Daniel disconnected the call, dressed, and thrust his feet into a comfortable pair of leather sandals. He grabbed his portfolio and hurried down the steps. He thought he could handle any heat after dealing with the humidity in Chicago, but this Arkansas Delta heat was enough to make Satan think about switching sides. Once his talk with Shawna was done, he planned to sit on the swing on that wraparound porch, listen to crickets and catch some zzz’s.
The smell of grilled salmon and vegetables wafted through the house. When he made it to the kitchen, he stood still to admire the vision of Shawna shaking her round, firm backside in time to Aretha blaring out “Think” from the stereo. She pulled out a long, narrow cake pan from the lower oven. The display that her bent-over rear end provided as she placed the cake on the cooling rack atop the counter caused him to let out a long, slow breath.
If he didn’t get a grip, he’d embarrass them both.
“What can I do to help?” he asked as he moved into her space. She jumped, and he steadied her by grabbing hold of her waist.
The touch caused a shiver of pleasure to surge through him. She must have felt it too, because her lids lowered as though she were shutting out something she didn’t want him to see. Her skin was flushed, and her hands fluttered to her collarbone.
“When did you have time to do all this?” He pointed to the freshly baked breads.
“Cooking is my love, but bread and desserts are my specialty.” Her tongue slipped out and wet those succulent lips. “My family has a bad habit of dropping by whenever they feel like it. So I do advance prep and pull out whatever I need when they pop up.” She winked at him from her spot near the counter, where an assortment of cakes, pies, and cookies were cooling, ready for nibbling or storing. “They looooove my desserts.”
Actually, she should be dessert. Those breasts were more than a mouthful. Those thighs would clamp around him. But it was those eyes … He stepped back, inhaling the aroma of the food mingled with her citrus and natural scent. He looked up in time to see her giving him a winning smile.
“We can eat outside on the porch.” Shawna gestured to a stack of colorful plates as she snatched off the apron and draped it on a hook. She grabbed a plate and began filling it with small portions.
Daniel heaped on generous helpings of food and walked outside to where she’d set a table for two. Heavy placemats, silverware, sweet tea and the sweet smell of fresh air. A man could get used to this—and to having a beautiful, sexy woman cooking for him.
He said grace and dug his fork into the flaky salmon. “Delicious! You could have a second career as a chef.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but no. I like cooking because I want to do it, not because I have to.” She slid her fork into the meal and came away with a bite of salad. “Besides, my career gives me the chance to blend faith and nursing, to make a difference.”
They ate in companionable silence, except for King Floyd’s mellow voice crooning “Groove Me.”
He allowed his gaze to roam the exterior of the house which was made of weathered wood salvaged from old homes in the area and painted a steely grey-blue. Around the perimeter, beautiful wildflowers in vibrant shades of gold, purple, and creamy white grew, winding their stems around the porch.
She caught him looking at the honey bees diving into the flowers at will. “There’s at least one hive in there since they love to make their homes near flowers.”
He took a bite of cornbread and moaned again, causing her to add, “Natural home-grown honey gives it a special touch.”
“Woman, you’re going to make me fall in love.”
“You’re so easy,” she said chuckling.
Shawna stood and gathered the plates and silverware. “Let me get your dessert, and you can talk about your project.” She returned with his portfolio, along with two large slices of pound cake, still warm from the oven and topped with a heaping scoop of ice cream.
He took the bowl in his hands, tasted the ice cream and moaned so loudly that it made her laugh. “Homemade?”
“Vanilla bean,” she answered, beaming. “I made four batches for the kids and needed a taste tester. How is it?”
“Creamy. Delicious. Reminds me of someone else.” He winked at her.
“Don’t go overboard with the flattery.”
“Hey, I thought flattery would get a man everything.”
“Not with me,” she quipped, but the corners of her mouth tilted up. These few smiles from her did things to him that he never imagined possible. She should laugh more, flirt, and indulge her sensuality. He could at least give her that.
Shawna collected the last of the dishes, stepped inside and returned a few minutes later.
“Mind sitting next to me?” he asked, patting the empty space beside him on the porch swing. “It’ll be easier to see.”
She scooted her chair next to the swing, close enough that their shoulders touched, but it wasn’t as close as he would have liked.
For the next hour, he laid out his vision. The architect’s drawings included small dormitory-style housing, a central house/business office, and the farm for the young men to work on. He let her review financial statements and endorsements of his concept. Flipping through the professionally-designed presentation, he answered her few objections along the way.
“Agribusiness is something these young men know nothing about,” he said, pointing to an image of growing rice, the second best crop in Arkansas. “What they learn here is transferable to the real world: farming, vehicle maintenance, sales, and marketing.”
She nodded when the presentation answered questions she’d raised earlier. He was pleased that she was letting him speak without interruption.
When he was done, he wasn’t quite sure where he stood until she smiled, showing the tiny gap between her two front teeth. “Very impressive, and your design is compatible with the property.”
Her approval meant the world to him. But would she see it for the value it brought not only to the land, but to the young men who depended on him for the opportunity at a better life?
“My father was an executive at General Motors. He explained the importance of a solid presentation,” Daniel said, remembering the finer points that the man he had admired more than life itself had taught him. His mother had always cared for the underdog. Her stamp on his life could be seen in the second chances he was giving these young men. His parents would’ve been proud to see that he had taken everything they had taught him and wrapped it into the kind of work that would not only be financially rewarding, but fulfilling on multiple levels.
“He also left me the stock I’ll be cashing in for this project.” Daniel was proud he had doubled his inheritance affording him the opportunity to not only live a comfortable lifestyle, but to achieve his goals and dreams. “The architects and builders will do whatever you require to ensure everything meets your standards. The buildings will blend in with yours. We’ll be good neighbors.”
This time Shawna maneuvered so that she was sitting next to him on the swing. She flipped through the pages until she found the one she wanted. The images were of young men with tattoos, sagging pants, and earrings. “Are these gangbangers that you want to bring here?”
Finally, the biggest objection had surfaced. “They’ve been beaten down by life, by poverty, by their families and their communities. They’ve been the victims of violent physical punishment.” He knew they were no threat to her or anyone else. “The negative experiences in their lives have outweighed the positive. They need a fresh start.”
She looked out to the distant piece of land, as though trying to envision the farm and its future inhabitants. With that one move, he could sense her withdrawing.
“We have an awesome screening process,” he said as his phone beeped. “There’s no room for failure, certainly not at the beginning. In order to be successful, we have to take them out of the city, away from any harmful influences or distractions.” He glanced at the screen then back to her. “I need to ta
ke this call.”
He returned a few minutes later. “Sorry, that was Deion calling to check in.” He put the phone on vibrate and stuck it in his pocket before reclaiming the space next to her. She was frowning at the screen of her phone.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Megan is a vegan,” Shawna said, showing him the screen while reading the words out loud. “You have any food she can eat, or do I need to go into town and buy up some stuff?” She shook her head. “Aunt Marsha’s daughter is always on some food tip that people can’t keep up with.”
He chuckled at her frustration.
“Then there’s this message,” she added, scrolling up. “I don’t want anything with fat, sugar, or white flour.” She snapped the phone shut. “Honey’s simply being a nuisance. All talk and no work.”
“Well, you know you have to cater to diabetics and folks with high blood pressure,” he said.
“Now those are health concerns I can understand,” she replied as another chime of her phone came in. She threw up her hands in disgust and typed out a group message. “ALL YOU CLEAN EATERS BETTER WRITE ME A LIST. I’M GOING GROCERY SHOPPING ONE MORE TIME, AND THAT’S IT!”
Daniel roared with laughter, and she joined in.
“You said one of your boys called. Is he okay?” She closed the portfolio and stacked his papers together.
He rubbed his hand over his bald head, reflecting on the conversation he’d had with Deion. “He’s just getting antsy. He wants a new direction, but at the same time, he’s scared. I’ll see him when I leave here.” Then a thought hit him, and his gaze locked on hers. “Why don’t you come back to Chicago with me? Talk to him. Meet them. You can learn more there than I could ever tell you.”
She was silent a few moments. “I want to share the proposal with my lawyer. Get another perspective, but I think—”
“Shawna?” a female voice called out from several feet away in the side yard.
She shrugged her regrets at the interruption. They turned in the direction of the low and warm-pitched voice. “More family. I have to get them settled.” She stood and placed her hand on the portfolio. “We’ll talk more. I promise.”
Shawna gestured for him to follow as she embraced a beautiful old woman whose bone structure, piercing black eyes, and straight black hair streaked liberally with grey spoke to a Native American heritage. The woman assessed Daniel with a single pass, then gave Shawna a sly look as she said, “He’s the one.”
Shawna blinked in her confusion. The woman, who Shawna introduced as Mahala, nodded toward Daniel and repeated, “He’s the one.”
“The one what?” Shawna asked, her mouth pulled into a frown.
The woman smiled and answered, “You’ll see. I dreamed about you and him.”
Chapter 7
Two days later, in the early evening, Shawna’s family and most of the town had taken over the house and the grounds.
“Let’s take the horses for a ride,” Daniel said, taking her hand in his. “Almost everyone’s here and they’re too busy filling up on food to miss us.”
“You’re right,” she said, scanning the picnic area filled with groups of people chatting, line dancing, and playing card games. “I’m tired of listening to complaints about what hasn’t been done to their satisfaction or to my mother’s standards.”
They hurried to the stables, saddled the horses, mounted, checked the stirrups, and rode off across the pasture toward the stream that was in the direction of the land he wanted. The night breeze provided comfort that was sorely lacking during the daylight hours.
“Let’s sit over there.” She pointed to an old sheltered area that would provide some relief for muscles no longer used to riding horses. Laughing like two kids, they dismounted, tied the horses to a tree with plenty of rein and ran to the shelter, keeping an eye on the horses who seemed content to graze quietly.
Daniel sat on a rickety seat with his back against the structure. He pulled her in so that she straddled him. She reached up, lowered his head to hers and kissed him, as though savoring the taste and feel of him. The intensity of her kiss led him to believe she thought it would be their last.
Then she moved away, looking lost. His heart was beating loud enough for the crowd back at the house to hear. He wanted this woman more than he wanted to breathe. Tilting up her stubborn chin, he whispered into her hair, “Let me in, Shawna. Let me love you. I’m strong enough to push past all that old drama.”
“I can’t sell you the land.” Her muffled voice was barely audible against his chest. “If that’s why you want to take me to bed, then I want to let you know up front.”
His hands tightened on her arms. “What the hell is going on with you? You’re going to reduce this moment to that?” He held her away from him and said, “So let’s go there. I answered every one of your questions. If your family hadn’t shown up, you would have signed the papers. You were on the verge of saying yes.”
Shaking her head, she bit out, “My lawyer called today and said someone’s stepped up buying the land around here and they’ve been inquiring about this property.” Her gaze at him was accusatory. “We own one of the largest parcels in the county.”
He pushed her away and stood. “You think I’m part of some plot to steal your land?”
“Why now?” she shot back, moving so there was only a few inches between them. “Why after all these years are there suddenly so many people interested in this land.” She stood her ground, staring at him.
“Trust! That’s what it comes down to, doesn’t it?” he countered, storming over to the horses and climbing on one.
She followed suit and grabbed her horse’s reins.
“You trusted Bryan, and he let you down. Now you don’t trust anyone, not even yourself, to make the right choices.”
Daniel turned his horse in the direction of the house while she sat motionless on her mount.
“You spend all your time taking care of people who are dying. You see endings instead of beginnings, finality versus possibilities,” he scoffed. “Let go of the dead and embrace life for a change!”
He cantered back toward her and slapped her horse on the rear end, sending them both on a race to the homestead.
Neither of them saw Mahala, who stood on the porch shaking her head as the two galloped into the barn.
Chapter 8
Three weeks later, Shawna stepped out of a Yellow Cab at Washington Park, across from the DuSable Museum in Chicago. On this bright Saturday morning, the park was sparsely populated with coaches and young people learning to play softball. She glanced toward the softball diamonds where Lauren had assured her Daniel, his coaches, and players would be practicing.
Shawna strode in their direction, glad she’d dressed sensibly in jeans, a sun hat, and tennis shoes. She bought a bottle of water and some chips from the vendors and watched kids playing tee-ball and soccer along the way. Daniel’s powerfully built physique and commanding voice alerted her to his team’s location. She climbed up the short stack of bleachers to watch him in action.
Ten adults and approximately twenty younger guys wearing blue and neon green softball uniforms were spread out in small groups around the diamond. Each group was practicing a specific skill: pitching, hitting, and fielding the ball. A grizzly coach hit one poor kid with what looked like two hundred ground balls, beating him up. Finally, the kid starting catching the ball. A huge grin on his face showed that he truly savored that victory.
Her shoulders relaxed in the warm sun. She hadn’t slept well since her last argument with Lauren and Mahala, who both blamed her for the way things ended with Daniel.
“Your unnatural attachment to this land trumps everything. Daniel will find another piece of land, and I will find financing for the expansion, but I pray you get some sense before it’s too late. Not many men are going to put up with your unreasonable ways.”
“Leave her be, Lauren,” Mahala had chided from her rocking chair. “When she finally figures it out, he’l
l still be there.”
Shawna glanced up to see a young woman with golden skin, kinky hair, hazel eyes, and the protruding abdomen of a woman in the advanced stages of pregnancy walking toward her.
“Mind if I sit with you?”
Shawna smiled, glad for a reprieve from her own thoughts.
“I’m watching my brother play.” She swept her arms around the nearly empty bleachers “There ain’t too many cheering fans.” She didn’t wait for a response as she added, “My name’s Shay, and that’s my brother, Deion.” Shay pointed to the pitcher, a young man about five feet nine inches tall with a handsome golden face. Daniel was talking; his bald, gleaming head close to Deion’s curly dark brown hair, which was in need of a haircut.
“Some of these guys never played baseball before,” Shay said. “Coach Fitzpatrick and his friends are tough coaches.” Just then, the second baseman missed an easy fly ball and she grimaced. “They got a long way to go before they can compete in the Sunday league.”
“Coach Fitzpatrick seems to have at least two fans,” Shawna teased the younger girl. “Deion called to talk to him when he was in Arkansas a few weeks ago.”
Shay’s head snapped to Shawna. “Soooooooooo, you that uppity lady who won’t sell him the land?” At Shawna’s glare Shay folded her arms across her chest and said, “I kinda overheard their phone conversation.”
“I’m Shawna;” she replied, not sure how she felt about being called uppity. “I flew in from Detroit to see these guys.”
Shay was silent for a long while before asking, “Shawna, can I call you that?” She barely waited for a nod before continuing with, “I don’t know what your deal is, but coach is trying to do a really good thing.” Her gaze swept out to the field. “These guys served their time. They just want jobs, a life, respect.”
She paused to check out her brother again as he readied a pitch for the player at bat. “Deion’s finished two years of college and was only able to land a part-time job. He has to make a move soon. If it’s not this, it’ll be something else, because he is not going to prison.” Her voice broke, and a single tear trickled down her face.
Signed, Sealed, Delivered ... I'm Yours Page 7
