Black Lace (7 page)

Watching her lips part in response to his slow touch, Drake’s groin tightened at the thought of making love to her, slowly and totally. He knew it wouldn’t be tonight, but for her, he could wait.

Lacy fought through the haze surrounding her and finally asked, “Why am I a challenge?”

“Because you’re not only fine, you’re smart.”

“Smart?”

“Yes,” he said in a voice that caressed her from her twists to her toes. “I think brainy women are very sexy.”

“I’ve never had a man lust after my mind before.”

“Then you’ve been hanging around the wrong men.”

The frankness in his eyes shook her senses again, and it came to her that he was way more dangerous than she’d initially believed. The smells of the bread wafted past her nose, and she was glad for the momentary distraction, if only so she could pull herself back together. “Bread’s done. Ready to eat?”

“I suppose.”

Truthfully, Lacy didn’t want to end the moment either, but knew if she didn’t put some distance between herself and this man, she was going to melt into a puddle on the floor.

Drake said to her, “I’ll put the CD in, wash my hands, and meet you at the table.”

She nodded. And as she walked away, he watched the sway of her hips with appreciative eyes.

The bold yellow and orange tablecloth was one Lacy had purchased on a trip to Ghana a few years
back. The new black plates on top of it were gleaming, as were the glasses. When Drake returned from washing his hands, he took a seat, and Lacy placed the serving dishes in the center of the table. The serving dishes and platters held blackened salmon brushed with a teriyaki sauce, wild rice, a salad, and her homemade French bread.

It was Drake’s experience that not many women cooked this way these days. Personally, he had trouble boiling eggs, so the sights and smells of what she’d prepared added yet another intriguing facet to the dark-skinned jewel seated on the other side of the table. “This looks good.”

“Hope you’re hungry.”

“I am.”

In his eyes Lacy read more than a hunger for food, and he didn’t hide it from her at all. Her core tightened as if answering his unspoken desire. “Would you bless the food?”

“Sure.”

He recited a short blessing, then after their “Amens,” they helped themselves to the meal.

In the background the saxophone of Boney James played softly and sweetly. Drake couldn’t believe how good the food was. His mother could burn, and so could his sister-in-law, Sarita, but Lacy had stuck her toe in this. The salmon was succulent, the wild rice perfect, and the bread? He couldn’t get enough of the hot fresh loaf. “You made this?”

Lacy looked up from her plate. “Yep. My mother
said every woman should know how to make bread, so she taught me.”

“A man could get fat hanging out with you.”

She laughed softly. “If there’s any bread left, I’ll let you take it home.”

“Thanks.”

They were both aware of the attraction humming like electricity between them and that it was difficult to ignore. Drake found himself watching her graceful table manners and speculating on when he might kiss her again. Needing to distract himself from his rising desire, he forked up a bit more of the tasty blackened salmon, then said to her, “Talk to me about these cameras.”

So she did, and when she finished, she added, “There’s no money in our budget to buy disposable cameras so I was hoping you had a few ideas?”

“Not off of the top of my head,” he said truthfully, “but I’ll have Rhonda look into it. I’m pretty sure there was a similar campaign a few years back. Maybe someone will know how the city acquired the cameras.”

“I’d really appreciate the help. My first meeting is the day after tomorrow.”

“How many people are you expecting?”

“Hopefully, a lot.”

He looked skeptical. “Don’t be discouraged if only a few show. The environment is important but it’s not a hot button issue in the city right now.”

“With the lead paint problems and the results of the new asthma studies, it should be.”

“What asthma studies?”

“The ones tracking the startling spike in asthma in inner city kids. I’ll send it to you in the morning.”

“Appreciate it.” Drake then asked a question he’d been wanting answered. “What made you decide to do environmental work?”

“The Girl Scouts.”

That surprised him. “Really?”

“Yep. When I was twelve, our summer camp was closed down because fertilizer and pesticides from a golf course down the road contaminated the camp’s creek. I’d been going to camp there since third grade, and no one in our troop was happy when it was closed.”

“So did the Scouts take them to court?”

“No, we made signs and started picketing the golf course.”

Drake laughed. “What?”

“Yes. We marched. We sang.”

“What did the golf course owners do?”

“Got an injunction that made us stop, but by then we were rolling. We wrote letters to everybody we could. The governor. President Reagan. We called radio stations and television reporters. We even made buttons with pictures of sad-faced Girl Scouts on them to sell to the public and get them involved.”

Drake was impressed. “You all were serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“So did it finally get resolved?”

“Sort of. The course owners were fined, but the camp couldn’t be used anymore. The judge ordered
the owners to buy the Scouts some land in another part of the county. We were pretty excited because we felt we’d won. I’ve been hooked on environmental issues ever since.”

He raised his wineglass to her in salute. “And the city of Detroit is glad about it.”

The compliment brought heat to Lacy’s cheeks. “I hope to be around a long time.”

“That’s good to know.”

From the look in his eyes and the timbre of his voice, Lacy sensed he was talking about more than the job. The memory of the kiss rose again, and she forced her breathing and her heart to slow down. “If you’re done, I can take your plate.”

“Thanks.”

She came around to where he was seated and he handed her his plate. The nearness set her blood to thumping again, but she took the dishes to the sink and set them inside.

Boney James was still playing.

“Are you ready for dessert?”

“If it’s kisses, yes.”

She almost swooned right there. “No. It’s not kisses.”

He stood and slowly walked over to where she was standing. “Why not?” His eyes were a mix of temptation and playfulness.

The shaking Lacy was finding it hard to breathe. “Because I’m making Bananas Foster instead.”

“If I’m a good boy, can I have both?”

Lacy’s senses spiraled like a kite. “Greedy man.”

He bent down and kissed her softly, whispering, “You don’t know the half of it.”

The kiss that followed melted Lacy back against the hard edge of the sink, but she was too caught up in the passion to care. She slipped her arms around his waist, and the contact singed her everywhere. He held her close with one arm and used his free hand to explore the shape of her back. All the while his expert lips trailed from her mouth to the edges of her jaw, setting fires along the way. “The only dessert I want is you….” he husked out against the edge of her arched throat.

Lacy was pulsating and shimmering like heat on asphalt. She’d never experienced this before. She’d been a virgin when she married Wilton Cox, and he’d convinced her that in spite of all she’d read, and all that she’d seen in the movies or on TV,
good
women didn’t enjoy sex. But as Drake’s kisses threatened to make her insane, and her nipples were hard and the heat between her thighs was spreading through her like warmed honey, she knew Wilton had lied. The realization made her back away so she could catch her breath.

Drake was aware of Lacy’s marriage and divorce, but he tasted an innocence in her kiss that was as surprising as it was firing. When he nibbled on her ripe bottom lip or slid his tongue over the parted corners of her lips, she’d trembled like a virgin. It was easy for him to see that she was trying to compose herself.
Is she a virgin?
“If we’re going too fast, tell me.”

“It’s not that. It’s…Let’s just say I don’t have a lot of experience at this.”

“Virgin?”

She shook her head, but didn’t tell him that the sweet magic of his kisses made her feel like one. “Just inexperienced.”

He studied her closely. “Then we can go slow,” he said, easing her back in against his chest and wrapping her up with his arms. He kissed the top of her head. “As slow as you want.”

Lacy could hear his heartbeat. “Thank you.”

“And lucky for you, I’m an excellent teacher.”

She laughed softly. “Oh, really?”

Drake looked down and once again committed her dark beauty to his memory. “The best. Would you like lessons?”

“You are a mess, do you know that?”

“It’s genetic, so it’s not my fault. All the men in my family have a romance bone.”

Lacy knew she was about to enter a mine field, but couldn’t stop herself, “A genetic romance bone?”

“Yes, it’s a trait the Vachon men have.”

“Is Vachon your family name?”

“Yep. My brothers and I are descendants of a man named Galen Vachon and his dark-skinned wife, Hester. She was almost as beautiful as you.”

Lacy let that compliment fill her, then asked, “So tell me about this trait.”

“It’s a spoil-your-woman-to-death trait.”

“Which makes you do what?”

“Just what it says. We spoil our women. And you didn’t answer my question,” he pointed out softly.

“Which question?”

“If you wanted lessons or not…”

Somewhere inside of Lacy a flare burst into flame, and she was instantaneously placed back in the sensual spot where this whole conversation began. The woman he’d unleashed answered for her, “How much are they?”

Drake raised an eyebrow and grinned. “For you, free.”

“Are you a hard professor?” Once she heard herself, Lacy couldn’t believe she’d said what she had.

The double entendre was not lost on Drake. He chuckled. “Oh, you’re good, baby.”

“I can’t believe I said that.” She looked up. “This is your fault.”

He pointed to himself. “Me? You’re the one asking if I’m hard or not, and the answer, Ms. Green, is hell, yes.”

Embarrassed to her toes, a mortified but tickled Lacy buried her face in his shirt. “Stop it.”

“You started this,” he reminded her with amusement, then gathered her in against him again and said softly, “You’re fun, Lacy. I like that.”

She looked up. “You’re fun too, Drake.”

He kissed her softly, letting her know just how much he was enjoying her, then pulled back. He stared down at her silently for a moment, wondering if that was really their future he saw shining in her eyes. “CD’s over,” he told her, noticing the silence around them. “What do we hear next?”

She smiled and shrugged. “Let’s go see.”

They decided to follow the saxophone
of Boney James with the signature piano tunes of Joe Sample. Once the music began floating melodically through the apartment, Lacy said to Drake, “Will you come watch the sunset with me? Or is that too corny for you?”

He shook his head. “Nothing you want is corny, Lacy.”

Pleased by that, she opened the big French doors and they stepped out into the fresh air of the evening. The small bricked-in balcony faced the water, giving them an unobstructed view of the sun hovering above the river like a blazing orange ball of fire. Now that they had acknowledged their attraction for each other and were cool with it, they stood side by side, leaning with their forearms on the brick in a companionable silence. Five floors below, the expansive parking lot
was filled with cars and the comings and goings of the other residents, but Drake and Lacy were only conscious of the sunset and the quiet piano jazz playing behind them like their own private soundtrack. Lacy drew in deep breaths of the cool air off the river and decided life was perfect.

She looked Drake’s way. He appeared deep in thought. She’d be willing to bet his boyish good looks had been driving women crazy since the day he was born, and she didn’t even want to think about the dimples or that sexy moustache framing his full lips. According to Ida, Drake Randolph, with his vivid dark eyes and high wattage white-toothed smile, worked out regularly, and it showed. Not even the expensive suit could totally disguise the cut of his lean arms and shoulders. Everything about him was gorgeous, so she wondered how a woman like herself was supposed to deal with a man who claimed to have a woman-pleasing gene.
And what exactly what did that mean?

Lacy asked, “What are you thinking?”

He grinned into her eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

“I do.”

“Okay, I was thinking about jacking one of my brother Myk’s private jets and whisking you away to a secluded island so I could spend all the time I wanted learning everything there is to know about Lacy Green.”

Lacy stilled.

“And after that I’d tempt you with passion fruit and candlelight, undress you slowly and take you under the stars….”

Lacy just knew she was going to faint.

He gave her a seductive wink. “Told you you didn’t want to know.”

She somehow managed to toss back, “I never do islands on the first date.”

“I can wait.”

Her heart was flying. “Is that your romance gene talking?”

“Yep.”

Every inch of Lacy’s body had come alive in response to his overwhelming self. Her nipples were hard, and she didn’t even want to think about what was going on between her thighs. “You are way too good at this, Your Honor.”

“I know.”

Lacy chuckled and shook her head.

He had playfulness in his eyes, but beneath it there was an intensity that touched her senses like fire. It was like being near a hot stove or an open flame, both of which could be dangerous if a girl wasn’t careful. Lacy found him fascinating, and tempting, and all those other
ings.
She thought being involved with him might be way over her head, but she didn’t care.

The breeze lifted her perfume to Drake’s nose. He couldn’t remembered ever being so enchanted by a woman so quickly. In many ways it was downright scary, but not scary enough for him to back off. No,
he wanted Lacy Green, and like all the Vachon men, he was looking forward to the challenge.

“Do you still want the Bananas Foster?” she asked, though all she could think about were his kisses and his island fantasy.

He turned his head her way. “As much as I’d like to say yes. I should get going.”

Lacy hid her disappointment by gazing back toward the river. “Okay. Maybe next time.”

He reached over and gently turned her chin back so he could see her eyes. “If I stay, I may turn this apartment into that island, and you’re not ready for that. At least not yet.”

She dropped her eyes for a moment. He was right, of course.

When she looked up again, he added softly, “If and when we come together, I want it to be because you want to, not because your inexperience gets the best of you. Does that make sense?”

“Yes.” She reached up and placed her palm against his cheek. “You’re a very special man, Drake Randolph.”

He covered her hand with his, then placed a soft kiss against her palm. “Some men would probably call me stupid, but I think this is the beginning of something real special, and I don’t want to mess it up just because I couldn’t keep my pants zipped.” The seriousness in his eyes mirrored his tone. “You and I will know when the time is right.”

She offered up a little smile.

He said to her then, “My grandmother is having a
birthday party in a few weeks. Would you go with me?”

“Might be a little soon for me to meet your family.”

“It’s not like that. This is just my gran’s party.”

Lacy wondered how long his kisses would echo. “Let me think about it, okay?”

“No problem.”

“Do you still want that bread?”

“Of course.”

They went back inside. She wrapped the bread in a large piece of foil and handed it to him.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He seemed reluctant to leave, and Lacy knew that she didn’t want him to go even if it was the right thing for him to do. “I’ll walk down with you.”

“No. I want my visits kept just between us. Once the news gets out, you won’t have any privacy.” He thought about all the Google clippings of her divorce. “The guard on the gate thinks your building manager, Wanda, is one of my part-time aides, so I give him her name when I drive up.”

“Very clever. Do you do this super-spy stuff often?”

“No. You’re the first lady I’ve ever wanted to protect.”

Lacy saw the truth in his eyes and felt the current that flowed between them surge. “I’m honored.” And she was.

“You might not be once the press sets up in your hallway.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Good.”

He touched her cheek tenderly, then kissed her good-bye. “See you later.”

“Okay.”

She walked with him to the door. They stopped. He looked down into her eyes and whispered, “One more…”

His lips teased themselves against hers and she didn’t protest. She wanted one more too, and it was as sweet and wonderful as the rest. Then he was gone.

A dazed Lacy closed the door and then braced her back against it. She stood there for a moment remembering, pulsing, longing, then slowly melted down the wood to the floor.

In the dimly lit main office of Parker Environmental, City Councilman Reynard Parker was in a panic. According to the fax he’d received an hour ago from his new accountant, he was about to have cash flow problems. It seemed the reason his former accountant Wheeler had refused to go along with the plan to cook the books was because he’d already cooked them! The balance sheet showed a seven figure deficit that would soon start impacting his ability to meet his financial responsibilities to payroll, taxes, and all the ancillary fees that had to be paid out in order to run his business. Were Wheeler not already gull food, he would have killed him with his bare hands.

Parker threw his coffee cup against the wall. The burst of violence helped drain some of his anger. Calmer now, he sat back down at his desk and tried to
figure out what to do first. First he had to cut corners. His trucks would have to start dumping a portion of the loads someplace other than the landfills. He couldn’t afford to send in fully loaded trucks because he was charged by the ton.
Damn Wheeler!
The little accountant had certainly extracted his own revenge. He couldn’t wait to meet the bastard in hell.

Grabbing the phone, Parker called in some of his most trusted drivers. Most of his workforce were former felons. He offered the men who were serious about staying on the right side of the law a steady job that allowed them to pay their bills, be gainfully employed, and give good reports to their parole officers. On the other hand, Parker had enough down low operations going on that the men who wanted to supplement their legitimate paychecks with side hustles were accommodated, too. The hustlers knew that if any of their outside work brought the police to his door, they’d be fired and on their own. Currently working beneath the radar were a group of drivers who sold nonshredded identity items to a bogus credit card ring operating overseas. Others cased homes for B&E specialists, and new cars and trucks for chop shop owners. They did drug drops, transported illegal immigrants, and smuggled stolen art and artifacts for a well-known, Toronto-based art dealer.

None of that mattered right now, though. What did matter was bringing all of his special drivers in for a meeting so they could discuss where and how to dump their loads. With their help, he might be able to stay above water until he could figure a way out of this mess.

By the time Drake got back to the mansion, he was kicking himself for not getting Lacy’s number. He supposed he could use NIA’s databases to find it, but he’d already gone behind her back and checked her out on Google, and he didn’t feel good about intruding on her privacy again. Not to mention she might not take it too well if he called her up out of the blue. If he were a single female living alone, he knew that he’d want to know how he’d gotten the number. And he wouldn’t be able to tell her because he couldn’t tell her. Not about NIA. So he opted for seeing her at work tomorrow and getting it then. On a whim, he checked to see if her name was listed in the phone book, but like most big city single women, she wasn’t.

He decided that maybe not having her number was a good thing, at least for tonight. He had a NIA meeting later, and talking to Lacy might be a distraction. He vividly remembered how much trouble Mykal had, keeping his NIA life and its secrets from his Sarita when they first got married, and how many meetings his brother had missed being “distracted” by Sarita. Drake planned to keep his secret life from Lacy for as long as necessary, because the less she knew, the better it would be for everyone involved. But he wished he’d gotten her number.

Soaking in a tub of vanilla-scented bubbles, Lacy had her cell phone in one hand and the mayor’s business card in the other. He’d written his number on it the day he brought her home from the hospital, and she
was debating whether to call him or not. She had intended to give him her number but had been so dazzled by the evening, she’d forgotten. Now, looking at his terrible handwriting, she couldn’t decide. On one hand, dinner had been fabulous and it would take her years to forget the power of his kiss, but on the other, she didn’t want him to think she was trying to be all over him, because she wasn’t.

In the end she set the card and the phone on the short table beside the tub and sank back into the warmth of the water. She’d give him her number at work tomorrow. Right now she just wanted to replay everything that had happened between them, and smile.

Who knew the touch of a man could make a woman want those touches everywhere? Wilton had never spent much time on kissing or any other kind of foreplay, at least not with her. He’d saved whatever creativity he’d had in the bedroom for his many mistresses. His interactions with her had never lasted more than a few minutes because he’d been so rough and boorish on their wedding night, she came to look upon sex as a marital duty that had to be endured. Add to that his belief that wives weren’t supposed to be enjoying themselves anyway and you had one mixed-up young wife.

And she’d stayed mixed up for a while. After the divorce, the few men she had relationships with found her stiff and wooden in bed. One man in particular said a dead fish was more responsive. As a consequence, Lacy had avoided intimacy, convinced her
aversion to getting busy stemmed from a problem within herself.

A frank discussion with her mother put much of that insecurity to rest. Val’s take on the matter pretty much mirrored Drake’s. She had been hanging around the wrong men, Val said, and assured her that one day she would meet a man who would make her climb mountains for his touch. As always, Mother knew best. Drake seemed to be the
right
man, and Lacy wanted to learn everything Professor Drake had to offer, even if it meant staying after school. She laughed out loud at this new bold side of herself, then went back to the sensual memories that wouldn’t leave her alone.

When Lacy came into work Wednesday morning, the dinner with Drake was still reverberating through her like the faint sensual beat of an African drum. Just the thought of him put a silly smile on her face. Not even the day’s pouring rain or having to use the cane kept her from feeling particularly alive

Passing Janika, Lacy waved and went on into her own office. She was booting up her computer when a smiling and sly-looking Ida slid into her office and closed the door.

“’Morning,” Lacy said cheerily. “What’s up?”

Ida took a seat and replied casually, “That’s what I came to ask you.”

Lacy was confused. “What do you mean?”

“You and His Fineness had dinner last night.”

Lacy didn’t say a word. She was too stunned. Fi
nally, she said, “Uh, no. I heard he was in the building to see Wanda, the manager. She does some kind of secretarial work for him on the side.”

Ida shook her head. “I go to church with Wanda Jean, so what’s your next story?”

Lacy dropped her head to her desk and banged it softly on the edge. When she first moved to Detroit, Ida told her that everyone in Detroit was connected to everyone else in some form or fashion, and now Lacy believed her.
Her business was out in the street already!
She looked at Ida. “Who told you?”

“My cousin Remmie.”

“Oh, shoot.”

Ida’s cousin Remmie lived across the hall from Lacy. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Remmie, Lacy would never have known that the apartment was for rent. “Will she keep my secret?”

Ida laughed. “Remmie? She can’t keep a secret to save her life. Always been that way, always will be that way.”

“Can’t you talk to her?”

“Too late. With all the people she knows through church and her volunteer work, I was surprised your date wasn’t on the front page of the
Free Press
this morning.”