Lovin' Blue

by Zuri Day

  “What have you done to me, woman? I need to be focused on my job but can’t stop thinking about what I’m going to do to you later on tonight.”

  “That sounds dangerous.” There was a smile in Eden’s voice.

  Jansen’s voice was low and smoky. “Oh, believe me, baby, you have no idea.”

  “Ha! No, I meant not being focused sounds dangerous. Yours is not a job where one wants to be caught off guard.”

  “You’re right, which is why it’s good I’m back at the station handling paperwork. What time are you coming over?”

  “I hadn’t planned on coming.”

  Pause. “And again I say, you have no idea. . . .”

  “Jansen. You’re such a bad boy.”

  “That’s what you like about me. I’ll be home around six. Will you meet me?”

  “I will this time. But soon I’ll be a working woman and not able to be at your beck and call.”

  “Oh, really? You got a bite on one of those résumés you’ve been sending?”

  “Actually, this was a recommendation from a friend. I’ll tell you all about it when I come over.”

  “Baby, that had better be a quick story. Because once you get here, my mouth will have more things to do than hold a conversation.”

  29

  Eden awoke to soft, feathery kisses being placed at the nape of her neck. It felt good. She nestled back against him, spoon style, their bodies fitting perfectly. I could get used to this.

  Jansen ran his hand along Eden’s side, from her shoulder, down the valley of her waist, and over the crest of her hip. He squeezed a cheek and began the journey back over the skin he thought smooth as silk. Eden wiggled her buttocks against his hardness, wrapped his arm around her to snuggle even closer. It was all the invitation Jansen needed. He reached across her to the nightstand beyond, and after making quick work of protecting them, lifted her leg and sank deeply into Eden’s heat. She moaned her appreciation, gyrated her hips to join in the dance. Jansen was focused, purposeful as he delivered thrust after powerful thrust. His fingers found her nipple, tweaked it once and again. Eden’s whimpers became a song, Jansen’s grunts the accompanying melody. They’d done the love boogie for hours the night before, but each acted as famished as a just-released priest. Jansen rolled onto his back, carrying Eden with him. He lifted her as if she were a feather, grasped her thighs, and went in for the thrill—harder, faster, rotating his hips, elevating himself off the bed to stamp his claim deep inside Eden’s core. Eden cried louder, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes from the intense pleasure. Her insides quivered and legs shook amid a climax so powerful she thought she saw stars. Jansen followed her over the edge, a sustained shudder the final chord to their symphony. Breathing heavily, he pulled Eden into his arms, lying as they had at the beginning. He wrapped his arms around her, kissed her shoulder, and murmured two words: “Good morning.”

  Eden giggled. “Indeed it is.”

  “I could get used to this, little garden.”

  Eden didn’t reply. The truth was, she was probably already more used to Jansen than she should be, and falling deeper in love every day. She knew it was dangerous territory she was treading, knew the potential pitfalls of risking her heart. But the rewards . . . She thought of their shared history, easy camaraderie, and physical compatibility . . . and knew this was a chance she’d have to take.

  Jansen eased off the bed, groaning his displeasure at doing so. “Why don’t you stay here today—be here when I come home?”

  Eden performed the stretch of a satisfied kitty. “Right now it feels as if I could stay here all day, in bed.”

  “That’s fine, too.”

  “No,” she countered, sitting up. “I have some things to research online and probably should send out a few more résumés, just in case this job doesn’t come through.”

  “You never told me about the interview.”

  “Yeah, well, a certain someone had other things on his mind when I came over last night.”

  Jansen smiled. “Come take a shower with me and tell me all about it.”

  Afterward Eden climbed back into the bed and watched Jansen dress. He was very particular about his uniform and seemed to have a routine about putting it on. He started with his socks. Interesting. Then a pair of black Calvin Klein briefs, followed by the same brand black T-shirt. Nice. After splashing on a touch of cologne, he reached for the crisply starched and ironed navy blue pants hanging just inside the closet. Donning them was followed by sliding a thick Velcro belt holder through the belt loops and covering the hard, sculpted chest Eden relished with a navy-blue shirt. Wow, Eden thought as she admired him unabashedly. Of all the LA scenarios I imagined, I never thought I’d be here . . . lovin’ blue.

  Jansen walked to the dresser, strapped on a thick leather belt over the belt holder, and placed a radio, handcuffs, pepper spray, and extra magazine pouch in their respective holders. Lastly, with a quick look in Eden’s direction, he reached for his gun and slipped it firmly in the holster. Normally, he would have loaded a full magazine clip, but given Eden’s sensitivity where weapons were concerned, Jansen decided to do this downstairs.

  “You going to be here for me?” Jansen’s voice was a whisper as he leaned over and planted a kiss on Eden’s forehead. “You could use my computer downstairs in my office.”

  “Are you sure you want me in your home for eight hours? Not afraid I’ll snoop through your things and find out your secrets?”

  Jansen laughed. “Oh, so that’s how it is. You’re one of those women.”

  “Fortunately, no, thanks to Phyllis Anderson. She says women who go looking for doo-doo usually find it.”

  “Ha! I love your mama.” Jansen placed a quick kiss on Eden’s lips. “Let me get out of here while I still can, because as sexy as you’re looking in my wife beater, I’m tempted to call in sick and sex you again.”

  After Jansen left, Eden fell back to sleep. When she awoke, she was surprised that she’d slept three more hours. Then she remembered the workout Jansen had given her and understood why. Her brow creased as she thought of Jansen protecting the public on barely six hours’ sleep. She sent up a mental prayer to her angels to keep Jansen safe.

  Preferring Jansen’s tee to what she’d worn last night, Eden walked over to his dresser, found a pair of checkered boxers, and put them on. Her hands lingered among his belongings, fingering his boxers, briefs, socks, and T-shirts, all folded with precision. She closed the drawer, smiled as she looked around the room, and wondered if it could work, if she and Jansen could last long-term. How would it feel to be your wife? “Whoa, girl,” Eden said aloud. “It’s way too early to go down that road.”

  To take her mind off things better left not thought about, Eden stripped the bed and went in search of the laundry room. Finding it just off the kitchen, she put in the load and then went to assuage a serious appetite. “Jansen, trying to keep up with your libido will have me as big as a house!” She laughed aloud when she opened the refrigerator and among other things saw salad fixings, a variety of vegetables, and soy meats. She took out a bag of muffins and orange juice, eyed a bowl of fruit on the counter and, next to it, two bottles of wine. “You’re too much,” she said, becoming increasingly impressed with her lover’s thoughtfulness. Last night he’d surprised her with the music that had accompanied their lovemaking—a bevy of neo-soul artists he’d added to his iPod, along with a couple compilations of smooth jazz. This morning he’d surprised her with his stamina.

  A ringing cell phone jolted Eden from her musings. She rushed to answer it, having totally forgotten to bring her purse up to Jansen’s bedroom the night before. There was no telling who’d called or how many messages she had. “Hello?”

  “There you are!” Ariel’s high-pitched voice fairly floated through the phone. “I thought I might have to send out my fairies to find you.”

  “Sorry. I got tied up last night and haven’t checked my messages.”

  “Sounds yummy!”
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  Eden laughed.

  “Of course I was living to know how your interview went with the doctor.”

  “Ha! You mean, dying to know, don’t you?”

  “Moi? Never that, Eden. Death is an illusion. Everything about me is eternally alive!”

  This girl, you’ve got to love her. “Okay . . .”

  “Turns out, I already know. It must have gone well. You’ve created some great buzz around here.”

  “Oh really? More buzz than I felt go up my arm when Om shook my hand?”

  Ariel laughed. “He gave you shaktipat?”

  “Chaka who?”

  “Shaktipat. It’s the transference of spiritual energy. Your higher self must have requested it because it can’t be given without consent.”

  “If you say so.”

  “It’s good stuff, Eden. Look it up online. I think you’ll benefit immensely from a session with him.”

  “I’ll research it. That’s all I can promise.”

  “Coolness! Om liked your energy. In fact, everyone seemed very impressed with your qualifications, especially Dr. K.”

  “Really.”

  “After you left, he asked me about you, how long we’d known each other, where we met, stuff like that. Of course I waxed poetic about your glowing attributes and what a great addition you’d make to our family. I know for a fact that they checked at least one of your references already, even though two other applicants are being interviewed today.”

  “Which means I shouldn’t count my chickens before they’re hatched.”

  “Those interviews are also part of the illusion. Visualize what you want, Eden. If it’s your desire, this job is yours. Oops, call coming in. I have to run. Smooches!”

  Eden walked to Jansen’s office with Ariel’s words ringing in her ears. Visualize what you want. If it’s your desire, it’s yours. After visiting the center and meeting the staff, Eden definitely wanted to work at the Zen Den. But that wasn’t all she desired. She sat in Jansen’s big leather chair, inhaled his scent, and visualized something else she wanted.

  30

  Jansen hummed along with will.i.am from the Black Eyed Peas. “Yeah, I have a feeling, too, man.” He looked over at the roses he’d impulsively bought from the seller at an intersection on Hawthorne. Only in Los Angeles, he’d mused after the purchase, could one buy anything from fruit to nuts, to flowers to bean pies without leaving their car. He entered the gate, turned onto his block, and the song died on his lips. Eden’s car was gone. It had been on his mind all day: coming home and having Eden there waiting for him, still wearing his oversize tee, perhaps the smell of something healthy yet delicious wafting from the kitchen. Eden had looked good in his home. It had felt right falling asleep with her last night and waking up pressed against her lusciousness.

  He turned into his drive and, with motor running, dialed her cell. She picked up. “It had better be good.”

  “What?” Eden asked, already knowing the answer.

  “The reason you’re not at my house, woman!” Jansen’s tone softened. “Knowing I’d find you here is what got me through the day.”

  “Oh, baby, I’m sorry.” And she was. Sorry that she’d looked into his top desk drawer to find screen cleaner and had found a handgun instead. Sorry that after jumping from the desk as if the semiautomatic could shoot, well, automatically, she took a good look around the room. A collection of handcuffs was framed on one wall, along with his college degree and various commendations from both his military and law-enforcement careers. On the other wall was a case housing an extensive gun collection. Eden was sorry that instead of leaving the house right then, she’d turned into the snoop she said she wasn’t and found guns in a kitchen drawer, the laundry room, and inside the walk-in closet of his master suite. She was sorry she didn’t make up the bed, didn’t even take the linens out of the washing machine, but instead had dressed as quickly as she could and fled the feel of death.

  “Why’d you go, baby? I want you here. I want you now.”

  “Something came up,” she said, her mind grasping for an excuse to cover the truth. Eden didn’t want to mess up the amazing vibe she’d felt with this man by mentioning the real reason. It would simply cause a debate, and Eden was not in the mood. All day she’d grappled with the reality of Jansen’s chosen profession and its dichotomous position to her own truths and desired career path. How did one balance holistic living with weapons of destruction? Yet how could she judge Jansen’s path when she didn’t want anyone judging hers?

  “I should have left you a key,” Jansen said into the silence.

  “It’s okay, I had to come back to Santa Monica anyway to take a yoga class.” At least I can tell you the truth about that.

  “You still needed stretching after my workouts last night and this morning? Damn, I need to step up my game!”

  “Trust and believe, Jansen, your game is top-notch.”

  Jansen felt himself relax for the first time since turning the corner and not seeing Eden’s car. “So I’m headed to Santa Monica?”

  “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

  “Should I bring dinner?”

  “No, I’ll whip something up.”

  Later, after a hearty dinner of lentil stew over quinoa, cornbread, and pie for dessert, Jansen and Eden once again struck up their familiar love song. Their bodies sang I want you better than Marvin Gaye and whip appeal better than Babyface. Jansen strummed her body like an instrument, made Eden sing soprano, and then begrudgingly made his exit. She clung to the sheets he’d just vacated, drank in his musky scent, her heart already missing the man who’d left just moments before. “What am I going to do?” Eden asked the darkness. With their differences, she didn’t know how she could live with him, but with what they shared, she could no longer see her life without him in it.

  31

  “Why couldn’t I reach you all weekend?” Michael walked over and turned down his stereo.

  “Oh, no, you didn’t,” Eden retorted as she looked out and beheld a beautiful, if hot, August day. “Not admonishment from the brother who was MIA for a week before letting his family know he’d flown the country coop.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, that was then, this is now. I tried to reach you all day Sunday and yesterday, too.” Michael paused. “Couldn’t reach Jansen either.”

  Silence.

  “Are you and Jansen dating?”

  Pause. “Yes.” Why do I feel like I’m talking to a parent instead of a sibling?

  “C’mon, weed,” Michael said with a sigh. “Then again, on second thought, you know what? You’re a grown-ass woman. You’re no longer the little sister who needs protection from the bullies on her way home from school.”

  “Are you saying Jansen is a bully?”

  “When it comes to J-Dog, I don’t think it matters what I’m saying.”

  “Not as long as he keeps treating me the way he has, as a perfect gentleman.”

  “He’d better, ’cause I know where he lives. But, then, you probably do, too. . . .”

  “Yeah, just like Bridgett probably knows her way around your house.”

  “You got me there.”

  “I know I do. I grew up with you, remember? She’s probably there right now. So don’t start none, won’t be none, big bro.”

  “Ha!” Michael lay back on his couch and pulled a barely clad Bridgett down with him. “What are y’all doing for Labor Day weekend?”

  “We’re invited to a party at Jansen’s partner’s house.”

  “El hombre Alberto.”

  “You know him?”

  “Met him once at a party. He seems like a cool dude.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Bridgett wants to barbecue over here, have a pool party. Cleaning the water regularly but still haven’t been in it more than half a dozen times. We were going to invite you and Jansen over and a few more friends.”

  “Oh, dang, that sounds fun. Well, we can always party hop. I think Alberto’s party is
during the day. So if you could plan yours more toward evening, that would be cool. And I’d finally get to meet the woman with the track record on your heart.”

  “All right, then. We’ll work something out.”

  They ended the call, and Eden walked to her laptop on the dining room table. She clicked on the Facebook icon, entered her e-mail address, and waited for the page to load. Oh, my goodness. Renee responded to my request and sent me a message! She was just about to click on it when the phone rang.

  “Ms. Anderson?” a deep voice with a slight accent asked.

  Eden’s heart leaped. “Dr. Kostopoulos?”

  Alex chuckled. “You’ll want to call me Alex, or Dr. K. Pronouncing those four syllables repeatedly throughout the course of your day may become wearing after a bit.”

  “Through the course of my . . . wait? Are you calling to give me some very good news?” Eden couldn’t contain her excitement. She jumped up from the table and then paced the living room and back.

  “Yes, Eden. We are very pleased to have put together what we hope is a winning job offer. Can you come to the center today?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good. Does three o’clock work for you?”

  “Yes, Dr. Kostopou—I mean, Alex. Dr. K. Three sounds perfect.”

  “I look forward to seeing you then.”

  At 4:15 PM, Eden bounced out of the Zen Den with a glide in her stride and pep in her step. The 60K-a-year plus-benefits offer was twenty thousand more than she thought she’d receive and more money than was advertised. Dr. K had explained to her that because of her qualifications and diverse skill set, he’d gotten the board to combine two positions into one in order to offer a higher salary. As center director, Eden would oversee staff and operations and head up marketing as well. She’d signed a one-year contract and would be on a probationary period for ninety days, during which time either side could terminate the agreement, no questions asked. She reached her car, donned her earpiece, and retrieved her phone. Jansen had called, which did not surprise her. A picture of the gun in the middle of his top desk drawer floated into her mind. She closed her eyes against it. What am I going to do? Eden didn’t know the answer to that question. But as she clicked on the link to redial his number, she knew one thing: not seeing him tonight was not an option.