Wait for Me

Wait For Me

Blakemore Volume II

By Cora Blu

Wait For Me

Copyright 2013, Cora Blu

Cover Design by, 
TariaReed.com

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Prologue

"Right now I can't think about Jonathan, I'm out of tears." She stood, not because she had somewhere to go, but because she didn’t know what else to do. Peering out the window she saw the snow getting heavier. "Momma, you two should get back home before the roads ice over. If the temperature drops it'll be dangerous out there. Daddy'll be worried and so will I."

"You're right, honey." Her mother picked up the tea cup off the table and walked to the kitchen. "How's work going and the new position?"

"I love it. This could lead to a lot of traveling to meet clients in other countries so it's an amazing opportunity and career move." She stretched her arms over head. Her life had changed by the hour, since meeting Jonathan. She had someone to love. A man that didn’t’ smother her. He appreciated her. Kenya smiled and it held all the humor of a root canal. It ripped at her heart to give him up. Unfair.

Knock knock!

She flinched. Wiping the dried tears from her face, she stepped around the coffee table. Swallowing thickly, Kenya braced in case Jonathan stood on the other side of that door. Her aunt shot her a look then pressed her face to the peep hole.

“I’m not up for company…” Kenya moaned, rubbing her stomach under her tank.

Her aunt shook her head and stepped away from the door pulling it open.

It went from bad to worse.

Morgan bounced on her heels beneath the threshold…smiling…and then grinning.

What on earth would she be smiling about? Kenya’s heart was breaking and here Morgan pranced like she’d won the lottery. She didn’t need this, not today, any day but today.

“Not today, Morgan.” Tension rode her body as she rested along the counter, squeezing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and fore finger. She’d broken up with a man to save his life. Wasn’t her sister supposed to be there for comfort?

“Kenya, its best you ended whatever you thought you had with that man,” Morgan said, a selfish tone spread around the room. Kenya stood up straight tucking, her arms beneath her breast. This was the only way she’d keep from hitting her sister.

“What are you talking about? You know nothing of my relationship with Jonathan or the man. Just stay out of it, Morgan.”

Morgan pulled a crumpled newspaper from her bag. Spreading it out over the counter as if she’d just slapped her with a pair of dueling gloves. Kenya ran her finger over the article…the words fed acid to her joints…her stomach dropped. This can’t be true.

She shot a glare on her sister. “Get out of my house. You don’t know him.”

Morgan said, “I know he’s a murderer…and so does the police.”

Chapter One

Kenya stepped from the elevator, ushering her rep through to the lobby of the bank, grateful she’d be the last for the week. All month, her new position, and full schedule, kept Jonathan Blakemore from filling her every waking thought. Moreover, she enjoyed meeting new people in the financial industry.

Their heels rapped in unison across the marble tiled floor. The metal turnstile clicked behind her hip pushing through the hooked separators to the front desk. At the marble reception counter, the security guard, Ralph, slid the clipboard over to her rep while holding out a hand for her temporary visitors pass. The woman initialed the log. Ralph tossed the sticker in the trash beneath the desk.

Through the two story glass wall, Kenya watched the woman pass through the rotating doors out to the parking lot. Luxury cars filled her view as she waited to see the woman’s charcoal wool trench disappear into her black Mercedes. Kenya found herself on tiptoe, searching the lot for Jonathan’s vehicle. Fiddling with her black pearl necklace she had to laugh. Jonathan drove a Bentley. That was like looking for a red dress in a room filled with white suits. You didn’t have to look, it would just be there.
Get a grip
. There is no more Jonathan, not for her at least.

They had broken up courtesy of Brian Blakemore, but still…she missed Jonathan, found herself absently picking out men with red hair everywhere she went lately. Went…that’s funny; she went to work and came home. Where would she find men? Heck, outside of Randall, her neighbor, and her father, there were no men in her life…oh yeah, the doorman on her building. He’d tease her about dating the United Nations until she’d set him straight on dipping in her personal business. Outward perceptions aren’t always correct and being friends with a man doesn’t mean you’re sleeping with him. Randall’s a friend. She hovered, with her arms folded under her breast to ward off the cold air, beside the emergency doors. Wind whipped the light dusting of snow on the ground under the awning of the building’s wide portico.

The deliveryman opened the doors, spewing the cold air in over her feet. She bounced from foot to foot, dodging the cold air dancing around her feet.

A second delivery truck pulled up in front of the building. Sucking in a breath, at the sight of the Edible Arrangements bright red color, her mouth watered. The small truck angled to the curb. Smiling, she shoved her hip against the metal bar, holding the door open as the deliveryman crossed into the building and headed for the security desk.

Wheeling around, a second aroma assaulted her, wafting in from the restaurants down the street in the next Industrial park. She could eat her swipe badge the way her stomach growled.

Wow, she needed to eat.

Nodding to the guard behind the large marble desk, she pulled her swipe card and slipped around the turnstile before she made a fool of herself by peaking under the baskets wrapping's. Smoothing down her gray pinstripe dress, she angled her lunch card from her pocket and stalked to the cafeteria.

“Kenya, hold up.” Stepping back into the hallway and turning on her tall heels, she waited as Julia stepped off the elevator. Julia’s long hair pulled into a severe bun at the nape of her neck gave her an Audrey Hepburn appeal, if Audrey had a Latino heritage. Her hair always appeared freshly done without a single strand out of place.

“I’m going to lunch.” Fiddling with her pearls, she couldn’t get the sweet aroma of the gift basket off her mind. “Somebody got a basket of fruit delivered. Now I’m starving.”

“Yeah, I’ve chewed all the gum I care to. Air on the stomach is so unprofessional,” Julia said, rubbing her flat abdomen. “Please let them be serving chicken noodle soup today and not that scary chili they keep recycling this week.”

Kenya couldn’t argue about the chili. It showed up more than junk mail in her mailbox. She said, “Oh, chicken noodle sounds perfect.” Tossing her head back, indicating the front lobby, she laughed. “The basket of fruit is driving me crazy.”

Julia twisted her mouth in a wry smirk. “I have yet to receive one of those.”

They laughed and filed into the cafeteria. Both ladies enjoyed big bowls of soup by the window to the patio and pond outside.

An hour later in her office, she prepped to call it a day signing off on all the completed account deposits for her staff. Listening to the young man propped up in the chair across from her desk read off the last verified files she accepted his offered peppermint. Kenya removed the wrapper before popping it into her mouth. Letting her gaze move around the room, she caught Randall’s searching stare. With the new position, she saw him more often visiting his rep on the same floor.

“Well, Kenya. Good to see you,” Randall said, pushing up from his chair. “Thanks for seeing me. I just wanted to leave the files for Cindy. Tell her she can get back to me on Monday and I hope her little girl’s okay.”

“No problem, I’ll leave her a message. She normally comes in early at the end of the week, so you could hear from her by tomorrow.” Randall stepped in, shaking her hand and winked at her out of view of the other man.

“Aaron, take it easy,” Randall offered the man. Aaron gave a quick nod and returned to his notes.

Kenya walked Randall to the door, speaking close to his face, “Stop worrying about me. I see the concern in your eyes.” She helped him pull on his overcoat and draped the Burberry scarf around his neck, accenting his dark complexion.

“Thank you. I’m headed back to the office. Stop by Alexander’s later, catch the game with me and some friends,” he suggested and his thick Nigerian accent exposed itself in the office. At the apartment, he seemed to lose it or they were so familiar she’d stopped noticing.

Pivoting on his heels he grasped her hands.

“Go, I’m fine.” She shook his hand and caught the tight squeeze.

With raised eyebrows, he spoke close to her face. “I’m going to Lagos, Nigeria next month. Come with me and give yourself a break. No strings, seriously,” he offered, his husky voice held a caring tone.

“Some woman’s gonna be spoiled to death when you get a hold of her,” she teased, walking him to the elevators. “You’re not fooling anyone, playing the part of my concerned friend, but you’re happy I’m not seeing Blakemore.”

The weight of his hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks. “At first…yeah. But the man made you happy.” He paused while fishing out his car keys. “I’m not that selfish, Kenya. If I’m not loving it, I want you with someone deserving of all this.” His warm brown eyes trailed a hot stare over her body.

How screwed up was she now? Randall wanted her with Jonathan.

“I appreciate your honesty. Things just didn’t work out between us.” She shoved him into the elevator, giving him a large smile and waved him on.

With her arms tightly folded across her chest, she returned to her office and crossed behind her desk. 

She made some last minute adjustments to the documents her and Aaron, her assistant, where working on, and then did a backup to the master storage. Aaron reclined in the chair in front of her desk, typing on his iPad. She hit send and emailed the report to his device. “Remember, they get their report between two and three p.m.…everyday…same time, no exceptions outside of an emergency. They’ll try and request it earlier, but stick to their contract or you’ll lose your wiggle room.” Rolling her pen between her fingers she continued, “Baker’s Construction has a tendency to try to rewrite the deal each month.”

Aaron nodded. "Got it, boss." Rising, Aaron lightly rested a hand on the back of the leather chair. “Still leaving early tomorrow?”

“I’m gonna try.”

Kenya raised her head at the sound of someone coming down the hall. Julia, glowing with excitement, bolted through the threshold. She dropped her coat and gloves on the chair beside the door, then gave Aaron an apologetic glance. He tugged the lapels of his suit, mimicking an English butler and bowed his head. Appearing to know they needed privacy, he lifted his chin, spun on his heels and then left the room. Entirely too dramatic to be in finance, she thought.

Julia waved a hand and rushed to Kenya's desk barely getting her hip propped on the edge before words came spilling from her mouth. “Have you heard the company’s taking bids to build overseas?” Her hazel eyes gleamed.

Kenya fumbled with her tote then stopped as Julia's words registered. Her tote hit the floor as she excitedly asked, “where overseas?" Regaining her composure she continued, "and no, I hadn’t heard.” Julia plopped down in the chair, crossing her legs. “I don’t know where exactly, just that they’re looking at Europe.”

Europe sounded amazing unless…“That could be anywhere, Julie. Where’d you hear this from?”

Julia hurried across the room to close the door. Sitting back down, she wiggled then crossed her legs. “You didn’t hear this from me because it’s not public knowledge yet, and I could be wrong,” she warned with an excited gleam in her eyes. “I just finished some research for acquisitions. Don’t know if you were aware, but the Texas Clearinghouse gets a steady flow of traffic from Nigeria, Kenya, Ireland, and New Zealand, believe it or not, and at least four other small countries,” Julia waved a dismissive hand in the air.