Always and Forever (13 page)

His life was just fine without Lawrence Johnson, the head of Johnson Construction. Which meant he would have to do without Lawrence Johnson, the father, as well.

But did that mean he had to remain estranged from his mother and sister? Why should they continue to suffer from something that had nothing to do with them?

“Is this your new man, Agatha?” Jamal heard Phylicia’s mother ask.

Phylicia’s eyes flew to his. “Uh...yes, it is,” she said as both she and her mother stood. Jamal saw the pleading in Phylicia’s eyes as the women made their way over to where he stood.

The older version of Phylicia, who was as lithe and beautiful as her daughter, held her hand out.

“I’m Sabina, Agatha’s older sister, but not by that many years.”

Jamal captured her hand and placed a kiss on the back of her fingers. “I’m Jamal, and you are as beautiful and elegant as your younger sister.”

She blushed and turned to Phylicia. “You’ve got yourself a charmer here, Agatha. I think he’s a keeper.”

“I think you may be right,” Phylicia said, her huge brown eyes filled with gratitude and remorse and a myriad of other things that made the air in Jamal’s lungs evaporate.

They all turned at a knock on the door. It was the nurse, Rebecca. “Sorry to disturb you all, but it’s dinnertime,” she said.

“No need to apologize,” Phylicia said. “It’s time we hit the road.” She leaned over and gave her mother a kiss on the cheeck. “I’ll be back to see you soon—
tomorrow, if I can manage it.”

“Oh, don’t worry about coming here to see me, Agatha. You need to spend as much time with your young man as you can.”

“I’ll come with her,” Jamal said, earning him a quick, surprised glance from Phylicia.

“Oh, yes, he’s a good one,” her mother said. She ushered them both out of the room. “Go on, now. And I’ll see you two later.”

They made their way out of Mossy Oaks in silence, neither saying a word until they were both seated in the truck. Phylicia reached over and put her hand on his forearm.

“Thank you,” she said.

“It’s no big deal,” Jamal replied.

“It’s a very big deal. I’ve been handling my mother’s disease for three years by myself. I didn’t realize how much I needed someone to lean on, especially after a day like today.”

He reached over with his right hand and moved a strand of hair from her face. “I’m happy I could be that person for you.”

“So am I,” she said.

The return trip to Gauthier was made with very little communication between them, just the occasional comment about houses they passed or other drivers on the road. There was so much more he wanted to say, but every time he started to speak about what happened back at Mossy Oaks, Jamal stopped himself. He could sense that Phylicia needed space.

He pulled into her driveway and parked. The logical thing would have been to have her drop him off at Belle Maison, where he’d left his truck, but he didn’t think Phylicia should be driving.

“I can call Corey, have him pick me up,” Jamal suggested.

She looked down at her lap, then over at him. “Would you mind coming in?” she asked in a soft voice. “Just for a few minutes.”

The relief that flooded him was enough to drown a small village. “Absolutely,” Jamal said.

He got out of the truck and followed her into the house. The silence continued as Phylicia flipped on the lights and walked to the kitchen. Jamal wasn’t sure what he should say. He decided to come right out with the question that had been weighing on his mind.

“How long has your mother been sick?” he asked.

Phylicia opened the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of Coca-Cola. She handed him one and popped hers open, taking a healthy sip before leaning back against the counter and crossing her arms over her chest.

“She started showing signs about five years ago. She would go to the grocery store and forget why she went there. Or she would ask the same questions several times a day, sometimes only a few minutes after she’d asked it.

“In the beginning it wasn’t anything that would raise a red flag, but it soon became apparent that something wasn’t right. I put her in Mossy Oaks three years ago, just a few months after my dad died.”

She shook her head, staring at the floor. “It killed me to do that. I felt like such a failure. After everything she and my dad had done for me, I pay her back by putting her in a home.”

“Not just any home,” he said. “You put her in the care of people who know how to deal with her illness. You did the responsible thing.”

“It didn’t feel like it at the time. It felt as if I was shirking my responsibility.” Phylicia finally looked up at him again, and the sheen of tears glistening in her eyes tore at Jamal’s heart.

“I just couldn’t handle her on my own.” Her voice trembled. She shook her head, wrapping her arms around her middle. “I would come home and find dinner burned beyond recognition, or I’d find her wandering the neighborhood. Once, she took a trowel and uprooted all the flowers in Mrs. Jacobs’s landscaping.” She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I was afraid she would burn the house down, or wander somewhere and get hurt.”

“Taking care of an elderly parent is a tough job,” he said.

“Did that woman look elderly to you?” Phylicia practically shouted. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just so unfair. She’s only sixty-two years old. She’s in tip-top shape, but her mind is just completely gone.”

Jamal had tried to maintain his distance, give her the space she needed. But as soon as he saw the tears start to roll down her cheeks, he pushed away from the kitchen island and was at her side. Relief sank into his bones when she allowed him to wrap his arms around her.

She buried her face against his chest, her shoulders shaking with her silent sobs.

“It’s as if I’ve lost both of them,” she murmured.

“I’m so sorry,” Jamal whispered against her hair. He smoothed his hands up and down her back, providing comfort the only way he could. “You and your mother were close. I could tell just by looking at the two of you today.”

“When I was in grade school, she would just show up out of the blue with a pan of brownies for the entire class. It made me very popular,” Phylicia said with a soft chuckle. It was the first hint of levity Jamal had heard in her voice in weeks. He loved hearing her laugh.

“I miss having my parents in my life,” she continued. “We were such a close family. Mom considered herself the disciplinarian of the family, because she said I had my dad wrapped around my little finger from the minute I was born.”

“Did you?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah. When it came to my dad, I could get away with just about anything.” She sniffed and wiped the cheek that wasn’t nestled against his chest. “I swear I would give anything to take back that last conversation we had. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret it.”

Jamal pulled her slightly away so he could look her in the eyes. “You know he probably forgave you the minute you walked away from him, right?”

“I know he did,” she said. “That’s just the type of person he was. But it doesn’t change how I feel. I hurt him, Jamal. And it just kills me that the last words we shared were filled with so much anger.” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading and filled with self-reproach. “Don’t make the same mistake I made. I know you and your dad don’t see eye to eye, but living with this kind of regret is soul sucking. You need to talk to him. Just get it all out in the open and forgive each other. It’s not worth this kind of pain.”

Jamal’s back stiffened, but he neither acquiesced nor verbally dismissed her plea. Instead, he gently lowered her head back onto his chest and trailed his hand along her hair.

Jamal stood in the middle of her kitchen for a long, unhurried stretch of time, holding her, infusing strength, providing solace. After a while, Phylicia disengaged from his embrace. She swiped at her tear-streaked cheeks and grabbed a paper towel, using it to wipe her face.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said, pointing to the spots of moisture she’d left on his shirt.

“No need to apologize,” he said.

She looked so exposed, so vulnerable, Jamal wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms again. God, he wanted to hold her. His body burned with the remembered feel of her against him.

Less than two feet separated them as they faced each other, and the charged air circulating in that space was saturated with a bevy of unspoken emotions. But the one that surpassed everything else was desire.

He felt like a complete dog, wanting her the way he did after everything she’d been through today. But he couldn’t help it. His body yearned for hers, for the comfortable bed just down the hallway, for the pleasure they could both give each other if only they could erase the tension from the past few weeks.

God, how he wished they could go back to the afternoon when they’d explored each other’s bodies underneath that oak tree. What he wouldn’t give to eradicate what had happened when they’d returned to the Victorian to discover her mother’s painting room destroyed.

If only he could erase it. It would make everything in his world right again.

Her next words had the effect of an anvil crushing his chest.

“You should probably go,” she said in a quiet, but firm voice. “Thank you again for coming with me today.”

“Phylicia—”

She held up a hand. “Don’t, Jamal. It’s just not a good idea.”

“Yes, it is,” he challenged. He knew he wasn’t being fair, was probably crossing a line that he shouldn’t cross, but dammit, he missed her.

“You can’t tell me you haven’t been miserable these past few weeks, Phylicia. I dread even going to the house in the morning, because it’s so damn hard to work near you and not touch you. To have you ignore me. Do you know how much that kills me?”

She pulled her trembling bottom lip between her teeth. “You’re going to hurt me,” she said in a small voice. “You may not even realize it, but you will. It always happens.”

He captured her hands and brought them to his lips. “Not this time,” Jamal said. “I promise you, Phylicia. I will never, ever do anything to hurt you.”

She pulled in a deep breath and blew it out in a rush. “This is such a mistake.”

“Stop saying that,” Jamal said. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers as he looked into her eyes. “Nothing about us being together could ever be a mistake, Phylicia. The two of us together...it just makes sense.”

Jamal could tell when she relented. The rigidity in her limbs eased, and she melted against him. He captured her chin and tipped her face up, sealing his mouth to hers as he ran his other hand down her spine, to her soft, perfectly shaped rear end. He pulled her more firmly against him, nestling his hardening body against her soft warmth.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she pleaded.

“Never,” Jamal whispered against her lips.

Without another word, Phylicia took him by the hand and led him to her bedroom.

Chapter 12

P
hil awoke the next morning with a start, springing up from the pillow and glancing around the room.

“What’s the matter?” came Jamal’s sleep-roughened voice.

Her entire body relaxed with languid relief. He was still here.

“Nothing.” She eased back onto the pillows, and Jamal stretched an arm around her, pulling her against his side. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.

“We should probably get up,” he said.

“Probably,” Phil replied.

“I don’t really want to,” he admitted.

A smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “Neither do I.”

She stretched, lining her body up against his corded muscles. A shiver of desire ran through her as she felt his erection coming to life against her thigh.

“We definitely don’t have time for
that.
” She laughed.

“I can be really quick when I have to,” he murmured against her shoulder.

“But then you’ll just want to do it again,” Phil said, disengaging from his hold and scooting off the bed.

“God, you’re sexy,” Jamal said, his eyes heating her skin as they ran up and down her naked body.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m breakfast.”

He crooked a finger, but by a force of will she didn’t know she possessed, Phil stopped herself from diving back under the covers.

“I’m going to shower,” she said. “And, no, you can’t join me,” she added. “The new shutters are being delivered to Belle Maison this morning. I want to inspect them before signing for the delivery.”

“Dammit. I forgot all about that.” Jamal pushed himself up from the bed. “We need to swing by my place so I can change.”

Phil just stared at the absolute perfection of his well-honed muscles and flawless physique.

“If you don’t want me in the shower with you, you’d better stop looking at me like that,” he warned.

The humorous, cocky gleam in his eyes was just what she needed to douse her body’s amorous cravings. He was just a little too sure of himself.

“I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” she said. “And I’d appreciate a cup of coffee waiting for me.”

She closed the door behind her and heard, “God, I love a bossy woman,” come from the other side.

A half hour later they were pulling up to Jamal’s home. Once inside he gave her a swift kiss and said, “I won’t be too long. Just a quick shower and a change of clothes. Make yourself at home.”

She wiggled her empty travel mug. “Is there a coffeemaker?”

“More coffee?”

“Well, someone kept me up way too late last night,” she returned.

He shot her a wicked grin and pointed her in the direction of the coffeemaker, and Phil set about making another pot. She walked over to the refrigerator in search of cream and noticed the wedding announcement and RSVP for Jamal’s sister’s wedding stuck to the stainless steel refrigerator with a magnet. She pulled it off the refrigerator and read over the embossed writing.

When Jamal walked into the kitchen, Phil pointed to the response card. “You haven’t sent this off yet?” she asked.

His shoulders visibly sank. “Don’t bring that up. Please.”

“Jamal, think of how much it would hurt your sister if you missed her wedding.”

His face turned so grim he hardly resembled the same man she’d spent the night with.

“Not just Lauryn. My mom, too,” he said. He looked over at her. “There was a message from her on my voice mail, asking again if I would make the wedding.”

“You have to go, Jamal. They’re your family. Be grateful you still have them.”

He stared at her for several moments, before saying, “Come with me.”

Phil’s spine stiffened. “What?”

“Come with me to Arizona.”

She shook her head and took a step back. “That’s crossing a line between client and employee that definitely should not be crossed.”

“We’re more than just client and employee, Phylicia.”

She shook her head. “Not until I finish the job on Belle Maison,” she said.

Jamal rolled his eyes. “Fine, then consider it a business trip.” He paused for a beat, his eyes widening with interest. “That’s actually not a bad idea,” he continued. “There are several bed-and-breakfasts out there that I’d like to see. We can leave a couple of days early and check out a few of them. I can interview the owners, see how they operate.”

“I can’t leave my mom,” Phil said, even as the thought of spending a few days touring parts of Arizona with Jamal sent tremors of delight up her spine.

“It would only be for a couple of days. If something happens while we’re away, I can get you back here in a matter of hours. Johnson Construction has two private jets. I’d suck it up and ask for permission to use one of them if necessary.”

He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his hands at the small of her back.

“Come with me,” he urged. “Arizona is beautiful this time of the year. I want to show you my home state. And,” he continued, “if I’m going to occupy the same space as my dad, I could use the support.”

Phil couldn’t believe she was actually contemplating this. Not only was she contemplating it, she was going to say yes.

What happened to learning from her mistakes? This had potential disaster written all over it. She would be out of her element and completely at Jamal’s mercy, because God knows she couldn’t afford to fly herself back home if she had to quickly get back to Gauthier.

Yet, despite the objections bouncing back and forth in her mind, Phil heard herself say, “Okay, I’ll join you.”

* * *

“This house looks amazing!” Mya shouted from the front lawn.

Jamal waved at her from his perch on the ladder, earning a stern frown from Phylicia. He tightened the final screw in the antique hanging light fixture he and Phylicia had found at a salvage yard in Mississippi last weekend, then he made his way down the ladder.

Jamal laughed as Mya waddled up the porch steps. He pulled her in for a quick kiss on the cheek and motioned to her stomach. “How much longer until you let this baby out?”

“Five weeks, and not a moment later,” she said. “If she’s not ready to come out, I’m going in after her.” She gestured to the freshly painted porch. “Everything looks wonderful.”

“Thanks,” both he and Phylicia said at the same time. They looked at each other and chuckled.

“The contractors did a really good job. I was afraid the work would be sloppy,” Phylicia said.

“That’s because you think anybody’s work but your own is sloppy,” Mya teased.

“Because it usually is,” she quipped.

“There’s not much left to do,” Jamal added. “A few touch-ups here and there, but that’s it. The furniture will be delivered the day after we get back from Arizona.”

“Ah, yes,” Mya said, dragging out the word. “Arizona. You two leave in the morning, right?”

Phylicia rolled her eyes. “Just say ‘I told you so’ and get it over with.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Mya returned.

Jamal’s mouth twitched in amusement as he watched the two of them go at it. His cell phone rang, so he stepped away, leaving them to their debate.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Hello, Mr. Johnson.” Jamal recognized his Realtor’s voice. “There’s been an offer on the Saint Charles Avenue property. Have you decided whether or not you want it?”

“I...” he started, but his voice fell silent.

He didn’t know what the hell he wanted.

On one hand, it would be the ultimate payback to go to Arizona with the bill of sale to the building of his very own architectural firm in his hands...and shove it down his old man’s throat.

But if he bought that building, Jamal knew there would be no more excuses.

And if this venture didn’t work out,
he
would be the one who would have to eat his own words. His hand balled into a fist. He could just envision his father’s mocking, triumphant face.

“Mr. Johnson?” his Realtor prompted.

“I...uh...I need just a few more days,” he said. “I’m going out of town for the weekend, but I’ll have an answer by Monday.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Johnson? You’re taking a chance at losing this property. Are you sure you’re willing to risk that?”

Not only was he willing to risk it, Jamal
hoped
something like that would happen. If another buyer scooped up the house, he’d have to go back to square one and start the long process of searching for another suitable location. He would be off the hook...at least for a few more months.

Disgust churned in his gut, even as relief sank into his bones. Could he really be this much of a damn coward?

“Just...” Jamal cleared his throat. “Just give me the weekend. I’ll have an answer for you by Monday.”

He ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket with more force than necessary. He took a moment to shake off the self-loathing eating away at him before walking over to the Victorian’s east lawn, where Phylicia was showing Mya the new gazebo that had been constructed this week.

“Jamal is having custom-made cushions installed to match the fabric on the other outdoor furniture,” she was saying. She looked over at him and frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jamal lied.

“Are you sure?” She cocked her head at an angle. “You look...I don’t know...off.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, dismissing her concern with a nonchalant wave. He turned to Mya and draped an arm across her shoulders. “Think you can handle a tour of the inside?”

“Absolutely,” Mya said, beaming.

His diversion technique sufficiently put an end to Phylicia’s questioning, but it tripled his outright disgust with himself. Not only was he a coward, but a liar, too.

Because one thing was for certain. He definitely was
not
fine.