by Donna Hill
The car jerked forward when he pressed a little too hard on the gas. “Uh, no I’m not. Are you?”
“No.”
“You think that’s a good thing?”
“That I’m not seeing anyone?” she asked, her voice a bit tremulous.
“No, that neither of us are seeing anyone.”
They both looked at each other and smiles of relief and invitation played around their mouths and put a new light in their eyes that popped back and forth between them.
She wanted to touch him. Run her finger along the tiny scar above his left brow. Her chest rose and fell slowly and seductively as she drew in deep breaths in the hopes of controlling her rapidly racing heartbeat.
Alex was transfixed by the pulse that raced at the base of her throat, the way her lips trembled ever so slightly and the way her full breasts rose toward him daring him to reach out and caress them.
The blare of a car horn behind them jerked them back in their seats.
Alex sputtered a nervous chuckle. “Causing a traffic jam,” he said, pressing down on the gas and zipping through the intersection.
They were quiet for the next few blocks, both contemplating the implications of what they’d revealed. Shortly they arrived in front of the hotel.
Alex eased the car to a stop, turned and looked at Kelly. “Safe and sound.” He gave her a half smile, his gaze sheltering the question that danced on his tongue.
“Thanks. I’m sure I can’t expect this kind of treatment every day.”
“You never know. I don’t mind, really, as long as I’m available.”
She didn’t want to hope. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She studied her hands for a moment before reaching for the door handle.
“I’ll help you.” Alex hopped out of the car and came around to her side. He held out his hand.
Kelly stretched out her hand and gently placed it in Alex’s. His fingers closed around hers and her insides shifted from left to right as her breath stopped short in her throat. His intense gaze locked on to her and she couldn’t seem to move or hear anything around her above the rapid racing of her heart.
Alex stepped closer, leaned inside the car and placed his other hand around her waist. “Easy does it,” he said, easing her to her feet. He kept his arm around her waist, savoring the moment, the feel of her so close to him.
When she stepped down their bodies were inches apart. Her face was turned upward toward his, her lips slightly parted. She could feel the warmth of him surround her and for a silly moment she wondered if to the casual passerby they looked like models for the cover of a romance novel.
“You’re beautiful,” he heard himself say and instantly wished that he hadn’t. The stunned look on her face rocked him back to earth.
“No one has ever said that to me,” she managed to stutter.
“I can’t believe that.”
She lowered her eyes. “Believe it. Can you pass me my crutches?”
Alex shook himself out of his trance and opened the back door to the car, pulled out her crutches and handed them to her.
“Thanks.” She adjusted them beneath her arms, paused, wanting the moments to last, needing to find a way to make him stay. “Do you have to go back to the hospital?”
“No. I’m actually finished for the day. Unless an emergency comes up, I’m free.” He waited. Hoped. She had to make the move.
“Why don’t you come up for a little while? The least I can do is order room service to thank you for bringing me back.”
A crooked grin crinkled the corners of his eyes. “A woman who knows how to tease a man…with food.”
Kelly laughed. “Is that all it takes? You’re easy.” She moved away and went toward the entrance.
Alex gave the keys to the valet and followed her inside.
Chapter 21
Standing next to Alex in the close quarters of the elevator made her light-headed, her knees wobbly and her heart race a mile a minute. She was taking this man up to an empty suite. Just the two of them. She was no naive fool. She knew what that said without the words. It was an invitation to more than “ordering room service,” and Alex had accepted.
The bell dinged on the penthouse floor and opened directly onto the spacious suite, offering an immediate panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline. Today the sun’s rays glistened against the glass-and-chrome skyscrapers making them appear like futuristic images on the vast landscape of steel and concrete.
“Impressive,” Alex uttered, stepping inside. He turned to Kelly and grinned. “I’ve been hanging out with the wrong crowd. Do you always travel in this kind of style?”
“We get treated pretty well,” she admitted, a bit hesitant on divulging the sometime extravagant settings she’d inhabited during tours and track meets. The athletes were always treated like rock stars, getting the best rooms at the hotels, the best food and service—all generally provided for by very generous sponsors. It was a life to which she’d grown very accustomed.
“Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything to drink?” She quickly unplugged the phone while Alex was enjoying the view. The last thing she wanted was to be disturbed by a call from David, which she knew would be forthcoming.
“I’m good.” He turned to face her. “Why don’t you show me where everything is.”
She swallowed. “Okay.” She led him toward the small but well-stocked kitchenette. “We generally use room service but if we ever want to do our own thing we can. There’s a small fridge, microwave and dishwasher.” She turned slowly. “Down the hall is the guest bathroom.” She led him in that direction. “Through those doors is the adjoining suite…where David was. And over there is my room,” she said, pointing to the closed door on the opposite side of the living room.
Alex nodded his approval. “Very nice. Almost like home.”
Kelly chuckled. “Not in the least. As much as I’ve traveled, Atlanta will always be home for me.”
He sat on the couch and Kelly took a seat on the armchair opposite him.
“You’ve never considered relocating?”
She shook her head. “No. Atlanta has been good to me,” she said, her tone thoughtful. Gone were the frightening days of hunger, torment and loneliness. David made sure of that. No, she’d never leave.
“So…” Alex said on a breath. “What else do you like to do besides run like the wind?”
For a moment she frowned. “Not much.” She laughed a nervous chuckle. “If I’m not running, I’m in training. When I’m not training I’m sleeping.” She stole a glance to gauge his expression but couldn’t read him.
“Pretty regimented life. Don’t you ever want to go to concerts, plays, go out dancing?” he asked, his voice gentle but probing.
She shrugged and looked away, stretching her injured foot out in front of her. “I don’t really think about it much.” That was a lie. She often wondered what it would be like to go out on a real date with no strings, to be wined and dined, not have to concern herself with her weight or who was going to snap her picture and make up a story to go with it.
“Well, you know the old saying, all work and no play.” He leaned back to get more comfortable and crossed his right ankle over his left thigh. “Playing rounds out your life.” He grinned.
“Is that right?” She smiled. “What do you do when you play?”
“Sports are definitely a top priority with me. I have season passes to all the Knicks games…even though they leave a lot to be desired. I attend the US Open like a religion. Jazz festivals, R&B concerts, gallery openings. I try to keep busy otherwise my job will consume me.”
“How do you find the time?” she asked really needing to know.
“I make the time. You should, too.”
Slowly she
shook her head as she spoke. “I don’t know. I—”
“Does David allow you to go out?”
Her gaze snapped in his direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Does he have a say about your activities off the track?”
Her lips pinched. “No. But he wants to make sure we’re always prepared. Being an athlete is different. We’re not like everyone else.”
Alex frowned. “Different? Your blood is red. You put your pants on one leg at a time—”
“Is that supposed to be funny?” she asked, offended by his sarcasm.
“Actually, no. The first part of being an athlete, or any profession for that matter, is being human and kind to yourself. Yes, you have a God-given skill, but you are still a woman, with hopes, dreams, needs.”
She snapped her head away from looking at him. “You don’t understand. David—”
“David controls your life. David tells you how to live, what to do, say, how to act.”
“He only wants to protect me,” she cried.
“From what?”
“From…”
“Life. Life, Kelly,” he insisted. “As long as David can control your every move, your every thought, he can keep you tied to him, beholden to him. He maintains the power and you remain powerless.”
She wished she could jump up and run away. Get away from Alex and his conclusions that were too close to the truth. She couldn’t let him know the real reason why she was so tied to David, why she needed him.
“Wow, I got you up here on the pretext of fixing you something to eat and I haven’t even gotten you a glass of water.” She pushed herself up.
Alex was immediately at her side. “Don’t run away.” He held her by the wrist.
She turned, glanced up at him. His gaze was too intent. “I’m not.” She sputtered a nervous laugh. “I can’t—remember?”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Do you want ice in that glass of water?”
He released her and stepped back. “Yeah, ice would be great.”
She limped off to the kitchenette. Alex was right behind her.
“You’re really good at changing subjects. Obviously it’s something you don’t want to discuss. I’ll respect that and leave it alone.”
She lowered her head while pouring him a glass of water from the carafe. “Thank you.”
She reached in the freezer and took out the ice tray, popped two cubes into the glass and put the tray away. She turned and handed the glass to him.
“I’m really not the enemy.”
She didn’t respond.
He took a long swallow from his glass while studying her. “Do you think that I am?”
“No.”
“Then that’s a start. So,” he said on a breath. “What’s to eat?” He grinned and so did she.
Alex helped her fix a Caesar salad and all the while he couldn’t help but wonder what she was so afraid of. It was obvious that she was hiding something. And he was certain it had something to do with her and her relationship with David Livingston.
The knock on the door interrupted their quiet camaraderie.
“Excuse me for a minute. The plates are in that small cabinet,” she said. “We can eat in the living room,” she added, heading to the next room to answer the door, momentarily thankful to put a little space between them.
Alex strained to hear what she was saying, but couldn’t. She returned shortly.
“Everything okay?”
She nodded. “Yes, just the front desk wanting to know if I needed anything,” she lied.
Alex smiled. “I have been hanging out with the wrong crowd.”
Chapter 22
Charisse stood in front of her window looking down on Manhattan from the fifteenth floor of her high-rise apartment building. She sighed deeply. She should have never revealed her true feelings to Alex. She took a sip from her glass of wine. He was everything she wanted in a man, but it was obvious that she wasn’t what he wanted. She finished off her drink, walked over to the bar on the far side of the sunken living room and refilled her glass. What was she going to do now? She should have waited, waited until it was too late.
Her phone rang. She thought about not answering but changed her mind. She could use someone to talk to. She picked up the phone from the center of the smoked glass table.
“Hello?”
“Hey, cuz.”
“Steph?”
“Who else.”
Charisse smiled, rested the phone between her ear and shoulder and plopped down on the couch. Stephanie Daniels was her aunt Nell’s daughter, her mother’s sister. They’d been close since they were kids growing up in the Marcy projects in Brooklyn’s do-or-die Bed-Stuy. Both of them had battled their way out of the drug-and-crime-infested neighborhood—Stephanie through athletics and Charisse, with her flair for mathematics was now an engineer for IBM.
“I’m sure glad you called, girl. I could use a friendly voice.” Stephanie was the sister Charisse never had. She shared much of her life with Stephanie, mostly by phone because of the geographic distance. But they talked often, keeping each other pretty much up-to-date on their lives.
“What’s up? You don’t sound good. Did you tell him? Did he flip?”
Charisse heaved a deep sigh. “I told him part of it, not everything,” she said, sounding like a frightened child instead of a thirty-two-year-old woman.
“What part did you tell him?”
“That I was in love with him.”
“Dayum. Wrong confession.”
“Apparently.”
“What do you mean apparently?”
“He…broke it off.”
“Shit.”
“My sentiments exactly. What do I do now?” Tears of regret and hurt welled in her eyes and spilled over.
“Well, you have three choices, cuz—tell him and see if he wants to man up and do the right thing, pay a visit to your local clinic or join the ranks of single-motherhood.”
Charisse released a slow, silent breath. Whatever she decided, it would have to be soon.
The moment David landed in Atlanta he pulled out his cell phone and called Kelly. No answer. He tried three times as he exited onto the street and hailed a cab. With each empty ring his frustration level escalated.
He tossed his overnight bag in the backseat, slammed the door behind him. He gave the driver instructions to his town house.
Frowning, he scrolled through the numbers locked into his phone and called the hospital.
“This is David Livingston. I’m calling to find out whether or not a patient, Kelly Maxwell, got on the hospital transport van after her treatment today.”
“Are you a relative, sir?”
“I’m her coach.”
The nurse huffed a bit on the other end. “The vans finished up for the day hours ago, sir. The drivers are all gone. I would have no way of knowing. I only came on duty at four o’clock.”
“Is there anyone around who would know? What about Dr. Hutchinson? He’s her doctor.”
“Dr. Hutchinson is gone for the day. He’s been off duty for hours.”
David felt as if he would burst. “Thank you…for nothing!” He disconnected the call.
This time he dialed the hotel directly.
“Marriott, may I help you?”
“Yes, this is Mr. Livingston in the penthouse.”
“Yes, Mr. Livingston, how can we help you this evening?”
“I’ve been trying to reach Ms. Maxwell but I’m not getting an answer. Could you please try the room? I’m a little worried.”
“If I’m not mistaken, I saw Ms. Maxwell go upstairs quite some time ago.
I don’t believe she’s gone out. Would you like me to try the room?”
“Yes, please…”
David listened to the phone ring and ring.
“I’m sorry, sir, there’s no answer.”
“Look, I need you to go up to the room. Check and make sure that Ms. Maxwell is all right.”
“I’ll send someone up right away.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there a number where I can call you back?”
“I’d prefer to hold on.”
The cab stopped in front of his building. Absently he reached into his jacket for his wallet, pulled out a twenty and a ten and handed them to the driver. “Keep the change.” He snatched his bag from the seat and got out, walking hard toward his front door, his ear pressed to the phone.
He opened his front door and stepped into a blast of contained heat. Immediately he turned on the air conditioner followed by the ceiling fan. He paced beneath the fan, waiting, listening to recorded music and short spiels about the wonders of the Marriott Hotel.
“Mr. Livingston…”
David snapped to attention. “Yes.”
“Uh, Ms. Maxwell said that she would call you, but to let you know that everything is fine.”
David frowned. “What? Did you see her?”
“No, sir, actually I spoke to her at the door. She sounded fine. Will there be anything else?”
Totally bewildered, he mumbled no and disconnected the call.
What was going on and how much did Dr. Hutchinson have to do with it?
Chapter 23
“The food was great, your choice of music was on point and the company couldn’t have been better,” Alex said, standing and stretching. “As much as I don’t want to I need to head home.”
“Thanks for everything. I had a nice time, too.” She started to get up. “I’ll get your jacket.”
He held up his hand. “No. Don’t. I’ll get it.” He lifted his chin in the direction of the hallway off the kitchen. “It’s in that closet in back, right?”
