Admission of Love (27 page)

“Good heavens,” Anika moaned, looking heavenward for assistance.
Yet she says she’s not in love!

Anika reached down and plucked the remote control from Chloe’s quivering hand, immediately shutting the television off with a decisive click. “You miss him, right?”

Chloe sniffed, only able to nod in response.

“Then call him.”

Chloe sniffed again, and shook her head no.

“Well that’s your life, live it. But I refuse to continue letting you sit around like this any longer.” Anika pulled her leather blazer off and laid it on the back of the chair. “Now I took it upon myself as your sistafriend to schedule that meeting with Ashanti Cosmetics today at four p.m. Needless to say, you need to wash, change and do your hair. But first we’re gonna clean this apartment up.” Anika shook her head in disgust. “If it gets any worse the Department of Health will close this place down, and I’d gladly hang the ‘Stay Out’ notice on your front door myself.”

“Ha ha, Anika. Real funny,” Chloe said sarcastically.

Ignoring her friend, Anika crossed her arms over her ample chest. “I’m taking the day off from
work.
Oh, you’re gonna get something accomplished today. So where do you want to start?”

Chapter Twenty

The fall and winter were never a busy time for Jamison Contractors, and Devon wished that was different now. With nothing but free time on his hands, he found himself constantly thinking of Chloe. Good thoughts and bad. He was very willing to admit that he missed her.

She had made him laugh, she’d given him passion in his life, and she’d made him stop and enjoy all the pleasure and wonders that he took for granted in the country. He smiled as he thought of how she never backed down from him in an argument, something many men couldn’t say. She gave as good as she got. Just like a down-home woman.

Damn it!

Foolishly, he had begun to think that Chloe and he were building on something, that their relationship had moved beyond sex. God, he felt so stupid. With a growl he crumpled up the architectural design of a contemporary two-story house he was working on, just to kill some time.

Tossing the pencil aside, he looked around the renovated barn. The office was quiet, the phone only ringing once since he had been there and that had been a wrong number. Alicia usually came in every day like clockwork, and right now she would have had the radio playing or been watching those soap operas she loved so much.

Devon missed his friend. Or at least the person she had been before her jealousy of Chloe had eclipsed her. Or was it more than her feelings against Chloe, and instead her feelings for him?

Alicia hadn’t denied being in love with him the evening they confronted her about the
Star Gazer
article on Chloe. Was a hidden love for him the motivation behind Alicia’s hate campaign against Chloe?

It was still very hard for Devon to believe that. Alicia had never shown any inclination of amorous feelings toward him. She’d been like a little sister to both Deshawn and him. He couldn’t imagine that deep down she had harbored feelings for him. Surely he would have seen some sign, or was he as blind as Chloe had accused him of being?

Devon thought back on all the nights he’d eaten dinner over at her house, or the few times he’d even slept on her couch overnight, or the many times she listened to him discuss other women he was involved with. That surely was not the behavior of a woman who wanted a man for more than a good friend.

Hell, he didn’t know.

Sighing, he wiped his deep-set obsidian eyes and glanced at the clock on the wall. Once again he had no plans for the evening. Going to Charlie’s didn’t entice him, but it would be a way to pass a few hours. Briefly he contemplated calling one of his female friends, but just as quickly he rejected the idea.

What woman could wipe Chloe from his memory?

No one.

He stretched his tall, muscled frame and stood. Perhaps he should work on talking Donnie into renovating. They didn’t need the money but a long day of physical labor would leave him too tired to do anything at night but sleep, and hopefully not dream.

As he turned off the lights and left the building behind him, he promised himself to ride out to the diner with a proposal for the surly, tightwad owner.

Already the sun had set, casting the skies in varying hues of graying blues as night approached. Devon walked over to the house and sat down on the swing. It had been so long since he had done his once nightly ritual of sitting on the porch long into the night, enjoying the solitude. Until recently his nights had been filled with loving Chloe.

Chloe.

What is she doing in New York? Is she still with Calvin? Is she dining out with celebrity friends? Does she miss me?

They were hundreds of miles apart, but with the differences in their worlds it might as well be a million. He was a fool to have believed she would enjoy quiet nights swinging on a porch watching the sun set and the moon rise, listening to the lulling sounds of night creatures, willing to take life at a leisurely pace.

“Coming in for dinner, Vonnie?”

Devon looked up in surprise at his grandmother standing in the doorway. “You talking to me now?” he asked laughingly, turning back to look up at the full moon now in residence in the darkening skies, framed by the outline of the tall pine trees.

Nana Lil said nothing, instead pushing the screen door wider open to walk out onto the porch. The door squeaked in the stillness of the night before closing with a swish. Devon moved over to make room on the swing for her. The faint scent of her lavender oil surrounded him, and Devon was hit with a sudden pang of nostalgia. He remembered being surrounded by that scent as a child when this strong, resilient woman would hold him close to her with love.

They swung in silence for long minutes, surrounded by the unique sounds of a country night, before Lil spoke. “I really miss Chloe you know.”

Immediately she felt him stiffen beside her, his face tightened with some emotion she couldn’t identify offhand. Okay, she could tell now was not the time to stir her hand in the pot. He wasn’t ready to listen yet, and she never wasted good advice on deaf ears.

“Vonnie, I’m going in my room. You and Shawnie’s dinner is in the oven.” Lil stood and then impulsively pulled his upper body into her arms tightly. “I love you, Devon,” she whispered huskily.

Devon closed his eyes, allowing himself to wish he was still a child and his Nana could kiss his troubles away. “Love you too, Nana.”

She went into the house, the screen door squeaking close with a final slam against the frame. Devon remained swinging late into the night. He was comforted by his grandmother’s faint scent, still clinging to his shirt, and haunted by a hazel-eyed temptress. If only everything could have turned out differently.

∞

In the cool darkness of her room Nana Lil lay in discomfort quietly. The headaches were getting worse instead of better. She repositioned the folded wet cloth on her forehead, praying for some release from the sharp pain that radiated there. It was so intense that any movement of her body sharpened it.

Already she had taken three over-the-counter pain tablets, but that was twenty minutes ago and she wasn’t feeling the effects of it yet. Sighing, Lil said a silent prayer to the Lord.

∞

The black ribbon of the road was nearly empty, save for a few cars that passed Deshawn’s truck. He ignored the sulking pouty looks interspersed with angry glares that Poochie shot in his direction as he drove them home from the hotel. Usually, whenever they were in a car together she lay clutched to his arm, or arousing parts of his body the way she loved. Tonight she pressed herself to the passenger door so closely that he hoped it was properly closed or she would surely fall out.

Deciding to use his charm to get his way
and
stop her from being mad at him, Deshawn reached his right hand over the seat to grip her lush thigh in the tight jeans she wore.

“Don’t . . . touch . . . me!” she shrieked. If it was at all possible, she pressed herself closer to the door. “I don’t see why we couldn’t spend the night in the room, and go home in the morning.”

“Because Devon and I have an early morning job to do,” he lied easily, with his best smooth talking voice. “Baby, I have to get some rest so that I have energy for work in the morning. You know I can’t lay next to you all night without making love to that beautiful . . . soft . . . body.”

She looked cautiously over at him, the sound of his warm- oneyed voice disconcerting. He could see the edge begin to wear off already. For good measure he threw in his killer smile. As if by reflex, she smiled in return. Deshawn knew he had her.

Poochie scooted over on the seat and gave him a quick peck on the lips, which she would have deepened if Deshawn hadn’t quickly avoided it by turning back his head to look at the road ahead of him. That didn’t stop her from massaging his thighs.

He was more than glad when he pulled into the dirt yard of the house where she lived with her mother. Deshawn shook his head at the haphazardly hung Venetian blinds in the windows. If she would just love to clean as much as she loved to have sex, their house would be spotless.

Anxious to get home to his own bed, Deshawn kissed her once briefly. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he drawled.

Reluctantly, she opened the truck door, but turned to face him before she got out. “Too bad you had to work tomorrow because I’ve been practicing getting my legs all the way behind my head.”

Deshawn visualized the daring move and was tempted to tell her to get in and head back to the Best Western. No, he seriously needed a break from all the sex they’d been having. And that was an odd thought for him!

“Save it for me baby.” He leaned over and kissed her full lips lightly. “I’ll have to just dream about it tonight.”

Still displeased with the way the night turned out, but now charmed by her wily lover, Poochie left the truck with a wave before walking into the house.

Not that Deshawn noticed because he was already backing out of the yard before she got in the house good. He drove the remaining miles home in silence. That last go-round with Poochie in that chair had him drained, and he was more than ready to hit the sack . . . alone.

When he pulled into the yard, he saw that his twin was swinging on the porch. Deshawn glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. It was 1:38 a.m.

He parked and got out of the truck, taking the steps up onto the porch two at a time. “'What’s up, Dev?”

Devon shrugged. “Nothing much.”

Tired as hell but well aware that if his twin was sitting on their porch in the wee hours of the morning that something must be on his mind, Deshawn wearily sat next to him on the swing. “Can’t sleep?”

Devon shrugged again. “Just enjoying the porch before winter sets in is all.”

Deshawn nodded slowly several times, mulling that bit of information over. “Thinking about Chloe, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Yeah, right.” Deshawn pushed off with his foot, causing the swing to slowly glide back and forth. “Look, I know it ain’t none of my business but I think you’re wrong about her.”

“Look De—”

“Wait, wait. Let me just say this.” He held up a hand. “Before she moved here you accused her of being some sort of airhead heroin junkie with evil intentions toward Holtsville. Later you found out you were wrong. She told you about Alicia’s rather obsessive crush on you, and you didn’t believe it. Once again you were . . . well, wrong. She told us about Alicia selling the story and the pictures to the tabloid, and we sided with Alicia at first. Once again you, along with the rest of us, were wrong again. See a pattern developing?”

“This is different, Shawn,” he snapped.

They swung in silence then, Deshawn believing that he was giving his twin a chance to absorb what he just told him. Instead Devon’s mind was on one of his brother’s earlier comments.

“You really think Alicia has a crush on me?” he asked, his voice incredulous.

Deshawn nodded. “Big time.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t really realize until Chloe brought it to my attention. Once I thought it over, I realized she was right.” Deshawn slapped his brother on the back of his head lightly, receiving a nasty look in return. “Since we were kids Alicia, you and I have
all
been best friends. But as we got older Alicia seemed to get closer to just you. Think about it. Alicia would cook dinner and just call for you to come over. Or just call you to go to the movies.”

“Exaggerating aren’t you, Deshawn?” Devon balked.

“I’ve never spent the night at Alicia’s. Have you?”

Yes, he had.

Devon waved his hand. “Look, just forget about it. There’s no need to worry about it now because Alicia moved to Florida anyway.”

“Wrong again, big brother,” Deshawn laughed with a yawn.

Devon looked over at him questioningly. “Now what?”

“Poochie told me tonight that Donnie told her that Alicia came into the diner looking for work.” Deshawn pushed off with his foot again.

Devon stood suddenly, causing the bench to jerk. “I need to talk to Al.”

He watched, bemused and tired, as his brother patted his pockets looking for his keys. Clearing his throat to draw Devon’s attention, Deshawn asked, “Do you really think going to the house of the woman who has secretly loved you for years, at . . .” he glanced at his watch. “. . . two in the morning is wise?”

Devon’s action immediately ceased. If, and only if, Deshawn and Chloe were right, and Alicia harbored a crush for him, then his twin was right. “She’s probably asleep. I’ll go tomorrow afternoon,” he mumbled, ignoring his twin’s knowing look.

Deshawn rose up off the swing, his eyes already drooped with fatigue. “I don’t know about you but I’m headed for my bed.”

“Good night.”

“Oh and Dev?”

Devon looked up to see him paused in the door frame. “Yeah”

“Just
where
did you sleep those nights you stayed at Alicia’s?” Deshawn asked before closing the front door behind him. The sound of his laughter filtered outside and rang in Devon’s ears.

∞

The next afternoon, Devon turned his truck down the small road Alicia lived on. As he neared her cottage, he saw that her compact car was indeed parked in the front yard of her house. They had been friends for a long time and he didn’t favor the way their friendship ended. He felt he had to talk to her, find out her true motivations and come to some sort of understanding. He wanted to know if all of this was his fault. Had he led her on? Had he acted in a way to make her feel that way about him?