The buzzing of her phone interrupted her thoughts. She picked it up from the tray she kept it in on the edge of the desk and glanced at the screen. Seeing who it was, she answered with a smile. “Hey, Mama. How are you feeling today?”
“Pretty good, and from the sound of your voice, so are you.”
She rolled her eyes. Her mother could always pick up on her emotions. “I’m doing great, Mama. Mrs. Lerner just brought in the new stationery for the firm, listing me as partner. It’s gorgeous—linen paper, gold embossed, very executive.”
“Congratulations again, baby. I always knew you’d get the recognition you deserved.”
“Thanks, Mama.”
There was a brief pause before Carla spoke again. “But that’s not what’s really got you so happy, is it?”
Lina let her eyes close for a moment. Her mother’s perceptiveness could be a thorn in her side at times. “Mama.”
“Don’t Mama me. I know exactly what’s going on. Things are getting serious with Rashad, aren’t they? I told you before he’s a good man. You’d better stake your claim before other prospects start sniffing around him.”
She chuckled. “You mean gold diggers, Mama?”
“Whatever. All I’m saying is you’d better make it clear he’s yours.”
“I got it, Mama.”
“You’d better. I’m not trying to be in your business but you know it’s rare you get a second chance with a man like that.”
Lina giggled. She loved the way her mother always claimed not to be involved in her personal life, in the same breath told her just what she should do about it. Carla’s newfound interest in her relationship status was very telling. “Okay, Mama. I hear you. I’m going to take you for a spa day to celebrate my promotion, so go ahead and decide what services you want.” If things went well, she’d be able to let Mama know while they were enjoying a mud bath that she was the proud owner of Monk’s piano.
“That’s nice, Lina. But I know you are trying to change the subject.”
Busted. Lina chuckled. “Can you blame me? But seriously, we are going to the spa.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Lina knew that if she didn’t get her mother off the phone, she’d never get her work done. “I’ve gotta go, I need to finish some work. Are you good on all your pills?”
“Yes. I’ll need a refill on one of them next week, though.”
“I’ll make sure you get it. Love you.”
“Love you, too, baby.”
Lina disconnected the call and returned her phone to the tray. She yawned, doing her best to shake off the distracting thoughts of Rashad, and her mother’s insistent advice on making things official with him. The contract she’d been reading wasn’t going to evaluate itself, so she pulled the pages back out and spread them atop her desk. There were still two hours left in the workday, and despite her emotions being all over the place due to Rashad and her new title, she wanted to make them as productive as she could.
Taking a deep breath, she dove back into her work.
* * *
Rashad strolled into the register of deeds office Tuesday morning, whistling. The weather outside was delightful, traffic had been pretty light for rush hour in Charlotte and he’d just gotten a sexy good-morning text from Lina. Aside from that, today was the day he would put his plan to help Rick into action. All in all, the day was off to an awesome start.
As he moved through the main area of the office, past the cubicles of his employees, he paused to greet the folks who’d already come in for the day. There were still thirty-five or so minutes until the office officially opened for business, so a few people hadn’t yet arrived.
His cheery demeanor didn’t go unnoticed, nor was it contagious. Everyone spoke, but hardly anyone smiled and he got a few strange looks from some of the workers. Shrugging it off, he made his way down the narrow corridor toward the three offices in the back.
Juggling a cup of coffee and his keys, he fiddled around until he got the door to his office unlocked, then opened it and stepped inside. Within a few minutes, he was set up at his desk and ready to take on the day’s tasks.
The first couple of hours of the day were filled with phone calls, answering emails and approving various pieces of paperwork. The eleven o’clock hour rolled around, and Rashad got up from the desk to stretch, hoping to loosen the tightness that had developed in his neck and shoulders from being tied to the desk all morning.
Just as he sat down, his boss walked in through the open door. “Are you busy, Rashad?”
He shook his head. “Just taking a little break. What can I do for you?”
Gary’s expression was grim. “I’ve just got some news from the county.”
“Your face says the news isn’t good. More cutbacks?”
A nod was Gary’s reply.
He sighed. “Okay. Who’s being let go this time?”
“You are. I’m sorry, Rashad.”
Hearing that news took the wind right out of his sails. “Seriously?”
“The commissioner says that in this type of economy, I don’t have the luxury of employing two assistant RODs. They’re keeping Kaye because she’s paid a lot less than you are.”
Rashad leaned back in his chair, not sure of how to react. “Well, this sucks. I’d planned to resign today, in hopes of the budget for my salary going toward keeping Rick Havens on, at least for a few months.”
Gary wrung his hands, as he tended to do in stressful situations. “Again, I’m sorry. My hands are tied here.”
“I know it’s not your fault, Gary.”
“Good news is, they’ve agreed to pay three months’ severance pay and benefits.”
Rashad’s ears perked up, and he sat forward in his chair. “I’ve got an idea. Tell county that I’ll resign my position, but only if they transfer my severance package to Rick Havens.”
Gary’s brow knitted. “That’s awfully generous of you, man. Are you sure about this?”
“Yes. I don’t really need it, I’ve got some cash stashed away. And since I make about double what Rick did, the package should set him up nicely for the next six months or so. County won’t try to stop me from doing this, will they?”
Gary shook his head. “They can’t. State and federal law says you can do whatever you want with your severance package.”
“In that case, this is what I want to do. See to it that Rick Havens gets it all.”
Standing, Gary stuck out his hand. “Rashad, you’re a stand-up guy. I really respect you for doing this. Let me get the paperwork and we’ll set it in motion.”
He shook hands with his boss. “If things have to be this way, I’m just glad I can still do something to help Rick out. He’s a good guy.”
A few minutes later, Rashad sat alone in his office. He felt some degree of sadness at the loss of his job, but that was overridden by all the good feelings he was experiencing. He’d done right by Rick, and now Rick could do right by his grandchildren. Being able to give a good friend peace of mind was a wonderful feeling, and he couldn’t wait to see the look on Rick’s face when he found out.
He looked around at his degree, the pictures of his favorite jazz artists and the music memorabilia he’d collected over the years. On the wall there was framed sheet music, an original Playbill from the single run of Sophisticated Ladies on Broadway, a few articles that had been written about the Gents in regional newspapers and magazines. All the things that made this office his were about to be boxed up and taken away. He’d put in eleven years with the register of deeds office, and he’d come to enjoy his work despite the stigma of civil service and the sometimes unpleasant attitudes of coworkers and citizens alike. Now it was about to be over, and he had to admit that he would miss it.
What was most important to him was that he’d done the best job he
could during his time there, and that he’d kept his word to Rick Havens. He would bet that anyone else he’d had dealings with during his time there would agree that he was a man of his word. Hard work and honesty would be his legacy, and that was nothing to be ashamed of. It reflected the solid values his parents had instilled in him as a boy, and he would look back on these years with pride.
Deciding not to put off the inevitable, he left the office in search of a few boxes. When he returned, he started packing up some of his prized possessions. When Gary came in with the paperwork he’d spoken of earlier, Rashad took a few minutes to sign and initial in all the places indicated. With his signature at the bottom of the last page, his entire severance package was officially transferred to Rick.
“You won’t have to vacate the office until the end of the week, you know.” Gary stood by the door with the folder containing the forms, watching Rashad pack.
“I know. I’ll hang around until then to make sure everything around here is squared away, but I’m going to take some things home today. If I take a little every day it won’t be such a huge undertaking on my last day.”
“Smart.” Gary and the folder disappeared out the door.
His phone, tucked in the pocket of his slacks, vibrated against his hip. He took it out and read a text message from Lina.
How’s your day going?
He tapped out a reply. Okay, but I just lost my job.
The phone buzzed again with her response.
Sorry to hear that. Sounds like you could use some comfort.
Not one to turn down her company, he smiled and replied.
I could. Come over to my house tonight, around 7?
He went back to placing things into the large box on his desk. The phone buzzed again.
I’ll be there.
Smiling, he tucked his phone away. Just the thought of seeing Lina tonight raised both his spirits and parts of his anatomy. He went back to packing, willing the day to pass quickly, because he couldn’t wait to get his sexy lady back in his arms again.
Chapter 11
“Here’s one more.” Lina passed the last dirty utensil to Rashad. She stood next to him at the sink in his well-stocked kitchen, helping with the dishes. He’d washed while she’d rinsed and dried, and now the task was almost complete.
His kitchen, like the rest of his home, hadn’t changed much since she’d last been there, over six months ago. The decor was minimalist and practical throughout, and in no other room was that more evident than in his kitchen. It had all the modern appointments: black granite countertops flecked with gray and gold, black and white tiled floors, a center island with a set of gleaming stainless steel pots and pans suspended above it. All the appliances were black, from the French door refrigerator to the gas stove, and there wasn’t a fingerprint or smudge in sight.
While the place was kept pleasantly clean, it was obvious no woman lived in the house. There were no decorative towels, no throw rugs, and no place mats or linens to be seen. The only towel he had on display was the one she’d used to dry the dishes, and it was the same austere black-and-white pattern as the tile floor beneath her bare feet.
There was, however, a single piece of art hanging on the wall. Just above the small two-person table that occupied the back wall of the kitchen, situated between the garage door and the pantry, hung a framed collection of album covers. There were four of them, all full-size and full color, all anchored to the wall inside the same multiwindow, black lacquer frame. All were recordings by Thelonious Monk: The Complete Blue Note Recordings, Blue Monk, ’Round Midnight and Reflections. She glanced over at them. Seeing them there only served as a reminder of the upcoming auction for the legendary piano.
He took the knife from her and tossed it into the orange scented, soapy water. “Thanks for helping with the dishes.”
“No problem. Your fajitas were pretty damn good, it was the least I could do.” After the long day she’d had at the law firm, she’d thoroughly enjoyed his cooking. The chicken had been well seasoned and accompanied by sweet peppers, onions, warm tortillas and an array of toppings. After feasting on the meal and enjoying an ice-cold bottle of Corona, she was both stuffed and relaxed.
She let her eyes sweep over him, and had to admit she was enjoying the view. His locks were banded together at his nape, the brown tips hanging past his broad shoulders. He wore a white tank top that clung to his muscular torso and revealed the full glory of his corded arms. As he scrubbed the dishes beneath the foamy surface of the water, she watched his biceps and triceps flex. She was so busy staring she didn’t notice when he tried to hand her the clean fork.
“Lina.” He snapped his fingers.
She jumped. “Yeah?”
“Dry this, baby.” He dangled the fork in front of her.
“Sorry.” Taking it, she grabbed the checked soft towel from the counter and dried off the utensil. Once she’d placed it in the stainless steel dish rack, she put the towel back on the hook.
When she turned around, he drew her into his arms. “Have I told you yet how much I appreciate you coming over?”
A smile stretched across her face. She found herself smiling all the time when she was with him. “Yes, but don’t worry. I’m not tired of it yet.”
He gifted her with a sweet kiss, just a brief brushing of his lips against hers.
As short as the kiss was, it was still enough to put fire in her blood. It didn’t take much to crank up her desire, not where he was concerned. To keep the feeling from taking over and overriding her good sense, she spoke. “You know, I’m sorry about what happened to you, but I’m still going to try to outbid you for the piano.”
He shrugged his shoulders, looking completely nonplussed. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”
Her brow hitched, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she looked into his dark eyes and tried to figure out just what his game was. He’d just lost his source of income, yet he seemed just as confident as ever that he’d be able to win the bid for the piano. Was this his version of a poker face, or was he sitting on some stash she knew nothing about? There was no way for her to tell by looking at him, and she certainly wasn’t about to ask him. Better to let him think I’m not worried about it. So she fixed him with a stare just as cool and collected as his own.
His gaze drifted behind her, as if he were admiring his album cover collection. “Did you know that ‘’Round Midnight’ is the most-recorded jazz standard in American history? Think of what that means about Monk as a composer. The most recorded standard in history is his—not Cole Porter, not Gershwin, not even the Duke.”
“I didn’t know that. It’s very impressive.” She watched the way his eyes lit up as he spoke. The passion he had for Monk’s artistry, and for jazz in general, was very real and palpable. Standing in the circle of his arms, she realized that she wanted him to be just as passionate about her. If his lovemaking were any indication, he was already there. But could she trust him enough to give him the same in return?
“Without Monk, jazz as we know it wouldn’t exist. Bop, stride piano, he was the mastermind behind all of that. I can just imagine those early days when he played at Minton’s up in Harlem with Dizzy, Charlie Parker and Miles Davis. Man that must have been something to hear.”
“You’re schooling me, I’ll admit it. My mother is the real jazz fan. Even though I grew up listening to Monk’s music, I don’t know much about his life.” She’d enjoyed the pianist’s music, along with some of the other jazz greats who’d owned the scene from the ’40s through the ’60s. That was her mother’s preferred era. As an adult, her musical taste was pretty eclectic. She listened to almost everything, except death metal and hardcore rap.
“That’s why I’m going after the piano, baby. After years of admiring Monk, learning about him, studying his style, I feel like I knew him. He’s
been a big part of my life.”
She couldn’t really argue with him there. The influence Monk had on Rashad was undeniable. “I believe you. I don’t really know whose cause is nobler, but I do want my mother to have the piano. I know it will go a long way toward raising her spirits, and seeing her happy is very important to me.”
His open palm skimmed over her shoulder blade, trailing down her side until he got a firm grip on her ass. “I don’t think we’re going to solve this now. So why don’t we put our time to good use.”
Her breath hitched as he eased his hand lower, letting it slip beneath the hem of her knee-length sheath. As his fingertips grazed up her bare hip, his name escaped her lips on a breathy sigh. “Rashad—”
He ventured farther, easing his hand around until he slid aside the thin swath of fabric between her thighs. Deftly he stroked her, lightly caressing that tiny kernel of flesh made only for pleasure. “I love to hear you say my name.”
“Oh...” It was all she could manage to utter as one long finger dipped inside her, the tip curving forward against her G-spot. Her legs began to tremble as liquid heat pooled in her lower regions.
As if he sensed her instability, he edged her back a few steps until the small of her back came to rest against the island’s granite top. His hand continued its magical ministrations, and her vision swam as her eyes began to cross, and then roll up inside her head.
“Come for me, baby. Call my name again.” His deep voice touched her almost as potently as his hands.
Her head dropped back. His questing finger was joined by another, hotly stroking her insides until she melted into bliss. And just as he’d requested, she came for him, and screamed his name into the silence.
* * *
Rashad watched Lina intently, enjoying the sight of her laid out across his kitchen island. She made for quite an erotic sight—her pebbled nipples visible beneath the thin fabric of her dress, which was now pulled up around her waist. Her usually perfect hairdo was disheveled, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest matched her panting breaths. There was no other sight on earth to be compared with a woman in the afterglow of orgasm, and no other woman wore that glow as beautifully as Lina.
Every Beat of My Heart Page 9
