Love Me Carefully

by A. C. Arthur

  Terrell bent down with her and they both grabbed the book. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

  “Because I don’t need your help,” she snapped.

  He made her antsy. She wasn’t sure why and was afraid to take the time to figure it out. All she knew for sure was that she was in a semi-relationship with Leon that she needed to figure out quickly and now this man, who was so unlike what she was normally attracted to, had stormed into her life, giving her butterfingers. She was definitely not used to the loss of control of her own feelings, and didn’t like the implications one bit.

  Terrell saw her struggle and decided to give her some space. He let go of the book, stood up and backed away, watching as she set the book to the side and pulled together her other items. He could have walked her to the door then, could have bid her a pleasant afternoon and gone on about his business, but that would have been too much like right. Instead, he slipped one hand into his pocket and stared at her. “So how well do you know Donald?”

  Leah blinked in confusion, not really sure why he was asking her about Donald. “Not all that well. Why do you ask?” She looked around, making sure she hadn’t left anything. The last thing she wanted was to have to come back here. She made a mental note to make all her future appointments with Ms. Rosie at her office.

  Terrell shrugged. “I’m just curious. How can you plan a wedding for two people and not know if they should be together or not?”

  She heard him talking, was oh so aware that he was still in the room with her, and felt a slight panic that she couldn’t find her keys. She quickly spotted them in the side opening of her purse and returned her attention to the last book, attempting again to put it into her bag. He grew quiet, and she knew that he was waiting for an answer. She spared him a glance. “It’s not really my job to judge if they should be together or not. I simply give them the wedding that they want.” He looked really good in jeans, almost as good as she remembered him looking last night in slacks and a sweater. His angular face was void of any emotion, though, his eyes hooded behind glasses that were slipping down his nose.

  “So if they end up divorced within a year it doesn’t bother you one way or the other, as long as you get paid?”

  His raised brow and barely masked look of distaste bothered her. “My job is to plan weddings, Terrell. That’s it. I’m not a matchmaker, nor am I a fortune teller. I cannot predict what will happen after the wedding day and I don’t try to.”

  Her curls were looser today, hanging further down her back than they had last night. She wore a long, straight dress that delectably hugged her curves. He still couldn’t see her legs, but her plump breasts and voluptuous backside were enough to get his blood heated. Those bewitching eyes had even darkened a shade as she spoke to him.

  “I believe that people should make sure they’re well suited for each other before jumping into marriage, don’t you?” Was she getting angry? Her chin squared and her fingers tightened on the book in her hand as she struggled with it.

  Leah gave an exasperated sigh. That damned book just didn’t want to go into the bag. “Look, I don’t subscribe to that whole philosophy of ‘meant to be’ and ‘happily ever after’, so I really couldn’t tell you.” She didn’t know which was ticking her off more, the book or Terrell.

  Terrell saw that she was having a hard time and, despite her previous protests that she didn’t need his help, he went to stand beside her, taking a firm hold of the book. “Then why plan weddings if you don’t believe in them?”

  She tried to pull the book away from him, but he held firm, his eyes holding her with an intense gaze. Feeling childish for participating in this tug of war, she loosened her grip and he nodded slightly before slipping it effortlessly into the bag.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled.

  “You didn’t answer my question.” He caught her wrist when she would have walked around him toward the door.

  “I plan weddings because I love to do it. I love creating a fantasy for people even if I don’t believe in the fantasy myself. It’s my job, not my life. I keep the two totally separate. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”

  She smelled good. Nothing overpowering, something soft and quietly sweet, just like her. She pulled her arm from his grasp, but he moved quicker than she did, and now stood in the doorway. He wasn’t ready for her to leave yet, wasn’t ready for their time together to end. “Have dinner with me.” He didn’t know why he’d said it, hadn’t planned on asking her out, but there it was.

  Leah gripped her bag and purse tightly, staring at him in disbelief. “What? Why?” Her mind whirled—this guy switched channels faster than digital television.

  Terrell chuckled. “Because I like talking to you.”

  She pursed her lips, looked at him levelly, finally appreciating her own height. “You like grilling me about a job you don’t understand? Or is it that you want to find something wrong with your mother marrying Donald, and I’m your only link?”

  She was sharp, he’d give her that, even though those reasons had nothing to do with his wanting her to have dinner with him. “No. Because I like talking to you.” His eyes fell to her lips and he wondered how they would taste, imagined they’d be as sweet as she smelled.

  Leah looked away. His smile was lethal, she’d learned that last night. “I don’t think dinner is a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  She had never been good at lying or beating around the bush so she simply blurted it out. “You’re really not my type.” And with that she took advantage of the element of surprise, turned and hastily walked out the door.

  Terrell stood flabbergasted at her admission. Not her type. He smiled to himself.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Dinner with his mother went well, but then Terrell had assured himself that it would. He wined and dined his mother, catering to her every need, not because he wanted her to talk to him more about Donald, but because she deserved it.

  He didn’t even care if they talked about Donald again that night. He was going to find out what he needed to know about his mother’s fiancé, but tonight he was simply going to enjoy her company. Afterwards, he dropped Rosie off at her house then headed back to his condo.

  On the drive home, he contemplated how Leah Graham, the hazel-eyed temptress, fit into his plan, because try as he might, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. When he’d questioned her about her job, those luminescent eyes had turned dark, laced with anger. He’d instantly been turned on by this fiery side of her, and wondered if she transformed like that in the bedroom.

  He knew he’d been out of line in pressing her about her job, but hell, he was curious. She made her living from planning weddings, yet she wasn’t married and according to their earlier conversation, had no intentions to get married. That was interesting indeed. Leah Graham was a puzzle he wouldn’t mind finding all the pieces to.

  He was supposed to be concentrating on his mother and the upcoming wedding, the one he’d offered to pay for. When his mother refused the offer, he’d settled for buying her dress. Soon he’d walk her down the aisle, giving her to Donald Douglas. A long time ago he’d realized his father was never coming back; a day ago he’d realized his mother had found someone to replace his father. In the span of two short weeks his life had taken some drastic turns, but none as intriguing as bumping into Leah in his mother’s living room, or the coincidence that she was planning his mother’s wedding. They were bound to see each other again…for business purposes, that is.

  * * *

  Leah was in her office early Monday morning, somewhat recovered from her tumultuous weekend. Her mother’s husband had called her late Sunday night to inform her that, despite Marsha’s threats to leave him, he had no intention of letting her go. Which was very admirable of him, Leah thought. Maybe Marsha had finally met her match.

  As for her new account, Leah all but cringed at the thought of future run-ins with Rosie’s son. He was weird and moody. One minute he was asking her about her job,
the next he was interrogating her about Donald and Rosie’s relationship. Then he had asked her out to dinner. That had really thrown her. Why on earth would he ask her out? Except for a few really heated looks, he mostly seemed irritated by her.

  She couldn’t quite figure him out and, frankly, wasn’t interested in trying. His type she knew well—highly intellectual and unforgiving of anyone who wasn’t just like him. She didn’t care for those characteristics in a man. He’d talked about her job as if it were beneath him, a menial wedding planner, coordinating weddings she didn’t even believe in.

  Well, she did believe in them…for everybody else, that is. Marriage just wasn’t her cup of tea. Was that so wrong? Hell no, she was good at her job, and damn proud of it. And if Terrell Pierce had a problem with that, then he could just get a life!

  Still, she couldn’t dismiss the other side she’d seen of him. The compassionate, caring son who would plainly do anything for his mother. As feelings go, she’d been impressed by that. And his touch, each time he’d laid his hands on her in his mother’s kitchen, had been so gentle, as if he were touching something very fragile, something special. She shivered with the memory.

  The shrill ringing of the phone quickly snapped her out of her reverie. Snatching up the receiver, she answered, “Good morning, The Perfect Day.”

  “Good morning. Is this the perfect lady?” Leon’s smooth baritone voice echoed over the line.

  He didn’t sound angry anymore, and she was glad. She definitely didn’t feel like arguing with him. “Nope, it’s just me.” Smiling, she settled back into her chair, thoughts of Terrell all but vanishing from her mind.

  “I happen to think ‘just me’ is perfect. How are you? I missed you this weekend.”

  “I’m good. Listen. About yesterday…I want to apologize.” It was the least she could do for blowing him off. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Leon, she just wasn’t sure she wanted to take things further with him.

  “Don’t worry about it. There’ll be more time for us later. Anyway, I met with the guy from Hecht’s this morning and he’s going to carry the line in the fall.”

  “That’s great! I’m sure Calvin’s pleased.”

  “Yeah, but you know that means we have to work harder to create better merchandise. Hecht’s is already carrying Fubu and RoccaWear, and the younger dudes are really into that.” He let out a sigh. “I just hope we can compete.”

  “Well, your target is the urban professional. Professionals can’t wear jeans and flamboyant silk shirts to work, however nice they may look.”

  “I guess you’re right. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I have a couple pair of Fubu jeans and I generally like the clothes they’re putting out. But until corporate America goes more casual, I guess we’re pretty safe.”

  “I think you’ll do fine.”

  “I’d do much better if I could see you tonight.” He really had missed her. In the time that he’d known her he had quickly become attached, thinking that they were the perfect couple, two ambitious, struggling professionals on their way up in the world.

  Maybe she should see him, Leah thought. She did need a refresher from the last two days. After a few seconds of debate she replied, “That sounds good. What do you have in mind?”

  “Dinner, a movie, a nightcap…” Pausing a moment he added, “…Breakfast.”

  “Let’s just stick with dinner and a movie.” Steps three and four loomed over her like a dark cloud. Leah knew Leon was more serious about their relationship than she was. So far he’d accepted her limitations, but she knew that the time for her to make the decision about moving to the next step was growing closer.

  “I’ll accept that for now,” he told her, laughter evident in his deep voice. “I’ll pick you up about seven, okay?”

  “Seven’s fine,” she answered quickly, making a mental note to give step three some serious thought in the very near future.

  Hanging up the phone, she pictured Leon sitting behind the massive, paper-cluttered desk in his office. He would have on a shirt and tie, probably a white shirt, laundered with heavy starch, and a slick silk tie. An Onyx exclusive suit jacket would be thrown across one of the chairs, and glossy black tie-up Eddie Bauer’s would be on his feet. Damn, she was shocked she knew him so well. They’d been dating for about four months now, which computed to be about six times with Leon’s traveling schedule. He was fine, successful and crazy about her. That ought to be enough to proceed to step three, but somehow it just didn’t seem so. Maybe when she saw him tonight she’d get a feeling for what the next step should be. Or maybe not.

  At ten minutes to five, Leah was grabbing her purse and looking around for her keys when the phone rang. Racing across the office to get to it, she snatched the receiver out of its cradle and answered, “The Perfect Day.”

  “Ms. Graham, please?” a male voice requested.

  “This is Ms. Graham.” Thinking it was a prospective client she abandoned the search for her keys and snatched up a pen.

  “This is Terrell Pierce.”

  The sound of his name had her dropping her pen.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Pierce?”

  “Oh? I’m Mr. Pierce now? Just yesterday I was Terrell,” he quipped.

  “What can I do for you?” she said, dismissing the pleasantries.

  “You turned down my dinner invitation. So how about lunch?”

  His voice was enticing, and she pinched herself in an effort to kill the fanciful feelings developing in the pit of her stomach. “That’s not possible.”

  “There’s something I need your help with,” he said, hoping she’d be curious enough to ask what.

  “What could you possibly need my help with?”

  He smiled. “I need you to explain why I’m not your type.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, I’m not. If you’re going to tell a man he’s not your type, the least you can do is elaborate on what your type is. Come on, you have to eat.”

  “I bring my lunch.”

  “Then I’ll come to your office and we can share.”

  “No.”

  “What if I call tomorrow and ask you to breakfast?”

  Leah didn’t know if she was impressed or annoyed, but either way it had her stifling a smile. “Not my type means, I don’t date men like you. Date means any breakfast, lunch or dinner when you pick me up and pay for it. Is that clear enough?”

  She hadn’t hung up on him, her tone wasn’t angry. He was making progress. “What exactly are men like me? And who said I was paying? I understand you own your own company. You should be able to afford your own meal,” he said jokingly.

  Leah laughed out loud then. “I can, and that’s why I eat alone.”

  “See, we get along really well. We should see each other again. First impressions aren’t always accurate. And we met under stressful circumstances.”

  Leah was perched on the edge of her desk now, twirling the phone cord around one finger as she talked. “Stressful? I wasn’t stressed.”

  “Well, I was. My mother’s wedding announcement hit me kind of hard. And I’m still trying to figure out if her fiancé’s on the up and up.”

  She didn’t want to discuss that with him. That was his own personal hang-up, and she didn’t need to get involved. “I’m sorry to hear you’re taking her happy news badly, but that really doesn’t concern me. Now if that’s all you want—”

  “Are you in a hurry or something? Did I interrupt you?”

  “Actually, I’m on my way out. I have a date tonight.” She didn’t know why the information just slipped out—like he cared anyway whether she had a date or not.

  “A date?”

  His tone had changed quickly. Gone was the joking, light-hearted exchange they were having, replaced by an incredulous tone. She was instantly insulted. “Yeah, you know what a date is, don’t you?”

  “Of course I know what a date is.” He frowned into the receiver, glad she couldn’t see him.

&
nbsp; “Oh, so you’re surprised that I have a date?”

  More like agitated, but he didn’t offer that tidbit of information. “Yeah. I mean, no…I mean, I can see why you would have a date, I was just a little thrown at the admission.” He took a deep breath. “I suppose this guy is your type,” he mumbled.

  “It sure doesn’t take much to throw you, does it, Terrell?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “Anyway, yes, he’s my type and yes, I do have a date and I’d like to get going, if you don’t mind.” Why had she even talked to him for this long? She should have hung up as soon as he identified himself.

  He did mind, dammit. Just yesterday he’d asked her out. Then he’d been thinking of her so much today that, against his better judgment, he’d called and asked her out again, only to be reminded that he wasn’t her type. Well, what the hell was her type? What did this date of hers have that he didn’t?

  The moment he’d heard her voice, the tension in his shoulders had been released. All the things that had been on his mind today—Tanya, his mother, Donald—all of them had ceased to exist as he totally focused on her. Then she’d announced she was going on a date, and he’d gone totally haywire.

  His brow furrowed. He wasn’t angry, shouldn’t be angry. “Nah, I don’t mind. You go on your date. I hope you have a good time.” But even as he said the words, he knew he was lying. He was definitely pissed off at the idea of her going out with another man, but for the life of him didn’t want to accept the reason why.

  That curt and cold voice had returned and she could just imagine his lips setting in that grim, non-compliant way. She rolled her eyes skyward and mentally cursed her own foolishness for bothering with him at all. “Thank you and good bye, Terrell.” Without waiting for his response, she hung up.

  That man definitely had problems. The nerve of him being surprised that she would have a date. There was nothing wrong with her. He was the uptight one, the moody one. It was no wonder he and his girlfriend had broken up. He’d probably driven her crazy with that split personality of his.

  Now that wasn’t fair, she scolded herself. She didn’t have any idea why he and his girlfriend had broken up. For all she knew, he could have broken up with the girl. She doubted it, but accepted that it could still be true.