Another Woman's Man

by Shelly Ellis

  “Well, well,” she said as she strode across the shop toward him. “Who is this handsome man sitting all alone?”

  Herb grinned, grabbed his bamboo cane, and slowly rose to his feet. “Why, I was only waiting for a lovely lady to join me.” He leaned forward and kissed on her on the cheek, making her giggle. He patted the back of the chair beside him. “Now have a seat and tell me about this new job of yours.”

  For the next half hour Dawn told him about Madison and the new gallery. She glossed over the more embarrassing details regarding her last days as gallery director at Templeton, choosing to avoid the discussion about the groping incident. Her father seemed genuinely happy for her.

  “But enough about me,” she finally said, after taking a sip of white tea. “What have you been up to?”

  “Not much,” her father confessed. “Allen Enterprises is thankfully a ship that pretty much steers itself, with little or no intervention from me. Most of my days now are filled with listening to Constance and Raquel go on and on about wedding preparations.” He rolled his eyes and laughed. “I must confess that I don’t find conversations about stationery and ribbons quite that fascinating. Thankfully, they’ve recently started to talk about Xavier’s birthday, which is tomorrow. But you know that already. He told me you’re coming to his party.”

  At the mention of Xavier’s name, Dawn’s smile faded. “Actually, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it,” she replied before finishing her scone.

  Herb frowned. “Really? Why not?”

  “Something came up,” she lied, brushing away the crumbs from the napkin on her lap. She waved her hand dismissively. “Besides, I doubt I’ll be missed. I bet he only invited me because I’m a relative now. Just wish him a happy birthday for me. You guys have fun.”

  “Xavier will certainly miss you if you don’t come to his party, sweetheart. He didn’t just invite you because he only sees you as family now. He’s very fond of you.”

  Dawn cocked an eyebrow as she raised her teacup to her lips. “Frankly, sometimes it’s hard to tell, Herb.”

  “But he does!” Herb chuckled before sampling his cookie. “In fact, he’s so fond of you that I was starting to wonder if ol’ Xavier was a little smitten with you.”

  Dawn had to stop herself from spitting out her tea. Her heart seemed to skid to a halt. She stared at her father in disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking!”

  “I said I was only starting to wonder,” he quickly corrected himself. “But then I remembered that he’s been crazy about Constance since he was a teenager.”

  Exactly, Dawn thought, though she was a little crestfallen.

  Herb leaned forward. “He does like you, though, Dawn, even if it isn’t in a romantic way.”

  She lowered her teacup back to the table. “Guys like him don’t like women like me, Herb.”

  He squinted. “Women like you?”

  “Yes, women like me. You know what I mean.”

  When he continued to look at her with an expression that conveyed confusion, she blurted out, “Gold diggers.”

  Her father looked offended by that word. He opened his mouth as if to disagree with her, but she stopped him before he could.

  “I know the truth. Like I said, guys like him—serious to the point of anal-retentive, self-righteous, almost austere in how they live their lives—they see us as trouble. They’re wary of us.” She shrugged. “It’s a small-minded world. I’m used to being judged that way.”

  Herb gazed at her in silence for several seconds. “And you don’t think you’re being small-minded by judging Xavier?”

  “What do you mean?”

  His face became stern. “ ‘Guys like him,’ as you say—anal-retentive, self-righteous, austere—it seems that you’ve painted Xavier into a little box too. You’re also stereotyping him.”

  “I wasn’t stereotyping him! I was just . . . just . . .” She sighed helplessly. “Look, I’m sorry if what I said offended you.”

  And she was sorry, not for how she felt, but for saying her thoughts aloud. She had allowed her frustration with Xavier to make her way too candid. She should have known better than to bad-mouth him in front of Herb. He was Xavier’s friend and mentor, after all.

  “You didn’t offend me. I just don’t think your judgment of Xavier is very fair. Do you know why he comes off as so anal-retentive and self-righteous?”

  “Bad programming at the robot factory?” When he didn’t laugh at her flippant remark, she shook her head. “Sorry. Bad joke,” she said softly, feeling contrite.

  “He didn’t choose to be this way, Dawn. He used to be a lot more carefree when he was younger.” A smirk crept to Herb’s lips. “Why, I remember the stories his father, Malcolm, would tell me about the hijinks Xavier got into. Malcolm worked for me back then, but he was more than just an employee. We were also very close friends. We spoke a lot and the stories Malcolm would tell about Xavier would shock even you.” He chuckled. “But then his father died when he was seventeen. Xavier was alone with Malcolm when it happened. They were on a fishing trip together. They were driving back and his father had a heart attack. They pulled over to the side of the road and Xavier tried to resuscitate him, to bring him back, but he couldn’t. That’s a hard thing for a boy to experience. After that . . .” Herb paused. “After that, he became very somber. He became a very serious young man.”

  Dawn suddenly went from feeling contrite to feeling like a big pile of dog poop.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t know.”

  “Of course you didn’t. He doesn’t usually talk about his father, or that part of his past. I believe it might be painful for him. But now do you see why he is the way he is?”

  She lowered her gaze, feeling rightly chastised. “I suppose.”

  “So maybe you can rethink whatever else you have going on tomorrow? Maybe you can attend his party?”

  “Maybe,” she answered, though she knew at this point that she’d feel like dirt if she didn’t go.

  Chapter 16

  Xavier tossed his hand towel onto the granite countertop and strode out of the kitchen at the sound of his ringing doorbell. When he reached his front door, stared through the peephole, and saw who was standing in the hallway, he paused.

  It was Dawn, clutching a bottle of wine, holding a gift bag, and staring off into space as she waited.

  Holy shit, he thought. She came!

  After what he had said to her at her gallery when he caught her with that British asshole, after the shameful way he had treated her, she had still come to his birthday party.

  Xavier had been so embarrassed at how he had behaved. He still had no reasonable explanation for why he had blown up at her, but the instant he had stumbled upon her locked in that bastard’s arms, he had seen red. He kept insisting to himself that it wasn’t jealousy. No, he was just concerned for her. He didn’t want her to slip back into her old ways. That was all.

  But he couldn’t ignore the fact that he had behaved terribly and he had wondered if she would ever speak to him again, let alone show up tonight. To say he was shocked to see her standing in his hallway was putting it mildly.

  He unlocked the door and swung it open.

  “Happy birthday! I’ve come bearing gifts,” she said as she handed him the bottle of wine.

  “Uh, thanks.” He glanced at the chardonnay, then back at her in bewilderment. “You didn’t have to, though.”

  “What do you mean I didn’t have to? I wouldn’t show up to a birthday party empty-handed!”

  He nodded and continued to stare at her.

  “So . . .” She gazed over his shoulder. “Can I come inside?”

  “Oh! Oh, yeah. Sure. I’m sorry. I should have . . .” His words drifted off as he stepped aside and gestured for her to enter.

  “You will note,” Dawn said, pointing down at her wristwatch as she stepped over the threshold, “that I am here at seven-thirty exactly! I didn’t want to be late to your party. We all know how judgme
ntal you can be,” she chided with a smirk.

  Xavier winced at her jab. “Dawn, I’m sorry about what happened at the gallery. I know I—”

  “I was just joking, Xavier! No need to apologize again.”

  He shook his head. “But it was wrong the way I reacted. You were put in an awkward situation. I should have seen that. He’s your boss and—”

  “Not anymore,” she said, making him pause.

  “Huh?”

  “Not anymore. I quit. I’m tired of his groping and his bullshit. I work for another gallery now. So see, it’s done. All is forgotten . . . really.”

  She patted his shoulder soothingly and he instantly relaxed. She then tugged off her leather gloves and stepped around him into his condo.

  As she passed, he caught a tantalizing whiff of her perfume—an exotic, zesty fragrance that he couldn’t quite place but that made his mouth water. He was tempted to lean forward to smell her again, but resisted the urge.

  “You’re not attracted to her. Remember?” a voice in his head reminded him.

  He glanced down and saw that she had a blue gift bag in her hand. “Is that for me too?” he asked as he reached for it.

  She winked and pulled the bag out of his grasp. “Yes, it’s for you. But I want to give it to you after dinner—not before.” She turned in a circle and gazed around his condo.

  He knew from being at her workplace that they had a similar aesthetic. His home was just as clean and modern as her office, though with a more masculine touch. Her eyes shifted from his charcoal-colored simple sectional to his steel-framed leather chairs to the glass-topped coffee and end tables. He could see her admiring the few tasteful paintings and Masai warrior masks on his walls.

  “Nice place. Very nice.” Dawn paused as she looked around his living room. “It’s also very empty. Where is everybody, by the way?”

  “You’re the first guest besides my mom, and she’s helping me in the kitchen,” he said, alluding to the clatter of pots and pans they could both hear coming through the closed kitchen door. He set the wine bottle on his coffee table and reached out to Dawn. “Let me take your coat.”

  “Thanks.” She undid her belt and unbuttoned her tweed cloak. “Your first guest, huh? Oh, I definitely get extra points for this one, Mr. Hughes!”

  She shrugged out of her cloak and handed it to him. When he saw what she was wearing, he swallowed audibly.

  She had chosen for tonight’s birthday dinner to wear a form-fitting, off-white cashmere sweater and a tight, camel-colored leather pencil skirt that showed off her taut, sleek frame. The fabric whispered as she walked across his living room. She bent down to examine one of the picture frames on his end table and he got a full view of the swell of her breasts over the top of the V-neck sweater. He clenched his jaw and hastily looked away, busying himself with hanging her cloak in his coat closet.

  “Is this you?” she exclaimed as she stood up and pointed at one of the photos.

  Xavier nodded and shut the closet door. “Yeah, that’s me with my dad.”

  “Your dad? He’s very handsome.” She gazed at the picture. “Herb told me you guys were close.”

  “We were,” Xavier answered softly.

  He had idolized and adored his father. It had been very painful to lose him.

  “And you weren’t so bad-looking yourself,” she added playfully. “Look at you! Look at those braces!”

  “Don’t remind me,” he said with a chuckle.

  “He was adorable back then, even with those chunky braces, though he hated wearing them! Let me tell you,” his mother said as she stepped out of the kitchen and began to untie the apron from around her waist. She smiled as she walked toward Dawn with her hand extended. “Hi, I’m Leslie Ann, Xavier’s mom.”

  Dawn shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Leslie Ann. I’m Dawn. I’m Herb’s—”

  “Daughter!” his mother finished for her. “Yes, I know! I’ve heard so much about you.” She looked Dawn up and down, still smiling. “And may I say you’re even more striking in person than I’ve heard.”

  Dawn blinked, seemingly caught off guard by his mother’s compliment. She opened her mouth, then closed it, at a loss for words.

  “Mom, please stop. You’re embarrassing Dawn.”

  His mother turned to him and waved her hand. “No, I’m not! What’s there to be embarrassed about? I’m just stating the truth.” She looked at Dawn again. “You are striking.... very beautiful.”

  “Uh . . . well, th-thank you.” Dawn glanced at the apron his mother held in her other hand. “You know, if you could use some help in the kitchen, I’m more than happy to help out.” She shrugged. “I’m not the best cook in the world. That’s more my sister Lauren’s department. She’s the chef. But I’m good at taking instructions.”

  His mother laughed. “Most of the cooking is done already, but Xavier and I were just about to set the dinner table, if you’d like to do that.”

  “Set the dinner table? Well, that sounds like a safe one! You can’t burn a glass or a fork, right?” Dawn asked, making his mother laugh again. “Show me the way and I’ll get started.”

  His mother and Dawn walked back toward the kitchen, chatting animatedly with each other.

  Xavier watched them until they disappeared behind the kitchen door. The two women were a study in contrasts: Leslie Ann Hughes, the cute, petite strawberry-blonde wearing the simple shift dress and sweater, and Dawn, the towering dark-skinned beauty in the form-fitting clothes. But despite their differences, the two seemed to be hitting it off well.

  Xavier suddenly remembered what Constance had said almost a month ago, that his mother would much rather he married Dawn than her. He knew that wasn’t the case, but he had to admit his mother had never responded to Constance the way she was responding to Dawn tonight.

  What was it about Dawn that could make her win over so many people around him: Herb, the kids at the community center, and now his mother? Dawn’s charm no longer seemed to be the machinations of a woman who excelled at seducing men, who knew what she was doing. Instead, she seemed to do it naturally, making it harder for Xavier to keep up his guard, making it harder to fight his attraction.

  “So you’re finally admitting that you’re attracted to her?” the voice in his head mocked.

  Yes, he answered grudgingly.

  He couldn’t keep ignoring it. When he was in a room with her, he thought he felt an electrical charge radiating between them. It made his skin tingle and caused less-than-proper reactions in other parts of his body. Though he had been firmly in denial, his subconscious had obviously been more than happy to indulge. Last night, he had even had an erotic dream about Dawn and this morning, he had awoke hard with arousal, groggy eyed, and unsettled.

  I’m a good man, Xavier reminded himself as he lingered in the living room, pretending to straighten up the space a bit more in anticipation of the rest of his dinner guests. I respect my fiancée and our relationship. They’re just dreams . . . fantasies. I’m only human. It’s not like I would ever cheat on Constance.

  But the mere fact that he had to keep reminding himself of this made him uneasy.

  It didn’t bode well. It didn’t bode well at all.

  “Do you remember the song, hon?”

  Xavier sighed as everyone at the dinner table began to laugh. “Yes, Mom, I remember the song.”

  “You can’t sing a few bars for us?” his mother pleaded.

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Why?” she whined. “It was so adorable! You used to sing it every night to me and your dad before you went to bed.”

  “Because I’m thirty years old now, not three,” he answered succinctly.

  “Thirty years old as of two hours ago.” She sipped from her wineglass and grinned. “Oh, come on! I’ll pay you!”

  “There ain’t enough money in the world,” he said, making almost everyone break out into uproarious laughter.

  The dinner had gone well with easy conversati
on among his guests. Xavier had felt a little tension when Herb, Constance, and Raquel arrived and the two women saw that Dawn was there. He wasn’t sure why. He thought Constance knew that Dawn also had been invited. She was family now, after all. But after about an hour, the tension seemed to dissolve and everyone settled into the meal.

  His mother had helped him cook her usual smorgasbord of food and even had brought along a few extra casseroles. “Just in case we run out,” she had said. By the time they sliced his chocolate ganache birthday cake, half of the casserole dishes hadn’t even been touched and everyone looked stuffed.

  Xavier now surveyed the half-eaten bounty in front of them, then looked across the table. Through the glow of the fading tapered candles between them, he locked eyes with Dawn, who was slowly shaking her head at him. He smiled. She smiled back. He started to feel the electric charge between them again, but it was abruptly cut off when Constance dropped her head to his shoulder, landing with a thump that caught him by surprise.

  “I bet you had a cute singing voice, pumpkin,” Constance said, gazing up at him lovingly.

  He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “Probably not as cute as you would think.” He glanced around the table again. “But let’s change the subject. I’ll talk about anything but my childhood rendition of ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.’ I mean it, absolutely anything: the basketball season, the tax code, work . . .”

  “Speaking of work, I’d like to say thank you for resolving that Spencer issue,” Herb said, holding up his wineglass in praise. “I know it was ugly and it wasn’t easy. But I’m glad it’s finally been resolved . . . for the most part.”

  Raquel leaned back in her chair and frowned. “How could you possibly say it was resolved, darling? The Lattisaws’ lives will be ripped apart! I heard Byron’s wife is considering a divorce. I spoke with his mother, Jackie, just the other day and she is so embarrassed . . . totally horrified. She doesn’t know how she could possibly show her face at the country club now that everyone knows you fired Byron for sexual harassment,” she said accusingly.