Nancy, who’d returned to her station, gestured to a young girl standing by the teller desk.
Marco strolled over to the girl, who was no more than ten. She wore her hair in two curly Afro puffs. She had a ceramic piggy bank tucked under one arm, and a very serious look on her young face.
Joi stood next to the girl, with a sweet smile on her beautiful face that seemed to be directed at the youngster.
Marco extended his hand to the girl, wearing a smile of his own. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Mr. Alvarez. My teller said you wanted to meet me.”
She stuck out her hand and shook his. “Are you the bank boss?”
“Yes, I’m president of the bank. How can I help you?”
The young girl showed him her piggy bank. “This is all my lemonade stand money, for three summers. If I’m gonna deposit it here, my daddy says I need to know the man who runs the place, and shake his hand.”
“Sounds like your dad’s a smart man. I’d be honored to have you as a customer, Miss...”
She grinned. “Oh, sorry. My name is Tia Jackson.”
“Well, welcome, Ms. Jackson.” Marco stood, gesturing to Joi. “This is our security chief, Ms. Lewis. She’ll be in charge of making sure your money is kept safe.”
Joi cut him a sidelong glance, but turned to Tia with a pleasant expression. “That’s right. And I have a staff to help me do it, so we’ll make sure your money stays in the vault until you’re ready to take it out.”
Tia looked between the two of them. Seemingly satisfied, she moved up to Nancy’s teller station. “Ms. Nancy, I’d like to make my deposit now.” Carefully, she placed the piggy bank on the desk.
Out of the corner of his eye, Marco could see a dark-skinned man of average height, watching the exchange from a short distance away. The man’s features were so reminiscent of young Tia’s, Marco knew the man must be her father. He walked over and had a brief chat with Mr. Jackson, complimenting him on his daughter’s savvy. A few minutes later, he watched the two of them leave, with Tia proudly clutching her empty piggy bank and her very first deposit slip.
That evening, as he locked up the bank’s doors, he turned to see Joi, tucking her things into the passenger seat of her pickup truck. The early evening had given way to darkness, but the lamps in the parking lot cast pools of bluish light all over the area.
She closed the door, and spotted him.
Tucking away the bank keys, he gave her a wave.
He thought she’d wave back and climb into her truck. Instead, she meandered over to where he stood on the sidewalk.
“You were pretty good with Ms. Jackson,” she remarked, in reference to the young depositor.
“Thanks, but I treat all my customers with equal respect.” He looked down into her eyes, searching for the real reason she’d come over to him. He sensed this small talk wasn’t it.
She looked down, and he could see the dark fringe of her lashes fluttering. “I’m having a hard time with this.”
“With what?”
“With not asking you to kiss me again.”
His blood warmed. “Then ask me, and I’ll cure you.”
She raised her gaze to his again, with desire sparkling in her eyes. Her gloved hands came to rest on his forearms as she whispered, “Kiss me, Marco.”
So he did. He dipped his head, letting his lips crush against hers. The kiss was potent, and filled with unspoken wanting.
When they parted, he saw her safely to her truck.
Then, with the moon hanging high in the winter night sky, he watched her drive away.
Chapter 9
Every other Wednesday, Joi had a standing movie date with her sister, Joanne. The two of them would get together at Joi’s house, away from Joanne’s husband and son, and enjoy whatever mushy chick flick they chose. They’d begun the tradition a couple of years ago, and had used Joanne’s house until the male complaints there began to take some of the fun out of their movie viewing.
This week’s selection was Mahogany, a classic that Joi could never tire of. She was lounging in her recliner in the living room of her ranch-style house, wrapped in a plaid fleece throw. A bowl of popcorn sat in her lap, and a mug of hot tea was perched on the folding table nearby.
Joanne lay stretched out on the sofa, with a pillow propped behind her back. She sipped from a chilled glass of rosé, and munched on a bowl of snack mix as they watched the movie on Joi’s forty-six-inch flat-screen television.
Even though the movie was one of her favorites, Joi’s focus was tenuous at best. She couldn’t shake the memory of the kiss she’d shared with Marco two nights prior. He’d been gentle, yet passionate, his lips awakening a level of desire in her she hadn’t known she could reach.
On screen, the two main characters were locked in a passionate embrace. Joi couldn’t stop her mind from drifting, imagining what it would be like to be with Marco that way. Would he be as gentle and passionate a lover as his kiss had alluded to?
A throw pillow came out of nowhere, flying across the room, and hit Joi in the head.
She jerked her head toward Joanne, who was now sitting up and looking directly at her.
Joi tossed the pillow back at her sister. “What was that for? Do you know how uncouth it is to attack me in my own house, with my own pillow?”
Joanne caught the pillow, and replaced it on the sofa. “I don’t know, but I guess it’s about as rude as inviting me over here to watch a movie, and then daydreaming the whole time.”
Joi dropped her eyes. “Not the whole time.”
“Whatever. If you expect me to sit through this movie for the umpteenth time, the least you could do is watch it.”
“Mahogany is a classic, Joanne.”
She scoffed. “Maybe for the first five or ten viewings. After that, it loses its luster, Joi.”
“Sorry.” Joi knew her older sister would expect her to apologize, and she hoped that would be enough.
It wasn’t.
With her arms folded over her chest, Joanne fixed her with a serious glare. “Joi, what is going on with you?”
Eyes darting from left to right, in search of a quick escape route, Joi tried to keep her tone casual. “Um, nothing. Everything’s fine.”
Joanne pursed her lips tighter than a too-small pair of jeans. “Girl, you are lying!”
She shrank back and drew the throw closer around her body. “I am not.”
“Yes, you are. I can tell, because your eye is twitching. You’re doing the shifty-eye lie twitch!”
“No, I’m not.” She knew she was telling a lie before the words formed. At times like this, she hated how well her sister knew her. Just once, she’d like to know what it felt like to keep a secret from Joanne, though deep down she knew she told her sister just about everything.
Joanne said nothing, but wagged her index finger in Joi’s direction, still frowning.
Joi rolled her eyes. “Damn, Jo, you’re worse than Mom. Will you put that finger away?”
“Tell me the truth and I will.”
Sinking down into the soft cushion of her recliner, Joi sighed. “Fine. I kissed Marco. Again. Are you happy now?”
Joanne retracted her accusatory finger, as promised. Grabbing the remote, she paused the movie. “No, I’m not happy. I thought we had this conversation already?”
“We did,” Joi murmured.
“And I thought we both agreed that you should keep things strictly professional between you and Marco.”
“We did.”
“Well, what the hell happened?” Joanne leaned back against the sofa cushions with an expectant expression.
“Well...”
“Don’t clam up on me now. Tell me what’s going on between the two of you.”
“You saw him. He’s so handsome i
t hurts my eyes.”
Joanne groaned. “I’m not disputing that. The man is fine. But if you screw up and lose this contract, it’s going to hurt your pockets. Not to mention your guard staff, and poor Karen.”
Joi didn’t have a ready comeback for that. She should have seen it coming, because her sister was a master at laying on the guilt.
“You don’t want your whole staff to be out of work, Joi. And when Karen does get better, I’m guessing she’d like to still have a business to come back to.”
“Laying it on pretty thick there, aren’t you, Joanne?”
“You know it’s all out of love, sis. I don’t want to see you get hurt, and I don’t want your business to fail. We’re an entrepreneurial family, and I can’t see you going to get a regular job, girl.”
“I know, I know.” Joi had to admit her sister was right about that. They’d been raised from the cradle to think of themselves as businesswomen, never as employees. From a very young age, Joi could remember helping her mother in the boutique. She and her sister had spent hours learning to sew, keeping the store clean and even interacting with suppliers and vendors on their mother’s behalf. Joanne, gifted with towering height and graceful carriage, had even modeled some of their mother’s exclusive designs.
The two sisters lapsed into silence for a few minutes. Joi thought back on her upbringing, and the values their parents had instilled in them. Their mother had opened Panache back when Joanne was a baby. Her father, a high school chemistry teacher, often lamented never going into business for himself. Joi remembered her sweet sixteen party, when her parents had given her a savings bond earmarked toward the opening of her first business. It’s a lot easier to finance college than to finance a start-up, her father had explained. That four-figure investment had later provided the down payment on the office building that now housed Citadel. Joanne had gotten a similar gift for her eighteenth birthday, and had invested it before using it to purchase the space for Wine and Whimsy.
But there was something else Emma and Tyler had passed down to Joi, perhaps without knowing it. Seeing them together, and witnessing the level of commitment and love they shared, made Joi long for a similar connection with a man. She didn’t know if Marco would be that man, but there was only one way to find out.
“So, what are you going to do now? Are you really going to pursue this thing with him, despite the catastrophe it could cause?”
She looked at her sister, and could see the worry etching her face. Sometimes she felt like having Joanne in her life was like having a second mother. But since she knew how fiercely her sister loved her, she softened her expression. “Joanne, I tried. I swear I did. But there is something between us that I can’t ignore anymore. What if he’s the one? Wouldn’t that make it worth the risk?”
Joanne looked thoughtful, but remained quiet.
“It’s ironic, when you think about it. Maybe Ernesto wasn’t the one, but his friend might be.”
“I don’t know about this, Joi.”
So she related the story of Tia Jackson and her ceramic bank full of lemonade money. When she finished, Joanne sat up straighter in her seat.
“Handsome, intelligent, charming and compassionate with children? Can all of that exist in one man?” Her brow furrowed, as if she were pondering the answer to her own question.
Joi nodded, a smile spreading across her face as she remembered Marco’s interaction with little Tia. “Apparently so. I know you think it’s crazy, and maybe it is. But I have to see where this could go. Don’t you want me to have what Mom and Dad have? And what you have with Victor?”
Joanne’s expression changed, the tense furrow of her brow releasing. “Of course I want that for you, Joi.”
“Then let me go after it.”
“Okay, Joi. Do what you feel is right.” With a soft smile on her face, Joanne opened her arms. “Now come give me a hug.”
Joi pushed her throw aside and went to sit next to her sister on the couch. They shared a tight hug, and then Joi snuggled next to Joanne’s side for the rest of the movie. It was just like when they were kids, Joanne sitting there with Joi’s head resting on her shoulder.
Joanne nudged her gently as she resumed the film. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Shaking her head, Joi turned her attention back toward the screen.
* * *
Inside the bustling interior of Bentley’s on 27, Marco perused the lunch menu. Located on the twenty-seventh floor of the Charlotte Plaza building, Bentley’s offered a variety of delicious French food, along with fantastic views of the Queen City skyline. He loved the food there, but his wandering mind made it difficult to decide what to order. It had been three days since the night Joi had come to him and asked to be kissed. They’d spent that time sharing discrete smiles, and sneaking away when they could to steal a few moments alone together. Despite that, he still hadn’t gotten his fill of her.
Roosevelt, seated across from him in the booth, shook his head. “You still haven’t decided?”
“No. Just give me a minute.”
“It’s already been fifteen minutes, and we do have to get back to the bank this afternoon,” Roosevelt groused. “What do you have a taste for?”
Marco glanced up from his menu, feeling a wry smile lift the corners of his lips. He considered telling Roosevelt that what he really had a craving for was Joi; her lips, her smile and her powerful allure.
Roosevelt seemed to sense the direction of his thoughts, because he chuckled. “I meant, what food do you have a taste for? I should have been more specific.”
Feigning ignorance, Marco shook his head. “I admit nothing.”
Scoffing, Roosevelt took a drink from his water glass. “You don’t have to admit it. I can see what’s going on between you and Ms. Lewis.”
He rolled his eyes. While he considered Roosevelt a friend, they weren’t close enough to be discussing this. So he used Roosevelt’s impatience to his advantage, and changed the subject. “I think I’m just going to get the lobster BLT.”
“Good choice. I’m getting that, too.” Roosevelt raised his hand in the air, to signal for the waiter to come take their order.
Once the waiter had left with their menus, Marco sank back into the padded leather cushion of the booth seat. This morning’s interaction with Joi had been brief, since she was working with her guards and technology assistant, and he’d been inundated with calls, paperwork and other duties. He wondered what she was doing now, or if she’d even taken a lunch break. Her work ethic was off the charts, and she never seemed to stop for longer than a few minutes at a time.
“You realize everyone in the bank can see what’s happening, don’t you?” Roosevelt leaned forward, his elbows resting on the tabletop.
Marco looked at his branch manager and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Neither of us can deny how we feel.”
“I’m not saying I don’t approve, but I’m saying you need to be careful. Ms. Lewis and her staff are competent, professional and well equipped for the job.”
“I agree.”
“Then I’m sure you know that you shouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the business relationship between Royal and Citadel.” Roosevelt’s gaze was steady and serious as he awaited Marco’s response.
Before he could open his mouth, the waiter appeared with their meals. As the steaming plates were set before them, the aroma of the grilled lobster and peppered bacon wafted into the air. Marco inhaled the fragrance, his stomach rumbling in anticipation. He’d been so distracted that he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the food arrived. He dug into his sandwich, wanting to get at least one bite in before he gave his rebuttal to Roosevelt’s statement.
Roosevelt picked up his fork as well, and they ate for a few silent moments.
Having quelled his growling stomach, Marco paused. “Roo
sevelt, I understand your concern. But Joi and I are both adults, and we’re perfectly capable of handling this in a mature manner.”
Swallowing a mouthful, Roosevelt chuckled. “It’s not Ms. Lewis I’m worried about. It’s you. Your record with women isn’t the best, at least not in terms of having stable relationships.”
Marco didn’t respond to that, because it was true. In the entirety of his life, he’d never dated any woman for longer than three months. No woman had ever held his attention at a high enough level to justify it. However, things were already very different with Joi. She was unique, unlike any of the women he’d encountered in the past.
“You’re not disputing me. Makes sense. We both know you don’t have a leg to stand on.”
“This isn’t just a fling, Roosevelt. There’s something special between us.”
Roosevelt didn’t look convinced. “We’ll see. Just don’t screw it up, because I really think Citadel is the best fit for the security contract. We’d be hard-pressed to find another contractor this good.”
“I agree, and you have nothing to worry about.” Marco went back to eating, hoping Roosevelt would take the hint and end the conversation. After all, as the branch manager had pointed out, they did have to return to the bank for the afternoon shift.
“One more thing. You realize tomorrow is inventory day, right?”
Marco stopped midchew. He’d completely forgotten about the inventory, which had been scheduled months prior, during the tenure of their previous security contractor. This was a physical inventory, which involved the branch president and the security chief taking a count, by hand, of everything contained in the branch’s safe deposit boxes. That means...
“Yep. That means you and Ms. Lewis will be spending most of the day in the vault.” Roosevelt gave voice to his thoughts. “Think you can handle it?”
They both knew he didn’t have a choice, because company protocol dictated that no one could stand in for the president, or the security chief, unless one of them had extenuating circumstances. “Of course I can handle it.”
A Sultry Love Song Page 8
