Angry, Brooklyn bolted to her feet, ignoring her sudden head rush. “I’m so sorry my Shakespearean tragedy of a life is boring you. You might have said something sooner, I could’ve spared you the trip over here.” She grabbed the empty wine bottle from the table and proceeded to march toward the kitchen.
“That’s not what I meant.” Toni jumped up and fell in line behind her. “I just think it’s time to either piss or get off the pot, so to speak.”
“Eloquent,” Brooklyn said, shaking her head. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?” She grabbed yet another bottle of wine from the refrigerator, fully acknowledging this was the most she’d drunk since college.
“I mean it, Brooke. It’s time to stop feeling sorry for yourself and move on. Evan and Macy don’t seem to be mourning the failure of his marriage. He’s ready to take the bull by the horns and try again.”
“You don’t get it. I don’t want to try again.” She popped open the bottle, and then stormed back into the living room with it.
Again, Toni followed behind her. “I’m not buying it. I think you do want a relationship. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
Brooklyn shook her head, not sure whether her confusion stemmed from Toni’s speech or from the alcohol.
“You’ve been ready since the moment you slept with Mr. Fine in New York. This little song and dance you’ve been performing since then is because you’re trying to figure out a way to give yourself permission to love again.”
Incredulous, Brooklyn faced her friend. “Where on earth do you get this weak-minded psychology crap?”
“It was my minor in college.”
“Well, you’re lousy at it.”
Toni smirked. “The more you lash out the more I think I’m right.” Toni picked up the cordless phone lying on the table and stretched it out toward Brooklyn. “Call him again. This time leave a message.”
As if on cue, the phone rang.
Brooklyn and Toni’s startled gazes riveted toward it and then lifted back at one another.
“Who is it?” Brooklyn asked, her voice a thin whisper.
“How in the hell would I know?” Toni continued to thrust the phone toward Brooklyn as it continued to ring.
Stepping back as though it were lethal, Brooklyn shook her head. Her brain muddled helplessly in its intoxicated state. “Read the caller ID screen,” she instructed.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Toni glanced at the small screen on the hand unit and a full smile bloomed across her face. “Isaiah Washington.”
Brooklyn’s heart dropped and anchored somewhere below her knees. “I don’t want to answer it. Let it go to the answering machine. I’m not here.” The excuses poured out of her in rapid succession.
Toni’s smile turned wicked and Brooklyn watched in horror as Toni answered the call. “Hello.” She frowned, believing the caller might have hung up. “Hello,” she said again.
“There. He hung up,” Brooklyn whispered, reaching to snatch the phone away.
“Hello,” a male voice finally said.
Toni dodged Brooklyn’s reaching fingers. “Is this Isaiah?” she asked.
“Yes, I was returning your call. You did call, didn’t you?” he asked.
Toni placed a hand over the mouthpiece. “Damn, he sounds sexy.” She then spoke back into the phone. “No, that would’ve been my girlfriend, Brooklyn. I’m Toni.”
“Hello, Toni. May I speak with Brooklyn?”
“Sure, she’s right here.”
Brooklyn waved her hands and backed away from the phone. She had no idea what to say to this man, especially when she was more than a little tipsy.
Toni held the phone toward her. “He wants to talk with you.”
Trapped, Brooklyn’s hands fell to her sides as she looked helplessly at the phone.
“Come on. You know you want to talk to him.”
The truth was difficult to accept. She reached for the phone and prayed she wouldn’t make a fool of herself. “Hello, Isaiah.”
“Good evening, Brooklyn.” His low, seductive baritone flowed over her like a feathery caress. “I’m glad you called.”
Brooklyn sat down, hoping the action would do something about the crazy knots forming in her stomach. “I’m sorry it took so long.”
Toni sat beside her and leaned over to hear what was being said.
Annoyed, Brooklyn swiveled away. “How are you?”
“Better now that you’ve called.” He chuckled.
Regret and shame raged within Brooklyn while she struggled to clear her head. “I should have called sooner, but, um, I guess I was a bit embarrassed for the way I treated you the other night.”
“And on the highway.”
She placed a hand over her eyes. How could she have forgotten about that? “Yeah, I was awful to you then, too.”
“And for disappearing on me in New York.”
Reeling back against the sofa’s plump pillows, Brooklyn allowed shame to win the battle. “All right, all right. I’ve pretty much treated you like crap. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.”
“You know, now that you’ve pointed out how mean I’ve been toward you, why are you still interested?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m hoping in the end you’ll be worth the trouble.”
“I can’t promise you that.”
His sexy laugh returned. “No, I don’t think you can.”
She laughed, too, and then realized she’d wanted to talk to him for the last six months. The night they’d met, he’d been so easy to talk to, laugh with…and even make love to.
“I want to see you again,” he said.
Her breath hitched at the seriousness of his tone and she hesitated to give voice to her own desires.
“Brooklyn?” he asked. “Are you still there?”
Slowly, she released her breath. “I’m still here,” she managed to say and cast a futile glance at Toni before admitting the truth. “I want to see you, too.”
A fusion of hope, joy and relief exploded within Isaiah. Had he been alone, he might have performed a touchdown dance throughout the living room. Instead, he refrained and sat composed with a face-splitting smile. “Then when can I see you?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice quivered. “How about sometime next week?”
“How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Good,” he said, realizing he shouldn’t give her too much time to think I over. She might try to back out of it. “Eight o’clock?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She paused. “Eight o’clock seems so—”
“Good point. We better make it seven. I’ve already taken the liberty of looking you up in the phone book—hope you don’t mind. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven,” he said, trying to keep his hopefulness out of his voice. She could easily shoot him down at any time.
Unsure of when she’d lost control or the ability to keep up with the conversation, she simply resigned in defeat. “Tomorrow at seven. I’ll be ready.”
She disconnected the call and stared down at the phone.
Toni’s arms swung around her friend as she burst with excitement. “Sounds like you’re going to get laid again.”
Chapter 15
The next day flew by at warp speed. By the time Brooklyn made it home to prepare for her date, she was a basket case. She rifled through her closet and tried on every outfit—twice. The problem was she had no clue to where Isaiah planned to take her.
“Maybe I should call him,” she whispered and eyed the phone next to the bed. The very idea heightened her anxiety. She waved off the notion, but reason demanded that she call.
Retrieving Isaiah’s business card, she sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the phone. “Just do it—but stay casual, and keep it light,” she coached herself, and then exhaled a long, tired breath and picked up the receiver.
Isaiah barely heard his cell above his singing and electric razor and hoped the call wasn’t
business related. He answered without reviewing the caller ID. “Hello.”
“Hello. Isaiah?”
Dread clawed through him. “Brooklyn. Don’t tell me you’ve called to cancel.”
“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that.” She chuckled with a slight tremor. “I was just wondering where we were going tonight. I have no idea how to dress for our date.”
Relieved, he laughed. “In that case, it’s going to be a formal evening—so put on your best dress.”
“Really? Any way I can get you to give me a hint to where you’re taking me?”
Isaiah smiled and leaned against the bathroom’s door frame. “Sorry, Charlie. It’s going to be a surprise.”
“Not even a little hint?” she purred.
“Sounding like that, you’re making it hard to say no.”
“Then don’t.”
He laughed. “Don’t you like surprises?”
“Depends.”
“Trust me. You’ll like this surprise.”
She sighed, but a smile lingered on her lips. “All right, you win. I’ll see you at seven.”
“On the dot,” he joked, and then disconnected the call. When he turned and faced his reflection in the mirror, he winked. “You have a date with an angel.”
As it turned out that evening, the worst storm Isaiah had experienced in years descended on Atlanta. Lightning littered the sky while claps of thunder rattled him as he searched for Brooklyn’s address. The rental car’s navigation system had gone haywire, and now he was lost and more than an hour late for his date.
When the house finally materialized, relief overwhelmed him. He parked in the driveway, grabbed the umbrella and the bundle of roses from the passenger seat, and then made a mad dash to the front porch.
A gust of wind yanked the umbrella from his hand before he had a chance to think. He turned and watched as it landed in the front yard. Cursing, he rushed after it. By the time he made it beneath the relative shelter of the front porch, he was a mess.
He rang the doorbell.
The door opened and a gorgeous Brooklyn Douglas stared back at him.
“Oh, my goodness.” Her gaze traveled over him with open shock and concern. “Are you all right?”
Isaiah’s annoyance at his ruined evening vanished at first sight of her. A stunning red dress hugged her Coke-bottle figure like a second layer of skin while the garment’s deep neckline showcased her ample bosom. She wore her hair pinned up, which forced him to admire her elegant neck and jawline.
“Are you all right?” she asked again, waving a hand in front of him to break his trance.
Isaiah blinked and stared into her brown eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
Her face flushed a deep burgundy. “I wish I could say the same for you. Let’s get you dry.” She turned and gestured for him to follow.
Isaiah complied, cringing at the feel of his wet clothes plastered against him. Once inside, he remembered the roses. “For you.”
“Oh.” She closed the door and smiled. “Thank you, but you shouldn’t have. You’ve already sent me enough flowers to open my own shop.”
He laughed. “Maybe I did overdo it a bit.”
Thunder boomed overhead and the lights flickered.
“Seems like we’re in for a doozy.” She cast a worried look in his direction.
“Yeah. I think it’s safe to say we’re not going to make our reservations.”
Brooklyn’s smile widened. “The first thing we need to do is get you out of those clothes.”
His brows knitted. “Sounds like this date is starting to look up.”
Laughing, she turned away. “Follow me and I’ll see if I can find you something to put on.”
Minutes later, Isaiah stripped down in Brooklyn’s son’s bedroom and donned a large, baby-blue robe she’d laid out.
While Isaiah cleaned up, Brooklyn rummaged through the refrigerator to find something quick and easy for dinner. As she did that, she couldn’t stop snickering at the memory of a drenched Isaiah at her front door.
“Something funny?” Isaiah asked.
Startled, she blinked up at him. He filled out her son’s robe nicely, more so than Jaleel had ever come close to doing.
He lifted a curious brow when her eyes finally met his.
“You could say that,” she said, choosing to remain ambiguous. She pulled out a Tupperware container from the refrigerator. “I hope you like meat loaf.”
“Love it.” He winked.
She turned and pulled down a few cans of vegetables. “I’m sorry this isn’t a gourmet dinner, but it’s the best I can do on such short notice.”
“Tell you what. Since I’m supposed to be treating you, why don’t you sit down and let me take over?” He cupped an arm under her elbow and guided her to the other side of the breakfast bar.
“You cook?” she asked, unable to hide her surprise.
“I dabble a little.”
“Uh-huh.” She eased onto a stool. “Just try not to burn down my kitchen.”
His lips curled with a laugh. “I think I can manage that. How about I fix us something a little special?”
“I’m game.”
“Great. Let’s see what else is in the refrigerator.”
Other than dispensing a few directions as to where the skillets and ingredients were stored, Brooklyn watched with unadulterated pleasure as Isaiah prepared their meal. As she observed him, it became clear he did more than just dabble.
In fact, the longer she watched, the more relieved she was for not serving her mediocre meat loaf.
“So where did you learn to cook?”
“Actually, it’s just something I picked up over the years. Plus, it’s a great way to impress women.” He cast her a sidelong glance. “Are you impressed?”
“Very.”
“Good. I aim to please.”
Her brows quirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He chuckled under his breath, and then returned his attention to the task at hand.
Thirty minutes later, while sitting across from each other in the dining room brightened with candles, Brooklyn sank her teeth into the most delicious chicken primavera she’d ever tasted. Her eyes drifted closed as she emitted a soft moan. “I’m in love.”
“Well, I don’t know what to say,” Isaiah joked. “It’s so soon.”
She opened her eyes. “I meant with the food,” she said with playful sarcasm.
His lips twitched. “Sure you did.”
Brooklyn flushed. The sight of him in such an intimate setting and dressed in so little seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
In the distance, thunder rolled and the rain’s rhythm quickened against the windows.
“Sounds like the storm is picking up again,” Isaiah commented. “I guess I should view the Weather Channel before planning our next date.”
Her brows rose inquisitively.
His smile sloped as awkward bemusement transformed his features. “That’s if you agree to see me again.”
“There may be a strong possibility of that,” she said with no hint of the wave of uncertainty crashing with her. His pewter gaze twinkled, which did nothing to pacify her raging hormones. She took another bite of her food and her eyes drifted to half-moons as another moan escaped her lips.
When he chuckled, her eyes snapped open. “Sorry.”
He held up his hand. “Please, don’t apologize. I can listen to you all night.”
The sexual reference wasn’t lost on Brooklyn. “I just bet you could.”
His laugh deepened. “In case I haven’t told you, I’m glad our paths crossed again.”
“I am, too,” she said, and meant it.
Their gazes fused and, suddenly, neither heard the storm outside. However, the temperature inside jumped. They smiled and allowed their gazes to drift apart.
“I’m curious about something,” Brooklyn said after a length silence.
“Oh?”
“What brought you t
o Atlanta?”
His lips flattened slightly. “My mother suffered a stroke.”
She blinked in surprise. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “How is she?”
“Remarkably better,” he said, cocking his head. “She’s a little slow getting around, but she’s determined to resume living her life as though nothing has happened—no matter how much I protest.”
His open affection toward his mother touched Brooklyn. “I’ve always said you could tell a good man by the way he treats his mother.”
Amusement returned to his handsome features. “Is that right?”
She bobbed her head. “Yep.”
“So you think I’m a good man?”
As she smacked a hand against her forehead, her body quaked with laughter. “I guess I walked right into that one.”
“Yes, ma’am. And mind you, I’m waiting for an answer.”
“You’re all right.” She shrugged.
“Just all right?” He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Boy, you’re a tough cookie.”
She shrugged again. Maybe she was being hard on him. After all, he was kind, considerate, an excellent cook…and a great lover. Her gaze lowered to the exposed patch of flesh beneath his robe.
Isaiah cleared his throat. “About the other night—”
Brooklyn groaned and covered her eyes. She wanted to forget about the night she’d barged over to Evan’s screaming like a banshee.
He laughed at her obvious embarrassment.
“I thought you’d accepted my apology about that night,” she said.
“I have. I’m curious about something else.”
She frowned. “About what?”
It was his turn to shrug.
When he didn’t immediately launch into his question, she noticed he looked uncomfortable. “What is it?”
Their gazes locked.
“Are you still in love with your ex-husband?”
Brooklyn rocked back with a burst of laughter. “Good heavens, no.” That was the last question she’d expected.
Isaiah’s relief reflected in a breathtaking smile.
“That’s certainly good to hear,” he remarked, but caution remained in his demeanor. “Do you think he’s still in love with you?”
Comfort of a Man (Arabesque) Page 10
