Heart's Choice

by Celeste O. Norfleet

  “I have a number of foundations, both sports related and not. I run year-round sports programs and camps for kids and I sponsor several major scholarship programs. I also invest.”

  “When do you have time to actually play football?”

  “You find time for what you love and for what’s important. Remember, I’m only one lucky sack away from ending my career.”

  “No, you’ll be fine,” she said, touching his arm for added assurance. He looked down at her hand on his arm. She dropped her hand and stepped away. “And what happens when you decide to retire? You can’t play football forever, right?”

  He nodded. “I hope the transition will be as smooth and painless as possible.”

  She took another step back, then turned and walked around the room again. The dark rich furniture mixed with the lush vivid trees, and the aquarium was surprising. She stopped at the plush damask sofa. The light satiny fabric was sophisticated and exuded glamour and chic styling. She didn’t expect something so beautiful in an office. But everything about Devon and his house was unexpected.

  He walked over and stood beside her. “I bought this painting years ago. It’s called Sag Harbor and reminds me of something my grandfather once told me about finding home.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “If you keep home in your heart, you’re always there.”

  “He’s right,” she said, turning to meet his eyes only to see that he’d been looking at her instead of the painting.

  Devon smiled. “The artist was unknown at the time, but his work fascinated me. It’s actually a multimedia photograph.”

  Jazz recognized its similarity to the painting she saw in the living room. “It’s stunning. Is this by the same artist as the painting above the mantel in the living room?”

  “Yes, I have about seven of his pieces. He’s an amazing talent. His works are worth a fortune now.”

  “It’s beautiful, different. It’s real and comfortable. Your home is like that, too. It’s not at all what I expected. Neither are you. You surprise me, Devon. That’s a pretty rare thing.”

  “Really?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Not many people surprise me. You do.”

  “I like that idea, surprising you. But I can’t take all the credit. I actually live in L.A. I come here when the season’s over. It’s like a retreat. My great-grandparents originally owned the land and the structure. They lost it years ago. I was able to buy it back. My grandfather was thrilled. He gave me two garages full of furniture and possessions from his mother and grandmother. So I guess a major part of my ancestors are still connected to this house.”

  “That’s so cool. I like that idea, a true family home. I guess that’s why you have so many antiques around.”

  Devon laughed. “Antiques? Oh, no, my grandfather would have a fit if he heard you talking like that. To him they’re still brand-new.”

  Jazz smiled. “I’ll make sure not to mention it if ever I run into him. So, you said that Sag Harbor is your home. Do you mean you actually grew up here?”

  “Yes, mostly. My father’s family has been coming to this area for decades. I’m talking the mid-1930s. My mother’s family goes back even further.”

  “Really? They had amazing foresight.”

  “I don’t think it was necessarily foresight. When I used to come up here to visit my grandfather years ago, he talked about how much his father loved this place. It was a melting pot long before there was a name for it.”

  “It’s so surprising to me that African-Americans were here so long ago.”

  “Don’t let the nouveau riche fool you. African-Americans, Native Americans, European settlers, they all lived and died here together for centuries. I’m not saying that everybody lived in harmony all the time, but back then it was about survival, not race. This was considered the first Ellis Island. It’s the recent arrivals that want to claim that it was always a playground for the rich. It wasn’t. It was and is still just a small town.”

  “Wow, your family has been here a long time.”

  “My grandfather was an engineer. Now he’s an historian. He once traced our ancestors back to the original whalers.”

  “They never moved away?”

  “Some did at one point, when the town had begun to die. But they always stayed connected. Years later, in 1946, just after the war ended, they returned and bought land on the beach. Things in the country were getting ugly, and that was the only place African-Americans could live in this area—the beachfront. Ironic, isn’t it? The real estate here now is considered prime. My great-grandfather built a home on the beach. My grandfather was actually born in that house.”

  “What did your great-grandfather do for a living?”

  “He was a doctor, and my great-grandmother was a teacher.”

  “So, your family was moving on up way before Weezie and George Jefferson.”

  He chuckled. “Exactly. My grandfather used to tell us stories of how our ancestors were whalers. As a matter of fact, our family actually helped build the First Presbyterian Church in the early 1800s. It was referred to then as the Whalers Church. Later they helped build St. David AME Zion Church.”

  “You know a lot about the history here.”

  “Only what my grandfather would tell us. He’s an amazing man. He’s over eighty years old now, and he’s still active.”

  “He sounds like a wonderful man.”

  “He is. He enjoys your music.”

  She laughed. “Somehow I doubt that your grandfather even knows who I am.”

  “You’d be very wrong. He’s a pretty cool old guy.”

  “He sounds like it. So, I guess this is where your mother and father met and fell in love. He sees her from across a crowded room and they know instantly that they are destined to be together forever, the perfect happily ever after.”

  He laughed. “Not quite. I forgot that the other part of your life is movies and make-believe. No, they definitely didn’t have a happily ever after. My mom got pregnant with me, and my grandparents forced them to marry. They divorced a few years later. They seldom speak and are never in the same room.”

  “So much for a nice Sag Harbor romance,” she said.

  “Is that why you came here, looking for a Sag Harbor romance?”

  “No, not at all,” Jazz said. She smiled tightly. The conversation had turned to a topic she didn’t want to pursue.

  Devon got the message. “So, are you ready to get back to work?” He stepped aside to allow her to lead the way back to the kitchen. When they got there they split the jobs up. They’d decided to grill everything, so when all the preparations were complete, they went outside on the deck.

  “Wow, that’s massive—it’s like mission control at NASA. Are you sure you know how to work this thing?” she asked, seeing the dozen or so knobs and levers on the grill.

  “Of course. It’s mine.”

  “Yeah, I get that it’s yours, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you know what you’re doing.”

  “Do you doubt my grilling skills?” he asked, appalled.

  She smiled amused by his mock offence. “No. Of course not, I’m sure you’re brilliant.”

  “That didn’t sound very convincing.”

  “It’s the best I could muster.”

  Devon adjusted the heat and placed the seafood on the grill. The instant sizzle added to his confidence. The next few minutes were magical. He was indeed brilliant. He seasoned and cooked on the side burners, then basted and grilled like a true master on the main burners. Jazz was indeed impressed.

  The meal was delicious. “I have to admit, everything is wonderful. You’re not too bad in the kitchen.” She helped him take the dishes back into the kitchen.

  “Thank you. Neither are you,” he complimented. They put the food away, and he loaded the dishwasher while she sat at the counter and watched. “You’re pretty good at that, too. You’d make an excellent househusband.”

  He turned and glared at her. She
laughed. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand and escorting her back out onto the deck. They stood at the rail and looked into the darkness. The sun had long ago set, and heavy storm clouds were moving in as the wind picked up.

  “I had a good time tonight. This was really fun,” she said.

  “I’m glad. I guess your grandmother and grandfather were right about cooking together.”

  “Yeah, I guess they were. Umm, smell that,” she said.

  “What?” he asked.

  “It’s going to storm. I love the smell of a coming storm.”

  He looked at her, knowing that the something about her that he’d always found attractive had nothing to do with her face or her body. She wasn’t Jazelle Richardson, actress and entertainer, tonight. Tonight she was an irresistible woman.

  She turned to him, sensing his silence. “What?”

  “I’m just admiring you,” he said. She turned away and shook her head. “No,” he added, placing his hand on top of hers as she held the rail, “not the entertainer or the sexy woman, but you, the person, origami queen. I really like you, Jazelle Richardson.”

  “You sound surprised,” she said. He didn’t respond. She turned back to him, smiling. “I really like you, too, Devon Hayes, regular guy with no fish in his tank.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “What’s with the no fish in the fish tank?”

  “You mean in the office?” he asked. She nodded. “I’m taking it down. It’s being donated.”

  “It’s a beautiful tank. I’m surprised you’re getting rid of it. I’ve never seen anything so grand.”

  He reached his hand out to her. “Come, I want to show you something.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “You’ll see. Come on.”

  Chapter 7

  INTERIOR—DEVON’S HOME

  Jazz took Devon’s hand and followed as he led through the kitchen, down the hallway then up the stairs. They walked down the hall to the end. He opened the double doors and stepped aside. She looked at him, assuming it was his bedroom. She went inside. She was right. His bed was stunning. But that wasn’t the astounding part. There was a nearly wall-size aquarium above the bed. The tank downstairs in the office was beautiful, but this one was astonishing. The colors were even more vibrant, if that were even possible. “Wow, this is insane. It’s incredible.”

  She walked toward the bed. The dimmed lights throughout the room accented it beautifully. Small iridescent fish swam carefree and luxuriously as if still miles beneath the sea. She turned. Surprising, he was still standing in the doorway. “How do you sleep with the tank’s lighting?”

  “Lie down on the bed,” he instructed.

  She sat then lay back. The room was completely cloaked in darkness. She sat back up and looked around. “How is this possible?”

  “I have a friend who’s a lighting engineer. He contracts out to movie studios, dance clubs and even NASA. He designed and patented this new system.”

  She lay back down. The sensation was remarkable. It was as if the room was completely dark, but she knew it wasn’t. She sat up and looked back at the fish tank close up. There were more and different varieties of fish than she’d first thought. Some she recognized, some she didn’t. She stood and walked back to the door. Devon smiled as she approached. She touched his hand. “Thank you for tonight. I’m really glad I came.”

  “I’m glad you came, too,” he said in an almost whisper. He opened his mouth to speak again then clamped it shut. She noticed instantly.

  “What?” she asked curiously.

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “No, tell me. You were going to say something. What is it?”

  “Actually, I was going to ask you a question.”

  “Sure, as long as I don’t necessarily have to answer.”

  “Fair enough,” he agreed. “Why are you alone?” he asked.

  She considered exercising her option to not answer, but spoke too quickly. “Because alone is safe.”

  “Safe how?”

  “I grew up busy. There were always people around me telling me what to do, what to say, how to think. Somewhere in all that, the I, or I guess more like the me inside, got lost. I learned that I needed to be alone to find myself again. After every movie or every tour I go away to be alone, although most times Brian came with me. He was good at helping me find myself.”

  “And now he’s gone. So, how do you find the me inside again?”

  “Good question. I tried being alone for the last six and a half months.”

  “Did you find yourself again?” he asked.

  The insightfulness of his questions didn’t upset her as much as they allowed her to express her thoughts aloud. “Truthfully, I don’t know yet. I hope so.”

  “Last night at the party, you were there physically, but really you were miles away.”

  “You weren’t supposed to notice that.”

  “It was kind of hard to miss. I’m not saying you snubbed anyone. You were gracious for the most part, but…”

  “I was alone in a crowded room,” she said.

  “Exactly. That can’t be good.”

  “Probably not, but for right now…”

  “No. I can’t believe you’d give up just like that. I looked in your eyes downstairs when we were cooking and I saw life and joy and happiness. That’s the real you. You weren’t acting or hiding. You were having fun, and it showed.”

  “So now you think you know me? Right,” she said, feeling defensive.

  “No, I don’t. How could I, when you won’t let me?” he said. He dipped his head, and his eyes pierced deep into her like a hot poker through plastic. “But I’d like to, someday.”

  She couldn’t respond. His request was more than a plea. It was a promise. He looked at her and saw everything inside. She felt her guard collapse. She stood defenseless. It was a quiet moment. She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help herself. She reached up and kissed him. It was spontaneous and impulsive, and as soon as she did she quickly stopped herself. “Sorry,” she said.

  “For what?” he asked.

  “I shouldn’t have done that.” She stepped back.

  “Why not?” he asked, attempting to hold on to her.

  “Because starting something like this would be a mistake,” she said. He looked at her, obviously puzzled. “Melanie is in the city right now finding someone for you. You want a wife. That’s not me.” She stepped around him to leave. “I’m sorry.”

  He touched her arm, turning her gently. He considered telling her the truth, but he knew that he couldn’t. Instead he smiled and nodded. “So, I guess this will have to make me sorry, too,” he whispered and then took her in his arms and kissed her with an intense passion that instantly consumed them both. Her lips parted, and he delved deep into the recesses of her passion. Her resolve shattered and betrayed her instantly. It felt so good to be in his arms again. There was no other way to put it. Just like before she felt everything all at once: passion, joy, contentment, need, anticipation.

  Devon was excitement and passion, and kissing him was like the explosive power of splitting an atom. This, whatever it was, was moving too fast, or was it too slow? She couldn’t tell which. Her thoughts were a jumble of the rational and irrational, mixed with raging desire.

  All she knew was that she wanted him, and right now he was hers. All she had to do was take him. She didn’t care if he would belong to someone else in time. This was her time, her need. Their bodies melted together, and she felt alive for the first time in a long time.

  His strong, vicelike arms surrounded her in strength and gentleness. But she gripped him with unimaginable fierceness. Being pressed to his hard body wasn’t nearly enough for her. He ravished her mouth and neck. Her heart thundered and her stomach quivered. She couldn’t get enough. She needed more. She was hot, on fire, and only he could satisfy her need.

  Breathless, she grabbed the front of his shirt and began hastily unfastening the buttons.
When she finished them, she opened his shirt and pulled it back over his wide shoulders. She gasped silently, having only imagined what his body looked like beneath the designer clothes and confident swagger. She delighted in the fact that her imaginings didn’t nearly do him justice. His chest was magnificent. It was perfect.

  She reached up to touch his shoulders. They were wide and strong. Her hands ran down his arms, feeling knotted muscles pull and tense. His broad chest was deliciously magnificent. It was powerful and strong, slimming to his waist with the packed tight shadows of his abs. She continued touching him, delighted and smiling at her private treasure. Then she leaned in and kissed his chest, gently letting her tongue taste and savor the chocolate richness of his body.

  She felt his muscles retract and tighten. He was obviously holding tight to his restraint. Suddenly that knowledge gave her a swell of power. She looked up into his hooded eyes. They were dark and focused. She stepped back, then grabbed her sweater and quickly pulled it off. Devon reached out to take it, but she tossed it across the room. She stood in a form-fitted lace camisole. He looked down at her swollen breasts and licked his lips.

  His mouth was completely dry. He touched her as she had touched him. Then he kissed her chest and licked as she had done. He was tender and gentle at first. Then it seemed the restraint he’d held thus far cracked. He plunged his face between her breasts and kissed her with a heated passion she’d never experienced before. His fierce power consumed her, and she loved it.

  His mouth on her was intoxicating. She couldn’t get enough. She arched back and lifted her leg. He grasped her tight, and she let go. He’d literally swept her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding on as he pressed her body against the wall. He lifted her higher and devoured her lace-covered breasts, her shoulder and her neck. His mouth was hot and wanting. A delirious sensation swept through her. His mouth on her skin was like lava. Her body tingled. She moaned deep in her throat. Breathless and panting, she held on tight. She gyrated her hips, grinding against his hardness. She was on the edge of total madness. The almost release felt so good, but still she held back.