Comfort of a Man (Arabesque) (5 page)

“J
aleel!” Brooklyn slammed her eyes closed and counted to ten. When she reopened them, her sixteen-year-old son stared back at her.

“You hollered for me?” he asked in a flat tone.

She continued on to count to twenty before stretching out a beautiful pink blouse. “Didn’t I ask you to separate the clothes before washing them? I mean, I distinctly remember telling you five times this morning alone.”

“I did separate them.”

“Oh really?” She cocked her head. “Is that the reason this load of whites have mysteriously turned to pink, except for these three red shirts?”

He shrugged. “I must have overlooked them.”

Had she not been up since the crack of dawn running
errands for both the household and her business, she might have been in a better mood to handle this. But as it was now, she was running late to show a house located on the other side of town and the blouse she’d intended to wear had been ruined.

“Jaleel,
sweetheart
. You’re going to have to start paying attention to what you’re doing. It’s just the two of us here and I’m going to need you to help out more around the house.”

Shoulders hunched, he sighed as he gave his usual response. “Yes, ma’am.”

Brooklyn shook her head at his nonchalance while at the same time, she felt like crumbling to the floor and having herself a good cry—maybe later. She maneuvered around her son and, without another word, rushed to her bedroom to find something else to wear. As she passed the kitchen she noticed the dishes were still piled high in the sink, a chore she’d asked Jaleel to take care of last night and then again this morning.

Alone in her room, she slumped behind her closed bedroom door. “Lord, why me?” she asked. “Why does everything have to be a battle with him?”

Toni had suggested she call a friend of hers—some sort of family therapist. With each passing day, Brooklyn found herself warming to the idea. One thing was certain, something needed to be done—and soon.

In record time, she found a different suit and rushed out of the house, instructing her son for the third time to
clean
the kitchen. Once in the car, Brooklyn sped out of
her driveway like a bat out of hell and when she reached the interstate, her car would’ve given any NASCAR driver a run for the money. Among friends, Brooklyn’s heavy foot was often the subject of conversation. But for the most part, she considered herself a safe driver. Well, she did receive two speeding tickets this year, but she was certain her investment in the small radar detector over her head would eliminate that problem in the future.

She glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard and moaned. A jet airplane wouldn’t get her to her appointment on time, which seemed to be the norm lately. Brooklyn drew in a deep breath in hopes of calming her nerves, but that was better said than done.

Her cell phone rang and she feared it was her client inquiring about her whereabouts. On the second ring, she answered with an ebullience she didn’t feel. “Brooklyn Douglas.”

“Well, aren’t you a burst of sunshine this morning.”

Brooklyn’s heart sank at the sound of her ex-husband’s husky voice. “What do you want, Evan?”

“Just a few minutes of your time,” he answered seriously. Actually, Evan was always serious—about everything. She guessed that he, too, was on his cell. In the background, she recognized the hospital’s buzz of activity. He was in his natural habitat.

“All right. Talk. You have two minutes.”

“Brooke, I didn’t call to start a fight with you.”

“Oh, no? Then I’ll make sure that I write this day down in the record books.”

He sighed heavily and then lowered his voice. “I just called to confirm that I’ll be picking up Jaleel next Friday for the summer.”

Relief and fear battled within her and she hesitated in her response.

“You’re not thinking of backing out on me on this, are you?” His voice dipped to a hiss. “I swear, Brooke, if you do something to stop this, I’ll drag your butt into court so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

“Don’t threaten me, Evan,” she hissed back. “I’m doing you a favor—considering.”

Evan held the phone line and let his deep heavy breathing do the talking.

“Oh, my. Did I render the great doctor speechless?” she asked, smoothly changing out of the fast lane.

“I’m doing my best to get you your money.” His tone remained harsh.

“Speaking of money, Evan, how can you afford this summer excursion anyway?”

“Jaleel and I need this trip, if for no other reason than to do some father-and-son bonding. It’s just two weeks. The rest of the summer we’ll be in town.”

“He also has other needs—like eating and maintaining a roof over his head. You know, miscellaneous stuff like that.”

“Five thousand a month is a lot of food, Brooke.”

“We all make choices, my dear. And when you
decided to sleep with my best friend, you made a bad one.”

“Brooke—”

“Oops. Look at that. Your time is up.”

“Brooklyn—”

“Pick your son up next Friday. Lord knows I need a break. He’s becoming more like you every day.” She ended the call and tried to erase all thoughts of Evan and her catastrophic situation, but that was impossible. Two minutes down the road, she changed the radio station, tired of the sexually explicit songs on the popular R&B stations. She landed on an oldies-but-goodies station as Stephanie Mills’s powerful voice belted out a classic that mirrored her own deepest desires: “I need, I need, the comfort of a man.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Brooklyn mumbled with a soft laugh. In her head, she was transported to a sweet memory where clear gray eyes worshiped her and arms of steel enfolded her. Where was the great Isaiah Washington now and did he ever think of her?

Isaiah finally landed at the Atlanta Hartsfield Airport after enduring a twelve-hour hassle of delayed flights and another overzealous strip search from the airport. Now that he’d reached his destination, he was able to focus his energy on getting to the hospital.

It was probably the thousandth time he’d cursed the distance separating him and his mother. He should have
known something like this would eventually happen. His mother was getting older and he was her only child. Medical concerns should have always been a priority. It only made sense for him to move closer. Then again, with his constant traveling, it was still likely that he’d be out of town if something else happened. Around and around his thoughts and reasoning chased each other. Answers, however, eluded him.

Atlanta’s summer humidity was a blow to his lungs and he found the heavy air hard to process. His white shirt and ironed jeans felt as though they were painted on. He dug around in his overnight bag and retrieved his shades. Now he was ready to roll.

Davidson’s Luxury Cars met him at the airport and handed him the keys to a spanking-new silver Mercedes. Inside, it was equipped with an impressive navigation system. He punched in the hospital’s address and in seconds had directions.

A large blue sign with a picture of a peach welcomed him to Atlanta.

“A Georgia peach,” he whispered with a soft smile as he allowed his thoughts to conjure up an image of Brooklyn: the sweetest peach he’d ever known.

Suddenly, aware of the sea of brake lights in front of him, he, too, began to slow down. But then there was a loud crunch and his car jerked forward.

His gaze swung to the rearview mirror and back at the red car that had struck him. Great. Just what he needed. At this rate, he’d never make it to the hospital.

Brooklyn swore vehemently at her continued streak of bad luck as she veered her car off to the side of the road behind the silver Mercedes. Once they’d stopped, she heaved a depressed sigh as reality and the consequences of her reckless behavior sank in; two speeding tickets and a fender bender weren’t going to win her any awards with her insurance company.

“I love my life,” she mumbled with sarcasm and leaned over to the glove compartment to withdraw her insurance card. Next, she retrieved her purse and got out her driver’s license. She reached for her cell phone to make the dreaded call to the police, but stopped when the door to the Mercedes opened and a tall man stepped out.

There was something familiar about the broad span of his shoulders that accelerated her heartbeat and thinned her breath. And when he turned to face her, she wasn’t at all sure that she was awake.

Isaiah stepped toward the car, but when his gaze lifted to the driver, he stopped.

There had only been a few times in Brooklyn’s life when she’d felt engulfed in a vortex of surrealism—discovering her father was Santa Claus, walking in on Evan and Macy in bed together, and watching Isaiah materialize right before her eyes.

“It can’t be,” she whispered and blinked, but when her eyes fluttered open again, Isaiah still stood staring back
at her. Slowly, she reached for the door, utterly clueless as to what she was about to do or say.

For what seemed like eternity they simply stared at each other.

Isaiah regained his senses and moved closer to her car, but both asked in unison the question that was the foremost in their minds.

“What are you doing here?”

Brooklyn grew uncomfortable at the smile slowly blooming across Isaiah’s face. Her surge of excitement was instantly at war with an equal surge of shock and dismay. Her gaze took in every detail of his features and compared them with what was already downloaded in her mind. Everything about him was just as she remembered.

Her brain declared each tingle coursing through her as a treasonous act of betrayal—including her accelerated heartbeat.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he said with an air of wonder.

She stepped back. “That was the plan,” she answered before taking the time to censor her words.

He flinched as though she’d punched him. His steely-gray eyes held a level of caution. “That wasn’t exactly the response I was hoping for.”

Alarm coursed through her. “You came here looking for me?”

Isaiah frowned and stepped back as though he’d encountered a stranger. “You hit me, remember?”

She didn’t have a response to that, but she still couldn’t let go of her suspicion. Brooklyn wasn’t a gambler, but she was willing to bet that the odds of this bizarre meeting were a million to one.

“I don’t understand,” she said in a rush, her confusion refusing to let up.

“I don’t either. Maybe it’s fate?”

A red flag waved before her eyes and she determinedly shook her head to break the spell his beautiful eyes had cast upon her. “I’ve got to get out of here.” She turned and jumped back into her car.

Perplexed, he rushed to the driver’s side and leaned against the door as he spoke to her. “You’re not thinking about leaving the scene of an accident?”

Her hand stalled on the ignition. That was exactly what she’d entertained for a brief and thoughtless moment.

“I would hate to have to sic the police on you, especially since I like you. But I will.”

Brooklyn glared at him, not sure why she was so angry. Maybe because of all the men she could have selected for her one-night stand, she would pick the one that would boomerang.

“Speaking of police,” she said, reaching for her cell phone again. “Shouldn’t one of us call them?”

He nodded. “Good idea.” Disappointment laced his voice as well as etched into his features.

Before she was able to dial the number, her phone rang. “Brooklyn Douglas,” she answered. “Oh, Mr.
Parris. Yes, I’m sorry, but I am running a little late. I seem to have gotten myself involved in a little fender bender.”

Her client expressed rather harshly his disappointment for having his time wasted. She drew in a deep, steady breath and tried to placate him. “Yes, Mr. Parris, I understand and I do apologize. Perhaps we can reschedule for a later time. I’m certain you’ll love this house.”

He ranted some more, but she was relieved when he agreed to another meeting. She ended the call and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Brooklyn Douglas. At last I know your full name,” Isaiah said.

“This has to be the worst day of my life.” Brooklyn’s eyes squinted against the bright sun and into his handsome face. Once again, her senses went haywire. It really was great to see him again.

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for the door handle. Once out of the car, she flashed him a smile. “I’m being rude.”

He held her gaze as if trying to judge her sincerity and then said, “Maybe you should go ahead and call the police. The sooner we handle this matter, the sooner we both can be on our way.”

She frowned. “Didn’t you hear me? I said that I was sorry.”

“Then I accept your apology.”

Their gazes held each other’s and Brooklyn found
herself wanting to repair the damage she’d caused. “I was rude.”

“You’ve already apologized. Maybe I should make the call,” he surmised and turned toward his car.

Brooklyn wondered if there was any way she could crawl back in bed and start the day over again. “Isaiah—”

He stopped and allowed his shoulders to sag before turning back to face her. “Look, you made it perfectly clear by your words and actions that you don’t want to have anything to do with me. I don’t need a brick building to fall on my head. Let’s just deal with this situation so we can get on with our lives. I have an emergency to get to.”

She lifted her chin. “I told you in New York that a relationship was impossible.”

“So you did. Foolish of me for expecting at least a goodbye.”

A wave of shame caught Brooklyn off guard.
Who knew there was proper etiquette for one-night stands?
“Isaiah—”

Flashing blue and white lights stole her attention and simultaneously brought her back to reality. What did it matter the man’s feelings were bruised? She hadn’t lied to him.

In the minutes that followed, the couple gave their statements, presented their cards, and for the most part behaved as though they were strangers.

Brooklyn swallowed a lump of dread as she accepted
the ticket for the cause of the accident. From behind the driver’s wheel, she watched as Isaiah returned to his car.