Man of Fate

by Rochelle Alers

  She’d met Kyle exactly one week ago, and he’d been the consummate gentleman. He hadn’t made an off-color remark or attempted to touch her inappropriately. He was perfect in every way, which made her wonder why some woman hadn’t taken him off the market. Was he, she mused, commitment-shy? Or did he like being a bachelor so much that he hadn’t found the need to change his marital status? After all, he didn’t have to marry a woman to have sex with her, so he enjoyed the best of both worlds.

  “And I like you, too, Kyle.”

  He gave her a sexy smile. “Thank you. Are you ready to leave?”

  “I have one more thing to get, then we can leave.”

  “What is it?”

  Ava opened a cabinet and removed a decanter bottle filled with pale-green olive oil and a profusion of herbs. “I put together a house gift for the host.”

  Kyle shook his head in astonishment. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yes, I did, Kyle Chatham. I never go empty-handed to someone’s house the first time.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Please, Kyle,” Ava interrupted, “let’s not fight. I feel great and I want to enjoy spending time with you and your friends.”

  Smiling, he pulled her into his arms, lowered his head and kissed her with a passion that was as foreign to him as the emotions that he was beginning to feel for a woman who’d come out of the night and into his life.

  Deepening the kiss, Kyle waited for Ava to exhale to slide his tongue between her parted lips. Her taste and smell became a permanent tattoo on his tongue. It took Herculean strength for him not to pick up Ava and carry her upstairs to her bedroom.

  Reluctantly, he tore his mouth from hers, eyes wild with a passion he was helpless to control. “Let’s go before I do something I have no right to do.”

  Ava nodded numbly. She didn’t trust herself to speak, for if she did then it would be to beg Kyle to take her to bed. It was a good thing they were going out, because each time she saw him it became more and more difficult to hide her feelings for a man who made her want him, despite her vow that she would never again let herself get involved with another man.

  CHAPTER 8

  Kyle unlocked the passenger side of the Jag, waiting until Ava was seated before storing the cookies and the olive oil in the trunk. He rounded the car and slipped in beside her.

  They hadn’t exchanged a word since leaving the apartment, and he feared that he’d gone too far, moved much too quickly when he kissed her. Ava was very different from other women he’d known. Firstly, most them of were less than reticent about wanting to know more about him, or even about getting together. He’d lost track of the number of women who’d asked him out first. Kyle found that a complete turn-off, because he always wanted to do the pursuing. There was no fun in the chase if the prey refused to run.

  It had taken him a while to realize he was more conservative than most of his contemporaries. Even if women threw their panties at him he refused to bite. His rule was, if she was easy with him, then she would be easy with any other man. After all, she wouldn’t know if he was a serial rapist or, even worse, a serial killer, until it was too late. He was shocked that more parents didn’t warn their daughters about the wolves in sheep’s clothing.

  He started up the car, shifted into gear and pulled away from the curb in a smooth burst of speed. “Do you know when you’re going to get your car back?” Kyle asked when he’d stopped at a red light.

  “Your cousin called yesterday to tell me he’d ordered the bumper, and it would probably be in Tuesday or Wednesday.”

  “If you need a car before yours is ready, then you can borrow mine.”

  Ava stared at Kyle’s distinctive profile. “That won’t be necessary. I take the subway to and from work.”

  “Do you park on the street?”

  “No. I have space in a garage.” She parked her car in a garage that belonged to Mrs. Servinsky’s brother-in-law for a fraction of the exorbitant yearly fee. The college professors had become her guardian angels. She would live in their apartment for two years rent-free and the slashed-to-the-bone fee to garage her car permitted Ava to save a lot of money for when it came time for her to get her own apartment.

  “Why do you have a car if you don’t use it every day? Wouldn’t it be more economical to rent one when you need it?”

  “I could ask you the same question.’

  Kyle gave Ava a quick sidelong glance before returning his gaze to the road. “The difference is I don’t have to pay to garage my car.”

  “Where do you park it?”

  “My house has an attached carriage house I use as a garage. Speaking of cars, will I be able to leave my cookies in the trunk for an extended length of time?”

  “No. They should be refrigerated because of the cream cheese.”

  “If that’s the case, then we’ll stop by my place first.”

  * * *

  Ava knew she was gaping, but she couldn’t conceal her shock when Kyle escorted her into his kitchen. Black granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances provided the perfect backdrop for off-white cabinetry and black-and-white vinyl flooring.

  “Would you like a quick tour?” Kyle asked after he placed his cookies in the refrigerator.

  She glanced at the clock on the built-in microwave. It was almost one o’clock. “Do we have time?”

  Kyle nodded, smiling. “We have plenty of time. We’ll drop the food off at Ivan’s, and from there walk over to the office.” He held out his hand and he wasn’t disappointed when Ava placed her smaller hand in his.

  He’d gotten up earlier that morning to marinate meat and then drop it off at Ivan’s place. His friend was quick to inform him that several cases of beer and wine had been delivered just before he’d arrived. When the psychotherapist complained that he had enough beverages on hand for a fraternity party, Kyle had unceremoniously dismissed him with a wave of the hand and walked away. There were times when he found Ivan as anal as some of his clients.

  “We’ll start upstairs, then work our way down. I thought about putting in an elevator, but changed my mind because walking stairs is a good form of exercise.”

  “How many rooms do you have?”

  “There are six bedrooms and six bathrooms, and that includes a downstairs one-bedroom duplex.”

  Ava slowed as she climbed the staircase. Riding elevators had spoiled her. “Do you live here alone?”

  Kyle also slowed his pace. “Yes. I thought about renting out the duplex, but changed my mind. I like my privacy.”

  Ava met his eyes. “But there’s enough space here that you wouldn’t have to run into the other tenant if they’re occupying the lower floor. If I’d grown up in a place like this and if family dynamics had been different I don’t think I would’ve ever left home.”

  Kyle stopped on the second-floor landing, cradling Ava to his chest. “If you hadn’t left, then I would’ve never met you.”

  Tilting her chin, she stared up at him. “Would that have been so profound?”

  He gave her a tender smile. “It would’ve been very profound.”

  “Are you saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear?”

  Kyle sobered as a scowl clouded his handsome features. “You think I said that to placate you, to stroke your ego?”

  “I don’t know what to think, Kyle. I haven’t had a good track record with men.”

  “Maybe it’s because you’ve been dealing with losers?”

  “They were beyond losers. They were more like socio-and psychopaths. And you’d think I would’ve recognized all the signs early on, but I suppose at that time in my life I didn’t want to be alone. It’s amazing, but there are as many reasons why women don’t leave men as there are why they never should’ve hooked up in the first place.

  “I’ve counseled women who dumb themselves down because they don’t want their men to feel insecure. Then there are the ones who are so grateful to have a husband that they overlook all of his wrongs.
I have a client who has chosen to ignore her husband’s mental abuse because he married her when she found herself pregnant. She doesn’t love her husband, yet talks about being grateful that he saved her.”

  “Not all men are you like your father.”

  Ava forced a smile. “I know that.”

  “And not all men are like your ex-boyfriends.”

  “I realize that now. You’re nothing like Will.”

  “Was he your ex?”

  There was only the sound of measured breathing as Ava and Kyle stared at each other. “Yes. He was a Jekyll and Hyde. I waited until he left for work to move out, and eventually I had to get a restraining order keep him away from my job.”

  “How long has it been since you last saw him?”

  “Almost two years.”

  “Let me know if he ever bothers you again. I know people who could put him away for a very long time.”

  “He wouldn’t have to go very far to be locked up.”

  The seconds ticked off before Kyle’s expression mirrored realization. “He’s in corrections?”

  “Bingo!”

  “Talk about flipping the script. He probably wouldn’t last a week in the general population.”

  Curving her arms under Kyle’s shoulders, Ava went on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “Then we won’t.”

  Kyle escorted her up the curving staircase, and she admired the massive banister and newel posts made of Honduran mahogany. On the third floor there were three bedrooms with working fireplaces and two full bathrooms. The two smaller bedrooms had areas with tables that doubled as desks.

  “Whenever I have guests they stay up here,” he explained, retracing their steps.

  Ava walked in and out of rooms with furnishings carefully chosen for the utmost comfort and relaxation. The suede-leather-and-iron headboards and footboards, oversized club chairs with matching ottomans and silk drapes at tall casement windows beckoned one to linger to enjoy the elegant solitude.

  “Where’s your bedroom?” Ava asked.

  Kyle tightened his hold on her fingers. “It’s on the second floor. It has a balcony overlooking the backyard and an additional bedroom I use as a den.”

  Ava learned a lot about the man with whom she’d found herself drawn to when she walked into his bedroom. A California-king, Asian-inspired bed with a massive pale-gray suede headboard was the space’s focal point. Soft eggshell-white walls, recessed lights, gleaming wood floors and a marble fireplace gave the room a spare look. The den contained a large wall-mounted television, a dark gray leather chaise and loveseat and floor-to-ceiling bookcases packed with books, CDs and DVDs. A home theater system rested on a table below the television. Walk-in closets took up another wall in the master bedroom.

  She walked to the French doors that led to the balcony. “How often do you get to sit out on your deck?”

  Kyle came up behind her, wrapping both arms around her middle. “Not often enough. But I plan to change that.”

  Peering up over her shoulder, Ava smiled. “How?”

  “I want you to come for a sleepover. You can pick any of the upstairs bedrooms. And when you get up we’ll have breakfast on the deck.”

  “You have it all figured out, don’t you?”

  “Again, it’s wishful thinking.”

  Turning in his embrace, she flashed a pout. “Try not to use up all of your wishes too soon.”

  “How much time and how many wishes are you going to grant me?”

  “Three months, ten wishes.”

  Kyle frowned. “Why are you so stingy with the wishes?”

  “I could’ve said ten wishes in ten days.”

  “That would leave me only eight wishes for the next three days.”

  “The choice is yours, counselor.”

  Kyle knew when he’d been bested although he considered himself a winner because Ava had agreed to go out with him for the next three months. “I accept.”

  Ava patted his chest. “I thought you would.”

  Bending slightly, he scooped Ava up in his arms and carried her down the staircase to the first floor. “You can see the rest of the house when you stay over. We better take the cookies over to Ivan’s before the filling spoils.”

  Kyle was fortunate to find parking only doors from Ivan’s brownstone. It was a summer weekend and many city residents were either on vacation or had abandoned the city for eastern Long Island or the New Jersey shore. He carried the container with the baked goods, while Ava cradled the bag with the flavored oil.

  “I love Harlem,” she said reverently, staring at the brownstones, most of which had been restored to their original magnificence.

  “So do I,” Kyle concurred. “I wouldn’t think of living anywhere else.”

  Ava knew why Kyle had chosen to live in Harlem rather than in other trendy neighborhoods populated by young professionals. As a Columbia student she’d discovered the historic neighborhood was much more than tenements. It had brownstones, townhouses and mansions, condominiums and co-ops—one of which she hoped she would one day call her own.

  She followed Kyle through the open wrought-iron gate and down three steps to the street-level entrance. He rang the bell and within seconds the door opened. Ava found herself mesmerized by a man with a sensually brooding expression reminiscent of a taciturn actor in a Jane Austen film. Like Kyle, he was also dressed casually. A brightly colored, short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt and jeans did little to conceal his rock-hard muscular body. His dark brown gaze shifted from Kyle to her. A slow smile spread across his face and Ava hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she felt the band of constriction across her chest.

  Ivan’s smile grew wider as he stepped back. “I’m forgetting my manners. Please come in.”

  Kyle handed his friend the plastic container, then wrapped an arm around Ava’s shoulders. “That needs to be refrigerated. But first let me introduce you to Ava Warrick. Ava, this is Ivan Campbell—friend and unofficial brother.”

  Ava offered her hand. “It’s nice meeting you, Ivan.” She handed him the shopping bag with the flavored oil. “What’s in the container is for your guests. This is for you.”

  Ivan took the shopping bag. “Thank you, Ava. What’s in the container?”

  “Red velvet—”

  “No, you didn’t say red velvet? Did Kyle tell you that my favorite cake is red velvet? I have Cake Man Raven on speed dial.”

  “Who is Cake Man Raven?” she asked.

  Ivan and Kyle shared a look. “Why doesn’t she know about Cake Man Raven?” The doorbell rang, preempting whatever Kyle was going to say. “Please get the door, Kyle, while I put this away. Ava, you can come with me.”

  She followed her host through an entryway and into a room that doubled as a parlor. They passed several rooms until she stood in the middle of a large kitchen with a long table filled with trays of food covered with colorful plastic wrap. The sound of music came in through a screened-in door that led to the backyard.

  “How long have you known Kyle?”

  Ava met Ivan’s gaze as he opened the refrigerator. “Not very long.”

  “He’s a good guy, Ava.”

  A slight frown formed between her eyes. “Why are you telling me what I already know?”

  “I just want you to know what you have.”

  “Do you think I don’t deserve to have a good guy?”

  “No, Ava, please don’t misconstrue what I’m saying.”

  “I’m not misconstruing anything, Ivan.”

  The two engaged in what could only become a stare-down stalemate. Ivan put the container in the refrigerator, closed the door and then turned to face Ava. “I’m sorry.”

  She smiled. “And I’m sorry I came off so defensive.”

  “Hey, doc, can you come out here?” shouted a man from the backyard.

  “That sounds like my pain-in-the-butt brother-in-law. Come on out back with me and I’ll introduce you to my family.
”

  Ava stepped out of the kitchen and into an expansive backyard enclosed by a six-foot fence that provided absolute privacy from neighbors. A large white tent shielded those lounging on chairs and chaises from the harmful rays of the intense summer sun. A disc jockey, who’d set up his computer and speakers in a corner, was taking requests.

  She exchanged polite greetings with the dozen or so men and women already gathered under the tent. Almost all of them were sipping from large cups that were either red, white or blue.

  * * *

  Kyle emerged from the house with Duncan and his aunt, his gaze sweeping over the small crowd for Ava. He found her with Ivan, who’d handed her a beverage. His gaze lingered on her slender ankles and narrow feet in a pair of black ballet-type shoes. The hem of the skirt on the colorful empire-waist dress ended mid-thigh. Each time she took a breath a soft swell of breasts rose and fell above the V-neckline.

  A smile crinkled the skin around his eyes. Ava appeared relaxed, comfortable as she laughed at something Ivan had whispered in her ear. Yes, he thought, she was definitely a keeper. Ivan’s mother’s sister, his brother-in-law and his pubescent niece had arrived early, along with Ivan’s personal secretary and her three children. Knowing he didn’t have to keep Ava entertained, Kyle walked over to the outdoor stove to fire up the gas grill.

  “Who’s the beauty with Ivan?”

  Kyle shifted to see Duncan staring at Ava. “She’s my date.”

  Duncan’s head came around, his expression registering complete shock. “Your date?”

  “Yes, DG. She’s my date.”

  “When did all of this happen?”

  “I said she’s my date, not my fiancée.”

  Duncan’s clear gold-brown eyes widened. “Are you saying she’s available?”

  “Hell no, she’s not available.”

  “Just checking,” Duncan drawled, patting Kyle’s back. “I’m going to get something to drink. Can I get you something?”