You Called Me-ARE and Apple epub (16 page)

“You...”

Kenya stepped from the car, accepting the valets outstretched hand and gave him her car keys. Smiling at the polished man she tucked her black wool trench coat around her slinky dress as cool air danced over her chest before she could get her coat buttoned. It was time to party.

She wanted to celebrate her promotion in grand style regardless of the cold, night air whipping up under her dress. A night out with the girls was a treat now that she didn’t have to go to sleep when everyone else was getting home from work. A month had gone by, the promotion was hers and she finally took a minute to treat herself to some fun. Jonathan had taken her to breakfast the last morning she worked midnights, weeks ago.

They’d talked every day since returning from the trip and gone out a few times. Jonathan was a very busy man and that suited her fine. He wasn’t needy, wanting her to come by all the time. And tonight she would celebrate with the ladies and he was supposed to be taking care of some family business in Ireland.

They’d compromised and went for a Jazz club with a dance floor. Getting her mother, aunt and sister to come out was a chore. Eased once the sultry music hit their ears. Her mother started snapping her fingers down by her thigh. Kenya had no idea if she even knew she did it. She did the same thing at home when she was cooking. She’d sing, her father loved that about her mother the way she could enjoy herself no matter where she was or whose party it was her mother was not going to sit and have a lousy time.

Her aunt, pretty much the same way except more vocal yet her sister, straight laced, thought a dinner at their parent’s house would have been fine. Kenya wanted to dance and enjoy tonight. She started looking forward to hearing from Jonathan and didn’t want to lose track of her goals because he was sexy. That Irish Baroque got her every time he spoke. Like lying naked in the sun, the heat caressing the skin where light never found, coating, and licking when all he did was speak.

Her new boss invited her on a few rep lunches and she had to burn off this tension and get her head in the game for next week. Jonathan was in Ireland yet a comment of his stayed with her from camping.

His Kevlar comment conjured up images she wasn’t certain she wanted to be bothered with. He wouldn’t share his past. Didn’t care to talk about his job. Everything she asked was locked away in a vault.

“Kenya, the waiter—are you drinking?” her sister, Morgan, grilled, leaning across the table, mouth twisted.

“Er, ah white wine please,” she started. “And another glass of ice water,” she ordered.

Morgan tipped her face, under a scolding frown and said, “Kenya, that’s your glass in front of you. What's wrong, it's not good enough for Ms. Executive now?” This night belonged to her not Morgan to trash at will.

“Another glass of ice water please,” she repeated and raised a brow to her sister. “Considering I'm paying for everybody's at this table including yours, does it matter?”

“I knew you'd throw it in our faces when momma said you were paying.” Morgan pushed her glass away from her plate. “I can pay my way. Don't throw your money my way, little sister.”

What spider laid an egg in her ear? Morgan was especially nasty tonight. Kenya picked up her menu tolerating this mess for her mother's peace of mind. She took a deep breath, two hours max and the night would be over. She let her attention drift around the restaurant. Tables filled with people laughing, singing, eating under the sultry lights of the club. She watched a group get up and go into a separate room where they were dancing. That's what she needed to get up from the table and dance. She held her tongue and turned back to the table.

So glad she had Julia to buffer her from her sister. Morgan made her question whether they were family at times.

“Tell us about the ski trip? I can’t believe you went with a stranger, Kenya,” Morgan complained scrunching her nose.
Right on time, sis,
she thought. “I was shocked when Momma said what you were doing. You’re so gullible. Someday a man’s going to take advantage of you and you’ll wish you’d listened to me.”

“Nothing I do is ever right for you. Morgan, can you pretend to be happy for me? Don’t ruin my evening.” When would this ever end? Brushing her hair behind her ear, Kenya gave her attention to her aunt.

“Now that you made it back alive I want to know about Jonathan.” Her aunt poked at her. “I’m joking, baby, tell me about Mr. Sixteen dozen.” Her aunt sipped her water, snapping her fingers to the beat.

Kenya tapped her foot under the table wanting to get up and dance. “Mr. Blakemore donates his time once a month or so, to the court for kids. Helping, taking them camping, skiing, that sort of thing.” She gulped her water, not wanting too much of her and Jonathan’s relationship being tossed around like a soap opera, everyone waiting to see who turned up pregnant first. She liked things nice and slow just like they were going.

Kenya set her glass on the table and angled away as the waiter placed their drinks on the table.

“And where do you fall into this picture, honey? Finding yourself invited away for the weekend?” her mother asked distracted by the music.

“Four days,” Morgan corrected sternly. This had to stop. A lifetime of criticism was enough. What happened wasn't her fault and Kenya was fed up being held responsible for their deaths. Morgan kept ranting. “She went away with a man she just met for four days. That’s not smart, Kenya. Don’t you watch the news? Women get thrown into human trafficking doing stupid stuff like that all the time.”

Did her sister just call her stupid? Kenya gripped the fork beside her plate flipping it over and over focusing not to throw it across the table. This was a bad idea, inviting Morgan. “He's a gentleman and anymore is none of your business, Morgan.”

Julia cleared her throat the table turned to face her. “Excuse me for butting in, but this is supposed to be a celebration. Kenya's got a great career and a great man nothing else matters.”

“So you're happy with this man, honey?” her mother asked.

“I am.” She set her napkin on the table and pushed away from the table. “Will somebody order poached salmon for me please when the waiter returns?”

“Where’re you going?” Morgan groaned.

Smoothing down her dress, Kenya said snapping her fingers, “I didn't know they played R&B here and they're playing my jam too.” She held her hand out. “Looks like they’re dancing in the other room, anybody want to come with?” she asked, rocking her head with the rhythm. Kenya had to get away from Morgan.

Her friend took a look long drink of her water. The glass clunked on the table after she plopped it down and stood. “I didn't wiggle into this tight dress to sit behind the table all night,” Julia said, angling out of her seat. Hands in the air she swayed to the sultry music filling the club.

“I’ll come.” Her mother smiled. “See if you two can keep up.”

She knew that Mother, not the sour puss sitting at the table handing out question after question about her private life. Morgan could take her wet blanket attitude and leave for all Kenya cared tonight.

“Why isn’t your man here?” Wow, her sister just had to get one more jab in.

“If you weren't so selfish you'd know this is what women do from time to time. Support one another's milestones in life and just hang out together. Celebrate as women. Jokes on me, huh, sis?”

How could two such amazing parents produce such an ugly child? Her parents were her rock and her sister could put out a California forest fire under the rain cloud she wore like a coat.

The rhythmic beat flowed from the other room as they made their way across the floor. Kenya gave herself over to the music. Hips swaying she wiggled passed the crowded tables, not missing the men staring, but she deserved a night of abandoning her straight jacket of rules.

Going into the office an hour before everyone, verifying the staff in the mailroom showed, before checking on her own staff in data entry. Offering to get in the trenches and sort their mail whatever it took to get the work upstairs. How she lost twenty pounds in three months running up and down three flights of stairs in three-inch heels nightly. The nights she ran down to the ice-cold computer room when the system locked and rebooted the computers to save on calling in the maintenance crew, losing valuable time. Sending forty people to lunch an hour after they arrived just so they’re not milling around accruing idle time on the books. She faced the ugly comments and taunts for being the bitch of the day, but it kept them working, in jobs when other companies were laying off people left and right.

Yeah she had the battle scars and headaches to prove she deserved the hell out of this promotion.  

By the time she made it to the center of the floor, all reservations if any were gone. Julia and her mother made a circle on the floor.

Lights flashed as people danced. She fell right in and let her hips sway, silver shoes catching the light glittering around her feet. Inhaling she blew out the ache in her heart, she couldn't bring her parents back and Morgan's hate took a back seat tonight. Kenya knew her biological mother would have been as proud as her adoptive parents would. Now she could move forward and enjoy her life, her friends. Actually, have a life now that she was off the night shift. Hands in the air she let go, swinging her hips side to side, snapping her fingers, colorful lights flooded over her. Kenya began singing along with the song.

Her mother and Julia danced around her, bumping hips, singing off key. It was perfect.   

After turning down several offers to dance, she started to leave the floor and get something to drink when Julia touched her arm. “I think the man behind you is asking for a dance.”

Ready to shoot down some poor guy’s offer a familiar cologne made her knees soft. 

“I'm enjoying the hell out of your show, Pretty Lady. Think I can have a dance before your hips send me into cardiac arrest?” Jonathan stood arms out, dark eyes hungry, the skin creasing around the corner added a sensual heaviness above his serious mouth.

Smiling, she peered up, and the sultry voice that came from her mouth she barely recognized, “Hi, Jonathan.”

Fire licked up her neck from his mouth brushing a kiss over her ear. It tickled over her skin, his arms encircling her waist lifted her off the floor. Pressed along his solid hard torso, Kenya’s excitement over seeing a man she’s only known a short time shocked her. It had been weeks since she’d seen him last leaving her hungry for his touch, and she touched every place her hands could reach.

“Congratulations, Pretty Lady. I have your present in the car.”

“Jonathan,” she breathed in shallow gasps, squeezing him tighter. “I thought you were going out of town this weekend?”

The crush of people dancing couldn’t hold back her excitement, this made her night.

“My woman is celebrating her promotion. Where else should I be?”

She leaned back to see his face under the blinking lights. Red hair glittered under the soft sultry lighting pouring down over them and all she focused on were his words. “Your woman, huh?” Kenya said, blushing. “Publicly staking your claim, Blakemore?”

“I only care that you know whose woman you are,” he said and the serious tone ran over her body like a hand caressing and squeezing her breasts, stroking between her legs. Her breath quickened and she smoothed a hand over her neck remembering they were in a public place. “Did that surprise you, Kenya?”

Like an anvil falling from the sky. “No, I’m flattered you rearranged everything to be here for my night, thank you,” she said proudly and pulled his face toward hers placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “I want you to meet my mother,” she spoke against his mouth, smiling and happier than she'd been in years.

She took his hand and turned to introduce him to her mother and Julia who were no longer there.

“I'll introduce you later at the table. I never heard them leave.” She said peering around couples on the floor. He lost sight of the dining room.

“Gonna dance or let me stand here alone?”

Kenya regarded the man in her life, and what he’d brought to it since they’d met. He stirred emotions no one ever came close to unearthing. She threaded their fingers together then went willingly into his embrace. The lump in her throat and choking back tears she gave in and absorbed his warmth. Slow, legs caressing, breast pressed to his chest, she leaned her head back, looked into his face. Anticipation built him closing the space between their faces.

Heat from his hand spread out over her back, him teasing his tongue across the seam of her lips never invading her mouth. Moisture formed waiting to feel his lips press hers apart. Waiting for the sensation of his tongue, tasting, claiming hers, Jonathan surprised her. He held her locked to him, kept her under his control.

Warm vibrations danced over her lips him humming along with the sultry music. Gentle quivers moved over her face them swaying to the lyrics. The sexiest thing any man’s ever done to her, next to that kiss in the jazz club. She loved the hungry way Jonathan kissed her the few times he had since coming back from the ski trip, but this was not what she expected from such an aggressive man. So tender, patient, relaxed. Had being with her done this to him?