Love Me Now

by Celeste O. Norfleet

  He’d lost count of all the times he went up against someone and quickly discovered their weakness. It was his job and he loved it.

  But once in a while he would come up against someone whom he couldn’t figure. Kenya Whitaker was that person. She wanted him, but instead of revealing her motives, she retreated. He kind of liked that. Seldom did he have the opportunity to chase. Women usually chased him. He smiled. The challenge of the pursuit would make victory sweet. The phone rang. He picked up. “Yes?”

  “Good day, my name is Mrs. Thatcher. I’m calling for Mr. Trey Evans.”

  The call instantly stilled him. His personal phone numbers were unlisted. That meant if you didn’t get it from him or someone very close to him, you didn’t get it. So hearing an unrecognizable voice was a rarity.

  “Speaking.”

  “Mr. Evans, my name is Mrs. Thatcher. Mrs. Gates filled me in on your particular circumstances. I understand you are caring for Johanna and Jonathan Gates and are in need of my services for a very short duration.”

  “That’s correct. I’ll need to see your references.”

  “My references are being e-mailed and faxed to you.”

  Trey walked to his home office. The fax machine had already delivered the references along with a “you owe me big-time” note from Tony. “Mrs. Thatcher, I understand you already know Jonathan and Johanna.”

  “Yes, lovely children. A handful, but most twins usually are, particularly at this age.”

  “Okay, I have your references here. When can we meet?”

  “I was told you needed someone immediately. I’m available at your convenience.”

  “Excellent. Why don’t we meet at my office in two hours?” Trey gave her the address then hung up. Finally, everything was back to how it should be. He touched his lips and smiled. All and all, it had been a very interesting morning.

  Chapter 4

  Kenya headed to her parents’ home after leaving Trey’s place. She needed to regroup. Trey had definitely rattled her. All her research was for nothing. Everything she learned was useless. When confronted by him, to her dismay, she crumbled like a stale cookie. She intended to intimidate him; instead she kissed him. Granted, he kissed her first, but still, she willingly cooperated. What was wrong with her? What was she thinking? He’d obviously done it to confuse her, and it had worked.

  Always in control, always focused, she never let anyone get to her, not anymore. Losing control was a sign of weakness. She vowed she’d never do that again. In business, as in life, there were winners and losers. Her father had taught her that and she learned her lesson well.

  She’d come up against powerful men before. Each time she had successfully held her own. They tried to use and manipulate her, but instead she used them to get exactly what she wanted. But this time, with Trey, it was different. She’d been steamrolled.

  He was no ordinary opponent. But this wasn’t over. She needed to come up with a different approach if she intended to help her father. Realizing she’d been overwhelmed, she contemplated her next move.

  Moments later she pulled into the brand-new community. New homes sparkled and shone like polished diamonds. Mostly flat and surrounded by miniature trees, the community boasted upscale living for anyone who could afford it.

  The newly developed area was very different from the old stately townhomes she had just left. She pulled up in front of her parents’ home. As lovely as it was, it lacked the impressive stature of Trey Evans’s house, but she was grateful for that.

  She looked up at the imposing structure. The newly purchased home in Arlington certainly wasn’t where she grew up. Sometimes she missed the small tree-lined street and close-knit neighborhood. There, everyone was a family. When one was in need, everyone pitched in to help. Here, at this new place, no one knew who their neighbors were and, shamefully, no one really cared.

  Her parents had sold the smaller home and moved into a more impressive one, which was more suitable to their newfound wealth. Kenya smiled. The words newfound wealth stuck in her mind. At the moment, it was all an illusion, the money, the design boutique, her dreams, everything.

  She opened the front door and went inside. “Hello,” she called out. “Sidney?” There was no answer. Apparently her sister was out, which was fine with her. She needed a few minutes alone with peace and quiet. She dropped her things on the living room sofa, and then headed for the kitchen. The closer she got, the more intense the smell seemed. It was a foul stench, like something was burning. In the kitchen she looked around then spotted the source. The coffee machine had been left on. She turned it off and yanked the cord. A spark made her jump.

  “Sidney,” she called out in vain. She grabbed the handle but flinched, releasing it instantly. It was scalding. The electric base was charred black. She picked up a dish towel, grabbed the pot handle again and then hurried over to the sink. Black residue from what was once coffee was chipped and charred on the bottom of the pot. She turned on the water to cool it, but instead it made a popping sound then instantly shattered. “Sidney,” she said, seething quietly.

  “What?”

  Kenya turned around to see her sister standing in the doorway in a T-shirt, baggy boxers and slippers, yawning. “Sidney, I almost burned my hand. You left the coffeepot on again.”

  “Would you please chill out,” she mumbled sleepily.

  “One of these days you’re gonna burn the house down around you. Then what are you gonna do? Believe it or not, the simple everyday chores, such as turning a coffee machine off, are just as important as partying all night,” Kenya said, and then began cleaning up the mess in the sink by gathering broken glass with a dishtowel.

  “For your information, I was up late last night studying, not partying. As usual, you don’t know all the facts and as usual, you are overreacting,” Sidney said in the monotone voice she often used when her older sister annoyed her. She walked over and peeked into the sink. “Wait, I didn’t do that,” she said, pointing to the broken glass everywhere.

  “No, it broke when I turned on the cold water,” Kenya said, continuing to gather glass with the towel.

  “So why’d you turn on the cold water?”

  “Because the carafe was scalding hot,” she snapped.

  “So you just should have let it cool. Everybody knows that. Now look what you did. You have to buy Mom another carafe.”

  Kenya looked at her younger sister. She was so much like their father. Nothing was ever her fault. She always had an excuse for everything. The fact that she created the problem was completely lost on her. But she was right about one thing—of course she knew that turning cold water on hot glass would shatter it. “Sidney, if you hadn’t left the machine on all night, then the pot wouldn’t be broken.”

  “I didn’t pour cold water into a hot carafe and shatter it. You did that.”

  “Never mind,” Kenya finally said, knowing she’d never get her to understand. Sometimes her sister’s easygoing, lackadaisical attitude annoyed her. It was matched only by their father’s. As scary as it seemed, sometimes Kenya envied them.

  “Need help?” Sidney asked.

  “No, I got it,” Kenya snapped, making her second trip to the trash can.

  “Have you heard from Mom or Dad today?” Sidney asked as she grabbed the trash can and wedged it under the rim of the countertop. She angled it, making it much easier to just scoop the broken glass directly into the trash can.

  Kenya removed the last of the glass then washed down the sink. Sidney dropped the towel in the trash and put the can back.

  “Aren’t you going to wash that?” Kenya asked.

  “It’s got tiny shards of glass embedded in it. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to take a chance on getting my hands all cut up over a two-dollar dish towel.”

  “Don’t you have a class this morning?” Kenya replied.

  “Yes, mother,” Sidney said sarcastically, “but it was canceled. Did you just come over to check up on me, or is there another r
eason why you’re here so early?”

  “No, I just needed to…” Kenya began, but stopped. She leaned back against the counter, watching her sister examine the coffee machine. There was no way she was going to tell her that she had been flustered by a man. She was the oldest sister, the one in charge. She was perfect, always responsible and accountable. To appear otherwise would be out of character. “Make sure you were okay.”

  “That sounds a lot like checking up on me.”

  “Do you need anything?” Kenya asked, walking out of the kitchen. Sidney followed.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Sidney asked. “You’re all jittery and nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous. I just wanted to check on my younger sister. Is that so bad?” Sidney looked at her suspiciously. “Never mind, don’t answer. What’s the rest of your day look like?”

  “I have to study for my class tomorrow and then prepare for my internship the rest of the day.”

  “How’s that going?” Kenya asked.

  Sidney smiled. “It’s an internship. I’m working for free. How do you think it’s going? But it does have its perks, so I’m dealing with it.” Sidney sat on the arm of the sofa as Kenya grabbed her purse. Kenya looked at her, then at the sofa, then back at her. “Fine, fine,” Sidney said and stood up.

  The rule had always been not to sit on the arm of the sofa. Kenya was not about to let it slide just because her mother was away. “Okay, if you need me, call me. I’ll be at the boutique all day. But I need to make a few stops first. Do you want to grab breakfast?” she asked. Sidney looked down at herself then at Kenya. “Never mind,” Kenya said, knowing it would take her sister at least two hours to get dressed. “I’ll see you later.”

  Kenya left, then climbed back in the car and drove off. What was wrong with her? She’d nearly burned her hand on a carafe she knew was hot, put cold water in a hot glass container and hadn’t even thought to move the trash can to the sink. Was her brain on permanent lockdown?

  No, she’d gotten distracted, something she seldom did. She prided herself on always being focused on a goal. Kenya chastised herself for her behavior. What was she doing, flirting, kissing? Getting sidetracked by some Wall Street Romeo? Not again. Frustrated, she slammed her palm on the steering wheel. The sting made her flinch. She looked at her slightly inflamed palm. It was red but not burned. She sighed heavily.

  Come on, girl, get it together. Snap out of it, he was just a man, an ordinary man. No big deal.

  Wrong, he was a big deal, and she knew it.

  Wealthy or attractive men never affected her like this. They’d come and gone in and out of her life before. She’d been in like, in love and in downright lust. Wait. Maybe that was it—lust. She realized that explained everything. She had researched Trey and his string of women. They chased and he led them on. All that testosterone had obviously subconsciously intrigued her. That’s why she kissed him back. After all, she was only human. Then, of course, seeing him half-naked didn’t hurt. His body was damn near perfect.

  His body. “Mmph,” she hummed, expelling a slow, satisfying moan then licking her lips. The thought made her smile. Being with him must be…“Mmph, mmph, mmph,” she moaned again as she shook her head. She wouldn’t even know what to do with a body like that. No, she took it back. She knew exactly what she’d do, over and over and over again. Now that naughty thought made her really smile.

  The next few miles found serious focus eluding her as Trey Evans strolled in and out of her thoughts repeatedly. No matter how hard she tried to reshift her focus, her thoughts always came back to him. She was totally and completely preoccupied. “Stop it, stop it, stop it,” she scolded and commanded herself. “Why do you keep thinking about that man?” she muttered.

  Then it hit her. Of course, she realized. It all made sense. He was the main reason for her aggravation, she reasoned. He was the cause of her father’s pain and she wanted to get back at him. That’s why she kept thinking about him. Yes, of course.

  No, that wasn’t it. And lying to herself wouldn’t change anything, and she knew it. It was his smile, his chest, his incredible eyes—they all stayed with her. She still couldn’t believe he’d kissed her. Worse yet, she’d kissed him back.

  She parked, got out and then spent the next hour in the fabric store picking out swatches and material, and trying desperately to distract herself. She shopped, bargained, plotted and planned, but he was there the whole time, never very far away.

  The problem was that everything she thought she knew about him was completely wrong. He was an immovable force with a very definite way of getting a point across. Kenya touched her lips as she stood in the checkout line. She didn’t still feel his mouth on her, but the memory was certainly clear enough to make her shudder.

  She looked around to the other customers in line and those who still mingled about. Thankfully they were too busy dealing with their own dramas to even notice her. She quickly checked out and hurried back to her car.

  What was it about him? Maybe it was the first sight of him standing in the doorway, or maybe it was because she hadn’t been with anyone in a while. But whatever it was, he was definitely getting to her. No, past tense—he’d gotten to her. Every time he had looked at her with those green eyes, she flushed. The sexy way he smiled, his mesmerizing gaze and his kiss…He was sexy. No, he was sexual. No wonder he had the reputation he did. She could just imagine…“Whoa,” she said aloud. What was she doing? She was doing it again. “Stop it.”

  Well, the one good thing about the morning was that all of a sudden, she had gotten a burst of energy. She’d been dragging around the past two days; now she felt like she could run ten miles without stopping. Apparently the situation had energized her.

  After going from store to store, she finally completed her errands. She drove back to the boutique, loaded up the purchases, then headed to the front door. Juggling her packages, she dropped a bolt of fabric as soon she inserted her key into the lock. As she picked up the fabric the front door swung open.

  “And where the heck have you been all morning?” Shelly Turner asked as she opened the door before Kenya could touch the knob. Kenya juggled the packages again as she walked in. Shelly closed and locked the door behind her.

  “Sorry, the errands took longer than I expected. I got everything on the list. I even found the perfect ribbons and notions. Did the electrician get here yet?” Kenya asked as they walked straight through to the workroom.

  “Yep, here and gone. Here’s the estimate.” Shelly handed Kenya the paper from her desk.

  Kenya read the detailed estimate. She looked up at Shelly. “What’s this, a joke? Where’s the real one?”

  “That, my dear, is the real one. Apparently what we thought was a short is actually a serious wiring problem. He said that the place has to basically be rewired. Also, according to him we have at least seven code violations and two serious fire code problems.” The lights flickered and dimmed, almost to make her point. They both looked up. “I checked the account. We don’t have that kind of money. We need at least twenty-five hundred, fifty dollars immediately. And that’s just to get the job started.”

  “Two thousand, five hundred fifty dollars,” Kenya repeated as she sat on the nearest stool.

  “I figured I can scrape together a thousand dollars, maybe another five hundred if I pawn my grandmother’s ring. That’s fifteen hundred. Can you come up with the rest?”

  “My checking and savings accounts are already tapped out,” Kenya said as she slumped over the cutting table. “I could break in to my money market.”

  “No, absolutely not, remember we said that our money market accounts were for dire emergencies only. They’re a last resort. We’re not that strapped yet. We just have to be creative,” Shelly said. Kenya started chuckling. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, what? Tell me. I could use a good laugh after dealing with that electrician all morning.”

  “I was just at this guy’s house thi
s morning. He’s probably worth a couple trillion dollars. He wanted me to be his kids’ nanny and then to play nice when his grandmother stopped by. Why don’t I just ask him for the money?”

  “Fine, perfect, promise him anything, be the nanny, do his laundry, whatever, just get the money.”

  “I was joking, Shelly,” she said sarcastically. The last thing she wanted to do was to go back to Trey and ask him to repeat his offer.

  “I’m not. Look, do you want this to happen or not?”

  “Of course I want this to happen. We’ve dreamed about this since our first day at Parsons. We were going to open our own design studio and boutique, our label, our designs, our garments. We’re almost there.”

  “Exactly, so what if we have to get a couple of part-time jobs to tide us over. We’ve done it before. There’s nothing wrong with expanding our horizons from time to time.”

  “We also need to focus on our work—our clothing line for next season is only half-done. There’s no way we have enough designs to fill the boutique yet,” Kenya said.

  “Okay, fine, no nanny, no part-time jobs, then what? We need money fast. If the electricity goes out on us one more time…” She looked around the workroom. “I guess we could sell our sewing machines.”

  Kenya slumped over farther. “Okay, first of all you’re not gonna pawn your grandmother’s ring and we’re not gonna sell our sewing machines. You love them, I love them. They’re the centerpiece of the boutique. They’re what gave us our start. We’ll find another way. If you can get a thousand, I’ll come up with the rest somehow. When did he say he can get the work started?”

  “As soon as we give him the down payment,” Shelly said as she sat down at her drawing table.

  “Okay,” Kenya said, then stood up and started gathering and emptying the packages she’d brought in. The more she thought about everything that was going on, the more furious she became. Everything that could go wrong had—her father, his business, the money, and now her business was in jeopardy.