Always and Forever (5 page)

A half hour later, Phil had managed to remove every scuff mark from the wainscoting without marring a single inch. Jamal walked over to where she stood and dropped to his haunches, observing her work.

“Unbelievable,” he said with an awed breath. “How did you manage to get it clean without ruining the paint job?”

“I have my ways,” she said.

He looked up at her, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “I can’t wait to see what else you can do.”

“Darling, I would blow your mind,” she said before she could stop herself.

Way
wrong thing to say. Phil inwardly cringed, but she couldn’t deny the shot of molten heat that flashed through her as Jamal’s eyes took on a smoldering look. She knew she was skirting along the edges of the danger zone. After that kiss yesterday, the worst thing she could do was encourage his flirting.

Actually, that wasn’t the worst thing she could do. The
absolute
worst thing would involve them both being naked.

Do
not
think of him naked,
she mentally chastised.

Jamal rose slowly from his crouched position, his intense gaze searing straight through her. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough with want. “You can try to ignore this all you want, Phylicia. We both know it’s there.”

She didn’t have to ask what
it
was. It was so apparent, so potent, it had nearly taken on a physical form. The attraction sizzling between them was hotter than her workshop after a full day of working with the blowtorch.

Phil swallowed past the lump in her throat. She wanted to shake her head. She was dying to tell him that she didn’t want to ignore anything.

“That’s too bad,” she said, her voice so husky she barely recognized it. She cleared her throat. “Because I fully intend to ignore it.”

Those sparks of electricity, like the kind zapping between them right now, were dangerous. She’d been burned before, and fear of making those same mistakes terrified her more than Phil thought possible.

This was all too eerily familiar to the severe lapse in judgment that had already caused her so much heartache. Standing here with Jamal, in the midst of a huge home-renovation project, was like a remake of a twisted reality show:
The Phylicia and Kevin Fiasco.

How many times had Kevin crept up behind her while she was working and pressed his lips to her neck? It had taken little more than a gentle kiss and some sweetly whispered words before they were both stripping out of their clothes and making love among the dusty construction material.

She
so
was not going there again.

“Look, Jamal. I won’t deny that there was some chemistry between us during Mya and Corey’s wedding—”

“Not just at the wedding,” he interjected.

“Okay, fine. The chemistry is still there. But I’m just not in the right place. Getting involved with you, with
anyone
right now...it’s not going to happen. And don’t even think about suggesting no-strings-attached sex,” she added.

The broad grin that flashed across his face was pure sin. “I wasn’t going to,” he said. “But apparently you’ve been thinking about it.”

Phil knew her face was as red as a fire engine. Why did he have to be so damn sexy?

“You’re making a mistake,” he said. “You and I both know that there’s a lot more going on here than just the potential for no-strings-attached sex.” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “Although that would be
a lot
of fun, Phylicia.”

Lord, how she wanted to take him up on his offer!

It had been way too long since she’d had fun of any kind. And despite how doggedly she’d tried to suppress her body’s outright craving for this man, all she had to do was look at him and she went liquid. More and more, the hazy figure that entered her nightly fantasies had started to solidify in her mind, and its strong jaw and deep brown eyes resembled one man. The one standing before her.

A slightly calloused thumb grazed her cheek then tipped her chin up. Phil stared at his sensually soft lips and bit back a needy moan.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable working here,” Jamal said. “If your answer is no, then I’ll just have to accept it. I’ll survive. This isn’t the first time I’ve been turned down by a pretty girl.”

His noble capitulation only made her decision harder to swallow.

Phil was tempted to apologize for having to take such an uncompromising stance, but with everything else going on in her life, she could not summon the strength to deal with the complications that came with a relationship, even a casusal, no-strings-attached kind.

Because she didn’t do casual sex. Her heart always managed to get involved. And eventually broken.

Stupid heart.

“Is this the last time we’re going to have this conversation?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered. “I won’t bring it up again. I don’t think my tender ego can take another rejection.”

He said it jokingly, but Phil was sure she saw genuine regret ghost across his face. For a minute she nearly relented, but that self-preservation instinct that had shielded her heart since Kevin’s betrayal came to her rescue. Phil knew it was unfair to make Jamal suffer for another man’s wrongdoings. She also knew she was cheating herself, as well. But it was a price she was willing to pay. She would not put herself through the pain and humiliation she’d been through with Kevin. A person could take only so much.

Chapter 6

P
hil pulled into the driveway of Mya and Corey’s massive home in one of Gauthier’s newer subdivisions. She parked behind a familiar black-and-chrome truck, and her heart rate immediately shot into the stratosphere. It had been three weeks since she’d started working with Jamal, and her infatuation with him had only intensified. Thoughts of the man invaded her mind on an embarrassingly frequent basis: while working at Belle Maison, as she browsed the aisles at LeBlanc’s Supermarket.

In bed.

Oh, Lord. How she thought about him in bed.

If Jamal Johnson was half as good in real life as he was in her dreams, Phil doubted she could survive a night under the sheets with him. But that would never happen, so she was not entertaining the idea. Period.

“You are so weak,” she mumbled.

Frustrated, Phil grabbed the spinach dip and chips she’d picked up from the grocery store and headed for the house. She could hear the raucous yells streaming in from the partially opened front door.

She stepped into the foyer, which quickly opened into a huge den. Every piece of furniture was occupied, with all eyes glued to the football game in progress on the wide flat-screen television mounted over the stone fireplace. Phil instantly spotted Jamal. He was the only person not garbed in the New Orleans Saints’ colors of black and gold. Instead, he stuck out like a sore thumb in a red-and-white Arizona Cardinals jersey.

“You made it,” Mya called from the loveseat.

Jamal looked back from his spot on the sofa and flashed a smile. Her blood started pumping faster.

Phil mentally groaned. She really had to work on controlling her body’s reactions to him.

“I was just about to call you,” Mya said as she approached.

“Sorry I’m late.” Phil hugged her, barely getting her arms around her massively pregnant friend. “I had a couple of things to take care of before coming over.”

“They’re still in the first quarter,” Mya said, waving off her concern. She took the bag of chips from Phil and motioned for her to follow her to the kitchen. “Besides,” Mya continued in a teasing voice, “I know how much you were just
dying
to come over and watch football.”

“Been looking forward to it all week,” Phil said with exaggeratingly false brightness.

A football fan she was not. But when Mya had asked her to join them for the always highly anticipated New Orleans Saints versus Atlanta Falcons game, Phil had agreed. It had been several weeks since she’d had a chance to hang out with her friend. After being apart for fifteen years, Phil was trying to make up for lost time with Mya.

“How are you feeling?” Phil asked her as Mya scooted onto a bar stool and snatched a pig-in-a-blanket from a tray.

“Fat,” Mya answered. “And don’t tell me I’m not.”

Phil looked her up and down from across the bar. “I wasn’t going to. We made a pact never to lie to each other, remember?”

Mya gasped. “Thanks a lot.”

“Oh, stop it,” Phil said. “You look gorgeous, and you’ll have a cute little baby in just three months. That’s worth whatever pounds you gain.”

“I’m starting to think this baby doesn’t like me,” Mya said. “The way she kicks at night—I don’t think they’re your normal baby kicks. This little rascal has it in for me.”

Phil slid off the stool and came around the bar. She rubbed Mya’s burgeoning belly. “Don’t call my goddaughter a rascal. She is going to be the perfect little lady, just like her auntie Phil. I already bought her a hammer with a pink rhinestone handle.”

Mya laughed. “Speaking of hammers, how are things going with the restoration, Auntie Phil?”

“Okay.” Phil shrugged.

“Just okay? Knowing Jamal, I’m expecting Belle Maison to look like something from
The Jetsons
cartoon. I’ll bet you’ll be able to turn the shower on from a keypad in the kitchen.”

Phil rolled her eyes. “Please, don’t give him any ideas. His strawboard walls and stockpile of squiggly fluorescent lightbulbs are bad enough.”

“I knew the two of you would butt heads when it came to Belle Maison.” Mya laughed. “To be honest, I’m still surprised you sold it. I always loved that house.”

“So did I,” Phil said.

Her conscience poked at her. She and Mya didn’t keep secrets from each other. Although Phil had learned that her friend had indeed kept a very big secret from her fifteen years ago—the fact that she’d gotten pregnant and miscarried Corey’s baby back when they were in high school. But this was different. They weren’t a couple of teenagers. But Phil wasn’t sure she could handle it if Mya looked at her with derision when she learned how stupid Phil had been to land herself in such a bind.

Before she could say anything, Corey came into the kitchen, with Jamal following closely behind.

“You’re missing a good game, baby,” Corey said, planting a kiss on Mya’s temple. He turned to Phil and gave her the same kiss. “What force of nature dragged
you
here to watch a football game?”

She nodded toward Mya. “The same one that used to drag me to the Gauthier High football games on Friday nights.”

“You don’t like football?” Jamal asked. He reached over and snagged a tortilla chip from the bowl on the bar, and his elbow brushed her arm. A shiver coursed through her body.

Okay, this was getting to be ridiculous. She’d worked side by side with the man for several weeks. Why in the hell were these goose bumps traveling along her skin from a simple brush of his elbow? It was embarrassing.

Even so, Phil couldn’t stop the rush of heat that came over her. She looked up to find a curious smile tipping up the corner of Mya’s mouth.

Oh, great. That’s just what she needed. She was tempted to claim a headache and go home, but knowing Mya, she would waddle her way over to Phil’s house and hound her there.

Corey nudged Mya’s arm. “Did you tell Jamal about the email you got yesterday?” he asked.

“Oh, right!” Mya said, twisting the bar stool to face Jamal. “I got an email from a church group in Alabama. They’re considering stopping in Gauthier on their tour of the African American Heritage Trail at the end of November. Think we’ll have somewhere for them to spend the night?”

Phil noticed the trace of apprehension that crossed Jamal’s face.

“Yes,” she answered before he had a chance to speak. He whipped his head around, his eyes wide with surprise. “The restoration is coming along pretty well, don’t you think?” Phil asked him.

Jamal nodded. “Yeah, everything is running on schedule. It’ll be open for business in time for the big tourist rush.”

“I was tempted to head there today,” Phil continued. “My time would have been better spent working over there than here watching football.”

“What do you have against football?” Jamal asked.

Phil shrugged. “Same thing I have against catch-and-release fishing and playing marbles. I don’t see a point to it.”

“Phil’s problem is that she doesn’t understand the game. At all,” Corey interjected. “I tried to explain football to her once in high school. That’s an hour of my life I’ll never get back.”

“The rules make no sense,” Phil argued. “How can you penalize someone for holding on to a player so that he can’t tackle the guy with the football? Isn’t that the players’ jobs, to stop the opposing team from tackling the guy with the ball?”

“You
really
don’t understand football.” Jamal laughed.

“I’ve tried to learn it. It just doesn’t make sense to me.” She’d tried watching a game with Kevin once, but like Corey, he’d gotten frustrated and suggested she watch HGTV in the other room.

“I’ll teach you if you really want to learn,” Jamal said.

“Don’t do it.” Corey was shaking his head. “You don’t want that headache.”

Jamal shrugged off his friend’s concern. “I’m serious,” he said. “If you really want to learn, I’ll go over some of the basics with you.”

He looked so sincere, so genuine. Even though she had no interest whatsoever in learning more about football, Phil couldn’t stop her heart from melting just a bit from his offer.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Fumble!” someone shouted from the living room, and both Corey and Jamal took off running.

That coy grin still planted on her face, Mya emptied the store-bought spinach dip into a bowl. “Don’t make me have to ask,” she said.

“Ask what?” Phil tried for innocent.

Her best friend pointed a spoon at her. “Girl, you better start spilling. And I mean
right
now.”

“There’s nothing to spill,” Phil said as she climbed back onto her bar stool. “I’m helping him with the house, nothing more. By the end of the day we are both tired and sweaty, and not in a good way.”

“That is such a waste. Have you taken a good look at that man?”

She slid her best friend an exasperated look. “I know how he looks, Mya. I’ve been staring at his ass for nearly a month.”

“Well, stop staring and grab it,” Mya said. “Come on, Phil. You’re both single.”

“We’re both single? That’s the best you can do?” Phil laughed. “My neighbor, Mr. Jenkins, is single. He’s a grandfather and a widower, but still single. Should I ask him out?”

“You’re both single and under the age of sixty-five,” Mya said, heavy on the annoyance. “I’m being serious, Phil. Why wouldn’t you give Jamal a chance? I’m sure the two of you have things in common.”

“Like what?”

“Like architecture,” Mya returned.

Phil nearly choked on a laugh. “Believe me, our take on architecture is definitely not something we have in common.” She held her hands up when Mya started to speak again. “I know now that you’re back with the love of your life you’ve developed this obsession with finding me a man, but it really isn’t necessary, Mya. I’m perfectly content with my single status. Honestly, I have neither the time nor the energy for a relationship.”

Mya frowned as she absently rubbed her belly. “I just want you to be happy.”

Phil gave her a cheesy fake smile. “I’m happy. I promise.”

Mya leaned closer and whispered in a harsh breath, “The least you can do is sleep with him once so you can tell me how good he is.”

“What makes you think he’s any good at all?” she asked Mya.

They peered into the living room just as Corey and Jamal stood up and high-fived each other. His muscled arms and broad shoulders were displayed to perfection underneath the lightweight football jersey.

“Oh, yeah. He would be good,” Phil said.

“So good,” Mya agreed.

Phil was tempted. Good Lord, was she tempted. But she’d been burned once before. She needed to be smarter this time around. Her nightly fantasies would have to suffice.

Yet, even as the thought rolled through her head, another—this one just as strong—moved in.

Would it be a cardinal sin if she and Jamal saw each other outside of work?

Denying her attraction to him was harder than she’d ever imagined. She had not been this turned on by a man since...well...ever.

She’d convinced herself that she loved Kevin, but it had taken months of getting to know him before she’d felt even an ounce of the sizzle she felt when Jamal was near. It was primal, this awareness between them. Why not see where it would lead?

Because it will likely lead to heartache.

“Don’t mix business with pleasure,” she murmured.

“What was that?” Mya asked as she leaned back on the stool to watch the TV.

“Nothing,” Phil answered. “Come on. I don’t want you crashing to the floor.”

They walked back into the den, and Jamal’s eyes turned in her direction. He picked up his beer bottle and stared at her as he tipped it back, his eyes lit with a knowing, humorous glint.

Don’t mix business with pleasure,
Phil reminded herself. But the mantra became less and less convincing with every moment that passed.

* * *

Jamal balanced himself on the second rung from the top of the ladder as he stretched the tape measure to the bottom shingle.

“Are you trying to break your neck?” he heard from just below.

He twisted around so fast he had to latch on to the house to steady himself.

Phylicia ran to the ladder and held it in place. “Get down from there,” she demanded.

“Just a minute.” He quickly took the measurements he needed before making his way down the ladder. “Thanks for holding it steady for me.”

“You do know better than to climb that high on a ladder without having a second person to anchor it, right? I know your comfort zone is usually behind a computer, but your family owns a construction company. You have to know at least that much.”

“I know all the safety rules,” he said. “I just needed a quick measurement.”

Phylicia rolled her eyes. Jamal grinned. She was bossy as hell, but it looked so damn good on her.

“Was your client satisfied with the work you did on the radio?” he asked her.

She’d told him she would be a couple of hours late this morning because she had to deliver an antique radio she’d restored to a customer in Mandeville.

“My client was very satisfied,” she said. “In fact, he hired me to restore an armoire that dates back at least a hundred years, I’m sure. It is an absolutely gorgeous piece. It’s being delivered to my shop next week. But it won’t interfere with my work here,” she said. “I know we’re under a huge time crunch.”

“Since you came on board I’ve been able to catch up. I’m actually slightly ahead of schedule now. And once the work crew arrives in a few days, things will move even more quickly. Hey, what’s with the frown?” Jamal asked.

“Nothing,” Phylicia said. “Just sounds as if this job won’t last as long as I thought it would.”

“Yes, it will. That construction crew isn’t touching the woodwork inside. That’s a job for the much sought-after restoration specialist.”

A modest grin curled the edges of her mouth. “Well, I guess the much sought-after restoration specialist had better get started then,” she said, but she didn’t move, just continued to stand there, her eyes locked with his.

Only a couple of feet separated them. Two steps. That’s all it would take to bring their bodies into contact. Jamal took a step forward, and Phylicia immediately stepped back.