Between Friends (11 page)

By the time Burke even hinted at consummating their relationship, she was ready. She hadn’t been with a man in almost two years. Dallas recalled thinking at the time that she also felt like she’d been stalked and trapped by Burke. As if he had a specific purpose or agenda in mind for the two of them.

“Did you get my message?”

“Yes,” Dallas answered flatly.

He tried to put his arms around her waist. Dallas made an impatient tsk with her teeth and twisted away.

He chuckled. “You’re going to punish me, right?”

She turned and pointed to the door. “You can leave, if you want. You didn’t even have to bother coming.”

He shrugged, putting his hands into his pants pockets. “Tonight couldn’t be helped. I didn’t plan on standing you up. Look, you want me to say I’m sorry? Okay, I’m sorry,” Burke said grudgingly.

Dallas glanced at the wall clock over the refrigerator.

“You’re five hours late,” she said. “I canceled an interview because you said you wanted to have dinner early. I sat for two hours at a busy restaurant, not ordering and getting nasty looks because I told them you would be there. I was embarrassed when they finally asked for the table. And you get annoyed with me because I’m annoyed with you?”

“Don’t you think you’re carrying this too far?” he asked patiently.

He used a tone of criticism that Dallas had always been susceptible to. Eleanor had perfected it to an art form. It wasn’t angry, but it had a kind of condescension that suggested that
she
was behaving badly and
she
was being unreasonable.

Dallas trained on Burke what she hoped was the full extent of her ire. “Your time is
not
more important than mine.”

“It couldn’t be helped. I told you that in my message …”

“That message was an afterthought …”

“I ran into the vice president of marketing and I had his attention then and there. He’s been out of town. I had a couple of ideas to pitch and I went for it.”

“For more than five hours? There is no excuse for not taking five minutes to call the restaurant and let me know something had come up.”

“All right, all right …” Burke said. “I guess I was wrong to think you’d understand what it’s like for a black man in this business.”

“Burke, don’t start. That excuse is so tired. What is it that’s so hard? You have a great job.”

“It wasn’t easy. I had to fight my way to where I am. I don’t have an MBA or a mentor. No special privileges.”

“Neither do I …” she said, walking past him and out of the kitchen. She went into the living room. Burke followed behind.

“Black men still have to work twice as hard as any white guy to get a chance.”

“Oh, please,” Dallas said impatiently. She sat on the sofa and turned on the TV, clicking through the stations until she found the local news. “
What
has this got to do with you standing me up tonight? I’m supposed to forget what happened because life is hard for a black man? What about me?” She glared at him.

He stood over her, speaking without hesitation or thought. “Dallas, all you have to do is show up.”

“Excuse me?” Dallas asked quietly.

“I mean, you’re a woman, and you don’t have to work at making white folks feel comfortable around you.”

“No. Only my own. I guess I should be grateful that you didn’t come right out and say I’m not black enough. Is that how you see me?”

Burke sighed and sat on the wicker trunk to face her. He sat right in her line of vision. Taking the remote from her, he aimed over his shoulder and pressed the mute button. Burke tossed the unit on the sofa next to Dallas. His expression went from petulant to regret.

“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded …”

“Didn’t you?” Dallas questioned softly.

He shook his head. “Look, I don’t want to stay in visual marketing. That’s MTV stuff. The shift is going to be from screens to computer monitors in the future.” Burke leaned toward her. “I have a shot at a major new position, Dallas. It’s a new division opening up that
I’m
inventing. All the artists that are hot and selling are black. It’s created a whole generation of wiggers. Wannabes in white teens. We’re flavor-of-the-month, and I want to make the most of it while I can. It’s a window of opportunity that’s not going to last. I know exactly where the audience is and how to reach them,” Burke said excitedly. “There is a lot of money involved, and I want to control how it’s used for marketing. And I want to make sure I get credit and some of the action from sales. The VP I ran into is
the
decision maker in the company.”

Dallas didn’t disagree with Burke’s assessment. His thinking was clear … and focused. None of this was about her. Or them. She felt apprehension take over all other sensations within her, even the justified anger. It was going to happen again. Her feelings were going to get mixed up until they didn’t amount to anything more than ill temper. Being …
unreasonable.
Burke had done everything he could to apologize. Just like Hayden had tried. She was the holdout.

Dallas closed her eyes briefly. She felt tired. “I hope you get the job. You probably will,” she predicted sincerely. “You’re very good at getting what you want. But I don’t see why I should have to make all the concessions so that this relationship can work. I’m not as important to you as your job. Why should I put up with the way you take me for granted?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Baby, that’s not the way it is. But tonight was real important. Forgive me?”

She regarded Burke steadily. She wasn’t sure he’d heard a word she’d said. “You don’t want forgiveness. You expect absolution.”

Dallas tried to get up and he took hold of her arms to stay her. Then he shifted his position and sat next to her on the sofa.

“Dallas …” He put an arm around her waist. He kissed her cheek and encouraged her to rest against his chest. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll do whatever you want.”

He was going to put it all back on her. What did she want?

It bothered Dallas that in that moment Hayden came to mind. Maybe not so much him as what she thought they’d have together when she’d married him. When she’d wanted then was to be loved for herself. Nothing had changed.

“If you have to ask what I want, then what’s the point?”

“Okay. I’ll play that game,” he said smoothly, rubbing his hand along her arm. “You want me to understand when you go to your folks’ or when you and your girlfriends hang out and I don’t see you. You want me to understand when your godchild is over. You want to be able to cut me off with an hour’s notice when you get a last-minute thing to write or someone to interview …”

“You
know
that’s not the same thing. You
know
what I’m talking about.”

“No I don’t. Tell me what the difference is?”

She felt foolish. It was a hairsbreadth, but it was also about attitude. And intent. “Canceling is not the same as ignoring. You’re deliberating twisting what it is I’m upset about. I didn’t like being stood up, but that’s not it. It was”—she searched for the exact words—“it was like, I’m the second choice.”

Burke considered her conclusion. He again pressed his mouth against her face. He pursed his lips into a kiss that tickled. “I could have gone right on home. I didn’t have to come and have you rag me like some high school date who did you wrong.”

“Burke …”

“I’m trying to do the right thing. And I wanted you to see I wasn’t afraid to come here tonight. We missed dinner, okay. But at least I’m here now.”

Dallas didn’t hear concern in Burke’s voice, or an apology. Burke bent his head and kissed teasingly at her mouth. His hand burrowed under the loose-fitting sweater she wore and curved to her side, his thumb stroking her skin. The appeasement was coming too quickly, faster than she was prepared for.

“I didn’t have any dinner.”

“Neither did I,” she whispered, beginning to respond to the cajoling play of his hand and mouth.

“I owe you.” The tip of his tongue brushed against the slight parting of her lips.

The hand under her sweater slid to her breast and covered it with a warm and gentle pressure. The telltale contractions of her stomach muscles made Dallas sigh. She didn’t discourage Burke’s skilled seduction. He’d never been sexually aggressive with her. He never had to be. She wondered if it was really vindication she wanted. She was being subverted by the erotic invasive kisses, the hand exploring the surface of her breast and stimulating the puckered nipple through her bra. Dallas shifted slightly, trying to stay focused on the issues. They had not been resolved yet.

“Burke …” she murmured.

His only response was to open his mouth over hers and let his tongue explore at leisure. The affect was soothing. He handled her carefully. She wanted to protest, but Burke gathered her properly into his arms. Dallas complied, floating against the rising desire and sense of well-being. He kissed her until the sounds they made included ragged breathing and moans of pleasure. She raised an arm to circle around his neck.

Burke broke off the contact of their mouths.

Dallas opened her eyes and looked at him with confusion. She could see the longing in his slumberous gaze, but he shook his head. “You still pissed off at me?”

“Yes.”

Burke nodded, and then stood up, pulling Dallas with him. He grinned charmingly and put his arms around her. He had a way of aligning their bodies so that they met from rib cage to thighs. In between them Dallas could feel the hard bulge of his erection. He slowly rotated his hips against her.

“There’s nothing I can do to make it up to you?”

She shook her head, even as her eyes closed again. “You can’t. The moment is gone. This … this is something else.”

He chuckled and then kissed her. There was a guttural sound in his throat as his hands went under the sweater and unhooked her bra. “If you’re going to give me a hard time, then let’s do it right.”

She grimaced at his pun. “Make sure the door is locked,” Dallas murmured, in a tone halfway between resignation and anticipation. She turned from his embrace and headed for the bedroom.

Dallas had removed the sweater and bra, peeled off the leggings by the time Burke entered the room behind her. He silently undressed. The process had already been set in motion for reconciliation. But Dallas understood that it would not solve their problems.

“Baby …” Burke growled, slipping his arms around her from behind. He nibbled at her neck. His penis surged against Dallas’s buttocks as he maneuvered a hand into her panties.

Dallas sighed and relaxed, letting her physical need take over from the emotional dissatisfaction that kept her in doubt.

“Ummm, baby,” Burke moaned, his excitement at full throttle.

She didn’t like being referred to as “baby.” It was a kind of generic male tag she remembered from high school, when all the boys were interested in was getting off. It didn’t seem to focus on her as a person.

Burke turned her around to kiss her deeply. His hand continued its exploration of her lower body, nestling between her legs as his fingers searched out the delicate opening to her body. Dallas undulated herself against his caressing until there was no other choice but gratification. She climbed on the bed and Burke quickly settled on top of her when she raised her knees. His languid kisses and his hand between her legs were making Dallas feel safe, but she didn’t want to rush through their lovemaking.

“W—wait,” Dallas moaned, screwing her eyes tightly closed and fighting against her body flying out of control too quickly. She wanted to slow down the gathering wave. She was on the brink of the crash when Burke made his entry and thrust with an electrifying determination right through the middle of the cresting storm within her.

She held her breath, held onto Burke as the driving force of his body ricocheted the climax within Dallas. Burke’s limbs stiffened, his buttock muscles flexing and tightening until his own release made his body press her into the mattress with the intensity of it. Finally Burke relaxed his full weight on her.

“Jesus H. Christ …” he murmured, his mouth pressed on her shoulder.

The throbbing left Dallas limp. But there was little contentment, and as the physical euphoria faded she knew a sense of betrayal. The veil of doubt seemed to drift over her again. Burke had arrived less that an hour ago.

A new world’s record.

He had won again.

Dallas heard Burke’s slow barefoot stride out of the bedroom to the bath. The door closed. She heard running water. First it was Burke. Then it was the toilet flushing; and then the shower being turned on. Only then did Dallas let her body unwind from her curled-up position on her side. She was reluctantly, fully awake. She lay, letting her mind float up into consciousness.

The shower spray sounded like rain. Just the way she used to hear it when she was little. Someone had once told Dallas that rain meant the angels were crying because she’d been a bad girl. She wasn’t going to buy into that. And yet, there was a sense of having made a bad decision.

Dallas pushed the covers aside and climbed out of the bed. She glanced down and could see that her nipples were still prominent and distended … that little hickey marks discolored the skin on her stomach, chest, and thighs. For a second there was a distinct memory of her and Burke making love. After their argument but before anything had been resolved. After she’d been worn down with excuses, but before she’d been willing to forgive him.

And yet she’d surrendered.

The sounds they’d made together during the night came back to Dallas. She had been completely open and Burke had filled her, found ways to hold her captive with pleasure as well as an urgent need for release from the tension that made her want to scream at him. But it had also seemed less like making love than a battle of wills, physical and emotional. As if Burke was trying to prove something. Or wear her down.

Dallas recognized that she wanted to be made love to. As if the deeply physical contact—intimate and electric, breathtaking and,
yes,
satisfying—would demonstrate that he really cared about her. Except for now, when she was left feeling like she had just had a one-night stand.