Holiday Temptation

by Donna Hill

  Noah shifted his jaw. He looked away. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Maybe she saw potential,” she hedged, actually mouthing her own thoughts.

  His head whipped in her direction. “Meaning?” His brows drew together.

  Traci swallowed down her response when she saw a mixture of hurt and anger shift places with each other on his face.

  She shrugged lightly. “Nothing. Really.” She waved off any further response as her protective instincts kicked in. This was how things always began, then escalated with Jason. She would make some innocent remark and he would take it from zero to sixty.

  Noah watched her shrink away and could have kicked himself for being so utterly blind. He reached for her, but she hopped up from her seat and took her plate to the sink. Noah came up behind her. He placed his hands on her tight shoulders. He pressed his forehead into her hair.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She inwardly flinched. Jason was always sorry, too.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s fine. Really. No apology necessary.”

  Noah turned her around to face him. Traci kept her focus on the floor. He lifted her chin with the tip of his finger.

  “Yeah, there is.” He paused. “I’m not him. I’m not going to flip out on you.” He drew in a long breath. “Look, I’m not good at this whole opening-up thing. I’m not that guy. I figured out since I was a kid that letting people know that you needed them or that you cared too much would bite you in the ass in the end. Seen it happen.”

  “Between the two of us we seem to have enough baggage to open a luggage store.”

  That made him laugh and the tightrope of tension loosened.

  “So look . . . I’m not going to make any promises of happily ever after. I can’t. It’s not me. But . . . if you want a man to be in your corner, support your dreams, show you a good time, keep the boogeymen away, make crazy love to you . . .” He held out his hands, palms up. “Here I am.”

  * * *

  “So basically he blew your socks off in bed and then pretty much told you that he’s only ‘sort of the one,’ as long as you don’t want the full monty,” Cara said with a clear line of sarcasm in her voice.

  Traci listened to Cara with one ear and her Pilates instructor with the other. She planted her palms facedown on her mat and lifted her legs to a forty-five-degree angle and held it for a count of fifteen as directed.

  “You don’t have to make it sound so awful.” Traci exhaled as she lowered her legs.

  “Not awful, just real.”

  They turned on their stomachs and executed a series of leg and hip lifts before completing the wind down.

  “Sounds like you’re going to stick it out.”

  Traci mopped her face with her towel. “I think I am.”

  They walked toward the dressing room.

  “But why, when you know it’s not going anywhere?”

  “For the time being I like what we’re doing, enjoying each other. No strings, no expectations.” She blew out a breath. “Besides, people change all the time.”

  Cara grabbed her shoulder. “Girl, don’t even go down that road because you’re setting yourself up to be let down. People don’t change,” she insisted. “And if you stick with it, believing that you can change him . . .”

  Traci stopped in her tracks and turned to her friend. “I’ve been eyeing this man for months, fantasizing about him and now he’s finally here. I want to be happy, Cara. It’s been so long that I’ve felt happy in a relationship that I look forward to the next day. Noah makes me happy. He reminds me that I’m a woman to be cared for.” She sighed and slowly shook her head. “I’m not ready to give that up. I’m going to enjoy it as much as I can for as long as I can.” She got out of her clothes and walked to the shower, leaving Cara with an expression of worry on her face.

  * * *

  As promised, Noah always made time for Traci, whether it was giving her extra attention when she frequented the CoffeeMate or the hours they spent on the phone on the nights that they weren’t in each other’s beds, or on their eclectic dates that could be anything from sitting on the pier to watching old black-and-white movies, hanging out at Open End, visits to museums and spoken-word clubs, cooking for her, or making love to her. All of it made it very difficult for Traci to believe that Noah wasn’t falling for her as hard as she was falling for him.

  The only odd part of their relationship was Noah’s hours of disappearance on Sundays. He wasn’t at the shop, he wasn’t with her, and he didn’t call or come by. It bugged her, made her curious, or maybe “suspicious” was a better word. At first she thought it was only in her head, but as she looked closer at what was happening between them, she knew she wasn’t imagining things. Where did he go every Sunday and what did he do? Who was he with?

  “Why don’t you just ask him?” Cara said.

  Traci shifted the phone between her shoulder and her ear. “I don’t want to be that kind of woman.”

  “What kind of woman would that be? One who asks for answers on the things she wants to know about?”

  “Not funny, Cara. You know what I mean. Someone who is always checking, needing to know where her man is twenty-four/seven.”

  “So you consider him your man?”

  “Yes,” she said a bit hesitantly.

  “A man that you don’t really trust?”

  “I never said I didn’t trust him.”

  “Not in those exact words, but you clearly have some kind of suspicion.”

  Traci rolled her eyes, even though Cara couldn’t see her. “Anyway,” she huffed, “how is everything else?”

  Cara laughed lightly. “Fine.”

  They talked a few minutes more until Traci gasped at the time. Noah would be there to pick her up in a couple of hours and she needed to get ready. They were going to see Misty Copeland in Swan Lake and she couldn’t wait.

  “Girl, I gotta go.”

  “Have a ball. One thing I have to give to Noah, he sure knows how to wine and dine. The prices for those tickets are crazy.”

  Traci laughed. “Later, girl.”

  * * *

  The entire area surrounding Lincoln Center was lit up with the lights of the holidays, which were rapidly approaching. Entering Metropolitan Opera House, however, was like stepping up for the Oscars. Everything gleamed and sparkled from the teardrop chandeliers to the diamonds that dripped from wrists and ears. The rarified air was scented with outrageously expensive perfumes and colognes. It had been a while since Traci had been to Lincoln Center, and that was for the free outdoor summer movies. This night was a true experience and she was thrilled that she’d splurged and gotten her designer dress—on sale—at a small boutique in Williamsburg.

  Noah held her lightly around the waist as they followed the line into the seating area. “You are stunning,” he whispered into her ear. “Would it be awful of me to say that I can’t wait to peel you out of your little black dress?”

  Traci flushed. “I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”

  “Aww, naughty girl.” He kissed her behind her ear, lingering for an extra moment to inhale her scent.

  The usher showed them to their seats. Traci was fully expecting that they would be in the balcony or, at best, the second mezzanine. She was wrong. They kept walking until they reached the orchestra, second row center.

  Traci held down her surprise and tried to play it cool, as if getting second-row orchestra seats was an everyday occurrence. But her insides belied her outward calm. She bubbled with excitement. She couldn’t believe it and knew for a fact that these seats easily went for five hundred dollars each for opening night. How in the world could Noah afford them on a manager’s salary at a coffee shop? She side-eyed him, and when he turned and gave her that smile, and squeezed her hand, she made up her mind that at least for tonight she would keep all of her doubting questions away and just enjoy the experience.

  * * *

  “I . . . I can’t even put into words what that was lik
e,” Traci said as they exited the theater. “She was magnificent,” she said, totally awestruck by Misty Copeland’s performance.

  “The American Ballet Theatre knew what they were doing when they named her principal dancer.”

  “After seeing her I want to change my professor to ballerina!” She did a little twirl, much to onlookers’ delight.

  “I could see you now, spinning, leaping, doing those splits. You already have the moves, babe,” he teased, and pecked her lightly on the cheek.

  She nudged him in the side. “Very funny.” She paused for a moment. “As great as it is, it’s sad to realize that in this day and age we are still saying the ‘first African-American . . . whatever.’”

  “Hmm, I know.”

  They were contemplative for a moment.

  “One of these days, hopefully in our lifetime, that won’t be the case.”

  “Hopefully. But”—he pulled her close—“in the meantime we can celebrate the moment.”

  “For sure.” She smiled and kissed him with the intention of it being no more than a gesture, but Noah suddenly pulled her flush against him and kissed her as if they were the only people in the world. And it didn’t matter that they were in the middle of the Plaza and hundreds of theatergoers were watching.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he whispered against her mouth. He held her firmly. “Sitting next to you, feeling you beside me, inhaling you, watching your expression, your happiness, and only able to touch your hand or your thigh, was making me crazy for you.” His gaze scrolled her face.

  Traci’s heart raced so quickly that it was hard to breathe. “Let’s go home.”

  Noah’s dark eyes flashed in the night. “Let’s.”

  Chapter Ten

  Noah stretched and blinked against the intruding light of a new day. He turned his head toward the clock on Traci’s nightstand. It was almost seven. He glanced over at her still-sleeping form. He hated to leave, but he had things to do. All of his planning was coming together and he didn’t want to screw things up now. He had to stay on top of the progress. Anthony was going to meet him at his place at nine so that they could head out to Philly and get back to Brooklyn at a reasonable hour.

  He quietly eased out of the bed, careful not to wake Traci while he dressed. Once he was finished, he stood over her sleeping form, debated about letting her know that he was leaving, then finally decided to send a text to her phone for her to find when she got up.

  * * *

  Anthony volunteered for the two-hour drive and the buddies took his SUV for the weekly road trip. “So how was the ballet?” Anthony asked with a note of amusement in his voice.

  “It was really great.”

  “I’m still trying to picture you at the ballet.”

  Noah chuckled. “I know. Me too. But I was there.”

  “Well, when you set your mind to impress a woman, you go all out. I’m pretty sure she was blown away by those seats that cost you a grand.”

  “I think so. But Traci is too classy to speak on it that way.”

  “But, man, if you’re trying to be all low-key, don’t you think buying ballet tickets for a thousand dollars would set off some warning lights? Where does she think you would get that kind of money working at a coffee shop?”

  Noah glanced out of the passenger window. “Saved up,” he quipped.

  “Yeah, right. Not the fact that you’re the CEO of the CoffeeMate franchise and could have bought the entire orchestra if you wanted. I’ve never known you to intentionally go out with a stupid woman and I’m pretty sure that Traci is far from it. She’s going to start asking questions and you’re either going to come clean or you’re going to lie.”

  “I’ll deal with it when the time comes.”

  “I say you tell her before she finds out some other way.”

  “When I’m ready. I need to be sure. I’m not going down that road again, man.”

  Anthony blew out a breath. “I hear you. Just don’t F-up if she really means anything to you.”

  “She does,” he quietly admitted. “More than I thought she would.”

  “Then, like I said, don’t F-up.” He made the turn onto the Pennsylvania freeway.

  * * *

  By the time they arrived on the south side of Philly, it was almost noon. Traffic was bad and the rainy mixture didn’t help.

  Noah had gotten the building for a steal. It was an abandoned three-story brownstone that sat on the edge of commercial and residential space. What was also great was that it was totally accessible by public transportation and there was a small parking lot less than a block away.

  They entered on the ground level that would host the café. The contractor had completed the entire first floor: hardwood floors, a horseshoe counter, and high ceilings with recessed lighting that gave the space the feel of a nightclub. There were banquettes that lined the walls and space in the center for tables. All that was left to do was bring in the furnishings and equipment.

  “Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Fields.” Herman the foreman stepped out from the back room, wiping his face. “I was getting ready to call you.”

  “Yeah, sorry, Herman. We ran into a bit of traffic.”

  Herman peered out of the paneled window. “Hmm, getting bad. Well, let’s review so that you can get back on the road.”

  As they moved from space to space on the first floor, they checked off items on the punch list and got the all clear. Then they went up to the second floor, taking the staircase behind the café. What Herman was able to do, according to Noah’s request, was to install a side door for direct access to the rooms upstairs that would be available from the outside.

  The second level was for pure, intimate dining. Each table setting was designed with partitions for the ultimate in privacy. Chandeliers provided the lighting. Speakers had been strategically placed to pipe in soft music. Again it was all about ambience.

  The top floor was a total entertainment space, complete with a full stage, lighting, a dynamic sound system, room for sitting and dancing, and, of course, a bar and small kitchen that would provide a house menu.

  In total it would employ at least one hundred people, if not more, provide a venue for up-and-coming artists and established ones, as well as serving as a local hangout for the community. And it was discreet. The fact that it was a brownstone blended right in with the surrounding community and was part of the visual landscape rather than a sore thumb.

  Herman turned to Noah and Anthony with a look of expectation in his eyes.

  Noah stuck out his hand. “You’ve done a helluva job here, Herman. I knew I hired the right man.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Jefferson.”

  Noah took the punch list from Herman and gave it his final approval. His pulse raced. This was it. He’d finally done it. Now the planning for the grand opening had to be put in motion.

  * * *

  “You did it, man,” Anthony said as they drove back to New York. The rain was coming down harder now.

  “Yeah.” Noah smiled. “Only wish I could have found something comparable in New York.”

  “I know. Real estate in the Apple is crazy high. You got a good deal on this, and knowing you, this is going to be even more successful than the franchise.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “And how is Traci going to fit into all of this?”

  “When the time is right . . .”

  “Where does she think you are every Sunday, visiting nursing homes or something?”

  Noah’s brows drew together. He thought about the text he’d sent her and all the other bogus excuses he’d used for never being around on Sunday. She’d not pushed the subject. She’d asked him once or twice what he did on his day off and he tossed out something generic like “just relax,” “take some time for me,” or “nothing special.” He wanted to tell her who he really was and what he was doing, but there was that part of him, that damaged little boy that didn’t quite recover from rejection, from wanting to be a part of
someone’s life, only to have it taken away time and again. And the one time, the one time when he let down his guard and gave someone a chance to show him what love was, she proved to him that what he’d felt and believed all along was true.

  As much as he cared about Traci, wanted to love Traci, he found himself still unable to cross that invisible barrier. He would never allow himself to be that vulnerable to anyone ever again.

  Anthony shot him a quick glance, knew he wouldn’t get an answer so he kept further comments on the subject to himself.

  * * *

  The pounding rain only added to Traci’s irritated mood. From her seat by the window she looked out on the darkened street pounded by the pouring rain. She’d awakened to find Noah gone. All he left behind was his scent on her pillows, a throb between her legs, and a text message: T, Had to head out. Didn’t want to wake you. Have a good one. N

  She shouldn’t have been surprised; it was Sunday, after all, but that didn’t take away the sting or the disappointment. For some ridiculous reason she’d imagined that since they’d gone out on Saturday night, instead of Friday, and that he’d spent the night at her house, that this Sunday would be the day that he stayed.

  She didn’t want to believe that Noah was doing something underhanded or seeing someone else, but at this point she wasn’t sure what to believe and maybe she should listen to Cara’s advice and just come right out and ask him. But her traumatic experiences of asking the most benign questions had silenced her, had successfully cut off her ability to speak about what was on her mind and in her heart, because to do so resulted in physical and verbal assaults. She’d had several years of freedom from the abuse, but the scars remained just below the surface.

  Traci slightly pushed the sheer curtain aside to get a better look below. She needed to run to the corner store and pick up some flour, when suddenly her entire body heated and a flush of prickling dread rose like a rash along her arms and back.

  Jason was outside, across the street, staring at her building. She blinked several times and looked again to be sure that she wasn’t imagining that the six-foot-plus man in the brown overcoat, which she remembered buying him for a Christmas gift in another lifetime, was pacing across the street, oblivious to the rain, and periodically looking up toward her window.