Love Me Now

by Celeste O. Norfleet

  “What happened between us last night doesn’t change anything,” she told him.

  “I’d be very disappointed if it did,” he said.

  “I’m still going to get my father’s company back.”

  “You can try.”

  “Would you like to give up now?” she asked. “Offer a mea culpa?”

  “No. You?”

  “Hardly,” she said.

  “Good, then shall we begin negotiations?”

  Kenya smiled coyly and looked away. “Actually, I was just about to call it a night. I’m a little tired. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

  “What a coincidence, neither did I. Are you going home?” She nodded. “May I escort you home?”

  “Sure, why not.” She grabbed her purse and garment bag from the counter then turned to pick up her portfolio. Trey picked it up for her.

  “I missed you this morning,” he whispered too close. Her heart skipped as her stomach fluttered. This was so unfair. Why did it have to be him that took her breath away? What do you say to someone you’re supposed to despise, when all you can think about is how much you want him? “Come on, let’s go.”

  They stepped outside and he waited as she locked the door and secured the gate. “It’s raining again. Where’s your car?” he asked.

  “Down the street,” she said.

  “We’d better make a run for it. Let’s go,” he said, preparing her for a quick dash to the car.

  “No, not necessary. I usually walk home.”

  “Where do you live?” he asked. She looked straight up above them. Trey looked up to see apartments above the boutique and other storefronts along that side of the street. It never occurred to him that there was more to the building.

  “This way,” she said as the rain fell heavier. They hurried a few feet and came to an iron gate. She unlocked it with her key then they entered a small covered alcove. They passed through and entered a secluded enclosed garden area. There, a stone pathway encircled a small fountain. They hurried across to a narrow doorway. She unlocked it. They entered the lobby then headed to the large freight elevators. She unlocked the elevator and pushed the button for the fourth floor. Moments later the elevator door opened at her condo.

  “Come on in. I’ll get some towels,” she said quickly before disappearing behind a screen.

  When she returned with towels Trey was standing at the window looking down on the street. She walked over and handed him a towel. He turned to her.

  “I think I like seeing you wet.”

  The hope of not blushing wasn’t even plausible. It seemed whatever this man said, innocent or not, she blushed. “Thanks. I think. Speaking of negotiations—” she began.

  He leaned down into the curve of her neck and inhaled deeply. “Did I mention that your scent is intoxicating?” He lingered too long and a tingle of desire began to inch into her.

  “We’re negotiating, not smelling.”

  “Attractive, intelligent, sexy, seductive…”

  Kenya swallowed hard as she closed her eyes to stay her pounding heart and fluttering stomach. She was just about to grab and kiss him when she felt him lean back and walk away.

  “Great view. I never imagined,” he said as he looked at her and not at the large windows behind him.

  “Yeah, it’s not bad,” she said quickly, then walked over and stood near the ledge. “It’s better at sunset. The building faces west so there’s a show every night. Also it’s the general direction where they do fireworks in town. I can just sit back, relax on the sofa and be amazed.”

  “It sounds pretty good. Maybe I can get an invitation to check it out one of these days.”

  “We’ll see,” she said evasively.

  After drying off, she made tea and they sat on the wide cushioned windowsill and watched the traffic crawl beneath them.

  “Your home is really beautiful,” he said and looked at her admiringly.

  “It’s not exactly Woodley Park, but it’s home.”

  “It’s comfortable, warm and inviting—it’s you.”

  “I liked it the instant I saw it. I know it’s the typical artist loft and it’s such a cliché. But it’s perfect, close to work and everything.”

  “So what have you got to eat in this artist loft?”

  “Eat?” she questioned.

  “Yeah, you know, food,” he said.

  Kenya stood and walked over to the kitchen area. It was large and modern but empty. She opened the refrigerator and looked in. Trey stood right behind her. “Okay, I have eggs, bacon and a bunch of other stuff.”

  “What do you usually eat after work?” he asked.

  “I usually grab something on the way in.”

  “That’s terrible. Oh, that’s right, you don’t cook, you bake bread.”

  “Of course I cook, it’s just boring cooking for one.”

  He removed his jacket, grabbed the eggs and bacon and some other ingredients from the refrigerator. He placed them on the counter then looked around. “Cheese, butter, onions?” he queried. She nodded then began to gather the ingredients. Once collected, she brought them to the counter.

  “No onions. How about shallots?”

  “Even better,” he said. “I need a cutting board, a sharp knife, a skillet, a spoon and a spatula.” She delivered everything as he rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands. She handed him a paper towel then washed her hands, too.

  Trey stood at the stove while Kenya cut up the ingredients. She got out a bowl and he began mixing everything together. She was amazed how comfortable he seemed in the kitchen. He looked more like a sous chef than a businessman. Eventually Kenya relinquished her kitchen duties. She turned on the CD player and poured two glasses of wine. When everything was chopped and added, Trey poured the ingredients into the hot-buttered skillet. The mixture sizzled, instantly sending a heavenly aroma into the air.

  “Yum, that smells fantastic. I haven’t had an omelet in forever.”

  “Not just an omelet, sweetheart, it’s a frittata, an Italian omelet. That makes it special.” He grabbed the chopped herbs and more cheese and sprinkled them on top of the bubbling egg mixture.

  “That’s a work of art. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

  “I wanted to be a chef.”

  “What?”

  “Aha—see, not everything about me is on Google. And some things you hear might not be the whole truth.”

  They looked at each other for a second. His eyes captured and held her. Kenya quivered inside. If she didn’t know any better she’d swear he knew what she was up to.

  “But a chef?”

  “A pastry chef to be exact. You should taste my pastries and pies.”

  She opened her mouth but was speechless. The man insisted on surprising her at every turn. Just when she thought she had him figured out, he changed up on her.

  Kenya just shook her head and took a sip of her wine as she looked over at the stovetop. “Don’t you need to flip it or something?”

  “No, not with a frittata,” he said as he turned the oven’s broiler on. Moments later he placed the skillet on the top shelf right beneath the fire. Within seconds the omelet was perfectly toasted. He pulled it out then added a sprig of parsley. Kenya busied herself setting the table. Trey walked over and looked at her handiwork—candles, china and wine. “Mind if I make a suggestion?”

  “No, not at all,” she said.

  He looked over to the large windows. The rain had stopped and the last of the day was fading in the west. The sky had brightened, the sun had peeked through and the color pallet was breathtaking. “How about dinner with a view?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Perfect.” She reset the coffee table, adding the bottle of wine. Trey brought the sliced frittata and set it down. Kenya looked at him as he placed a slice on each of the plates then added a small salad with his special vinaigrette dressing. He poured more wine to top off their glasses. It’s business, she tried to tell herself, but it just didn’t work.


  She bowed her head and said grace. When she looked up Trey was smiling at her. The truth and emotion in his eyes made her feel guilty. Her heart opened up, against everything she read and heard and believed. Against her mind, her head and her reason, she knew right then that she’d fallen for him.

  “To you, Kenya, you’re an incredible woman.” She nodded her gratitude as they touched glasses. “Come on, dig in.”

  He cut a piece with his fork and took a bite, then nodded. She did the same. The food melted in her mouth like heaven. It was beyond delicious. “I can’t believe all this was in my refrigerator.”

  “Yeah, about that, we’re gonna have to pick it up a bit. We’ll go shopping for some real groceries.”

  “No way, it’ll just sit and rot. There’s no way I’m going to come home every night and cook like this. You can do it, but I can’t. Give me a microwave dinner or takeout any day.”

  “I guess that means I’m gonna have to be around to cook for you, at least for a little bit. Is that all right with you?”

  Kenya refused to look at him even though she knew he was looking at her. One turn in his direction and she knew she’d completely abandon her plan. “I’ll think about it.”

  Two slices of frittata each and a bottle of wine later, and they were full, relaxed and comfortable. They cleaned up the kitchen at his insistence. She was just too relaxed to bother so he did most of the work.

  “Why do you do that?” she asked as she sat on a stool at the counter and watched him load the dishwasher and wipe down the stove and countertop.

  “Do what?” he asked as he turned to her.

  “Be so nice, so wonderful,” she said in a near whisper.

  “Kind of hard to hate me, huh?” he asked.

  “Yeah, something like that,” she said.

  He walked over and stood between her legs. He reached up and stroked her face gently. She looked at him. Her eyes begged for redemption. “Your eyes are glassy. You had too much wine.”

  “No, I didn’t. I’m fine. I’m just—”

  “Just what?” he asked as he slowly leaned in to kiss her.

  “Falling…”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you,” he whispered instantly, surprising himself as the words held tight.

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Yes, I will,” he promised. “Remember, I told you I’d never lie to you.” She nodded. “Believe it.” She nodded again. He kissed her again. “Now come on and walk me to the elevator.”

  “You’re leaving?” she asked as she held on to him and pulled him back to her. He nodded. “Stay.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Because if I stay, I’ll want to make love to you and I can’t do that.”

  “But I want you to,” she said truthfully as she pulled his hips closer. “I want to be with you tonight. Stay.” He shook his head. “Why not?”

  “This is moving too fast for both of us. We have to slow it down. I’m not interested in a one-night stand with you, Kenya,” he said as he gently kissed her temple. “Let’s get to know each other, not from what you read on the Internet or from files, but for real, the real us. Can you do that?”

  She laid her head on his chest and felt the comfortable rhythm of his heart. It wasn’t made of ice after all. It beat and pumped just like everybody else’s. She wrapped her arms around him and held tight. The feeling of falling came to her again. All she had to do was let go. But she couldn’t. Letting go would mean walking away and she couldn’t do that yet.

  She was no fool. She knew that as soon as he found out exactly what she was up to and intended to do, he’d hate her. So holding on only prolonged this feeling. He was right about everything. They had happened too fast. She did want to know him aside from all the drama. And she did believe that he would catch her when she fell. It was the last part that made her sad.

  He’d never lied to her, yet she’d done nothing but lie to him from the moment they met. It was doomed from the start. She’d gone into this with her eyes wide open and it was nobody’s fault but her own. She’d made her bed, now it was time to lie in it. “I don’t know,” she said softly, then hopped down from the stool. She took his hand and walked him over to the sofa. They sat down. “Let’s talk.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Me first. I have one sister, younger, you met her. She just completed a graduate program at GWU a few years ago. She’s a pain and insists on spending more time in my personal business then she should. I got your message, by the way.”

  Kenya smiled. “Yes, we met. She seemed nice.”

  “She is.”

  “Brothers?” she asked. He didn’t answer right away. He seemed to be debating the question. “It’s not that difficult a question, or is it?”

  “I have two half brothers.”

  “Oh.”

  “Parents,” he said.

  “My mom is a sweet, kind and generous woman. She loves her flowers and would rather go to a flower show than a stage show. She’d give her last penny to help someone or intervene to save a stray cat. She has a loving, trusting spirit. Too trusting sometimes but then again, I wish I was more like that, like her.”

  “Aren’t you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “She’s forgiving, too. I’m not like that. I wish I was.”

  “Maybe you just need to work on it.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” she said thoughtfully. “We never really talk anymore. We don’t have a whole lot in common. I guess if anything I wish she was more proactive about her life.”

  “How do you mean?” he asked.

  “She’s not that old, but she’s like a product of the fifties. She gives my father full rein to do everything. Even when he clearly has no idea what he’s doing.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “She lets him be a man. Sometimes that’s important.”

  “No, she gives up her power. My dad does whatever he pleases. She never says a word. He makes all the decisions about money. My mom wouldn’t know a thing about what to do with money.”

  “You’d be surprised what people know.”

  She looked at him. “What do you mean?”

  Trey smiled. “I’ve learned never to underestimate people. They have a way of surprising you.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Kenya said, and then paused. “She loves him, I get that, but when is love weakness?”

  “You think her love for your father makes her weak?”

  She nodded. “Sometimes.”

  “You don’t want to be weak,” he surmised.

  “No, never again. She completely lost herself. I don’t ever want to be like that.”

  Trey nodded. It explained a lot. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but love isn’t about losing yourself in someone else, it’s about finding yourself.”

  “Is that off a ninety-nine-cent Valentine’s Day card?”

  He smiled. “No it’s a theory I’ve been working on lately.”

  “Well, it is for the women in my family. It’s a curse, I think. My grandmother was the same way. My grandfather finally left her. And she had to fend for herself and their daughter. And I, believe it or not, almost gave up everything the same way.”

  “But you didn’t?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “You know, being strong is fine. Having power is great but love is the ultimate high.”

  “And you know this how? By all accounts you’re not exactly a poster child for happily-ever-after.”

  “But it’s all around me, my family and friends. I see their joy and sometimes I’m just a bit envious.”

  “Have you ever been in love?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure,” he said honestly.

  The way he looked at her made her insides melt. He was saying something but she didn’t want to hear it. “Okay, your mother,” Kenya said.

  “My mom is special. She’s loving and the most caring woman I know, present
company excluded. She’s like a superhero, she believes in honesty and courage and standing up for what’s right. She’s not afraid to fight the good fight if she thinks it’s for a good cause. She’s got a strong sense of right and wrong and a keen business sense. My sister is a lot like that. I’m not.”

  “Funny, I would think you were describing yourself. Aren’t you supposed to be brilliant? Businesswise, I mean.” Trey laughed.

  “Let’s just say I’m skilled.”

  “Okay, what about your father?” he asked.

  Kenya tensed. “You first,” she said, stalling.

  “Okay, what do I say about a man I grew up hating?”

  “What, you hated your father?” she said.

  “Correction, I didn’t know my father. There was a man who showed up on occasion with presents and money. He’d come in, talk about business, money and power, and then he’d leave.”

  “I presume your parents were divorced.”

  “Thankfully yes, they divorced a few years after my sister was born. She didn’t even really get to know him at all.”

  “But you did.”

  “I knew enough.”

  “Do you still see him?”

  “No, not since I took over his company.”

  “So that part is true, you took over your own father’s company?” she said slowly. “Why? How could you do that?”

  “I had my reasons.”

  “And that justifies what you did, taking a man’s life’s work, stealing his company. Fine, maybe he wasn’t the greatest guy in the world, and maybe he was a lousy father, but taking everything he had, I don’t think so.”

  “You’re taking this personally. It wasn’t personal, it was business.”

  “Like with my father, too. Was that just business? I know my dad’s not perfect, but he didn’t deserve what you did. You just can’t arbitrarily make a business decision and change a person’s life.”

  “Yes, I can,” he said.

  “Just like that, cold and calculated,” she said.

  He nodded. “When I have to be.”

  “When you took over your father’s company, is that when they started calling you Iceman?” she asked. He nodded. “I wondered about that. I guess under the circumstances, it’s fitting.”

  Very few people knew the absolute truth behind the takeover of his father’s company. Usually he didn’t care one way or the other what people thought or believed. But for some reason he didn’t want Kenya to think any less of him than she already did.