Craving Temptation

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  Harper punched him playfully in the arm. “I do not!”

  Quentin hugged her tightly a second time, leaning to kiss her forehead. “Okay, baby. Whatever you say.”

  “I don’t!” Harper exclaimed as she rolled her eyes skyward.

  Amina laughed. The newlyweds were endearing, their very public displays of affection warming her spirit. They seemed perfect for each other and she couldn’t help but be a little jealous. Amina found herself wondering what it might be like to be in love with a man who complemented her personality like Quentin seemed to complement Harper’s. A man who thought nothing of showing his affection. As she stood watching her new friends with their easy caresses and light touches, she found herself imagining a man’s hand pressed against her own waist, his lips grazing her brow, his fingers dancing across her bare skin. She was suddenly embarrassed to have given such thoughts any consideration and her face flushed warm with color.

  She took a deep inhalation of air and then a second, fighting to stall her wayward imagination. Diverting her attention elsewhere she stole a quick glance around the space. She couldn’t stop herself from hoping that she might catch a glimpse of Quentin’s brother.

  Across the way Troy was still staring at her, his intense gaze causing her breath to catch deep in her chest as their gazes connected. Her face lifted brightly, her smile stretching from ear to ear. She was tempted to ease herself to his side when she was suddenly bombarded by his campaign manager.

  Mike’s hand was damp and clammy as he shook hers eagerly. “I’m Mike Chamberlain, Ms. Salman. Troy Elliott’s campaign manager.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Chamberlain,” she said politely. “Your reputation precedes you.”

  Mike’s head bobbed eagerly against his thick neck. “So, you’ve heard of me! That’s good to hear,” he said as he brushed the back of his fingers against the breast panel of his plaid jacket. “I’m pretty good at what I do, if I can say so myself!”

  Amina gave him one of her sweetest smiles. “From what I know you’ve worked on some twenty campaigns and won two of them. Is that right?”

  There was a moment of pause as Mike’s eyes blinked rapidly. “My numbers are much better than that,” he finally sputtered. “I’ve worked on eighteen winning campaigns!”

  Amina laughed, knowing full well that she had purposely inverted his win results. “I’m sure they are,” she said.

  Mike pulled at his jacket, buttoning it closed around his beer belly. “I hope you’re not planning to get too comfortable in our little camp here. We can’t have a whole lot of fraternizing going on between our two teams,” he said as he shot Harper a look. “We wouldn’t want any secrets spilled.”

  Amina chuckled softly. “They say politics makes for strange bedfellows, Mr. Chamberlain. You never know what might happen.”

  He paused for a brief moment as he reflected on her comment. Then he spoke. “Well, I do hope that we can pit our candidates against each other in a debate at some point. Give the people a good show.”

  “You mean provide an opportunity for the constituents here in Memphis to make a side-by-side comparison of both candidates so that they can make an informed decision and vote objectively?”

  The man hesitated for a brief moment. “Okay, that works, too,” Mike said. There was a feigned look of confusion on his face. He shot his best friend a glance and winked an eye.

  Moving behind the man Troy laughed. “Don’t let him fool you, Amina. He really is good at his job,” he teased, brushing his good friend aside. “But it does make me question if he’s as good as you are, since it would seem you know more about his résumé than he knows about yours.”

  Amina smiled. “He isn’t,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Mike tossed up his hands. “I take offense at that,” he said, looking from one to the other. When neither bothered to give him a glance he eased his way over to where Quentin and Harper were watching with interest, taking his own front-row seat.

  Troy met her gaze, clearly fascinated by her self-assurance. He nodded his head slowly, his eyes still locked tightly with hers. “You’re a highly organized political professional with exceptional research, writing, and analytical skills. You have multiple years of public service experience, working with government, nonprofits, and political candidates. You have a proven capacity to handle confidential and time-sensitive documents and materials; the ability to multitask and adapt to changing work priorities and environments; and you’re adept at communications with people from diverse cultural backgrounds and age groups.”

  “Someone’s been doing his homework.”

  Troy grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “You were a political reporting specialist with Nielsen, Crosby, and Gross in Atlanta. You worked as a field manager for three high-profile senators and ran the campaigns of four governors and one other mayor. Plus, you hold some seriously impressive fund-raising records, as well as being licensed to practice law in three states. Those are some very successful accomplishments for someone so young, which indicates you’re a high-achiever with a strong work ethic.”

  Amina nodded. “Anything else?”

  “Your favorite color is lavender, daylilies are your favorite flower, and your favorite food is anything Italian. You enjoy quiet walks on the beach, soft jazz in front of a fireplace, Shakespearean sonnets, and you collect fine art, preferably figurative work. You also enjoy reading mysteries.”

  Amina’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

  “If I didn’t know better, Troy Elliott, I’d think you might be a bit of a stalker.”

  Troy laughed. “Why would you think that?”

  “Googling my Match.com profile is a wee bit excessive, don’t you think?”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I need to know what I’m up against. It was necessary to access everything I could on my competition.”

  Amina’s smile widened. “I’m not your competition. My father is. I hope you were as thorough researching him.”

  “I was,” Quentin said, his gaze still dancing with hers.

  A ripple of sexual tension suddenly vibrated through her body. She took a deep breath and held it for a quick moment before blowing the air past her thin lips. With her cell phone suddenly vibrating in her pocket, Amina bit down against her bottom lip, her confident expression shifting to a bevy of nerves.

  Troy found himself wondering what her lips might feel like against his. He imagined they’d be sweet and soft like sugared silk gliding across his mouth. Heat rained in a southern direction and he felt his muscles harden. He took a deep breath and held it, hoping to stall the rising sensations.

  “Well, I need to be going,” Amina suddenly said, fighting her own growing emotions. “It was good to see you again, Troy.”

  Troy nodded. “The pleasure was all mine.”

  Amina turned and headed for the exit, waving her good-byes toward the Elliott family. Troy called after her.

  She turned and eyed him curiously. “Yes?”

  “How’s that dating site working for you?”

  Amina laughed, the warmth of it shooting a current of electricity up Troy’s spine. “It’s not,” she answered.

  Troy nodded. “Good, because I would really like to take you to dinner.”

  5

  Amina’s brother was still ranting at her. He’d been ranting since she’d come through the front door, had ranted through dinner, and he was still raging. He’d gone through the alphabet, his discourse covering everything from her attitude to her zealous disregard for everything he valued. She rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time and blew a loud sigh.

  “That’s enough, Basil,” their father finally said, blowing his own loud sigh.

  “But, Father . . .”

  “Enough I said!” Nasser had raised his voice for the first time. His chocolate complexion furrowed with frown lines. As children they’d thought he looked like a black Patrick Stewart, the actor from Star Trek. His youthful appearance belied his age but he suddenl
y looked tired. His hair was snow white, a stark contrast to his skin tone and his eyes were bright. He lifted those eyes to Amina. “Daughter, the next time, just remember to check in with one of us so that we do not worry about you. I do understand that things happen. Perhaps we should get you one of those phone chargers for your car so that the next time your battery dies you can recharge it easily.”

  Amina nodded. “I’ll pick one up tomorrow. And, I apologize again, Father. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  Nasser nodded. “I see that you scheduled an early morning meeting with the campaign staff tomorrow so I am going to turn in for the night. Good night, children,” he said as he kissed Amina’s cheek and then Rasheeda’s. He wrapped Basil in a warm embrace. “Rest well, Son,” he said as he exited the room.

  As the door closed behind him, Amina tossed her brother a look, her eyes narrowed, her jaw tight. The expression on her face dared him to say one more word. Rasheeda interceded.

  “I’m sorry that your phone died, Amina. If you want me to pick that charger up for you I will.”

  Amina tossed her sister a quick look. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Thank you, Rasheeda. I really appreciate that.”

  Basil stomped toward the door. He turned abruptly, his anger still raging. “You don’t fool me, Amina,” he snapped. “I will not let your bad behavior embarrass this family.”

  “Shut up, Basil,” Amina snapped back. “Shut up and mind your own business and not mine. You are not the boss of me!”

  If looks could kill, Amina imagined she would have been standing dead in her low-heeled pumps from the look her brother was giving her. Hostility rained from his pale eyes and in that brief moment Amina couldn’t imagine them ever having a healthy relationship. Tears suddenly burned hot behind her eyelashes.

  Basil muttered something under his breath and Amina knew the words were nothing but ugly. He pointed a finger toward her, shaking it vehemently as he suddenly moved too quickly in her direction. Rasheeda jumped to her feet, moving between the two of them, her hands raised as if in surrender.

  She shook her head. “Stop, Basil! Father would not like this!” Rasheeda exclaimed. Her voice was a loud whisper as she repeated herself, urging him to calm down.

  Basil looked from Rasheeda to Amina, his eyes skating back and forth from one to the other. “School your sister,” he finally spat. “She better learn her place and she better learn it quick.”

  Amina bristled. “If there’s something you think I need to learn, Big Brother, then educate me yourself. Rasheeda doesn’t need to run interference between us.”

  He stepped toward her a second time, Rasheeda pushing against him with both palms.

  “You can act like a fool if you want, Basil, but you don’t scare me,” Amina said, both hands falling to her lean hips in defiance.

  Still glaring, Basil hesitated for a brief moment before finally taking a step back. He shook his head from side to side. Turning back toward the door, he paused in the entranceway. “You need to be scared,” he said emphatically.

  Amina’s two hands clenched into tight fists, her gaze narrowed. “You should be, too, Big Brother. You should be, too!”

  The door slammed harshly behind their brother. His footsteps vibrated across the hardwood floors toward the front door. When Amina heard it slam as well she let go of the breath she’d been holding. She dropped down onto the leather sofa, her body shaking from the adrenaline.

  Rasheeda was still standing, her head waving. “You should not taunt him, Amina,” she said, turning to face her sister.

  “He shouldn’t be such a bully,” Amina responded. She shifted forward in her seat. “Why do you let him treat you like that, Rasheeda?”

  “He’s really not so bad.”

  “Yes, he is. He has no right to talk to either of us that way. I’m going to speak to Father about him.”

  “Please, leave it alone, Amina. You don’t understand him and you really have no right to come into our lives now and cause trouble.”

  “I wasn’t trying to cause trouble, Rasheeda.”

  Rasheeda shrugged. “Just do what you’re asked, please. Work on Father’s campaign and let Basil be the man Father wants him to be. Had Mother raised you properly we wouldn’t be having any of these problems.”

  Amina bristled. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that! Those are Father’s words and he has no right to bash her. Our mother raised me well and she’s been proud of all of my accomplishments. Had you made any effort to have a relationship with her you’d know that.”

  The two women stood staring at each other, a wave of emotion billowing between them. Eventually Rasheeda turned and headed toward the door. “It’s time for our evening prayers,” she said, tossing a quick glance over her shoulder. “You do still pray?”

  Amina’s head waved ever so slightly. “Don’t be a bitch, Rasheeda,” she said softly. “I really don’t need that from you.”

  Without saying another word Rasheeda turned and made her exit. Minutes passed before Amina made any effort to move. Her tears had finally fallen, raining down her face. She hated that her nearly perfect day was ending on such a sour note.

  She’d been excited when she’d finally made her way home. Troy Elliott had invited her to dinner and they’d made tentative plans for the following week. Amina had hoped to share her excitement with her sister but within minutes of coming through the front door Basil had begun to berate her and her father had allowed it.

  She hated that she’d told a little white lie about her cell phone battery having died—that being the reason she’d not returned any of their calls. And she disliked not being able to tell her family where she’d been. But she knew telling the truth would have opened a whole other can of issues between them. Keeping secrets from them was surely not the kind of relationship she wanted to have with her father or her siblings. But they weren’t making things easy and she didn’t want her father to be disappointed with her.

  Amina swiped at the tears that dampened her cheeks. Blowing a deep sigh she knew that her next move wasn’t going to sit well with any of her relatives either. But prayer was going to have to wait. She needed someone to talk to and since she couldn’t talk with her sister, a long-distance call to her mother was definitely necessary.

  Amina was still pouring over paperwork when her cell phone rang. The chime was unexpected and her focus was so deep that it startled her. She jumped, the papers piled on the bedspread before her falling into disarray. The device chimed a second time and her sister shifted in the other bed, lifting her head to stare at her.

  Amina and her mother had finished their conversation hours earlier so she couldn’t begin to imagine who would be calling her at such a late hour. She disrupted her paperwork even more as she reached across to the nightstand, hurrying to silence the noise. Pulling the phone into her hand, she didn’t recognize the number that blinked for her attention.

  “Hello?”

  “Amina, hello! It’s Troy Elliott.” His voice was pure molasses; thick, rich, and sweet, the seductive cadence coming as a complete surprise.

  “Troy, hi!”

  “I know it’s late. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time,” the man intoned.

  She shook her head, oblivious to his not being able to see her. “No, not at all,” she said, her own voice a loud whisper. “Can you hold on for a second?”

  “Sure.”

  Amina eased her body off the bed. She tossed Rasheeda a slight smile, the girl staring at her through glazed eyes. Moving into the connected bathroom Amina closed and locked the door. A night light illuminated the space. She pulled the shower curtain aside and stepped into the porcelain tub, settling herself comfortably in the corner.

  She took a deep breath and then a second as she pulled her phone back to her ear. “Sorry about that. I share a room with my sister and I didn’t want to wake her.”

  “It’s not a problem. I understand completely.”

  “How did you get my number
?” she asked, remembering that she’d not given it to him.

  “I bribed Harper for it. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Amina could feel herself smiling, a wide grin spread across her face. “Bribed?”

  “My sister-in-law has a wicked shoe obsession. I’m told my money is going to buy her a great new pair.”

  Amina laughed. “That’s too funny!” She could sense Troy smiling on the other end.

  “You weren’t in bed or anything were you?” Troy questioned.

  “No. I was just sorting through some paperwork.”

  “Burning the midnight oil. I’m impressed.”

  “You should be,” she said. “I’m not planning on losing this election.”

  Troy laughed. “Neither am I.”

  “That might be a problem for us,” Amina said.

  “Not if we don’t let it be.”

  There was a pregnant pause as Amina considered his words. “You never told me why you called,” she finally said, breaking the silence.

  Troy hesitated for a brief moment before he answered. “To be honest, I just wanted to hear your voice,” he replied.

  Amina gasped, his frankness surprising her. She didn’t know how to respond and so she said nothing. The silence was awkward for a second time.

  He called her name. “Amina?”

  “I’m still here.”

  “I didn’t mean to be so forward. I just . . . well . . .” Troy stammered, suddenly at a loss for words.

  She took a deep inhalation of air, blowing it out slowly. “I’m glad you called,” Amina whispered.

  Troy blew his own breath into the receiver, a weight feeling like it had been lifted off his shoulders. “You had me worried for a moment,” he said.

  Amina laughed. “You don’t do this often, do you, Mr. Elliott?”

  “I really haven’t done something like this ever,” Troy answered.

  “I find that very hard to believe.”

  “Why?”

  “I just imagine that you have a ton of women vying for your attention.”

  Troy laughed. “Well, you can be assured that you are the only woman who has my attention.”