She looked down and toyed with the edge of a napkin. “There’s a first time for everything, Marcel.” Her breathing almost stopped at his assessing gaze. “Is something stuck on my face?”
His eyes never left hers. “It wouldn’t matter if it was. They’re beautiful.”
“What?” She’d never considered herself to be a stunning beauty when she was younger, and at thirty-seven, she didn’t stand a chance. She looked at the enamel gems on her antique gold charm bracelet. “My bracelet?”
“No. Your eyes. They’re beautiful.”
She placed her hands in her lap and slowly lifted her head. “Thank you.” She glanced around at the back of her chair and grabbed her purse. “I better head home.”
“Have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
“No.”
He gave her a sexy smile. “You’re saying the “n” word again.”
She chuckled this time. “Since you don’t like hearing the word, how’s this?” She pointed her right thumb downward.
“Was everything to your satisfaction?” Their waitress walked up and asked the question when she picked up the leather folder containing the money.
They both nodded.
The waitress smiled. “That’s good. You two have a great evening.”
After the waitress left, Marcel’s devastatingly sexy grin returned. “I don’t give up easily.”
Caitlyn braced both hands beneath her chin. “Somehow, I get the feeling you’re telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
* * *
Marcel saw Caitlyn safely to her car. After she drove off, he stood in the parking lot at a total loss to explain the feelings bombarding him. What was it about this woman that had him tied up in knots? She’d captivated him from the moment he’d laid eyes on her.
It wasn’t until her taillights disappeared that Marcel released the pent-up emotions he’d held in check most of the evening. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but whatever it was, it was too strong to ignore. He had to find a way to maneuver around Caitlyn’s reluctance to get to know him, and at the same time, convince her he was nothing like the man who’d obviously caused her pain. He also had to find a way to tell her he’d known about her and her center for the past three weeks.
He needed a plan, and he needed one fast because he had only one mission now: getting to know Caitlyn Thompson a lot better.
* * *
Caitlyn hurriedly unlocked the front door to her apartment, closing it behind her almost before she got inside, and scrambled to find the nearby light switch. Maybe one day her fear of Cole would disappear. But until then, she’d do what she’d done every night for almost three years: search her apartment from top to bottom.
With mace in hand, she looked under the bed, peeked inside every closet and checked all the windows to be sure they were locked. Only then did she drop her purse on a small table in the living room and shrug out of her navy blue suit jacket. Releasing a long sigh of contentment, she walked through the brightly lit, sparsely furnished space.
The six-hundred-square-foot apartment was a far cry from the two-bedroom penthouse she’d fled from in New Jersey, but it was definitely a step above the out-of-the-way motels she’d stayed in as she zigzagged her way to Oakland. With the horror of her relationship behind her now, the only thing that mattered at the moment was that she was safe.
Finally, she noticed the blinking light on her answering machine in the bedroom. At least she didn’t have to worry that Cole had gotten her telephone number since the number was listed in the name of the youth center, and he didn’t have a clue where she worked. She knew exactly who’d left the message. Before she could check the caller ID to be sure, the phone rang.
“Yes.”
Her best friend, Victoria, roared into the conversation full speed ahead. “Uh-uh. Don’t ‘yes’ me. Girl, where the hell have you been all evening? I called at our usual time and there was no answer. I was worried sick and just short of calling the police.”
Chuckling, Caitlyn sat on the side of the bed and kicked her shoes toward the closet. Once she removed her pantyhose, she slowly massaged the soles of her feet, and decided to say something she knew would ruffle her best friend’s feathers even more.
“And a very pleasant evening to you, too, Victoria.”
“Stop. You know I hate it when you call me Victoria. What’s going on, girl? Give up the tapes. Remember, this is me, your friend—your best friend, I might add.”
Caitlyn knew once Vic started in on something, she wasn’t going to stop until she got what she wanted. “Vic, I’m okay.” She stood and reached behind to unzip her skirt and wiggled her hips until it pooled at her feet.
“You sure?” Vic paused. “You’re always home and in bed before the highlights of the ten o’clock news finish.”
Caitlyn had placed the phone on the nightstand to pull her blouse over her head and missed Vic’s last statement. She picked up the phone again.
“Caitlyn?”
“Hmmm?”
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“Uh…”
“I said…oh, never mind. I didn’t know if he—”
“No, Vic, Cole hasn’t found me.”
“That’s good.” Vic blew out a sigh of relief. “But where have you been?”
Stretched out on the double bed, clad in a pair of silk navy blue panties and a matching bra, Caitlyn lay on her back with the receiver cradled between her neck and shoulder. With a schoolgirl’s enthusiasm, she proceeded to share the activities of the past two days, including her lunch and dinner with Marcel. “Vic, there’s something about him that I like—a lot.”
Vic’s voice went up at least two octaves. “Child, status report on the man.”
Caitlyn sat up and tucked her legs beneath her. “There’s only one word to describe him.”
“What’s that?”
“Fine.” Caitlyn was so excited she gurgled. “Oh, listen, he wears his hair in a low-cut fade.”
“Girl…”
“I know. He has a beard, but it’s trimmed close enough, you know, that you can see a really deep dimple, but only on the left side though.”
“Shut up.”
With her arms wrapped around her waist, Caitlyn chuckled. “I know.”
“So, when am I going to get to meet this fine brother?”
Caitlyn frowned and her enthusiasm faded as quickly as it came. “Vic, don’t go there. I just met the man. He was kind enough to help me out. He took me to lunch, and we had dinner tonight. That’s it.”
“Okay, okay, but I’m telling you, you snooze, you lose.”
“Good night, Vic. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Overcome with exhaustion, Caitlyn slipped between the cool, crisp sheets and pulled the comforter to her chin. She knew she needed to go to sleep, but every time she shut her eyes, she saw Marcel’s face. For almost three years, she’d been forced to live underground, afraid to lead a normal existence. But since arriving in Oakland six months earlier, she had started to feel safer. And much of the security she felt came from the love and protection Vic and Vic’s family had provided. Twenty-four hours ago, though, her serene life had taken an unexpected twist because she’d never been attracted to any man as she was to Marcel.
Before she knew what had hit her, she threw back the comforter and found herself in the middle of her living room. Retrieving Marcel’s business card from her purse, she scanned the neat penmanship on the back. Maybe Vic was right about snoozing and losing. Although she was attracted to Marcel, she wondered whether she had the capacity to ever trust a man again. Tears blurred her vision as she returned the card to her purse. Snuggling back under the covers again, Caitlyn had her answer.
She needed to forget about Marcel Baptiste.
* * *
Two weeks later, Caitlyn removed her reading glasses and pushed aside the proposal she’d worked on most of the morning when she heard the soft knock at her office
door. “Come in.”
Marcel stuck his head in. “Caitlyn, sorry I’m late. The traffic coming over the Bay Bridge was a nightmare.”
“Hi, Marcel.” Caitlyn waved him in and motioned to the chair in front of her desk while admiring his tailor-made navy-blue suit, striped French-cuff shirt and matching silk tie.
Unbuttoning his coat, he sat. “Catch you at a bad time?”
“Not at all. Just let me wrap this up, and I’ll be ready to go.”
After two weeks, Caitlyn had finally run out of excuses to give Marcel for not going out with him. She’d at last relented and accepted his lunch date.
She rounded the desk and stood in front of him dressed in a floral-print skirt with an asymmetrical hemline, drape-neck top and open-toed sling back sandals, and braced her hip on the desk. “Thanks for inviting me to lunch.”
“No, thank you. I thought I was going to starve to death waiting for you to say yes.”
“Listen, Marcel, I know I didn’t make a good first impression the first two times we met.” Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she focused on the concrete floor then continued. “I’ve given you a lot of lame excuses the last couple of weeks. I didn’t think you’d want to—”
“Have lunch with you?” Marcel released a soft chuckle. “You’re kidding, right?”
She lifted her head and smiled. “No, I’m not kidding. I know my behavior has been a bit strange. I-I just don’t want you to think I’m a nutcase, because I’m not.”
“Trust me, I don’t think that. I’m just glad you’ve finally released me from my fast.” He patted his stomach and smiled. “I lost a few pounds, you know.” Peering around her slender frame, he pointed to her desk. “What are you working on over there?”
She looked at the neatly stacked pile and sighed. “Another proposal.”
“Don’t you have an assistant for that?”
She chuckled and bobbed her head. “Umm-umm. You’re looking at her. Our budget can’t afford an assistant right now.”
“So, who’s the proposal to?”
“Anyone and everyone who’d give us money to purchase this building and fund our existing programs.”
Marcel frowned. “Why money for the building?”
“Simple. The city owns it, and they’ve gotten a bid to sell it. We don’t have the money to purchase it, and if we don’t buy it, we’re out the door.” Caitlyn’s voice was strained. “This center means the world to this community. I’ve got to find a way to keep it here.”
She’d wanted to tell somebody about her frustrations with the building all morning, and getting it off her chest was a relief. She waved her hand in mid-air. “Come on, let’s do lunch. I’m starved.” She started to move, but stopped. “Oh, wait.” She grabbed a small gift-wrapped box from the opposite side.
She’d brought it for Marcel a couple of days after he helped her with her car. Since then, she hadn’t had a chance to drop it in the mail, and since he was here, it was a good time to give it to him. “For you. It’s not much, but I wanted you to know how much I appreciated everything you did to help me out with my car.”
Marcel opened the box and lifted out a small, car-shaped gold charm and smiled. “Thank you.”
* * *
They had a quick lunch at a nearby Chinese restaurant and afterward, Caitlyn accepted Marcel’s offer for an afternoon stroll around Lake Merritt in downtown Oakland. The summer afternoon was perfect; not a cloud marred the sky. Traffic breezed along the street surrounding the lake, and the footpath around the lake’s perimeter was filled with bicyclists and joggers.
It seemed that it had been forever since she’d felt a sense of peace and tranquility, and Caitlyn inwardly marveled at how comfortable she was in Marcel’s presence. They communicated without words and slowly began their stroll around the two-mile lake. She didn’t feel the slightest bit of awkwardness when halfway around, he slipped his hand around hers.
“I’ve enjoyed the afternoon.” Marcel stood next to a bench and swept his hand in front of him.
Caitlyn sat down. “Me, too.” She bunched her brows together. “You said earlier you drove over from San Francisco.”
“I did.” Marcel propped one foot on the bench and rested an elbow on his knee.
“But I thought you worked in Oakland.”
“My office is in San Francisco. I work for BF Automotive, and they have eleven dealerships in the Bay Area. The Oakland dealership is one of them.”
“Oh, I see.” She was silent for a few moments. “So what do you do for them?”
He shrugged. “A little bit of everything.”
She tilted her head. “Meaning?”
He chuckled. “Pretty much run all the dealerships.”
“So, you’re the general manager then?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“Okay, then exactly what are you?”
“CEO.”
“Oh.”
Finally, Marcel sat next to Caitlyn and stretched his arm along the back of the bench. “You never told me how you ended up in Oakland.”
“Long story. Trust me.”
“I’ve got time. Trust me.”
Her eyes bore into his before shifting to a group of joggers in the distance. She took a deep breath and slowly released it. “I ended up here six months ago after I left Dallas. My best friend, Vic, lives here, and at the time I needed to be around a friend.”
Marcel tensed and a frown etched across his forehead. “Uh…this friend, Vic. Are you and he close?”
The comment actually made her laugh out loud. “Yes and no. Yes, we’re extremely close. But he is a she. Vic is short for Victoria.”
He smiled and relaxed.
“Vic and I met at Columbia University during our freshman year, and we’ve been friends ever since.” Caitlyn held up her hand. “Let me forewarn you: If you ever meet her and call her Victoria, you’ll be minus a head.”
He chuckled even though he was confused. “Why?”
“Vic’s the youngest of three children, and the only girl. She felt her brothers got to do things she couldn’t do simply because she was a girl. So, by the time she was four, she demanded everyone call her Vic. I think the name made her feel like she was one of the boys.”
“Got it.” He scooted on the bench until he was next to her. “So, how did you end up at the youth center?”
“A stroke of luck, I guess. I met the center’s board president, Fran, about four years ago at a conference. A couple of weeks after I settled here, we ran into each other at the grocery store, of all places. She told me about the center and the problems it was having.”
Marcel lifted a brow. “Problems?”
“Umm-hmm. Among other things, they don’t have the funds to pay me a salary.”
“What?” Marcel jumped to his feet and shouted so loud, he attracted the attention of several joggers nearby.
Caitlyn held up her hands in defense. “I know, I know. But it works out for me. For now, in exchange for my salary, they cover my rent, utilities and phone.”
“Wait a minute.” Marcel shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t get a salary?”
“No. But it won’t always be like this and its fine for now. I have some money saved, and I won’t starve. Listen, I need to get back and finish that proposal. I try to get home before dark.” Caitlyn stood and looked up at him. “I really did enjoy lunch. Thank you.”
* * *
It was around three that afternoon before Marcel arrived back at his office in San Francisco’s financial district. On the drive back, he’d thought of nothing but Caitlyn and was flabbergasted she didn’t earn a salary. He stopped at the desk of his assistant, Marilyn, before heading to his office.
“Do me a favor.”
Marilyn grabbed a pencil and pad. “Shoot.”
“Buy the building at 1707 Webster Street in Oakland and have the deed put in the name of the youth center.”
“All right.” Marilyn looked up. “Anything else?”
&
nbsp; “Yeah. Have a contractor go over and estimate the cost of renovations.” Marcel gave his instructions without lifting his head while glancing over the messages he’d grabbed off Marilyn’s desk. “Inside and out.”
“Anything else?”
“I want a check to them by the end of the week.” Walking toward his office, he snapped his finger as if suddenly remembering something and spoke over his shoulder. “Wait. Look over their budget again. I didn’t see a line item for an administrative assistant, so put it in. Salary needs to be competitive to attract someone with nonprofit experience. Also, call Ken and have him put in a special order for a Z4 that was needed like yesterday.”
“Color?”
Marcel smiled lazily at the thought of Caitlyn’s sexy feet strapped inside her sandals and shiny painted toenails. “Red.”
“Wow.” Marilyn stopped writing to work a cramp out her finger. “Finished?”
“No. Add a line item for the director’s salary up to say…mid-six figures. The car is for the director.”
Marilyn laughed out loud. “Heck, I’ll quit here if you hire me over there.”
He smiled. “Fat chance.”
Marilyn pulled the youth center’s file from her drawer and frowned once she glanced over the budget. “They don’t have a line item for a director’s salary.”
“Add it.” Marcel sat on the edge of Marilyn’s desk again. “Make sure their operating expenses are covered at least for the next five years with a five percent salary and cost-of-living increase for staff included.” He stood and once more started for his office only to stop in mid-stride. “Condition of funding is that everything be accepted in totality or the grant’s denied. Got it?”
“Oh, yes.” Marilyn glanced over everything she’d written and did a mental calculation. “You know this will run into the millions, don’t you?”
He gave her a nonchalant shrug. “And your point is?”
Chapter 3
Two weeks later, Marcel sat with his feet propped on the long cherry wood table in the huge conference room at BF Automotive and carefully reviewed the monthly sales report that his vice president of operations, Ken, had dropped off earlier in the afternoon. Deep in concentration, it took a few seconds for him to register the light tap at the door.
When I’m With You (Indigo) Page 3
