by Nana Malone
“Mr. Rollins, unless you can remove these troublesome clauses, I don’t think we can work together. Which would be a shame, because I like a lot of what Emmerson is doing. But some products, on the other hand, simply don’t work, and I need the freedom to be able to say so.”
She gathered her purse, phone and tablet. He rose. “I appreciate you considering working with us. I’ll take it back to them.”
“Look, I’m not trying to be difficult. But it’s about my brand. If I’m pairing myself with a company, it has to be the right deal. Like a marriage.”
No. The last thing she needed to think about was weddings or wedding dates. Because that brought her right back to Bennett. Her body flushed and she forced a smile. “Give me a call when they’re ready.”
As she walked out of the office, the massive wall photo in the lobby caught her attention. There was something so familiar about what appeared to be a woman dancing in the center of the sun. Before she left she asked the receptionist, “Excuse me, do you know who took that photo?”
The receptionist smiled. “Oh, yeah, that’s from that hot photographer. He was in People’s sexiest issue. Not the cover or anything, but he got a mention. He took it. What was his name? Benji. Benny... Oh, yeah. Bennett Cooper.”
“Bennett Cooper?” Val’s eyes went wide.
“Yeah, that’s the one. Mr. Emmerson got it at auction. He was so excited. It went for nearly half a million or something.”
Val stared at the image. The guy she’d thought ran a motorcycle club was world-class. Just who was she pretending to date, anyway?
* * *
Val found her mother waiting at their usual table at Akasha. Her mother was nothing if not a creature of habit. They’d been having lunch at Akasha once a month since Val left for NYU. They’d always sat at the same table, and for the most part ordered the same things. Her mother would go on about how great her sister was, all the while telling Val how she’d just missed out on being great. Ah, the joys of routine.
“Hi, Mom.”
Her mother’s smile was brief. “Honey, are you still parting your hair to the side like that? I told you you have to vary your parts or it causes stress on the hairline.” She sighed. “Not that you’ll ever listen. Anyway. You’re late.”
“Actually, I’m five minutes early.” Val didn’t even glance at her watch, but she was never late for a lunch with her mother. She’d never hear the end of it. These lunches had become such a routine that Val knew exactly how to start the conversation to get her mother talking so she could mentally plan the rest of her day. “How are the wedding plans?”
And they were off. With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, her mother started in on the caterers and the alcohol and how it really was tacky to do a cash bar, but it was also alarming to have people sloshing around drunk at their perfect baby’s wedding. And then it went to the dress and the fittings and why Val had been MIA during the fitting.
Val didn’t bother to remind her mother that she wasn’t the maid of honor or even a bridesmaid. Not that she and her sister were feuding.
They just weren’t close, and had a distant relationship. Sol was seven years younger, so Val had been more mother figure than sister. And her sister had her friends and her own instincts. Besides, they were different. Where Val toed the line, followed the rules, Sol did not. She sneaked out, made out with boys, took their father’s car on a joyride. Went to concerts. And did the things that said, Hey, I’ve lived life. Val hadn’t really done any of that. She hadn’t spread her wings at all until she was in college and on her own. And even then she was restrained. She really did need to get a life.
When her mother veered to the topic of her date, Val desperately tried to recover the threads of the conversation so she could piece together what she’d missed. “Actually, Mom, I’ve been meaning to tell you, James and I broke up.”
Dear old Mom didn’t miss a beat, sighing and throwing her napkin down. “Honestly, Val, it’s like you’re trying to drive these men away from you with a flamethrower. Why did this one break up with you? It’s like we can’t get you a foothold with the man thing. It’s probably because you’re too aloof. Men like warmth in a woman. It’s not your nose thing, is it? I thought it was mostly under control.”
Val ground her teeth. “No. It wasn’t my nose thing.” From the moment she’d been hit, things had gotten increasingly difficult with her parents. So many places she couldn’t go. All the weird things she said about how food tasted funny. She really hadn’t helped her parents make any new friends. “And I broke up with him.” There. That was sort of the truth.
The look on her mother’s face was priceless. “But why in heavens would you do that? He is the James Adamson. He is old New Orleans—his great-great-grandfather was a freedman who became a doctor. In those times. Can you imagine his pedigree? He’s an Adamson. A young black man who’s carrying on the family tradition. He’s a dermatologist. Renowned. His earning potential is huge. Honestly, I don’t understand you sometimes.”
As her mother spoke, all the reasons why Val wanted a change in the first place bubbled to the surface. She wanted freedom of choice. She wanted to do something because she craved it and not because it was expected. She wanted to want someone because it lit her on fire.
Like Bennett. No. Not like Bennett. But whatever. She just didn’t want bland. Not anymore. She was in charge of her life and she could do what she liked. “Actually, Mom, I do have somebody. It’s new, but it’s serious.”
Her mother arched delicate brows. “Oh? Do tell. Who is his family? Where did they go to university? Do I know them? Did he do Jack and Jill?”
Shoot, that was information she didn’t have. Why hadn’t she prepped better? Because you were too busy reveling in the way Bennett tastes and not paying attention to the information you need to deliver. “Mom, you don’t know him. You might know his work, though. He’s a photographer.” Cue the nose wrinkle. Ooh, was that just her, or was there a snort, too? Awesome.
“A photographer? Sweetheart. You don’t seem to understand. Who you date, and eventually who you marry, matters. You’re a descendant of Garrett Morgan, an inventor and successful businessman. Think about that. You want to be with someone who is just a photographer?”
“Mom, why is it the first question you ask is about his lineage and not if I’m happy? Which I am, by the way.”
Her mother waved her hands to dismiss her. “This is still salvageable. If we just do some research, maybe his family is somebody and...”
Val only just managed to hide the shudder snaking up her spine. “No. Mom. No background checks. No checks to see if he’s got any Links members in his family. No check of the Jack and Jill database. None of that. He’s a photographer and pretty well-known. And he’s my neighbor. We’ve been dating a few months, but it’s getting pretty serious, so he’ll be coming to the wedding with me.” She held her breath. The Links and Jack and Jill were the black community status markers her mother used to see if dating prospects were to be taken seriously.
Her mother’s lips formed a small O, and Val wanted to laugh. Well, that certainly did the trick. She’d never said no to her mother before. Not in any meaningful way. Well, that wasn’t true. She’d picked her own career—though to be fair, the parental units still thought she was going to quit and pursue finance.
“Well, you certainly don’t have to raise your voice at me. I’m just looking out for you. Making sure you get the bes—”
“Valentine?” They both turned to see who had interrupted her mother, and Val’s heart sank. James. What the hell was he doing here? He was going to ruin everything. “James?”
He studied her closely. “I thought that was you. I had a meeting with a medical rep.”
She prayed he didn’t want to talk, but from the looks of it, that’s exactly what he wanted. “You remember my mother?”
&
nbsp; “Yes, of course. Mrs. Anderson, how are you?”
“Well, I was fine until I heard that the two of you parted ways. I’m terribly sorry. You know how Valentine can be. I certainly have high hopes that you two can patch things up.”
“Actually that’s why I came over, Valentine.”
“I told you, Val.” Her parents were one thing—they’d picked her ridiculous name. And somehow when Bennett said it, it didn’t sound contrived. But James needed to learn to call her Val.
“Fine, Val, I don’t like how we left things the other night. I’d like to speak to you. Maybe when you’re done with your mother.”
Her mother pushed her chair back. “Nonsense, dear, you two kids talk. I’ll make a call.”
“Mom, sit. James, we have nothing to say to each other.” Had he forgotten that he’d been the one fumbling through dumping her?
“Val, listen, I know that maybe we both lost a little focus, but if we—”
Focus? Was that what he called trying to break up with her? Losing focus? But now that she had Bennett, he wanted her. Correction, you do not have Bennett. Have, fake have, same difference. “No.” Wow, she was starting to like the word. “I’m with Bennett now. I’ve made that clear.”
“But with our families and our shared backgrounds, I make a better fit for you than some white boy with tattoos.”
And just like that the cat was out of the bag.
Chapter 7
Why was he nervous?
Bennett was never nervous. Hell, he spent most of his life doing crazy things like jumping out of a plane to get the right picture or talking himself into some forbidden place to get the perfect shot. But now, he was anxious.
All because Val was poking around his pics. She stopped at the one on his back wall and pointed to it. “This one. I saw it in the lobby of an office building yesterday. I knew I’d seen it before. I guess I didn’t realize I’d seen it here. When you open your door it’s visible from the hall.” She turned back to “Dancing in the Sun.”
“It’s one of my favorites. I took that one in Bali. There was a woman—a girl, really. She was young. She’d been standing in direct sunlight dancing in the middle of this temple. It was so beautiful I had to shoot it. I knew I would never get another shot like it.”
“You’ve been all over the world.”
“Oh, come on. You think I didn’t look you up? You’ve been all over the world, too,” Bennett said as he leaned against his island.
“Yes. But something tells me your trips were a little less sanitized than mine.” He barked a laugh, and she flushed. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just meant you’re an off-the-beaten-path kind of guy. I’m a five-star-hotels kind of girl.”
Bennett shook his head. “No, that fits. There are a lot of places that I didn’t want to lay my head down, but I still went, chasing that incredible shot. The magnificent sunrise.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Oh, so you’re chasing the green flash or something?”
She was witty. Smart. Inquisitive. It made him edgy. “Not exactly. But something like that. Ever since I could pick up a camera, I knew this was what I wanted to do.”
“Your work. It’s beautiful, Bennett. Really.”
A flush crept up his neck. “Thank you. This is everything I am.”
Val moved from piece to piece, studying. “So you know James?”
He frowned. “James?”
She sighed. “My ex with the sweater-vest?”
“Ah, yes. That jerk.”
“Yeah, well, when I was having lunch with my mom he showed up and broke our news.”
He shrugged. “Well, isn’t that the point?”
“Yes, but, I wanted you to slide in under the radar. But James leaked the information to Mom and she pretty much flipped out, so she’ll be coming at you hard. We need to tighten this up. She asked me a bunch of questions about you. Questions I couldn’t answer. I mean, I know your name. I know you’re a photographer. But hell, I didn’t even know you were a big deal.”
“Does it matter?” Again, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. This was what worried him. If she found out the truth, would that change how she looked at him? It shouldn’t matter. But for a reason he didn’t want to examine, he didn’t want her to find out who his parents were. He didn’t want that kind of complication. He swallowed hard as he watched her closely.
“No, it doesn’t matter to me. Hell, a week ago, I hated you.”
“Ouch. Hate is a very strong word, Valentine.”
“Yes, it’s a strong word. But you have to admit you were the worst neighbor.” She laughed.
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
She stood in front of him, all five feet three inches of her, and ticked off the reasons on her fingers. “Maybe?”
“Oh, come on who doesn’t like the Rolling Stones and Aerosmith?”
“They’re fine, but at those decibels? Come on.”
He shrugged. “Fine. What do you need to know?”
“Tell me something about your family. My mother will ask.”
He shifted uncomfortably. “What about them?”
“Parents. I assume you have them.”
What to tell her... “They died when I was a kid. My aunt raised me.” That was the truth.
“I’m sorry.” She looked down at her hands. “I didn’t know.”
“How could you?” In an attempt to deflect the too-personal question, he asked, “What about you?”
“Professors. Both of them.”
“Wow, okay. Must make you a brainiac. They’re probably really proud of you.”
She stopped in front of a photo of the night sky he’d captured in Alaska during the aurora. “No, actually. Once I had the accident, they weren’t too thrilled to have me around. I made things...difficult for them.”
Bennett frowned as he leaned against the wall. “What accident?”
She tapped her nose. “This didn’t happen until I was eight or so. There was an accident with a baseball. Had to have surgery. After, I was too aware of every smell. I was a mild synesthete before, but after, it’s like the sensations exploded all around me.” She shrugged. “It made things really hard for them.”
“That’s bullshit, they’re your parents. And that is amazing. But I don’t know much about it.”
“It’s rare, but my version of synesthesia is a heightened awareness of tastes and smells. So if I smell chocolate, I taste it as well. Anyway, my sister, Solstice. She was sick a lot as a baby. My parents doted on her and hovered over her as a baby. I thought if I could be perfect it would make up somehow for all those hospital trips. But instead, I was the family freak.”
Bennett shook his head. “You are not a freak, and you’re not responsible for your condition. And you’re not responsible for your sister.”
“Come on, Bennett. You want to tell me your parents being gone doesn’t motivate you to be the best that you can? You’re saying it doesn’t drive you?”
That hit far too close to home for his liking, and he took a deep breath. “How is she now? Your sister.”
Her smile was slight. “Great. It’s her wedding, actually. She got to have the kind of adolescence I wished I’d had. You know free, rebellious.”
“The adolescence you wished you’d had?”
She wrinkled her nose. “That sounds bad when I say it out loud, doesn’t it? I feel selfish for wishing that. Because she had it rough as a baby, my parents just let her do whatever she wanted. I’m not the rebellious type. Obviously. But I promised myself I was going to do new things. Try different activities.” She shrugged. “Hanging out with you seems to accomplish my goal.”
“So, you’re all in then?”
“I am.” She nodded. “I don’t think I knew that until I saw my mothe
r’s face. She’d rather I do the puppet thing. Say the right things, do the right things. Be with the right people.” She used air quotes for “right.”
“What do you want?”
“To be honest, I haven’t the foggiest. But I don’t want to do this anymore.” She threw up her hands. “I want to be different. And not just in word, but in what I do and the steps I take. I’m never going to get everything I want out of life if I don’t embrace it fully.”
Bennett grinned. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Adventure and new experiences are my middle names.”
Chapter 8
“So you’re telling me I don’t get to meet her properly.”
Bennett angled the camera to capture Trevor. “Hold still, I’m trying to get the shot.” Click. “And you’ve already met her.” Click. He climbed down the ladder, and Trevor turned to look at him. The latest Brazilian it girl shifted down Trevor’s body and gave him an impish smile. Click.
His best friend didn’t even miss a beat. Trevor gave her a look that was somewhere between smoldering and mischievous. Click.
“Come on. I want to see what she’s all about.”
“And I said, what’s the point? You know the situation.” He kept things vague, because he didn’t know if Adriana Voss had spies anywhere. And for the next couple of weeks he was in full fiancée mode.
“I just want to meet the girl my boy is about to say I do to.” Trevor grinned, looking every bit the GQ cover model he was. Click.
Bennett stood to his full height and called for a set change. Trevor helped the girl up, and he and Bennett escaped to the balcony so Trevor could smoke. “Okay, man, I don’t understand why not. Bring me in on the charade. It looks weird if your best friend is not friends with your fiancée.”
“Why does it matter? You want to hit on her?”
“She’s mad cute. If you’re serious and it’s just a quid-pro-quo thing, then what’s the problem?”
