Tempo of Love

by Kianna Alexander

Lynn snickered, but did as she was told. After she’d left the room, he turned his attention back to the woman on the phone, who was still going on about the feature she planned to write.

  “Miss, that sounds great. However I’m on a tight deadline, so could we please get to the purpose of your call?”

  She stopped chattering, and her tone held a bit of censure as she asked, “When and where could you meet me for an initial interview, Mr. Yamada?”

  He felt his brow crease into a frown. “Initial? How many interviews do you think this is going to take?”

  “I’m not sure, but I’ll take up as little of your time as I possibly can.”

  His frown deepened. He was a private man, and he didn’t enjoy having his time or his personal space infringed upon, least of all by a stranger. “We can meet tomorrow morning, 9:00 a.m., at the Starbucks in Charlotte Plaza. Are you familiar with it?”

  “Very. I’ll see you there. And thank you, Mr. Yamada.”

  He rose from the stool to replace the phone in the cradle. And as he stood in the quiet of his office, he wondered what he’d gotten himself into.

  He’d have to be careful with this reporter. She seemed like the eager type who’d ask him probing questions and try to uncover his entire life story for her own purposes.

  But no matter what she had planned, he couldn’t let her do that.

  Because there were parts of his life that no one could ever know about.

  Chapter 2

  With a cup of iced coffee and a warm croissant in hand, Nona slid into a seat at a table for two near the front of Starbucks Tuesday morning. It was eight thirty, well before the time she was scheduled to meet with Ken Yamada, but she’d come in early for several reasons. First, she needed to get something in her stomach and get caffeinated so she could be fully ready for this crucial first interview.

  The other reason she’d come in early was to snag the right table. It needed to be small so that she would be sitting in close proximity to her interview subject. She found that nearness made people more likely to open up. The table also needed to be near the front so she could see him when he walked in. After years of doing in-person interviews, she’d become an expert at reading people: their stride, their expression and their body language.

  She munched on her croissant, washing it down with a sip of the cold, sweetened coffee. While she ate, she wondered what Ken would be like in person. Their brief phone interaction had given her very little to go on. From that conversation, she could only tell that he had a deep voice, that he was a busy person and that he wasn’t a fan of being interviewed. He’d been pleasant with her but still managed to be a bit brusque when he’d asked her how many interviews she’d need.

  She settled into her seat, pulling out her phone. She’d made sure it was fully charged so she could use its recording app to capture their conversation. Beyond that, she’d brought along her charger, just in case. She considered being prepared to be one of her greatest strengths.

  She was scrolling through her email when the phone rang and her best friend’s face and name appeared on the caller ID. Knowing she still had at least ten minutes until Ken would arrive, she swiped to answer the call. “Hey, girl.”

  “Hey, Nona.” Hadley Monroe, Nona’s closest pal since college, sounded chipper as ever. “What’s up in the big city?”

  Nona chuckled at Hadley’s quip. “I’m guessing most places are big cities when you compare them to Sapphire Shores.”

  Hadley popped her lips, the familiar sound reverberating in Nona’s ear. “Nona, don’t be hating on my little slice of paradise. But for real, what are you up to today? Anything interesting?”

  “I’m actually at a coffee shop, waiting for an interview subject to arrive. Remember the feature I told you about Saturday?”

  It sounded like she was chewing something. Between bites, Hadley spoke. “Yeah. The one about the architect and the old opera house or something.”

  Nona rolled her eyes. “It’s a theater. But yes, I’m interviewing the architect today.”

  Hadley stopped chewing. “Oh, girl. Is he fine? Have you seen him?”

  “No, he hasn’t gotten here yet, so I don’t know what he looks like.”

  “Um, hello, Ms. Ace Reporter. We have this invention now where you can look people up. Have you heard of it? It’s called the internets.” Her tone was rich in sarcastic humor.

  “Shut up, Hadley. You know I have a very specific method of doing my stories. I never web search someone until I’ve met them in person. I don’t want anything clouding my first impression of them.” That had always been her policy, and it had never failed her, so she didn’t plan on changing it any time soon. Balancing the phone on her shoulder, she spread her favorite pens in front of her. She rarely took handwritten notes due to advances in technology, but she liked to have the pens there anyway.

  “All right, whatever. But I’m expecting a call after you meet him. If he’s fine, I wanna know about it.” The sounds on Hadley’s end of the line included the rattling of pots and pans and running water.

  “Hadley, what are you doing? There’s a lot of background noise.”

  “I just finished breakfast and now I’m washing up my dishes before I head over to the office.”

  “Another fun-filled day at Monroe Properties, eh?” Nona chuckled, knowing most people would be very happy with having an ocean view from their desk. But since Hadley worked for the family business and often complained about feeling stifled, she probably saw things differently.

  Hadley sighed. “Yes, girl. But at least Savion is on vacation this week, so I only have to deal with Campbell. Working with family ain’t easy.”

  “Let me get off the phone. I’ve got an interview and you’ve got to go do your brother’s bidding. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “’Bye, girl.” Hadley disconnected the call.

  As the phone returned to the home screen, Nona glanced at the time in the upper right corner. Nine twenty? Where is this guy? She hoped he had a damn good excuse for being late, because she considered punctuality very important. She placed the phone on the tabletop and let her gaze move to the doorway.

  Just as she looked toward the door, it swung open, and in walked a dark-haired man she assumed to be Ken Yamada. He wore dark sunglasses, a button-down shirt in a soft shade of blue and navy blue slacks. A belt with a gold buckle depicting two crossed swords encircled his trim waist. He was taller than she’d expected, and his upper body was muscled but not beefy. He moved with a sure stride, his entire manner radiating a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

  She stood at the table and called out to him at just above normal volume. “Mr. Yamada?”

  His head swiveled her way. “That’s me.” And he turned, began moving in her direction.

  She watched his approach, wondering when he would take off his sunglasses. She knew she could get a much better read on him if she could see his eyes.

  When he entered her space, he stopped. Lifting his hand, he removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket, looking down as he did so.

  “I’m Nona Gregory with the Charlotte Observer.” She stuck out her hand.

  When he looked back up at her, with his eyes in full view, Nona’s heart skipped a beat. Damn. He had the most beautiful, expressive brown eyes she’d ever seen. They were rich and dark, only a shade lighter than the jet black of his hair. A few moments passed with her staring into his eyes, silent and entranced.

  The corners of his mouth lifted in a slight smile as he gave her hand a brief shake, then released it. “It’s nice to meet you. Are we going to sit?”

  His words reached her ears, working their way to her brain for processing.

  Snapping out of her trance, she gestured him toward his seat. “Yes. Thank you for meeting me, Mr. Yamada, although I wish you’d be
en on time.”

  The smile faded as quickly as it appeared. “I’m sorry, Headmistress. Are you going to give me detention?”

  She cocked a brow. Apparently, the architect was no pushover. “I’ll let it slide this time, since it’s your first infraction.” She gestured to the table. “Shall we sit, or do you care to grab a coffee?”

  “I’ll get a drink first, if you don’t mind.” His tone was dry, and his expression told her that he had fully intended to get his drink, whether she minded or not.

  “Go ahead.” She sat back down and watched him walk away. As he stood at the counter ordering a beverage, she watched his every move. His steps were somewhat stiff now, a contrast to the way he’d moved when he’d walked in. His body language had changed as well. His shoulders were squared, hands clenched at his side. He looked more ready for a fistfight than an interview.

  Then and there, Nona knew she would have her work cut out. He was guarded, and she was going to have to come up with some way to get him to reveal himself to her.

  And she’d have to do it while trying to ignore how hot he was and how gorgeous his eyes were.

  This wouldn’t be an easy interview. But she’d never been one to back down from a challenge.

  * * *

  While he waited for his dark roast, Ken purposefully kept his eyes on the barista dispensing it. He didn’t want to look back at Nona, because he sensed her watching him. She’d been assessing him from the moment he walked in. While he understood her scrutiny was likely rooted in journalistic curiosity, he still didn’t like it. He was a private man, always had been. The last thing he needed was someone to stare him down in some vain attempt to discover his deepest personal secrets.

  He shot a sidelong glance in her direction, making sure not to turn his head as he did. He could see her in the periphery of his field of vision. She was gorgeous, and he’d noticed that as soon as he’d seen her. She was tall, probably close to his height. Her skin was the color of rich earth, and her hair was dark brown with a few streaks of bronze. She wore a sleeveless white blouse and a pair of yellow slacks that hugged her hips before flaring into wide-leg pants.

  The moment he’d seen her sitting at the table, her back as stiff as a board, with about seven pens lined up in front of her, he’d pegged her as uptight. When she’d shaken his hand, she’d only confirmed his suspicions. He decided to entertain himself throughout this initial meeting with her. She probably wouldn’t like it, but that wasn’t any of his concern.

  After he sweetened the mug of steaming coffee to his liking, he rejoined her at the table. She was scrolling through something on her phone, but she immediately set it aside when he took his seat.

  “Since we’re getting a late start, I’d like to begin right away.” She set her phone on the table and took care positioning it.

  He leaned against the hard wooden backrest of his chair, his coffee in hand. As he tried to get comfortable, he realized the stiffness of the chair mimicked that of his interviewer. How can a woman this beautiful be so uptight? “Okay. Where do we begin?”

  Her hazel eyes locked on him, she said, “First of all, I need to let you know that I’m recording our interview with an app on my smartphone. I find it helps me with my article if I revisit the recordings later during my writing process.”

  “I understand.” He drank from his ceramic mug, letting the rich warmth of the coffee wash down his throat.

  “Good. Then let’s begin with the basics. Who is Ken Yamada?”

  He snorted. The sound came out before he could stop it.

  Her brow hitched, lips thinning as her expression went sour. “Is there something amusing about my question, Mr. Yamada?”

  “Call me Ken, please. No need to be so formal.”

  “Fine. What’s so funny, Ken?” She watched him, her brow furrowed as if she were honestly confused by his amusement.

  “It’s a little cliché, don’t you think? I mean, you’re opening our interview with some existential query?” He took another drink of coffee.

  She rolled her eyes, then took a breath. Her professional demeanor returned to replace the coolness that had been rolling off her only seconds before. “Ken, I’m sure you already know this, but the contract you just won from the city is unprecedented in terms of scope and money.”

  He set his mug down, rubbed his hands together. “Yes, that’s true.” But what she didn’t know was how long and hard he’d worked to win the contract. I deserve that contract. Hell, I earned it.

  “I’m not trying to psychoanalyze you, Ken. I know the people of Charlotte are curious about the phenom behind the Grand Pearl project, and I simply want to give them the most complete, accurate portrait of you that I can.”

  He sensed the truth in her words right away. It was obvious that Nona was a consummate journalist, determined to deliver her very best work to her readers. He supposed he could respect that, since as an artist, he wanted the same thing for every one of his projects. “I get it.”

  “I’m glad you understand. Now, what can you tell me about your early days? Tell me about your upbringing. Did you always know you wanted to be an architect?”

  He bristled at the mention of his upbringing. “I don’t really want to talk about my childhood.”

  “Is there any particular reason?”

  He sensed her probing. “Yes. It isn’t relevant. I didn’t decide to pursue architecture until my second year in college.”

  She pursed her lips. “Okay. Let me ask you this. Are you any relation to Hiro Yamada, who was formerly Mecklenburg County commissioner?”

  A slow nod was the only answer he gave.

  She watched him closely. “I’m going to guess you don’t want to elaborate on your relationship to Mr. Yamada?”

  “No, and as I understood it, he was not the subject of the interview.” He fought down the irritation that usually arose when he felt someone getting too close. He didn’t mind answering her questions—as long as she stuck to the topic at hand.

  “Maybe we’ll revisit that at another time, then.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “No, we won’t.”

  She took a slow breath, tapped the tips of her French-manicured nails on the table. “You know, we aren’t making much progress with this, Ken.”

  “Are you suggesting that’s my fault?”

  “You don’t seem willing to share much about your life. In order to really nail this article, I have to get to know you on a deeper level.”

  He leaned forward in his chair, holding eye contact with her. “Look, I’ll answer any questions you have that pertain to my work. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? About the Grand Pearl project and how I operate my business?”

  She held his gaze, letting him know she wasn’t intimidated. “Yes, that is the basis of the article. But there has to be information about who you are as a person, because that informs your art.”

  He could feel his jaw tighten. “I’m not interested in rehashing my entire past for the entertainment of the faceless populace.”

  This time she dropped her gaze and sighed. “Fine. But I’m telling you, the piece will read as shallow and empty if you insist on leaving out your past.”

  He shrugged. “I can’t say I care. I already locked down the project, and I’m not trying to win a popularity contest.”

  She looked at him quizzically, blinked a few times, as if she didn’t believe what she’d just heard him say. “That was a very arrogant statement.”

  “You say arrogant. I say confident.”

  She picked up her phone and began swiping the screen. “I’m going to stop recording now. We obviously aren’t going to get anywhere today.”

  “We could have, if you had adjusted your line of questioning.”

  Irritation flashed in her eyes. “I don’t tell you how to
design a building, so don’t tell me how to go about my writing process.”

  He drained the rest of his coffee, watching her as she gathered her things.

  “Congratulations. You just guaranteed that the interview process is going to take longer.” She tucked her phone into her purse and stood from her seat.

  “I’ll wait to hear from you, then.”

  Standing next to the table, with a frown marring her beautiful face, she asked, “Will you actually answer my questions the next time? I don’t like having my time wasted.”

  “Neither do I. So yes, I will.”

  “I’ll be in touch.” Slinging the strap of her purse over her shoulder, she turned and walked away.

  As he watched her retreat, Ken smiled to himself. Even in the throes of annoyance, Nona was still beautiful and sexy as hell. He knew she probably thought he was an arrogant jerk, but in reality, he was just protecting his past. In order to keep the people he loved safe, he didn’t have any other choice.

  Watching her hips sway as she strode out of the coffee shop brightened his smile.

  He couldn’t wait to see what their next encounter would bring.

  Chapter 3

  Stifling a yawn, Nona dragged herself into the kitchen for a cup of tea. It was early enough that she’d beat the sun out of bed, and mornings like this, she seriously wondered why she’d pursued journalism.

  She fiddled around in the dark for a few moments before locating the switch. Her bleary eyes protested as the room flooded with bright light. Padding to the cabinet, she took down her mug and went to get her tea bags.

  On cue, Sheba trotted into the kitchen. The two-year-old black lab immediately came to where Nona stood and nuzzled her bare calf with her cool, wet nose.

  As always, Sheba’s presence brought a smile to Nona’s face. “Good morning, girl.” Leaving her tea supplies on the counter, she squatted down to give her sweet pup a few snuggles. Back on her feet, she washed her hands and started the teakettle. Then she fixed Sheba bowls of fresh kibble and water before grabbing her own breakfast ingredients from the white French-door refrigerator.