Couldn't Ask for More, page 8
Still staring up, Alexis sighed. This little ruse was bound to be a wild ride, for everyone involved.
She’d recovered from the conversation and settled onto the love seat in her office to read the latest issue of Real Simple when her phone rang. Setting aside the open magazine, she answered the call. “Hello?”
“Alexis? It’s Maria Valasquez.”
She tucked away the urge to sigh. It was true that Sydney had started this whole thing, but it was Maria’s television segment that had sent it into overdrive. “Yes, it’s me. Hi, Maria. How are you?”
“Great, great. I just wanted to reach out and ask you for a quick favor.”
Wondering what this favor could be, since Maria already had the latest scoop on the goings-on at Krystal Kouture, Alexis took the bait. “What can I do for you?”
“Are you familiar with the Morning Buzz?”
Alexis’s brow crinkled. “You mean the morning news show?”
“Yes, that’s it.” Maria, who generally spoke very fast, took a rare pause. It sounded as if she were shuffling through a stack of papers. “My college buddy Veronica is a producer on the show. I had lunch with her when she was in town earlier this week, and she’s looking to fill a slot on the show. Because of Fall Runway Week in New York, they want something with a fashion angle.”
“Okay. So tell me more.” Alexis tucked the phone between her shoulder and her ear and balanced it there.
“Naturally, I suggested you. With your line about to launch, I knew you’d appreciate the publicity.”
She blinked. “Wow, Maria. Thank you for thinking of me. When is the taping?”
“On the fourteenth.”
She clapped her hands together. “That works, actually. I’m going up to Manhattan that week to have lunch with Tracy Reese.” She’d scheduled the lunch months ago, because her mentor was notoriously busy. Now, she smiled, thinking how nicely things had lined up.
“Great. I’ll let Veronica know you can do it. There’s one more thing, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you think you could bring your fiancé along? I know Veronica said the host loves to include angles like this in her stories. You know, to help the viewers make a real connection with you.”
She understood that. A bit taken aback by the request, she said, “He’s pretty busy, but I’ll ask him. I’m in either way, though.”
“Great. Just send me a text and let me know.” Maria paused, her tone changing. “By the way, Sydney never told me what his name was. Can you fill me in?”
Drawing a deep breath, Alexis said, “His name is Bryan James.” He’d agreed to her bold offer, so she might as well put him to work.
“Cool. Got it. I’ll wait to hear from you again, then. Bye, now.”
After she disconnected the call, Alexis let her head drop back against the cushions. She wondered how Bryan would react to the news of this interview, especially since they hadn’t yet worked out their origin story.
Deciding she’d find out soon enough, she directed her attention back to her magazine.
* * *
Behind the wheel of his late-model luxury sedan, Bryan navigated the streets of Raleigh. Evening approached, and as he passed by the illuminated signs in the windows of the businesses downtown, he shook his head. He could recall a time when there were corner stores, eateries, and more, owned by people who reflected the diversity of the neighborhood. Now, as real estate developers continued to descend on the City of Oaks, building their fancy condos, the very people who’d made the neighborhood so vibrant were being pushed out. Downtown was all high-end retailers and fancy restaurants, a product of the gentrification sweeping through cities all over the nation. He understood economics, and he generally welcomed new jobs and an infusion of wealth into his hometown. But parts of him lamented the lost city he’d grown up in, the one that nurtured him and made him the man he’d become.
South of downtown, he made a right turn toward his destination. He’d found Peter’s sketchbook on the corner of his desk and wanted to return it to the young man. Mentoring sessions at Royal happened only twice a month, and he felt pretty certain that Peter wouldn’t want to go that long without his book. Fortunately, a sticker inside the back cover had Peter’s address written on it. So after he’d left work for the day, he’d grabbed dinner and was now headed toward Peter’s house on Raleigh’s south side.
The farther he drove into the heart of the neighborhood, the more he noticed the decline and decay around him. The houses were small, the yards cramped. Some of the homes were vacant or in various states of disrepair. He wondered if fixing up some of the homes that were occupied but had seen better days could be added to the list of community service projects for the kids at the YOC. It would certainly be a worthwhile project and would give them a sense of accomplishment while relieving the burden of some of the residents, especially the elderly and infirm.
He made a right turn, continuing to take in the environment. People stood on corners, conversing, smoking cigarettes, or simply hanging out. He nodded and waved to those he passed, and most responded in kind. A few simply stared at him, and he knew they were probably wondering what he and his expensive car were doing on this side of town. He had no ill will for these people, nor did he feel threatened by them. After all, most of them looked just like him, minus the three-piece suit, a haircut, and a shave. As long as he lived, he’d never understand the utter disdain some people showed for those they deemed beneath them. He hoped that through his involvement with mentoring, he could help create a generation who put aside those divisive views.
When he arrived at the address inside Peter’s book, he pulled his car close to the curb. Cutting the engine, he got out with the book tucked under his arm and walked to the porch. The little house had green siding and white shutters and a few pink azaleas blooming in the yard.
He rapped on the door, waited.
A few moments later, Peter swung the door open. Shock registered on his face. “What’s up, Mr. J? What you doing here?”
Bryan chuckled. “You don’t usually just fling open the door when somebody knocks, do you?”
Peter shook his head as he propped open the wooden screen door with his foot, standing in the gap. “Nah. But I could see you through the peephole.”
Holding out the sketchbook, Bryan passed it to him. “You left this in my office. I thought you’d want it back.”
Peter smiled as he took the book. “Yeah, thanks. I was looking for it.”
“No problem. I knew it would be a while before you kids came back over to the office.” He looked past Peter, over his shoulder into the darkness of the house, but couldn’t see anything.
As if sensing his scrutiny, Peter volunteered, “Oh, my pops isn’t here. He’s pulling a late shift. Says a lady brought him three suits to alter, a half hour before closing time.”
Bryan nodded. “I’m sure you’re capable of taking care of yourself. But if you need anything before your dad gets back, just give me a call. You still have my card, right?”
“Yeah, I still have it.” Peter backed up, letting the screen door close. “I need to finish my homework. But thanks for dropping off my sketchbook, Mr. J.”
“No problem. See you later.” Bryan turned and started walking toward his car. Behind him, he heard Peter close and lock the heavy wooden door.
A few minutes later, he was back in his car and on the Beltline, headed home. He thought back to what he’d seen at Peter’s place. He was a bright kid, even though he lived in one of the city’s poorer neighborhoods. Seeing the environment Peter lived in compelled Bryan to want to help him, but first, he had to figure out a way to do it that wouldn’t cause embarrassment.
Putting that aside for now, Bryan engaged his hands-free calling. Soon, the car’s interior was filled with Oscar’s voice as he answered the call. “Hello, Son.”
“Hi, Dad. Sorry I cut out early today, but I had a ton of errands to run.” He had been there for part of the morning but hadn’t returned to Royal after that fateful meeting with Alexis Devers.
“I understand. So what’s going on with you?”
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier, but I secured a new contract for us that I think is going to be very lucrative.” He felt pretty satisfied knowing he’d pulled a contract in only a week, two weeks shy of the timeline he’d promised his father.
“Wonderful!” Oscar’s voice conveyed his enthusiasm. “With what design house?”
“You’ve heard about the debut line that Krystal Kouture is doing, right?” He flipped his turn signal on as he waited in the left turn lane.
“Yes, yes. I’ve read about it in the trade bulletins. Retailers will be clamoring for it the moment it comes off the line.”
“Then you’ll be glad to know that we’ll be their sole manufacturer.” Bryan let the satisfaction of his accomplishment roll through his body as he executed a left turn into his neighborhood.
“Excellent. Great work, Son.”
“So, there’s really no reason for Wesley to stay, is there? Now that I’ve locked down an account, he can go home, right?”
“Well, actually, he’s going to stay for a few weeks. He’s using the guest cottage at our house.”
Bryan frowned. Navigating his car into his driveway, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t they need him back at the dealership?”
“Apparently not. But look on the bright side. If anything should go wrong with this new contract, he’ll be here to help us out.”
Bryan pulled his car into the empty slot of his three-car garage. As he cut the engine, he switched the call back to his handset. “You and I obviously have very different opinions on the meaning of ‘the bright side.’” He saw nothing positive about having to deal with his jerk cousin during the first few weeks of a new contract.
“Look, I know you and Wesley have your differences, but remember, he’s family.”
“Unfortunately,” Bryan groused while using his key to let himself into the house. There were many traditions of the black families in the South that he loved and espoused. There was the obligatory electric slide, performed without fail at every gathering. Or the rules that only one person in the family could make the potato salad, and that you didn’t visit without bringing a dish. But this whole idea of dealing with people you didn’t like simply because they were “family” wasn’t something he could get with. “Whatever you say, Dad.”
“Anyway, it’s great news. What time are you coming in to the office tomorrow?”
“I’ll be there around nine. But I may have to leave around four.” He planned to ask Alexis out for coffee then, to discuss their new arrangement, but he saw no need to disclose that to his father. His preference would have been to take her out to dinner, but since everything was so new, he could understand why Alexis had suggested something more informal. There would be plenty of time to wine and dine her over the coming weeks.
“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, Son.”
“’Night, Dad.” He disconnected the call as he entered his living room. Setting the phone on the charging dock on the side table, he shrugged out of his sport coat. He had his mind set on a hot shower and then crashing into his bed.
Because with any luck, tomorrow would be just as eventful as today had been.
Chapter 8
Tuesday evening, Alexis showed up at the Raging Bean about fifteen minutes prior to the appointed time. She’d walked there, since the coffee shop was less than two blocks from her building. It was a temperate early fall evening, and other than the thick cloud of ragweed pollen swirling around her like a fog, it was a beautiful day. The shop had an area set up on the sidewalk in front of the building, where wrought-iron tables and chairs beckoned patrons to sit outside. But like just about everything else outside, the furniture already bore a generous coating of pine pollen, which fell steadily from the trees above like snow. She covered her nose to stifle a sneeze and, in the interest of her breathing, entered the shop and sought out a seat inside.
The moment she stepped inside, the rich aroma of roasting coffee beans filled her nostrils, replacing the scent of the copious evidence of plant reproduction she’d dealt with outside. She inhaled, a smile stretching her lips. The shop wasn’t too crowded, but she could see there were a good ten or so people inside, seated at tables, on benches, or in the fluffy armchairs. She eased her way to the counter, reading the chalkboard that displayed the day’s special concoctions.
Bryan strode in.
The moment he entered the space, she felt his presence. It was as if her senses awakened whenever he was near. She looked toward the door, letting her gaze sweep over him. He wore a pair of navy slacks and a light-blue button-down shirt. He’d forgone a tie, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. His black dress shoes gleamed in the overhead light. A pair of dark sunglasses obscured his eyes but could not hide the smile that brightened his handsome face when he saw her.
He removed the sunglasses, tucking them into the hip pocket on his slacks. Their gazes met as he crossed the space.
Her heart pounded in her ears. What was it about him and his killer smile that made her feel like an overzealous fangirl in the front row of a concert? Even now, she could feel the rise in her body temperature, and she could tell it had nothing to do with the climatic conditions of the coffee shop.
No. This man was hot, plain and simple.
Standing abreast of her, he spoke. “Have you been waiting long?”
“No. I was a little early, but I haven’t been here that long.” She blinked, hoping to break the spell he seemed to be casting over her. “Do you want to order something?”
“I’m gonna grab a mocha. You look nice, by the way.” He let his gaze travel over her body.
She glanced down at her simple outfit of a long gray tunic, black leggings, and metallic silver ballet flats. “Thanks.” She hadn’t changed clothes after leaving work. As a designer and as a consumer, she held firm to the belief that comfort should coexist with looking put-together.
The young woman working behind the counter asked, “What can I get you, ma’am?”
Alexis turned toward the menu again but found it hard to decide. Nothing there looked quite as delicious as the tall drink of man standing behind her. In the end, she went with her usual. “Can I have a medium French roast with cream and a caramel drizzle, please?”
“No problem, ma’am. Anything else?”
“No.” She occasionally ordered a muffin or some other pastry to accompany her dark roast, but the butterflies in her stomach left little room—or desire—for food. She reached into her black shoulder bag for her wallet, but she heard Bryan speak as she rifled around inside her purse.
“I’ll be paying for the lady’s drink. And I’d like a medium mocha, please.”
She snapped her head up in time to see him hand the barista his credit card.
As if he sensed her wide-eyed stare, he turned her way. “What is it?”
“I was intending to pay for my drink.”
“Nonsense. It’s the least I can do for my beautiful fiancée.” He winked.
Her mouth watered, and she swallowed. Was it from the heady scent of coffee and baked goods arousing her taste buds? Or from the way he looked at her, which aroused her in an entirely different way?
“Did you already pick somewhere to sit?”
His question drew her back to reality. She shook her head. “Like I said, I haven’t been here that long.”
He gestured to a table for two, situated in the far back corner of the coffee shop, to the left of the counter. “That looks nice and private.”
She couldn’t help noticing the way he seemed to emphasize the word private. She swallowed again. “Sounds good.” Based on what they were about to discuss, it made sense for them to seek a table away from the other patrons.
Once the barista handed them their steaming ceramic mugs, he started toward the table he’d chosen. She fell into step behind him, and her traitorous eyes dipped to his hips. He had a glorious backside that nicely filled his slacks. It looked tight enough to bounce the proverbial quarter off. Chastising herself for the direction of her thoughts, she jerked her gaze upward as they reached the table.
And found him watching her, an amused grin on his face.
Her hands began to tremble beneath his scrutiny.
He set his mug down, then grabbed hers and put it down as well. “You okay?”
She nodded, slipping into her seat. “Yes. I’m fine.”
He sat in the chair across from her. “I know where you were looking.”
Her eyes widened, and she slid her cup to the side so she could rest her forehead on the cool surface of the tabletop. She certainly hadn’t intended to be so obvious in her ogling. She remembered that she’d caught him doing the same thing when he’d first visited her office. His inability to hide his behavior had amused her, yet here she was, doing the very same thing.
He chuckled. “Don’t be embarrassed. The fact that we’re attracted to each other will only add to the realism of this little game we’re playing.”
“I guess that’s true.” She slowly raised her upper body and sat back up, determined to soldier on. “So where do we start?”
He took a sip from his mug. “We need to learn as much as we can about each other for this to work.”
“What about the details of our relationship? Our first meeting, how you proposed…”
“We’ll work that out. But let’s start with the truth and use it to build the basis for…everything else.”
She nodded, seeing the logic in his suggestion. If they were going to go ahead with this crazy undertaking, they might as well do it right. Reaching to her purse, she extracted a small notebook and a pen. “Okay. You start. When’s your birthday?”
