“Which one? Tiger, lion or leopard?”
“None,” she said as Geoff led her back to Ivan. “One of these days I’m going to invite you over for dinner. I can tell by your face that you haven’t been eating.” It was thinner than she’d seen it in years.
Geoff stopped in midstride. His smile was dazzling. “You are going to let me come to your apartment?”
“Yes. I’ve finally finished decorating it.” She’d decided to invite Geoff because Ivan had earned the distinction of being the first non-family male to enter her sanctuary.
“Can I tell you what I want you to prepare?”
Nayo placed her fingertips over his mouth. “Don’t tell me now.”
Geoff caught her wrist, pulling her hand away. Lowering his head, he kissed her moist lips. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He escorted Nayo over to Ivan. “Thanks for letting me borrow your girlfriend.”
Nothing on Ivan moved, not even his eyes, as he continued to glare at the tall, thin man who looked as if he would fall over in a strong wind. First the guy had had the nerve to interrupt his conversation with Nayo. Then he’d professed that their favorite song was one of unrequited love. And lastly he’d had the audacity to kiss Nayo, knowing he watched.
“Where’s my drink, Ivan?”
He glared at Nayo. “I drank it.”
“Where’s yours?”
“I drank it.”
Her round eyes grew wider. “You had two drinks in what…three or four minutes?”
“I had to do something to keep my hands occupied. Otherwise I would’ve pimp-slapped your skinny-ass friend.”
Nayo blinked, not wanting to believe what she’d just heard. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding, Nayo?”
She rested a hand on his arm. “Come on, Ivan. There’s no need for you to be jealous of Geoff and me. We’ve been friends for more than ten years.”
“He wants more than friendship.”
“I know that,” she admitted.
“You know that, yet you lead the poor boy on?”
“I’m not leading him on, Ivan. We always hug and kiss.”
“Would you like it if I took you out, then did a slow grind and gave a hug and kiss to a woman in front of you?”
“We weren’t slow-grinding—”
“Enough, Nayo. Please.”
Suddenly it dawned on Nayo. “You’re jealous,” she whispered.
Ivan flashed a supercilious smile. “Give that pretty lady a cigar, because she just hit the bull’s-eye.” He leaned in closer. “I am very, very jealous, Nayo.”
“I know how that feels.”
Reaching for her, Ivan pulled Nayo into the circle of his embrace. “The song that’s playing is a favorite of mine. Will you dance with me?”
Nayo cocked her head, listening to the song coming through speakers set up around the loft. It was Brownstone singing “I Can’t Tell You Why.”
“Of course.”
She followed Ivan to the dance floor and curved her arms under his shoulders. The difference of being held by him and Geoff was like night and day. She gloried in the solid muscle melding with her curves. He wanted to make love to her and she wanted to make love to him.
Ivan’s hands moved down Nayo’s back to her hips, pulling her even closer. He knew he was playing with fire, but he didn’t care. The heat in his groin grew hotter and hotter until it became an inferno. He was on fire.
Nayo felt the pulsing hardness against her thigh and she missed a step. She would’ve fallen if Ivan hadn’t held her up. “Ivan!”
“I know,” he whispered in her ear. “It will go down.”
“When?”
He chuckled. “When I get you home. I’m going to turn you around and I want you to walk in front of me until we’re downstairs.”
She pressed her mouth to his ear. “I should feel you up right here.”
“You better not, because then I won’t be the only one embarrassed tonight.”
“What would you do?”
Ivan whispered in Nayo’s ear what he would do to her, eliciting the response he wanted when she gasped, “Let’s go home, baby.”
They managed to make it to the coat check, where an attendant gave Nayo her coat without anyone noticing Ivan’s state of arousal. They were steps from the door when Geoff appeared in front of them like an apparition.
“Don’t tell me you’re leaving?”
Ivan shot Geoff a warning look. “Walk away, Magnus.”
Geoff took a step backward. “Later, Nayo.”
She nodded, rushing out of the loft in order to defuse what could’ve become a violent altercation. Nayo punched the button for the elevator harder than necessary.
“I don’t appreciate you threatening my friend, Ivan.”
“I didn’t threaten him, doll face. I just told him to get out of my face.”
“You were rude.”
“What did you want me to say? Please go away and leave us alone because right now I have a hard-on I don’t want you to see?”
Reaching around her body, Nayo grabbed his crotch. “Good grief! It hasn’t gone down.”
Ivan laughed, the sound coming from deep within his broad chest. “I told you it’s not going down until I get you home.”
The elevator arrived, and Nayo shifted to let two costumed men exit the car. She recognized one under his Joker makeup as someone who’d been in her graduating class at the School of Visual Arts. She averted her head so he wouldn’t recognize her. Fortunately they made it down to the street level without encountering anyone else.
Ivan searched in his jacket pocket for his cell phone. He punched in speed dial. “Robert, please pick us up in front of the building. Yes, we’re downstairs.”
Within minutes the sleek black Town Car maneuvered up to the curb. Ivan had opened the rear door before the chauffeur exited the car. Nayo got in, then he slipped in beside her. Sliding back the partition, he instructed Robert to stop at Nayo’s apartment building before stopping at Melba’s, a popular Harlem restaurant. He made another call, this one to Melba’s. He ordered stuffed catfish, scampi with rice and collard greens, smothered pork chops, macaroni and cheese, crab cakes, string beans, corn bread and two orders of their famous chicken and waffles.
“Who in heaven’s name is going to eat all that food, Ivan?” Nayo admonished him when he ended the call.
Dropping his arm over her shoulders, he pulled her close. “We are. I ordered enough for tonight’s dinner and leftovers for tomorrow. We’re going to stop at your place to pick up a change of clothes for you. While we’re there, Robert will pick up our food. I also suggest you bring your photo equipment if you want to shoot me. If you don’t have anything planned for Sunday, I’d like you to come with me to a friend’s house. It’s going to be very casual.”
Nayo gave him a baleful look. “It looks as if you’ve made your own plans.”
“Didn’t I agree to go to the party tonight?”
“But we didn’t stay.”
“So, we’ll have our own pre-Halloween party back at my place. And don’t forget you agreed to spend Saturday with me.”
“I guess I did.”
“You guess right, doll face.”
“Why do you call me that?”
“What?”
“Doll face.”
Ivan kissed her forehead. “You have a face that reminds me of a prototype for a beautiful black doll.”
Nayo wanted to tell Ivan that whenever he looked at her she felt utterly feminine and sexy. Heat warmed her cheeks as she gave him a demure smile. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, baby. You should thank your mother and father for creating not only a brilliant daughter, but also an exquisite one.”
“Stop it, Ivan, before you give me a swollen head.”
“Wrong, baby. I’m the one with the swollen head.”
Burying her face between his neck and shoulder, Nayo smothered the laughter bu
bbling up from her throat. Ivan’s broad shoulders shook when his laughter joined hers. They dissolved in a paroxysm of laughter that bordered on hysterics.
She sank into her soon-to-be lover’s comforting embrace, trying to remember when she’d felt so safe—safe and at peace.
Nayo believed herself one with nature when viewing the sun setting over the Grand Canyon, the grandeur of South Dakota’s Black Hills, Monument Valley in Arizona—the crown jewel in the Navajo Tribal Park—and the razor-sharp summits, blue glaciers and primeval forests of Cascades National Park in the northwest corner of Washington State.
It was the same feeling she had when she was with Ivan. He’d become the yang to her yin, the black to her white and the male to her female. He complemented her in every way. All that was missing was how they would relate to each other in bed.
CHAPTER 8
Nayo emerged from the bathroom, her freshly washed face glowing. It’d taken her longer than she’d anticipated to pack an overnight bag with enough clothes to last at least two days and to gather her photographic equipment to shoot Ivan.
His driver had returned from picking up the takeout and was waiting in the car when she and Ivan came down the stairs carrying several bags. They loaded everything into the trunk of the car and less than five minutes later had to unload it again.
The delicious smells wafting from the containers reminded Nayo that she hadn’t eaten anything for hours. Dyana Ryker always provided lunch for her employees, and it was usually what Nayo thought of as rabbit cuisine: lettuce and sprouts. She enjoyed eating salads but not every day. Most times she added chickpeas, slices of avocado, zucchini, tomato and occasionally crumbled feta or blue cheese to her salad greens. Not only was the dish colorful, but also healthier. It’d taken her a while to realize that some wealthy people were thin because they were genetically predisposed, but many because they simply didn’t eat. There was no doubt Geoff and Dyana prescribed to the theory that one can’t be too wealthy or too thin. Although she didn’t and had never had a weight problem, doll face, as Ivan referred to her, liked to eat.
Wearing sock-slippers, Nayo walked out of the bedroom where she’d slept the first time she’d come to Ivan’s house, and made her way to the kitchen. She smiled when she noticed that Ivan had also changed his clothes. He wore his favored Hawaiian shirt—this one in chocolate brown with bright green leaves—with a pair of cutoffs and sandals.
“Book ’em, Danno!”
Ivan turned to find Nayo standing at the entrance to the kitchen. He drew in a breath when he saw that she’d changed into a pair of pink, floral-patterned cotton lounging pants and a white tank top. It was the first time he’d seen her bare so much skin, and the effect was like a solid punch to the solar plexus. He pulled his gaze away so he wouldn’t embarrass himself a second time because his body refused to follow the dictates of his brain.
He’d been honest when he told Nayo he wanted to make love to her, but that didn’t translate into pounding on when the opportunity presented itself. Yes, she’d agreed to sleep at his house, but he hadn’t assumed she would sleep in his bed. And he was glad he hadn’t been that presumptuous, because when they’d come here after picking up her things, Nayo had carried her overnight bag to the same bedroom she’d slept in the night of the ice storm. It was nonverbal communication at its best: she wasn’t ready to share his bed.
Ivan hadn’t misconstrued her actions as a rejection. As a woman, an independent consenting adult, she did not have to sleep with him. He’d made it known what he wanted and he was willing to wait for Nayo to come to him. If it took days, weeks or even a month, he would wait.
What he hadn’t known was he’d been waiting for years to meet a woman who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. A woman who didn’t dumb herself down because some men were intimidated by her intelligence. A woman who was the epitome of femininity.
“What do you know about Hawaii Five-O? You couldn’t have been more than a toddler when the show went off the air.”
Nayo walked into the kitchen. “How would you know that, old man?” she teased. “You’re not that much older than I am.”
“The difference is I did get to watch the show before it went into syndication.”
Nayo sat on a high stool, watching Ivan empty the bags of food. “It was, or should I say, it is my dad’s favorite show of all time. He got hooked watching it when he dated my mother. My grandfather was sheriff of Beaver Run and he wouldn’t let a boy go out with his daughter if he’d ever been picked up for driving drunk, smoking weed or speeding. I don’t want to mention the other more serious infractions.
“That left very few choices from which my mother could choose. My dad was at that time the quintessential nerd and was what Grandpa referred to as ‘squeaky clean.’ When he gave him the go-ahead to court his daughter, instead of taking my mother to the movies or out to eat, he’d hang out with his future father-in-law talking about Hawaii Five-O. I gave him the boxed set for Christmas and it was something pitiful to watch a grown man go to pieces over some DVDs.”
Ivan emptied the last of the bags. “I am not ashamed to admit that I, too, have the boxed set and I’ve watched the entire twelve seasons at least twice.”
Nayo narrowed her eyes at him. “Twelve seasons and how many episodes?”
He shrugged. “A lot.”
“How many is a lot, Ivan?”
“Two hundred eighty-four.”
She closed one eye, mentally doing the math. “You’ve watched 568 episodes of the same television show? That’s sick, Ivan.”
“I’ll admit it’s a little obsessive.”
“It’s more than a little, Dr. Campbell.”
“I’m not your therapist,” Ivan warned softly, “so you can dispense with the title.”
“Why did you decide to become a therapist?”
“That’s a long story, Nayo.”
She moved closer. “We do have all weekend to get to know each other better.”
“I’ll tell you some other time. Now, what would you like to eat tonight?”
“Nothing too heavy. I’m not used to eating dinner this late.”
Ivan glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was after ten. It was late. “What if we have the crab cakes and string beans tonight?”
Resting an elbow on the countertop, Nayo cradled her chin on the heel of her hand. “That sounds good.”
Ivan pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You know, I never got to sample your gelato.”
Nayo looked up at him through her lashes. “We can have it for dessert.”
He wanted to tell Nayo that he wanted her for dessert. Not only dessert, but the appetizer and entrée. She was a smorgasbord he could devour in one sitting.
“Should I heat up the crab cakes and beans?”
“Yes.” Nayo slipped off the stool. “You have any storage containers?”
“Yes. There should be some under the cabinet by the dishwasher.”
Ivan and Nayo, working side by side, put away the food, then sat down to a dinner of crab cakes with a light cream sauce, savory string beans and scoops of pistachio gelato with cups of espresso.
“Where did you learn to make gelato?” Ivan asked Nayo. He’d found the Italian ice cream richer and smoother than traditional ice cream.
“I spent a summer in Europe and that’s when I discovered gelato. Even though it’s richer than ordinary ice cream and sherbet, it’s less sweet and fattening. The first time I had gelato I was addicted. When I was in Rome I used to go to the same gelateria every day to order a different flavor. One day the owner’s son, who I believe was hitting on me, offered to show me how to make it. And as they say, the rest is history. I can’t remember the last time I bought or ate store-bought ice cream.”
“I only had it once here in this country.”
“Where was it?” Nayo asked.
“It was in Charleston, South Carolina. I’ve forgotten the name of the shop, but I know how to get there.”
“Was it good?
”
Ivan nodded. “It was delicious. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed it until now.”
“Do you have family in South Carolina?”
Ivan traced the design on the handle of his spoon with his forefinger. “My folks were originally from North Charleston. But now most of my relatives live all over the South. Some are in Atlanta, Orlando, D.C. and a few have settled in L.A.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“Right here in Harlem.”
Nayo gave him an incredulous stare. “You never wanted to live anyplace else?”
“Like where, Nayo?”
“Chelsea, the Village or even Battery Park?”
“No. There’s a lot of history in Harlem, good history. I grew up in public housing and it was like living in a small town. Everybody knew everybody. So when someone got hooked on drugs, there was no hiding it. Or if some girl got pregnant, unless she stayed in her apartment, everyone knew it. And if she was fast, then it was, whose baby was she carrying? I suppose it was like your little town of Beaver Run, but with a lot more action.”
“You never wanted to live anywhere except Harlem, while I couldn’t wait to leave Beaver Run. I felt if I didn’t get out, my creative spirit would die. I used to watch movies set in New York or other big cities just to hear different accents. The actors had exciting careers, wore beautiful clothes and rode in sedans and not pickups. Most kids in Beaver Run know what they’re going to be before they enter adolescence. The ones who don’t go to college will work in the local factories. They marry a local girl or boy, have a couple of kids, go on vacation, attend their children’s graduation, weddings, bounce their grandchildren on their knees, and then they die. It wasn’t that I wanted better…”
“What did you want, Nayo?”
A silence ensued before she spoke again. “I wanted more.”
“Have you achieved more?”
She smiled. “Most of it.”
Ivan angled his head. “How did your folks come to settle in Beaver Run?”
“My parents are descendants of runaway slaves who escaped to the North through the Underground Railroad. Daddy traces his family back to Virginia, and my mother’s folks came from Tennessee. Once they crossed the Ohio River, they headed as far north as they could to escape the patrollers who were paid a bounty to bring back escaped slaves. I’d heard stories that some of my relatives wanted to go to Canada, but they ran out of food, so they settled in Beaver Run, where they hid out in the cellars of abolitionists.
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