Body By Night (11 page)

She stood at the door a moment before ringing the bell, calming her usual pre-meeting jitters. She’d only seen him two days ago, had seen him regularly—Tuesdays and Thursdays at four P.M. sharp—for more than a month. D’Andra knew that continuing to react this way at the prospect of seeing him was silly. However, this would be the first time she’d seen him in the light of truth, the truth that she was falling in love with him.

The door opened unexpectedly. “Are you going to stand there all day or come inside?”

Night’s forceful question hid his nervousness. He’d thought of D’Andra the rest of Sunday and all day Monday and today: her soft skin, health-oriented goals, the kindness she displayed at entertaining her nieces and nephew and skill she showed when attending Tonia’s bite. In her were all the things he wanted, if he were looking for someone, which he wasn’t. Right now he needed to focus. He was close to seeing his dream realized and Jazz had shown him better than anyone how easily one could get distracted.

“I’ve got good news,” D’Andra said as they sat stretching before the workout. “I’ve lost ten pounds.”

“How is that news? I told you that Sunday that you’d lost weight.”

“That was your guess. I confirmed it by weighing myself.”

“If I tell you a chicken chews tobacco, look under its left wing.”

“What in the world does that mean?”

“It means if I say something, it’s gospel. I could tell by looking at you that you’d lost.”

“And so the part of my weight loss story where the tobacco chewing chicken comes in is…where?”

“An old Southern saying, don’t try and figure it out. At any rate, I’m proud of you. In fact, this
news
calls for a celebration. What do you say I put together a little something; a light dinner to follow our work-out. You game?”

“I don’t know; can you cook?”

It was Night’s turn to harrumph. “Please, is the sky blue, does a bird fly? I can hang with the best of them.”

“We’ll see; ’cause you’re looking at one of the best.”

“What, you want to do a little Iron Chef cook-off? Or would it be more like a Throwdown?”

“Oh my God, you watch the Food Network.”

Night looked embarrassed. “My secret’s out. But I have an excuse. That was my first job; busing tables and then helping Uncle Robert in the kitchen at Jewel’s. I did that for almost six years, until I left for college.”

“So your Aunt Jewel owned a restaurant?”

Night nodded. “But I enjoyed her cooking skills long before that. Our family relocated to L.A. when I was ten years old. Aunt Jewel and Uncle Robert had already lived there five years by then, and had talked about owning their own business from the time we arrived. They realized their dream a few years later and I worked for them until I left for college.”

“Then I guess since you’ve spouted your cooking credentials, you’re on!”

Night’s voice dropped as he continued. “Under one condition.”

D’Andra’s heart sped up as she awaited the answer. “What?” she breathed.

“It has to be low-cal, low-sodium, low-cholesterol, and delicious.”

D’Andra smiled. Little did her trainer know that those were exactly the types of meals she’d been fixing for over a month.
This is going to be fun,
she thought.

But there was work before pleasure. Night seemed especially focused tonight, paying attention, at least in D’Andra’s opinion, to every muscle in her body. Sculpting, he called it. Well, she had another name: torture.

“Look, Night. I’m not trying to have Janet’s abs.”

“That’s not what I’m going for. But this right here,” he said, placing a large hand lightly on her midsection, is your core. If it’s strong, the rest of your body is going to line up. In about five months, you’ll thank me, trust me.”

“Five months! I’m not trying to wait that long to see results.”

“Unless you’re blind, you’re already seeing them.” He looked at her appreciatively. “I know I am.”

D’Andra thought about what Elaine said and stuck a toe in amorous waters. “Would that be a flirt, Mr., what is your last name anyway?”

“Didn’t you know? I’m a one-name wonder, like Tiger, Kobe, Diddy…”

“You mean Tiger
Woods
, Kobe
Bryant
, and Sean ‘Diddy’
Combs
?”

D’Andra’s quick wit turned Night on as much as her thick thighs. “Simmons. JaJuan ‘Night’ Simmons.”

“I love your first name…JaJuan. Does anyone call you that?”

“My mom, when I’m in trouble. But never mind that. You’re just trying to distract me from the task at hand—tightening that butt. Get up.”

He helped D’Andra to her feet and led her to the other side of his basement’s home gym.

“Now as you push the roller back, away from you, I want you to control this muscle, control this here.”

Night lightly squeezed the area just below D’Andra’s buttocks. He did so clinically, detached, as a doctor might.

“This is the muscle we’re working on and along with the squats, we’ll end up with a firm contour on what is already a nicely shaped frame.”

D’Andra looked to see if there was any teasing in Night’s eyes. His face was neutral, business-like.

She decided to interact with him in the same way. “How many of these do you want me to do?” she asked, bending over the cushion on the Glute Blaster, a vertical leg press machine, and placing her foot under the metal lift as Night had instructed. She grabbed the handles and wiggled her butt to get more comfortable as well as to push Night’s buttons.

“Let’s start with ten,” Night said, forcing down his libido. For a man who saw upturned butts for a living, he was a bit disconcerted that this one could turn him on so forcefully. Granted it was a fabulously round mound on a beautiful woman, but she was his client. This was his job.

His voice was harsher than intended as he worked to refocus his thoughts. “Push, higher! No, keep your movement controlled. Concentrate D’Andra. Focus on the muscle you’re trying to work. If you don’t do these ten properly, we’re going to do ten more,
plus
the other two sets. Now, do it right!”

Turning from
Gigolo JaJuan
to
Sergeant Simmons
got them through the workout.

D’Andra felt self-conscious as she entered the kitchen in Night’s oversized shirt and baggie shorts. Secretly, she was happy to be in his clothes, and to know that they were loose on her. She surreptitiously admired his sculpted legs and back in his loose-fitting shorts and tank top as he stirred a delicious-smelling concoction at the stove.

“I like your bathroom décor,” she said by way of greeting. “Thanks for suggesting the shower; it was a good idea.”

“Didn’t think I’d want your funky butt in my kitchen, did you doll?”

D’Andra swatted him even as she laughed. “Forget you!”

Night smiled. This is what he loved about their friendship, the easy camaraderie he’d never experienced with Jazz, or anyone else.

Their conversation was easy as D’Andra made herself at home in Night’s well-stocked kitchen. It was obvious he cooked and by the look at the spices and other ingredients that stocked his shelves, he knew what he was doing. For his contribution, Night had tackled the main course, a baked herb fish he’d perfected with a zesty blend of parsley, chives and rosemary topped with a lemon-yogurt sauce. D’Andra worked on the perfect complement: a vegetable stir-fry of lightly breaded zucchini, yellow squash, eggplant and fresh tomatoes tying into the fish dish by using some of the same spices Night had used along with a curry spice she’d found in his spice rack designed to, as her favorite chef Emeril would say, kick it up a notch. The concoction that had tempted her taste buds was a clear consómmé soup for their first course.

“Wow, candles and everything,” she exclaimed, when coming around the corner she noticed Night lighting the tapers on the dining room table. “I’m impressed.”

“This is a celebration, isn’t it?” Night asked, his eyes sultry upon her.

“If you say so,” she answered. She could feel herself go warm and was thankful that in the subdued lighting her blush wouldn’t show.

Night went into the kitchen and came out with a light sauvignon blanc. “Just a glassful for each of us to celebrate your victory,” he explained. “Normally I try and stay away from what I call empty calories, but your workout tonight deserves a reward.”

Both were quiet as they reflected on what shape, no pun intended, the reward could take on.

“To an amazing personal trainer,” D’Andra said, when they lifted their glasses for the toast.

“To an amazing woman,” Night responded.

They stared at each other, mesmerized as they sipped the delicious vintage. D’Andra didn’t know whether it was the wine or Night’s presence that made her dizzy. She tried to fight the thoughts even as they scrambled for a spot in her conscience. Night was kind and thoughtful…and fine. He was smart and goal-oriented and on top of that, the man could cook. For the second time in as many days she admitted the inevitable: she was falling in love.

“Are you seeing somebody?” Her mouth blurted out the question before her mind had a chance to censor it.

Her blunt inquiry caught Night by surprise and made him feel good at the same time. Maybe he wasn’t the only one with an interest beyond the weight room. An interest he was still in the process of denying, even as he answered.

“Not anymore.”

“But you were? How recent?”

“Several months ago.”

“Was it serious? I’m sorry, it’s really none of my business.”

“No, it isn’t,” Night said smiling, “but I don’t mind talking about it.” He took another bite of the vegetables before continuing. “This is delicious.”

“Thank you; so is the fish.”

“Thanks.”

“Anyway, I found out that it’s going to take a very special woman to be beside me in this business. It’s my job to be around women, some of them quite attractive, 24/7. Along with the intimacy of ongoing physical closeness comes an added attraction that women feel by being helped. I’m dealing with something very personal to them—their bodies. It takes someone trusting, secure in her own skin and in the strength of our relationship to be able to deal with that. Jazz couldn’t, so she left.”

“Why do you think she, Jazz, couldn’t deal with it?” D’Andra asked the question wondering if they would be the same demons she’d fight.

“She was jealous and insecure, and had no reason to be. Jazz is gorgeous with a near-perfect body. I did nothing to give her a reason to doubt my love for her or question my trust, other than help other women lose weight. Not only were we together romantically, but had planned to be business partners as well.”

“I can see it from her point of view,” D’Andra said. “Having women all up on your man all the time, flirting, touching, sweating…”

“Hum,” Night said, stroking his chin and looking at D’Andra pointedly. “I could enjoy that, with the right client. That’s why I don’t date the people I’m training…as a rule.”

D’Andra hoped her disappointment didn’t show. “I see.”

“But if you’ll remember what I said when I met you, I don’t always follow rules, even my own.”

D’Andra lowered her eyes and continued eating silently. Both knew the relationship had shifted, and where it went from there was up to D’Andra. Night had just made it clear that he was interested in taking what they had to another level, even as he’d left D’Andra an escape route if she so chose.

D’Andra felt she was being pulled in two directions. On the one hand, she was flattered that someone like Night found her attractive and wanted to be with her. On the other, she also knew how falling in love with someone like Night only for him to dump her would devastate the bit of pride she had left, the bit that Charles hadn’t destroyed.

But Night wasn’t Charles, she thought as she continued to be conflicted. Night was everything she wanted, but was he what she needed right now?

Night watched the various emotions play across D’Andra’s face. He wondered about and simultaneously wanted to throttle the man who’d brought the pain he saw etched in her expression. But he also saw the determination with which she tried to mask these emotions so he wisely didn’t question her.

“I’d better go,” she said abruptly, rising from the table at the same time she spoke. “This was absolutely wonderful, Night, but I have to work later so I’d better try and get a little rest before then.”

Night eyed D’Andra without speaking.
She’s used to running away,
he thought.
And I’m used to catching what I chase.

“Let me,” he said, rising from his chair and taking over D’Andra’s work of clearing the table. “Get your rest. I’ll do the dishes, no problem. I really enjoyed sharing dinner with you. Congratulations again on the weight loss; you look good.”

He knew he should let her go, but he wasn’t ready for the evening to end. “What time do you have to be at work? I mean, do you have time for dessert?”

“You made dessert?”

“Just a simple fruit medley I made earlier today,” he said slowly, “marinated in its own juices,” he continued. He licked his lips, trying to use charm to mask his nervousness. He felt like he was back in junior high asking his neighbor to the school dance.

“Okay, but just a little for me.”

“Make yourself comfortable in the living room. I’ll be right out.”

D’Andra settled herself into the plush suede, navy blue sofa, and looked around. Everything about the room suited Night, from the dark, rich colors to the fabrics, suede and leather. The square Osaka coffee table was sturdy and purposeful, like its owner, and the stainless steel accessories, lamps, bookcase and table ornaments lent a crisp, clean quality to the surroundings. The large picture window was framed by silvery curtains, a touch that lightened the manly room. There was a grouping of pictures on the table just under the plasma TV, but Night entered the room just as she was about to give them a closer inspection.

“A gourmet fruit cocktail for milady,” Night announced in a horrible English accent.