Let Me Hold You (4 page)

“Thanks for listening to me, Alana, I appreciate it. And I really appreciate you and your crew handling my car. Let me take you to dinner,” he said. “It’s the least I can do.”

Alana didn’t hesitate in giving him an answer, although it wasn’t the one he wanted to hear. “I’d love to, Roland, but this is take-out night. Adrienne is still staying with me and I don’t know if you’ve had much experience with pregnant women, but her mouth is set for barbecue and it wouldn’t be safe for me to thwart her hormonal taste buds.”

“Some other time, then,” he said with a decidedly cool tone of voice. Okay, so she was shutting him down again. He rose and was about to leave when she surprised him again.

“If you don’t mind hanging out with me and Adrienne, how about coming over to my place for dinner? You can take me out for an expensive meal some other time,” she added teasingly.

Pow, just like that, there she was—the funny, outgoing woman he hadn’t seen since the wedding. She walked him to the door and she gave him directions to her house.

Roland left Custom Classics feeling much better than when he’d arrived. Black Beauty was in good hands and he was finally making a move in the right direction with Alana. Things were looking up.

* * *

A few hours later, Adrienne was finishing setting three places on the dining room table when the doorbell rang. She smiled and went to answer it. It had to be Roland, since she’d sent Alana out on an errand. It was Roland, looking good and smelling very nice. He was bearing gifts, too: a bouquet of flowers and two bottles of wine, one alcohol-free just for her.

“How nice! Please come in and have a seat. Alana will be right back. Let me take those for you,” she said as she held out her hands for his gifts. “You can put your jacket in the closet right there,” she added.

After stowing his jacket, Roland looked around Alana’s living room. It was elegant and stylish, looking like something that came out of a fancy magazine.

The colors were what really caught his attention; Alana or whoever had decorated the room had a very artistic eye. Most of the colors in the room came from the paintings that were cleverly arranged on the walls. There was a fireplace wall with a glass mantel that also displayed photographs and he went over to examine them.

He recognized them as family pictures, showing Alana’s sisters and her parents over the years. He was smiling at a picture of a much younger Alana combing Ava’s hair when he noticed a striking shot of Alana and a man who was obviously in love with her. They were in love with each other, judging by the glowing smiles on their faces and the unmistakable look of love in their eyes.

“That’s Alana and Samson, her husband,” Adrienne said softly. She’d come back into the room as quietly as a cat. Her soft voice might have startled him, had he not been studying the portrait so carefully. “She always said the day she met him was the best day of her life.” She paused a moment and looked at the picture before adding, “The worst day of her life was the day he died.”

Roland finally understood what people meant when they said they felt like they’d been hit by a sledgehammer. It was like all the wind had been knocked out of his body for a few seconds. He was trying to think of something to say, but words failed him. What was the proper protocol when someone gave you information like that? Luckily, Adrienne kept talking.

“He was her college sweetheart. They ran off and got married in front of a justice of the peace the day after she graduated. Mama and Daddy were so mad,” she laughed. “But they were very happy together. They did everything together, even their business. Custom Classics was Sam’s dream and she worked with him to make it come true. For a long time I didn’t think she’d get over the pain of losing him.”

Clearing his throat, Roland tried to level the conversational playing field. “Sorry to hear about her loss. I can see that she’s a very strong lady,” he mumbled.

“Strong, but not invincible. Everyone needs someone in their life, that special someone who loves them and cares for them, someone who holds them tight at the end of a long day. Sissie is one of the strongest women I know, but it’s not everything...” Adrienne’s voice trailed off and she raised both her hands in a gesture of helplessness.

After a moment of silence, Roland asked, “Where did she get all these paintings? She must really like art.”

“She loves it. And to answer your question, Alana painted all of these. She’s a very talented artist, as you can see. She majored in art. Aren’t they beautiful?”

“That doesn’t even begin to describe it,” he mumbled as he began to examine a nearby landscape more carefully. Now that he understood that the art was Alana’s creation, the decor of the room made even more sense.

Furnished mainly in mid-century modern, she’d made it eclectic enough so that it didn’t look pretentious. The long sofa was oyster-white, along with the matching chaise. There were two comfortable-looking chairs in a rich turquoise color, and colorful throw pillows made the colors in the room seem to surround the space with life and light.

The walls were a soft taupe with a gray base and it served as a perfect backdrop for the brilliant colors of the pictures. The dark hardwood floors gleamed and wicker baskets topped with glass served as end tables. The wicker and the big green plants positioned around the room made it even more vibrant.

Roland couldn’t remember being in a room that he liked as well as this one, and he normally paid very little attention to things like decorating. This place was special, though, as special as the woman who put it all together.

Alana came in through the kitchen just then, calling out to Adrienne. “I got your prenatal vitamins, but the pharmacist said you can’t get the prescription filled yet because it’s too early. He was really snippy about it, too,” she said. She’d reached the living room by then, still talking while trying to take her coat off with one hand as she shifted her shoulder bag and the pharmacy bag in the other. She stopped walking and her eyes widened once she realized that Roland was standing in her living room.

“Oh, you’re here,” she said, looking adorably flustered.

He moved to her side where he quickly helped with the coat and gallantly held her bag. “I just got here. Adrienne was showing me your artwork. You are some kind of artist, Alana. I’ve never seen anything like these outside of a gallery or a museum,” he told her as he returned the bag to her and went to the closet to hang up her coat.

“Thank you, Roland. That’s very nice of you. Sorry I was late, but my nephew needs his nourishment, or whatever you call vitamins.” She tossed the pharmacy bag to Adrienne who squeaked as she made a fumbling catch.

“You still catch like a girl,” Alana teased her.

“And you still throw like a man, Sissie. You don’t know your own strength.”

Roland grinned. “This sounds like being at home with my sisters. Why do you call her Sissie?”

Adrienne threw her arms around Alana and gave her a big hug. “Because she’s my big sister and I couldn’t manage
Alana
or
sister
when I was a baby. So she’s my Sissie.”

“Roland, if you ever call me that I will draw flowers all over your head with a permanent marker. This is your only warning. You guys hungry? I’m starving so let’s sit down,” she said as she headed for the kitchen to begin serving.

After Adrienne showed him where he could wash his hands, he joined the two ladies in the dining room. Alana thanked him sweetly for the flowers before they said grace. “Tulips are my very favorite ones,” she said. “I love the way they smell.”

“I didn’t think they had a smell,” Roland said with a quirk of his brow.

“Take a whiff and see.”

He took her advice and inhaled the scent of the flowers, which Adrienne had arranged in a vase. A light, fresh fragrance caressed his nose. “Very nice.” He looked at Alana, looking just as fresh and beautiful as the flowers smelled. “Very, very nice.”

Chapter 4

“T
hanks again for dinner, Alana.”

After a very good meal of takeout from Sweet Tea & 3 Sides, the best rib joint in the city, Adrienne had given in to her now-typical need for a nap after most meals and gone to bed. Roland, gentleman that he was, helped Alana clean up the kitchen and put everything in order, although she told him it wasn’t necessary.

“Are you like those VanBuren men who won’t let a lady lift a finger? Because it’s not a deal-breaker, I assure you. Although I am impressed with your skills,” Alana told him.

They were relaxing in the living room with a fire going and the sound of Alabama Shakes playing. Roland took a sip of wine before answering her.

“It’s kinda complicated,” he said slowly. “I’m the oldest of seven, you know, and after my father—my mother’s first husband—disappeared, I was in charge of a horde of screaming little girls. My mother had to work two jobs, and sometimes three, to keep a roof over our heads, so I had to keep order in the house when she wasn’t at home. I was the protective big brother and treated them like little ladies, which is how my mother wanted it, of course. And how I wanted it because they were my little sisters and I would have moved heaven and earth to keep them safe. I didn’t want anyone looking at them cross-eyed, you know? Chicago is a rough place no matter what part of town you’re in and after my father abandoned us, we had to move to a fairly undesirable area, so my role changed fast.

“I had to help them get ready for school, give them breakfast, walk them to school, pick them up afterwards and keep them from killing each other when we got home. Make sure they did their homework, fix dinner and I had to keep the house clean. My mother had enough on her plate so I had to pitch in,” he said with a shrug.

Alana was awed by his story. “Wow, that’s a lot of responsibility for you at a really young age. Your mother must be so proud of you. I’m proud of you and I didn’t even know you back then,” she said with sincerity warming her voice. She drank a little more wine as she leaned into the big pillows behind her. She rubbed the rim of her wineglass across her bottom lip in an unconsciously sexy move. “May I ask what happened to your father? I realize it’s really personal and I have no right to ask, so if you don’t want to talk about it, that is fine,” she murmured.

Roland made a gesture to indicate that it was of no importance. “You can ask my anything you want, Alana. I have nothing to hide from you. My birth father wasn’t a bad guy, I guess, just irresponsible, not ready to have so many children, immature, whatever label you want to put on him. He didn’t come home from work one day and that was it. We had a nice house in the ’burbs, my mother was a teacher and he was an executive with a real estate company. We found out later that he’d been having an affair with a woman he worked with and they ran off together. He’d cleaned out the bank accounts and they headed to the west coast. They’d had a kid together, too, if you can believe that,” he said, shaking his head with obvious scorn.

“That must have been extremely hard on your mother. Of course it was hard for all of you, but your mother must have been crushed.”

“She was, but she couldn’t afford to give in to it. That’s what she used to tell me,” he said. “At first I used to hear her crying every night after we went to bed and I wanted to hunt him down and kill him with my bare hands. She had to keep it together for us, of course, and she just buckled down and worked tirelessly so that we would have everything we needed. I wanted to get a job, but it was more important that I be there for the girls.

“In order to keep them focused I had to assign chores to each one of them and make them realize that we all had a role to play in the family. That’s why I told you it’s complicated; it would have been nice to be able to be the doting big brother and wait on the girls hand and foot like the VanBuren men, but we weren’t in that position, not anymore.”

Alana couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for the family. Her heart ached for all the pain his mother had gone through and all the confusion and anger he must have felt. “Your mother seems really happy now,” she said.

Roland’s face relaxed into a huge smile. “Man, is she ever. It’s ironic, but that man leaving was the best thing that could have ever happened to her. If Duane Johnson hadn’t taken off, she never would have met Renard Casey. She had a part-time job at night working for a cleaning company and she met Renard when she was cleaning his offices. He took one look at her and it was all over for him. He wined her, dined her, won over her wild children and the next thing you know we were back in the ’burbs in a much bigger house, she was pregnant with my baby brother and we all lived happily ever after. He adopted us, which is why my name is Casey and not Johnson,” he added.

“That’s a beautiful ending for a beautiful lady,” Alana said with a smile. Glendora Casey was indeed a lovely woman and even though she hadn’t spent a lot of time with his parents, Renard Casey had the unmistakable look of a man who was deeply in love with his family, especially his wife. “I love that story, I really do. Do you ever see your birth father?”

“He died years ago. Never saw him again after he bailed on us. But you know what?” He leaned forward to place his glass on the coffee table.

“What?”

“I’m tired of talking about me. Let’s talk about you for a change,” he said in a voice as sweet as the wine they had just consumed.

A normal Alana response would have been a smart remark guaranteed to put him firmly back in his place, which would have been anywhere she wasn’t. Instead she giggled like a love-hungry teenager, a pretty, rippling sound that tickled Roland’s ears. She curled her long legs up on the sofa and turned so that she was fully facing him. He moved a pillow that was between them and turned so that he was closer to her, his long arm draped across the back of the sofa.

“I’m not that interesting. I can’t think of one interesting thing about me. I’m a mechanic, that’s all.”

“Liar, liar, tight, sexy jeans on fire,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face. “You’re not a mechanic; you’re an artist and a damned good one. You’re funny and sweet and incredibly beautiful. You’re full of it, Alana.”

Mock outrage and merriment filled her eyes and she aimed a small fist at him as if she were going to punch his chin. “That’s a fine way to talk, Roland!”

He took her hand in his and kissed it. “You didn’t let me finish. I was about to say that you’re full of mystery, charm, sweetness and sensuality. See what happens when you don’t let a man finish a sentence?”

“That’s really sweet, but I think you’re the one who’s full of it now and I don’t mean mystery.” She giggled madly as he wrapped his arms around her and planted a kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“Are you coming on to me?” She tried to look stern but failed.

“Is it working? ’Cause if it is, I am.”

They both laughed and she relaxed into his embrace.

“You really are a woman of mystery, though. Why aren’t you painting anymore? Your work is fantastic, Alana. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I do paint. I paint cars,” she said pertly.

“I’m serious,” he protested. “You’re a real artist. Why aren’t you pursuing your art?”

“I haven’t quit painting, not completely. I have a studio and everything. Would you like to see it?”

“Of course I would.” He kissed her cheek and she turned slightly so that their mouths met. It started out slowly, just their lips touching. His tongue outlined her lips and she returned the favor until they were kissing deeply and deliberately, sucking and stroking passionately before Roland broke it off. He tightened his arms around her and made a deep sound that was part passion and part deep regret. “Let’s go see that studio right now before we do something we might regret.”

Without waiting for an answer he stood up and pulled her to her feet.

“That’s a great idea,” Alana said breathlessly.

Her studio was in a sunroom located next to the family room. It was the perfect spot for a studio because it had floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides. It was as tidy as the parts of the house he’d already seen and it looked very organized.

“You weren’t kidding about your painting,” he said. There was a large stretched canvas on a tall easel that bore a portrait of Adrienne looking radiant and obviously pregnant. It wasn’t finished, but it was already a stunning work of art. The one wall that didn’t have windows served as a gallery of sorts; there were lots of unframed pieces in oil, watercolor and pastels. A big slanted worktable held a sketchbook with colored pencil drawings. It caught his attention and he went over to take a closer look.

“This is adorable,” he said. “That’s Sydney, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s a book I’m making for her. She told me about a dream she had about something called ‘Oom-Fala Pie’ and it was so cute that I started making her a little book.” She turned the pages so he could see her progress.

“I’m not an expert on kids’ books, but this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. You’re amazing.”

The book showed Sydney and Lucas making a fabulous pie for Sherri, with the help of Sugar and Sweetie, the little Westies. It was colorful and engaging and there was a recipe in the back, along with a little song. Roland was totally taken with the book.

“How does the song go?”

“I’ll sing it for you if you promise not to laugh,” she said. “Okay, here goes: Oh, my, Oom-Fala pie, if you never had it you should give it a try! It’s good for girls and it’s good for guys, so have yourself some Oom-Fala Pie!” Her face was flushed and she laughed as she finished the little ditty.

“You know what?”

“What?”

A loud noise followed by a yelp made them both jump. Alana’s eyes widened and she left the studio, headed for the kitchen with Roland on her heels. They were greeted by the sight of Adrienne hopping on one foot with a frown on her face.

“Don’t pay me any attention,” she said crossly. “I had a sudden urge for watermelon and I dropped it on my foot. I should have cut it up before I put it in the refrigerator.”

In minutes Roland had retrieved the errant melon and sliced it up before cutting it into manageable cubes, while Alana made her sister sit down and examined her foot. She made an ice pack out of a bag of frozen peas and made her put her foot up on a small stool.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening, but I do appreciate the attention,” Adrienne said gratefully.

“Think nothing of it,” Roland said easily. “And actually I think it’s time that I hit the road. It’s getting late. Thanks again for your hospitality, Adrienne.”

She waved goodbye with a chunk of melon and Alana walked him to the door. She took his jacket out of the closet and handed it to him.

“Thanks again, Alana. I had a great time.”

“You’re more than welcome, Roland. I enjoyed myself, too.”

“So what’s on your agenda for the rest of the week?”

“It’s a busy week for me. Adrienne’s furniture is getting here tomorrow and I’ll be helping her get moved in. And Alexis and Jared’s anniversary party is this weekend, and...”

Her words stopped as Roland covered her mouth with his. It was a long, sweet kiss with just the right amount of tenderness. He tipped her chin up and gazed down at her. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow. I couldn’t let two beautiful women handle a big moving job by themselves. And I’ll definitely see you this weekend. We can go to the party together.”

Without waiting for her answer he kissed her again and left without another word. She was still standing in the doorway when Adrienne came to find her. She had a bowl of watermelon in one hand and was guiding another piece to her mouth.

“This was fun, Sissie. We’ve got to do this again.”

Alana shook herself and walked over to the sofa, sitting down hard as if all her bones had dissolved. Adrienne curled up next to her, plucking another chunk of the cold red melon in her fingertips. “What’s the matter with you? You look kinda dazed or something.”

Alana took the juicy bite away from her sister and popped it in her mouth. “I think I’m getting in way over my head, Adrienne. Way, way over my head. Tonight was a huge mistake.”

* * *

Luckily, the next few days were so busy that Alana didn’t have time to dwell on her so-called mistake.

She and Adrienne had a talk while they polished off the rest of the watermelon and Adrienne had assured her that she had no reason to feel conflicted over spending a pleasant evening with a nice man. Alana had mostly listened, since Adrienne did most of the talking.

They didn’t talk for very long because a big bowl of melon combined with a pregnant woman’s bladder meant that a bathroom break took priority over everything else, so when nature called they went to bed. And surprisingly, Alana slept all night without her usual triple-X movie features. Her dream was rather sweet and funny for a change, all about Sydney’s dogs dancing around with little hats on while Sydney sang the Oom-Fala song. There was something about a pile of books on a big table covered with a hot pink cloth and a crowd of people smiling and clapping and both Sam and Roland were there, which was just crazy, but she didn’t wake up sobbing and sweaty for a change.

* * *

Moving day was relatively easy because everyone turned out to help. Roland was there, along with Jared and Alexis and a few guys from the restaurant. Tollie came to lend a hand, too, and with so many people, the unpacking and furniture arranging went rapidly.

Of course, it was due mostly to Aretha’s supervision. Alana’s mother, Aretha Sharp, was the reason that all the Sharp sisters were so tidy and organized. Aretha could make a plan and execute it faster than anyone and she had things moving like clockwork. She even managed to corral Ava, the youngest of the sisters, into being a valuable asset to the process. Ava kept the cold drinks coming, picked up the lunch and snacks for everyone and was responsible for breaking down the boxes as they were emptied.

Alexis was on kitchen duty, putting all the dishes and utensils in the dishwasher before putting them away. Due to her pregnancy, it was all Jared would let her do and he wasn’t thrilled about even that light activity. He kept coming to check on her, making sure she was comfortable and not overdoing it.