst from her. The F430 wasn't meant for city streets, no matter how many heads it turned, so he made the turn off of Peachtree Street and headed for the highway.

Loving the smooth ride, Bianca tilted her sunglasses and glanced over at Harry. He drove well, confident and in full charge of the machine at his command; he was relaxed with Atlanta's errant traffic. She slid lower in the seat and smiled into the sun.
Hot man, beautiful car, and a holiday weekend to enjoy them. Does it get any better than this?

“Mp3, on,” Harry murmured and Ne-yo's voice filled the car. Bianca turned her face to him and smiled lazily, a look he was fast coming to claim and love as his own. Her fingers slipped over his, squeezed lightly.
No
, he thought,
there's no way it gets any better than this.

All too soon, Bianca pointed and gave directions to the Winston sisters' small East Point building. A converted warehouse, the red brick building shimmered in the heat when they pulled into the graveled lot.

“I still can't believe you were willing to spend time with me, like this. Most men would have fallen out like a two-year old the minute I mentioned it.”

“So that means I have to remind you again?” Harry helped her out of the car and slammed the door behind her. “I'm not…”

“…most men,” she finished for him, slipping her hand into his. “I'm beginning to see that, Harry.”

His smile went crooked and he kicked at the gravel. “This kind of thing kind of goes with the territory, doesn't it? Now that we're together.” He kicked at the gravel again and hoped she wouldn't ask him to explain the mechanics of their relationship, that he felt too old to be a boyfriend. But he couldn't think of a better term for what they were becoming, so ‘together' had to do.

“Is that what you think I am? Territory?”

The fluttering arrival of the Winston sisters saved him from answering, from over-thinking who and what he was to Bianca. Like exotic butterflies or birds escaped from some extraordinary sanctuary, the Winston's lyrical voices preceded them as they seemed to fly from the building and across the small parking lot. Tall, dreadlocked women, they both wore airy caftans and sandals, and didn't seem to mind checking Harry out at all.

“You didn't tell us you were bringing company, Miss Bianca.” Gaia smiled, bringing more color to her cocoa-colored cheeks.

Bianca's fingers closed on Harry's arm. “This is Harry Jordan, my…friend. Harry, this is Amaya and Gaia Winston.”

Amaya clearly thought her younger sister had the right idea as she circled Harry and Bianca. Behind Harry's back, she caught Bianca's eyes and shot her thumbs into the air. Eyes low, she moved to the side and smiled broadly. “Come on in. Let us show you what we've done so far.”

“You're going to love it.” Gaia's feet were light as she led the way into their building.

Unsure of what he'd been expecting, Harry passed from the heat of a southern summer's day into the cool dream of an African rain forest. The main work floor and the secondary loft showroom would never pass for any of the places he'd seen in Chad or Niger. But, the tree-senecios, flowering lobelia, rubber trees, and nearly ceiling high palms were amazing, and he wondered how the sisters managed to cultivate them—even with the skylights.

“These trees are all native to Africa, aren't they? All from the rain forests—you must have to haul hoses in here to water your trees,” he mused, wandering closer to the plant-dominated space. Kneeling, his fingers dipped into the moist soil, sifting through it.

“We have brothers,” Amaya said and laughed. “They say that taking care of the trees is man's work, and we don't argue.”

“They even built the humidity-controlled vaults where we keep our fabric and patterns,” Gaia added. Bianca was not even an afterthought as her intelligent eyes collected Harry. “How do you know so much about plants?”

He stood and dusted his hands on his jeans before Gaia offered him a cloth. “Just travel.”

“You've been to the rainforests, then?” Gaia propped her happy self on a stool and leaned forward eagerly. “In Africa?”

Harry nodded and she blushed like he'd just offered to fulfill her wildest dreams. Her lips parted, but her sister's intervention halted her words.

“Lemonade?” Amaya offered a beaten brass tray topped with a cold crystal pitcher of mint-laced lemonade and tall glasses. Gaia's death wish for her sister was apparent in her glare, and Bianca found herself oddly grateful.

Finishing their drinks, Amaya stood and directed her attention to Bianca and the business they had. “Want to see the progress on the Neiman's order now?”

“Sure.”

Harry kept his curiosity to himself as they followed the Winstons into their humidity-controlled workroom. When Amaya pulled a rolling rack from the wall and turned back the zippered cover, he wasn't sure what he was looking at. Bianca seemed to like it, and impressed by her knowledge and passion, he held his thoughts to himself.

Bianca pulled blouse after blouse from the rack, turning seams and plucking at the occasional stray thread attached to a button. When she felt Harry's gaze, she turned to find him leaning against the doorframe watching her. Arms and ankles crossed, he looked out of place but totally at ease.

Taking a few steps back to him, she took hold of his arm and urged him closer to the rack. “You wanted to know what I do.” She held the blouse out to him, then pulled it back to her body. “This is it. These are my designs.”

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

“You'd better mean me.” Bianca returned the blouse to the rack and pulled a man's shirt free. “Maybe you'll like this better.”

Patterned along the lines of the traditional Mexican guayabera, the shirt was lightweight and felt good in his hands. When he stood simply holding it, Bianca took it back and lifted it to his chest. She tipped her head and moved a capable hand over one of the pockets. “I think this pocket should lay flatter.” She pulled at a line of basting, then lifted the pocket away and studied the shirt again. “I think here, instead. Harry, do you mind?”

He looked down at her, confused. “Why should I mind?”

“Thanks.” Bianca handed the shirt to one of the Winston sisters and reached for the hem of Harry's polo shirt. He almost had time to realize what she was doing, and it registered at about the same time she ripped the shirt over his head.

Taking the other shirt from Amaya's hands, Bianca passed it to Harry and tried to ignore Gaia's sigh as he pulled it on. Quickly threading a needle, she knew she would happily stick it into Gaia's happy butt if she didn't stop all that sighing.

When her sister nudged her and gave her a telling glance, Gaia folded her hands in front of her body and dropped her eyes discreetly to the floor. Saying nothing, pretending it didn't matter, Bianca quickly moved the pocket and basted it in place. Finished, she stepped back to look at it. “What do you think?”

Opening his arms, Harry looked down. He passed his hand over the pocket and the sisters nodded. “This is like engineering. Where did you learn to do this?”

Suddenly modest, Bianca shrugged. “I was a kid, middle school maybe, and money was short around our house. Julia and I, we wanted the same cute stuff everybody else was wearing. Julia figured out how to put our babysitting money to good use with sales on remainder fabrics, and I learned to sew. The rest is history.”

Harry passed his hands over the shirt again. “Do I get to keep this one? Like a souvenir?”

Bianca shrugged, blushed, and nodded. She probably would have drug a toe across the floor and muttered, ‘aw, shucks,' if Amaya had not cleared her throat.

“We need to do a quick accounting and stock review.”

“Yes, of course.” Bianca snapped into her business persona. “I'll be right back, Harry.”

Gaia opened her mouth, then snapped it shut when both Bianca and Amaya raised their eyebrows in her direction. She gave Harry a quick smile, then turned to follow her sister and Bianca into their small office. Amaya closed the door behind her, and turned on Bianca.

“He, your friend, is gorgeous! Girl, when you ripped that shirt off of him, I thought I was going to…Ooh, Lawd…” Her brown eyes closed then opened to flutter to the ceiling before pinpointing Bianca. “Where did you find him?”

Eyes sharp, Gaia circled the other two women. “How close are you two?”

Bianca resolved never to pull another shirt off of Harry in public, and took a step back from the sisters. “We live in the same building, and I work for his brother. What about the accounting and stock review?”

“That was just an excuse to get you in here.” Amaya fanned a hand. “You've got enough of everything and we're on schedule. Now, about that man out there…”

“He's just a man.”

Gaia bore down on her. “If you don't want him, can I have him?”

Surprise turned Bianca into the face of the question. “Who said I didn't want him? And no, you can't.”

“What did you do right to be blessed with a man who looks like that and looks at you like that?”

Bianca pursed her lips and propped her hands on her hips. “Would you believe me if I said I believe in prayer and he was my answer?”

Gaia hummed and circled again. “You did say he has a brother, right?”

Bianca thought of Akemi Jordan's GQ style meeting with this Afrocentric free spirit. “I don't think he's your type.”

“What do you mean, not
my
type? Is he a man?” Gaia's neck snaked and her lips pushed together when she jammed her hands into the curves of her hips and blinked. “Is he anything like that one in there? Huh, I'm a flexible woman.”

“That might be part of the problem.” Bianca laughed, imagining Gaia turning Akemi to suit her passions—wrong on so many levels.

Gaia crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “You're mean.”

“You're just jealous. Hell, I'm jealous.” Amaya opened her arms and, folding Bianca into her embrace, she rubbed tight, warm circles on her back. “Girl, I say go for it. You have a way of always finding a man, but this time you might have found the right one. He's special.”

“He's gorgeous,” Gaia pouted, sucking at her teeth.

“And I'm keeping him,” Bianca promised, separating herself from Amaya with a final pat.

“Somebody ought to.” Amaya opened the office door. “A man like that shouldn't be out in the world, just roaming around on his own.”

Minutes later, watching Harry pull the F430 out of the lot, Gaia folded her arms and leaned against her sister. “I sure hope God made a lot of 'em like that.”

Her sister shrugged her off. “Honey, please. You know better, but if I can't have the one He made, I'm glad she got him. They look right and natural together—a good fit.”

Gaia leaned again and sighed. “I coulda fit…”

Harry cued the music and the opening strains of “Baby Come to Me” filled the car and Bianca's heart.
He remembered.
Her pulse bumped and she couldn't stop the smile when she slipped her fingers beneath his. He sang softly and she hummed along.
This is what it's supposed to be like when you're ‘with' someone.
She stole a sidelong glance at him: confident, relaxed, and stunningly masculine.

Sitting here with him felt like the definition of ‘together', and it was exactly where she wanted to be. Leaning back into the seat, she turned her face to Harry. The afternoon was still early and the sun pouring through the tinted windows was kind to his caramel skin. Lulled by the sound of his voice balanced against the music, she felt connected to him.