Sweet Silver Bells

by Rochelle Alers

  Crystal inserted the thumb drive in one of the ports on her laptop, clicking on the file for Speak Low. Joseph stared, awed by the before photos and after renderings of the basement in the Tribeca residence that had been transformed from a dark, brick-lined empty space to one with strategically placed lights between the coffered ceiling and brick walls, creating a soft, inviting atmosphere.

  He shook his head in amazement. “It’s stunning.”

  Crystal highlighted the wall with framed photographs, enlarging it. “Do you recognize these jazz greats?”

  Joseph peered closer. “I know Scott Joplin, Duke Ellington, Miles Davis, John Coltrane and Charlie Parker.” He paused, shaking his head. “I can’t recall the others.”

  She pointed to the three remaining photographs. “Sidney Bechet, Fats Waller and Artie Shaw.”

  “How do you know so much about jazz musicians?”

  “My father is a jazz enthusiast. He has a priceless collection of rare recordings of jazz greats dating back to the l920s.”

  To say Joseph was in awe of Crystal’s talent was putting it mildly. She was more than good at her craft. She was brilliant. “You must decorate my home once it’s built, and I’m not going to take no for an answer.”

  Crystal closed the file, her jaw hardening as she clenched her teeth. Joseph was back to flaunting his belief in entitlement, that she couldn’t or shouldn’t deny him whatever he wanted. “You have no idea how long it’s going to take to build your house, and I don’t know where or what I’ll be doing then. You have my number, so whenever you’re ready, give me a call and I’ll let you know if I can or can’t accommodate you.”

  Joseph went completely still as if he’d been struck across the face. Crystal’s retort was cold, waspish. “I’m sorry if you believe I’m pressuring you,” he said.

  A beat passed as Crystal looked at Joseph in what had become a stare-down. Twin emotions assailed her. She didn’t know why he excited and exasperated her all within the same breath. “It isn’t what I believe, Joseph. You were emphatic when you said you weren’t going to take no for an answer.”

  “I shouldn’t have put it that way.”

  Crystal tried to soften her response. “I’ll let you off this time, but please don’t let it happen again.”

  A frown marred Joseph’s even features. “Damn, girl. Can’t you cut me some slack? I said I was sorry.”

  She had no intention of relenting, not until Joseph learned that being a Cole wasn’t the answer to getting everything he wanted in life. “I’ll have to think about it.”

  It was Joseph’s turn to engage in a stare-down, his large, dark eyes boring into Crystal. “Why is it I find myself completely enthralled with a woman whose beauty is comparable to the most exquisite, delicate rose? Yet when I try to touch her she’s quick to remind me she has sharp thorns that draw blood. What do I have to do for you to let me in?”

  “You don’t have to do anything. You’re already in,” Crystal said in a hushed whisper. She wanted to tell Joseph that she’d allowed him to scale the wall she’d erected to keep men at a distance.

  Joseph moved closer, his breath warm and moist against her cheek. “Am I really in?” he questioned. Crystal blinked, and then nodded. “Please spend the night with me.” She blinked again, staring at him as if he’d spoken a language she didn’t understand. “Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want to happen,” he continued.

  Please spend the night with me. The passionately spoken query caused Crystal’s breath to solidify in her throat, choking her with a raw emotion that wouldn’t permit her to speak. He hadn’t asked to make love to her, but just to be with him. His arrogance and entitlement aside, she knew Joseph was different, unique from the other men with whom she’d become involved. He made her more than aware of the strong passions within her, and that she’d denied her own physical needs for far too long.

  He’d asked her to establish the terms of their short-lived relationship and she knew if they were going to make love, then she would have to make the first overture.

  Exhaling an inaudible breath, Crystal knew she couldn’t continue to ignore the truth. She wanted the man. A secret smile stole its way over her parted lips. She and Joseph had reached a point in their friendship where it had to be resolved.

  “Please wait for me to pack an overnight bag.”

  Joseph sat stunned, unable to move, when Crystal stood and walked out of the room. She’d become an enigma, keeping him emotionally off balance. It wasn’t vanity that communicated she enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed hers; however, the hours, minutes and seconds they’d spent together hadn’t totaled a full day.

  He wanted more time, time in which to discover if what he felt for her was real or imaginary, only because José Ibrahim Cole-Wilson believed he was falling in love for the first time in his life.

  Chapter 10

  Crystal knew the moment she walked through the door to Joseph’s penthouse to spend the night that she and her life would change forever. She shifted her bag from one hand to the other in an attempt to stem a sudden flash of nerves, unable to believe she was reacting like a frightened virgin about to embark on her first sexual encounter. Pull it together, girl, she told herself. After all, she was a thirty-year-old, sexually experienced woman who in her early twenties had lived with a man almost twice her age. Even though there hadn’t been anyone since Brian, she still shouldn’t be shaking like a fragile leaf in a storm.

  Reaching for her bag, Joseph placed it on the floor. His eyes never left hers as he cradled her face in his hands, and she was certain he could hear and feel the runaway pumping of her heart. “If you don’t want to do this, then I’ll take you back to your place.”

  Crystal lifted her chin in a gesture he probably had no problem interpreting as defiance. “If I wasn’t certain, I never would’ve agreed to spend the night with you.”

  Lowering his head and hands, taking her into an embrace, Joseph breathed a kiss under her ear. “You’re certain, yet you’re afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid,” she countered.

  “If you’re not afraid, then why are you trembling?”

  “Perhaps it comes from the anticipation of sharing your bed,” she half lied.

  Crystal knew Joseph had offered her the option of their sharing a bed without making love.

  It was just that while her head said no, her body was screaming for a release of sexual tension and frustration building up for longer than she could remember. And she had to remind herself that both were responsible, consenting adults who were aware of where a sexual encounter would lead. There would be no declarations of love or promises of a future together. In other words, they would be friends with benefits.

  “Would you feel less apprehensive if we don’t make love tonight?”

  Crystal tried making out his features in the muted light in the entryway. “Why are you giving me mixed messages? Didn’t you say nothing’s going to happen that I don’t want to happen?” He nodded. “Then I say we should start with sharing the same bed.” Smiling, Crystal rested a hand on his chest. “Please show me where I can shower and change.”

  And it wasn’t for the first time Joseph felt he was falling in love with an enigma. The trembling woman in his arms was nothing like the one who’d stunned him when she broached the subject of men and women masturbating. He pressed a kiss to the soft, fragrant strands covering her head. “Come upstairs with me.”

  Like a trusting child, Crystal held Joseph’s hand as he led her up the staircase to the second floor and into his spare bedroom. He set her bag on the padded bench at the foot of the bed, turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

  Puffing up her cheeks, she blew out a breath. She stood without moving, staring at the bag on the bench seat. Joseph had referred to her as a delicate rose with thorns, but the thorns we
re a necessity to keep him at a distance. And what Crystal knew as surely as she knew her own name was that she had feelings for Joseph. She could imagine herself falling in love with him. But, unlike his ex, she wouldn’t try and pressure him into marrying her. However, she did think him selfish for continuing to date a woman for that long when he wasn’t ready to put a ring on her finger.

  Shaking her head as if coming out of a trance, Crystal opened the bag and took out her grooming supplies. Minutes later she stepped into the shower stall.

  * * *

  Joseph stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he drew the electric shaver over his jaw and chin, knowing he’d turned the corner in his relationship with Crystal when he’d practically begged her to spend the night with him. It wasn’t sex he needed from her as much as it was companionship.

  He’d chided Diego time and again about being married to ColeDiz, but he’d become his cousin’s clone when over the past two years he’d thought of nothing else but the overall success of the tea garden.

  This time when he’d returned to Charleston, Joseph could never have predicted he would meet someone like Crystal. If he were looking for the ideal woman, then she would be it. She embodied beauty, grace, intelligence and passion. However, she’d accused him of being somewhat arrogant with an inflated sense of entitlement when in reality he wasn’t either. What she thought of as arrogance was confidence to Joseph—something that had been instilled in him from childhood. His father constantly reminded him that as a Cole he was a descendent of survivors who’d endured unspeakable cruelty so that he would exist today, and at no cost should he dishonor their sacrifice.

  As for entitlement, it was synonymous with his family’s legacy. His great-grandfather Samuel Claridge Cole, the grandson of slaves, had established a foundation wherein his children, their children and their children’s children would never have to look outside the family for financial stability.

  He ran his hand over his face and throat, finding it free of stubble. Reaching for a bottle on the vanity, he uncapped it and poured a small amount into his cupped hands, then patted his cheeks, wincing against the stinging sensation. Not wanting to linger any longer, Joseph stepped into the shower stall, switched on the radio hanging from the showerhead and sang along with the latest Bruno Mars hit.

  * * *

  Knocking lightly on Joseph’s bedroom door, Crystal entered at the same time he walked out of the bathroom in a pair of black cotton pajama pants. Her eyes widened as she stared at his smooth, broad chest. His upper body was magnificent: broad shoulders, long, ropy arms, muscled pectorals and defined abs and biceps. The drawstring waistband to his pants rode low on a pair of slim hips. She smiled. Joseph wasn’t that conservative; the scales of justice were tattooed over his left breast.

  “I was hoping you were decent,” she said, smiling.

  Joseph glanced down at his bare toes peeking out from under the hem of the pajama pants. “I usually sleep nude, but because I have company I decided it best I cover up.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.” If she walked into the room and found him nude, Crystal wasn’t certain how she would react. Seeing him in a state of half dress was enough to make her heart beat a little too quickly. When going through her lingerie drawer, she had to decide whether to wear a nightgown or pajamas, deciding on the latter at the last possible moment because she didn’t want to show too much flesh. The pink-and-white cotton pants and a matching sleeveless top were definitely not risqué.

  Joseph pulled back the quilt, blanket and sheet on the far side of the bed. “I like to sleep near the door. If that’s okay with you,” he added quickly.

  “It’s okay.”

  Crystal wasn’t about to debate with Joseph which side of the bed she preferred, because even if she slept on the right side, by morning she’d find herself on the left. She strolled fluidly across the bedroom, placed her slippers next to the bedside table and got into bed. Reaching up, she turned off the lamp on her side, then settled down against the mound of pillows cradling her shoulders.

  Joseph hadn’t closed the wall-to-wall drapes and millions of stars winked in the clear nighttime winter sky. She went completely still when he got into bed next to her, dimming rather than turning off his bedside lamp. The warmth of his body elicited sparks of awareness that eddied throughout her.

  Resting his head on a folded arm, Joseph turned on his side to face Crystal. “What’s on your calendar for tomorrow?”

  Shifting slightly, she stared directly at him. Light from the lamp illuminated his smooth clean-shaven jaw, while drawing her gaze to linger on his mouth. Crystal stared at Joseph through the eyes of an artist. He would’ve made the perfect model for drawing classes, because with his balanced features and beautifully proportioned body he was certain to have become a favorite for those drawing the male nude figure.

  “I have a one o’clock appointment at a textile factory over in Goose Creek.” She had to order sheets, tablecloths and towels for the inn and B and B. “What about you?”

  “I’m free all day,” he answered, his minty toothpaste breath sweeping over her face.

  “How often do you go to the tea garden?”

  “Four or five times a week, now that the project manager is in Nebraska awaiting the birth of his first child.”

  Her eyebrows shot up as she focused on the tattoo on his chest. “Don’t you have someone else to step in for him if you’re not there?”

  Smiling, Joseph flashed his straight white teeth. Crystal was thinking in business mode. “There’s an assistant manager who is an environmental engineer, but he’s not full-time because he teaches environmental studies at the College of Charleston. I have someone who’s retired and living on the island who acts as a backup and security. We’ve installed closed-circuit monitors in his house, and at any time of the day he’s always aware of any activity at the garden.”

  “When do you expect to harvest your first crop?”

  “Mid to late April.”

  Her eyes came up, meeting his. “So, you’re going to hang out here until that time?”

  Joseph nodded, his fingers playing in the curls touching the top of her ear. “That’s the plan. I can’t go back to Florida now even if I wanted to, with Shane gone. Marci’s due to have her baby in another two weeks, so by the time she and baby are medically cleared to travel, they’ll be back for harvesting.”

  Crystal couldn’t believe she could feel so comfortable sharing the bed with a man of whom she’d had erotic dreams. He smelled of soap and an aftershave that matched his cologne, and she wanted to press her body to his in a silent plea for him to make love to her.

  “How old will you be next weekend?” she asked after a pregnant silence.

  “Thirty-one.”

  She smiled. “You’re eight months older than me.”

  “When’s your birthday?”

  “October thirty-first.”

  “Damn, baby. You came out with the witches and ghouls.”

  “Tell me about it,” she snorted delicately. “I usually celebrate it November first.”

  Joseph stared at her fresh-scrubbed face, wondering if Crystal knew she didn’t need makeup because her complexion was flawless. “All Saints’ Day was a school holiday for me growing up.”

  Crystal assumed Joseph would be Catholic because of his Latin ancestry. “You have Latin roots, yet your name doesn’t reflect it.”

  “My legal name is José Ibrahim Cole-Wilson, but the only person who calls me José is my grandmother. My uncles refer to me as Joe Jr. and my sister calls me Joey.”

  Easing away from him and sitting up, Crystal gave him a long, penetrating stare. “I like José better than Joseph or Joe. It’s softer sounding.”

  Pushing into a sitting position, Joseph pressed his shoulder to Crystal’s. “Abuela would love you for saying that because
she wanted all of her grandchildren to have Spanish names. My parents decided before they had their first baby that my father would name their boys and my mother their girls. My oldest brother is Anthony instead of Antonio. Then there’s Harper, and the youngest is Nathan. When my mother had two boys back to back, she overruled my father because she thought they would never have a girl. So she got to name me and my sister, Bianca.”

  “It must have been fun growing up in a big family.” There was a hint of wistfulness in Crystal’s voice.

  “It was chaos personified, especially when we pretended we were professional wrestlers and jumped off sofas and tables. If we didn’t break lamps or some little figurine that was my mother’s favorite, then it was an arm, wrist, leg or occasionally we’d dislocate a shoulder. Dad, who’s an orthopedic surgeon, would put us back together and then ground us for as long it took for whatever was broken or dislocated to heal. Unfortunately for me I broke one leg and then the other in two consecutive summers, so I spent two school vacations in a cast and indoors. All of the roughhousing stopped when Marimba opened for business and Mom put us to work. I’d complain that she was breaking the law because we were too young to work, so she had us sign up for working papers and put us on the payroll.”

  “I suppose she rested her case,” Crystal teased. Joseph cut his eyes at her, but she pretended she didn’t see the threatening look. “Speaking of food, what do you plan to serve Saturday?”

  His expression changed, softening. “We’re going to entertain between sixteen and twenty, so it should be buffet-style.” Turning over, Joseph picked up a pad and pen with the hotel’s logo off his bedside table. “I like what you made when I came to your place for happy hour. Maybe we can add a few more dishes.”

  Crystal noted it was the second time he’d said we. “You can order a cheese and fruit platter. A raw bar with clams, oysters, lobster and sushi is always a big hit. I’m partial to prosciutto-wrapped asparagus and melon, prawn with various sweet and spicy dipping sauces, spinach and bacon-stuffed mushrooms and sliced tomatoes and mozzarella. That’s just for the ladies.”