You Called Me-ARE and Apple epub (13 page)

“You've already groped me, what's left?” Kenya flushed and Benjamin caught her arm kept her from backing away in shame. “You’re gonna be fun to hang out with, Kenya,” Benjamin admitted, winking at her. “Next time, though, I'd like some dinner first...a hamburger, maybe a beer,” he suggested folding his arms over his chest cantering forward his face inches from hers. “A guy likes to be asked first,” he teased.

“I'm so sorry, Benjamin. I didn't mean to--”

He held up a hand in front of her mouth almost touching her lips and closed his eyes. “Don't kill the fantasy with the truth. That was my first groping of the season. I feel a little dirty, but I think…yeah, I think I like it.” Kenya balled her fist popping him in the arm.

“See I was starting to feel bad,” she hit him again.

“Ow! First you grope me then the violence,” he teased her stepping back rubbing his arm. Kenya scooped up some snow and pelted him in the head. Benjamin ran back scooping up a handful to lob at her hitting Kenya in the leg. Soon kids were throwing snowballs at one another laughing and playing. Kenya stopped laughing. Benjamin's arms closed around her waist as she stumbled and they stood face-to-face breathing labored.

“Thanks, I'm okay,” she said pushing away straightening her jacket. Benjamin's serious face said she had more than one admirer for the weekend. He brushed snow off her face. “I think everybody’s ready. Time to show your city girl moves,” he teased.

“I wouldn’t call them moves. More like shuffling my feet.”

“That’s pretty much what cross country is so you should look like a pro out there,” he teased and she hooked her arm through his to steady herself as she clicked her boots into the long skis on the ground.

“I can help Ms. Claiborne, Mr. Roberts.” Jonathan hovered over her. “My cousin, Fiona, over there could use your professional assistance,” Jonathan said, slipping an arm through Kenya’s, arm around her waist.  The two men stared at one another. Jonathan was marking her as his, a standoff.

“Kenya, you’re fine here while I help another guest?” She nodded, eyes on Ben draping a lanyard around her neck, a whistle hung from the end. “Encase the kids give you any trouble. They know I'll kick them off my mountain, don't be afraid to use it,” he said.

She'd scream for the kids before sharing a whistle. Touching the strap she said indicating the mountain behind them, “As long as you don’t dump me tomorrow on that gigantic hill, I won't hold this against you, leaving your partner,” she joked.

“Remember, Kenya,” Benjamin started, “have each child sign off when you make it back to the main cabin. You can leave the roster on the peg on the wall right inside the door.”

“Thanks, Benjamin.”

“Think about what I said. Give it serious thought. I would love to have your help next year or even this spring when the kids go tubing on the lake.” Kenya swore the air jumped twenty degrees. Irritation crawled over Jonathan’s face like the plague with Benjamin’s invitation. “I’ll meet you in the main cabin for breakfast in the morning.”

Jonathan hugged and squeezed her elbow. Her thick coat couldn’t mask the strength in those hands.

“I’ll consider the spring trip, but some of these boys are approaching manhood. Last thing I need is to tell some hormone jacked-up young man to stop looking at my breasts,” she said, folding her arms under her breast, shuffling a clod of snow with the tip of her boot.

He laughed. “I’ll protect you, it’s what mountain men do, Kenya.” He removed a second whistle from around his neck, slipping it over her head. It lay against her white coat glowing sparkling under the floodlights. “Use this one instead, it's louder.” Kenya gave him the other whistle. “If you run into any coyote, blow the whistle.”

She jerked around eyeing the landscape. Did he say coyote? “Serious?” He nodded. She shot a cold stare onto Jonathan. “You never said anything about coyote.”

“We're in the forest up in the mountain, Kenya. There's a lot of animals up here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She let her attention drift over the edge of the clearing looking for whatever out in the woods to come charging out after them. Benjamin

“You'll be fine, Kenya. As long as they hear you they stay away,” Benjamin informed her.

“Good. Then, I’ll see you bright and early.” After Benjamin walked away, Kenya angled her face up, expecting to see furrowed brows. Instead, Jonathan’s thumb brushed over her forehead, then his hand closed around the silver whistle on her chest. She said nothing as he lifted it from around her neck and stuffed it in his coat pocket. His jealousy he wore proud as a new scarf. Jonathan tugged her braids hanging over her coat and she didn’t miss the lingering of the back of his hand over her breast.

“I guess I need to invite you skiing to get you to talk to me.”

“There’s a good chance I would accept an invitation once I learn something about Jonathan Blakemore that I can use in an emergency.” She paused. “I already know you’re a decent kisser and you know where to get ridiculously sexy dessert.”

“Decent kisser!” he charged abruptly, those wicked blue’s glittered. Pride bruised.

“I’m a tough judge, sorry.” She started walking. “Don’t worry, seldom has a men went past good…but you have skill, nothing to be ashamed of.”

She wanted to fall on the ground at his reaction. Jonathan halted in his tracks and turning back. She slipped her arm through his and led him toward the hill.

“I’ve never had complaints about my kissing skills, Claiborne.” Frowning, he elbowed her ribs.

She patted his arm. “Real kissing is intimate. We made out. That’s something altogether different, Blakemore. If I judged on your effort alone, you’re excellent. But kissing requires that I know the person intimately for it to hold my interest.” Truth be told, his kisses rocked everything from her world to her imaginary vacation home in the woods three years into the future. He didn’t need to know…yet. “Don’t sweat it. You might get another chance before the weekend is over.”

“Appreciate your generosity, Claiborne.” Jonathan gripped her close to his side, peering down at her. She smiled bright and toothy. He said, “Is this where I pour my heart out and tell you about my past in vividly colorful stories? Gain some intimate points before I attempt to kiss you again?”

“Whatever makes you happy, Blakemore,” she said, and found a peace about Jonathan she could curl up in and relax. She slowed hearing the music coming out of the cabin. The kids poured out in clusters.

She allowed the kids to go down the trail after the guide and was surprised when Jonathan got their attention by calling them back to the stand.

“Those who were here last year, don’t let your partner veer off. We want this to be fun for everyone. Stay on the trail and have a good time.”

Hoot and howls where followed by fists pumping in the air. Boys and girls shuffled into the woods down the lit trail.

“I’m impressed,” Kenya said smiling. “You’re good with the kids.” Impressed yes, but it dawned on her the similarities between him and Randall. Neither man tried to change her but carried a commanding presence she found attractive. One man from Nigeria and the other from Ireland and both possessive yet giving where she was concerned.

“You didn’t answer my question, Kenya. Do I need to become a bleeding heart to get you to talk to me?”

“How about we become friends before you attempt to lure me to your bed?”

“You want me to lie about wanting you in my bed?”

She blanched seeing his serious frown. This guy was all business. “I’m nobody’s booty call, Blakemore.”

Her words struck something protective in Jonathan. Had she offended him? She had. His face was a mask of disappointment.

“Why is this promotion important enough for you to take a chance on me and come out here to help?”

That took her by surprise, hadn’t thought he remembered the purpose of this trip.

“To be honest,” she started, angling her poles so theirs didn’t clang against one another while being so close. “Nightshift work in a bank is all about speed and quality. Accuracy is everything, and making the customer think no one’s account is above their own is key. I’m ready for the next level.”

Jonathan shoved a low branch out of her way. “What do you do there?”

“Thank you…I oversee accounts on what’s called the retail side. These accounts are smaller but are relationship based. Er…things like hospitals, car manufacturers, city water, city gas, those sorts of accounts. Processing payments sent in by their customers is a twenty-four hour turn-around. Missing early morning deadlines can be the difference in keeping an account and losing one.”

“Ever miss a deadline?”

She shot a hurried evil eye up at him. “See how little you know about me? That’s an insult to even ask.”

“You’re that good, Ms. Claiborne?” He smiled.

“My team is that good, Blakemore.”

Kenya rocked forward on her skis. Jonathan held her arm stopping to pin a serious stare on her face.

“And you ran that team…Again I ask…you’re that good Ms. Claiborne?”

Full of pride, she said, “I’m that good, Blakemore.” She beamed under his attention.

“That’s what I like to hear—confidence.” They continued down the path. “You don't take compliments well.”

“Not something I hear a lot,” she offered under a humbling quick glance.

“You deserve to hear it more often.”

“I like to think the awards on my desk speak to my accomplishments.” She pushed harder on the poles putting distance between them. “I stopped expecting praise years ago, Blakemore. The awards validate my achievements.”

“Are the awards that important to you?”

“Not the actual award, but yeah they help push me to my next goal. And seeing my team come together and work as one and are genuinely proud of each other for meeting our goals is an award in itself. It shows I’m doing my job.”

“Hell, I should be recruiting you for my company.” He groaned. That offer startled her and Kenya slowed. “You'd be an asset to my team.”

“No. I like the bank. The opportunity for advancement is wide and I enjoy the pace.” She angled her poles to keep up around a large tree.

“I can respect your drive and motivation to excel. Why this particular position?” he asked, breathing labored from the cold air.

She dug her poles into the snow and continued down the trail. Jonathan slipped sideways glances by her side as she spoke.

“I’m ready to see the other side of that hard work. We all must grow or be grown over.”

“You light up talking about your job. Most people don’t find that much happiness at work. Is this the profession you wanted?”

Extending her pole, she tapped his ski. “I thought you said you grew up with black women. Old school black parents steered their girls into jobs they can get in any city. It's not about what you want to do, but what you can do anywhere and make a living. Never rely on a man, for two things. Self-esteem or money, earn both on your own and you will always be free to be yourself.” She tapped his skis with her pole. “Either finance or nursing.”

“I can see you as a nurse.” Shaking her head, she nearly toppled over on the skis. “No, I could never be a nurse, the smell would drive me batty.” Jonathan laughed bringing a smile to Kenya's face. Angling around the curves and trees of the trail afforded her the opportunity to see Jonathan in a more relaxed state. The man was listening to her.

“What about you, Blakemore? Care to elaborate on the friend of the court? I think you coming out here with the kids is wonderful. The chief of police even vouched for you.”

“You did a background check up on me?” He stated irritated.

She shot a glance up to him. “You checked up on me. Is there something dark and heinous I should be concerned about?”

“If I don’t tell you it’s because I don’t want to share. Next time ask me?”

“I did ask you.”

“And I told you what I wanted you to know.”

Kenya dug her poles into the soft snow, banging into the hard ground beneath. Jonathan tilted back to stare at her.

“I guess that was the extent of your bleeding heart.”

“My heart doesn’t bleed.” He held a hand out to take her poles. That’s when she realized they were in front of the main cabin.

“Everybody’s heart bleeds sooner or later, Blakemore.”

“Not with Kevlar, Ms. Claiborne.”

Pictures filled her mind. Kevlar, guns, weapons, drugs, illegal, death who was this guy?

“If you have things you don’t want me to know about, stop making remarks like that. I’m enjoying talking to you like this.”

He coughed shrugging those wide shoulders. “Finally you like something about me.”

“I didn’t say I liked you, I said I liked talking to you.”

“Ouch!”

“Tell me about Jonathan and I’ll see if I can develop a like for you.”

“You liked me in the jazz club...what's changed?”

“No, the jazz club was more flirting from both of us. Tell me about the man.”

“I own a number of companies. My family base is in Ireland. What more do you need to know, Kenya?”

“Your cousin, Fiona. She’s here from Ireland. Why did you come out here if you’re needed back home? And if she’s your cousin, why doesn’t she just join us?”

“Fiona isn’t particular about outsiders.” He paused. “My attraction to you concerns her.”

“Because I’m black?” Kenya asked.

“Because you’re not Irish,” he countered.

She hated it was her first thought but there it was. Fiona held ice in her stare. Her eyelashes probably had freezer burn.

“Well, ease her fears. Tell her I’m not looking to steal her cousin. I plan on being very busy after this weekend.”

The cool air chilled to falling snow with her confession. Jonathan didn’t like that.

“I want to see you beyond this weekend, Ms. Claiborne.”

He didn’t care for her look of defiance. Her direct answers gave him a hard-on. “This little weekend volunteering is all I can offer.”

“Not acceptable, I want to see more of you and often.”

Kenya let her back bump along the doorjamb. Innuendos dripped, swirled, and oozed from that comment. “What do we have in common, Jonathan?”

“Nothing,” he said. Why did that tone stir her juices into a frothy mess? Gorgeous tended to do that to a woman.