Comfort of a Man (Arabesque) (13 page)

Her laughter burst from her lungs. “Marriage?” She moved away in order to maintain distance. “Been there, done that, not interested in going back.”

“But you’ve never been married to
me
.”

Against her will, his white smile hammered away
at her defenses. She closed her eyes and composed herself. “A relationship with you is impossible. You live in another state for crying out loud.”

“Look. Knowing you, you can hurl excuses for the rest of the night. I’m just asking you to give me a chance—give us a fair chance. Everything else will take care of itself.”

She clamped her jaw tight, not willing or wanting to diffuse her anger.

Meanwhile, Isaiah erased the distance between them with long strides. Before she knew it, he was tilting her chin up so their gazes could meet.

“So what do you say? Are you going to give us a chance?”

She couldn’t help but pout. “Two weeks is a long time.”

He laughed and kissed her. “I think we’ll survive.”

Reluctantly, she smiled. “Speak for yourself.”

“You never answered my question,” he said.

How could she answer him? Where Isaiah was concerned, her mind and body raged an exhausting war every day. How could he believe that sex was the only thing that held them together?

“All right.” She held out her hand to seal the deal. “Two weeks.”

Isaiah shook her hand.

Then with a mischievous smile, she opened her robe and allowed the silk material to slide from her shoulders.
“I guess this means I should change into something more…appropriate.”

His eyes lowered to her scantily clad figure as she walked past him to head for the staircase.

“Lord, have mercy.” He exhaled in a long breath. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

She glanced at him from over her shoulder. “Not on your life.”

T
he next week, August rolled in and Isaiah and Brooklyn were nearly inseparable. Most mornings, after breakfast, he’d pack her a lunch and send her off to work. While she was gone, it left him plenty of time to care for his mother. When Brooklyn returned home, he’d either have prepared dinner or take her out on the town.

However, tonight, he had something special planned.

“Ballroom lessons?” she inquired, and then glanced up at the studio he’d parked next to.

He shrugged and flashed her a smile. “You said it was something you’d always wanted to do.”

“Y-y-yes. But I meant as a little girl. Sort of like when I told you I used to dream of being a princess.”

“Then let’s pretend you’re a little girl.” He unbuckled
his seat belt. “But I have to warn you—I’m no Fred Astaire.”

Brooklyn gushed with excitement as she watched him get out of the car and walk over to the passenger side. “I can’t believe this,” she said, stepping out of the car.

Isaiah slid his arm around her waist and kissed the lobe of her ear as he whispered, “How did I do?”

She laughed. “You did great.” She leaned against him, relishing the warmth he exuded while they walked into the studio.

“Good evening.” A silver-haired Italian woman greeted them at the door. “Are you here for the beginner’s class?”

“That would be us,” he confirmed and extended his hand. “Isaiah Washington, and this is my girlfriend, Brooklyn Douglas.”

Brooklyn smiled. The word
girlfriend
bounced merrily throughout her body as she offered her hand to the smiling woman. “Hello.”

“Hi, my name is Cici Castillo. I will be your instructor this evening. If you two would just follow me I’ll introduce you to the other couples.”

They nodded and obediently followed. Once introduced to the other five couples, they were pleased not to have been the oldest amateurs.

Music filled the studio as Cici took her place before the class. Next to her stood a young male dancer who bore a striking resemblance. She clapped her hands to
gain everyone’s attention. “For this evening, my dance partner will be my eldest son, Carlos.”

Carlos nodded toward the group, and then mother and son faced one another.

“Gentlemen,” Cici spoke again. “Traditional etiquette stipulates that the man asks the woman for the dance.” She smirked as her head turned toward her group. “I know times have changed and it’s perfectly acceptable for women to ask, but since I’m old-fashioned, let’s stick to tradition.”

A small ripple of laughter coursed through the group.

Cici faced her son again. “Men, bow slightly at the waist and simply ask your partner, ‘May I have this dance?’”

Brooklyn’s hand fluttered across her heart as Isaiah bowed before her. She nodded and stepped toward him.

Everyone mimicked the instructor’s stance as they faced their partners.

With one hand resting on the other’s shoulder and their other hand pressed palm-to-palm, Isaiah and Brooklyn watched Cici and Carlos, and then had no trouble gliding in two-four time.

“This isn’t so bad,” Isaiah said, proudly lifting his chin. “I’m a natural.”

“You’re something,” Brooklyn joked, floating in his arms.

“Ladies.” Cici raised her voice above the music. “If
you see an oncoming couple about to collide into you and your partner, simply tap your partner gently on the shoulder.”

Brooklyn smiled.

“Men, when you receive the signal,
don’t
panic. Remain calm and gently guide your partner in the opposite direction.”

While everyone whisked around the floor, Cici and her son approached the various couples and adjusted their arm tension: firm wrist, elbow, and shoulder for sideward, forward, and backward movement. Up-and-down motion should be free from resistance.

The two-step slowly became the waltz and Isaiah and Brooklyn were the stars of the class.

“You lied,” Brooklyn accused him with a broad smile. “You do know how to dance.”

“Trust me, I’m just as surprised as you.” Isaiah’s eyes twinkled, making it impossible for her to discern the truth.

The rest of their time flew by in a whirl and Brooklyn felt like the belle of the ball and Isaiah her Prince Charming.

After class, they picked up Chinese food instead of keeping their reservations at the upscale Sambuca.

When they arrived at Brooklyn’s house, Isaiah reached for a large package from the backseat.

“A present?”

“Maybe.” He leaned over, kissed her on the cheek, and then grabbed their dinner.

She battled with guilt and pleasure.

However, Isaiah refused to appease her curiosity. In fact, he seemed quite content to ignore the silver package while they ate their meal in front of the fireplace.

“So, did you have a good time this evening?” Isaiah asked.

Brooklyn’s gaze darted away from the package and back to his inquisitive stare. “Yes. I had a wonderful time. Are we actually going to finish the six-week course?”

“Absolutely.” He thrust his chin up. “I think I might have missed my calling in life. Don’t you think?”

“As a dancer?”

“Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

Brooklyn laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a pair of tights.”

He frowned. “Ballroom dancers don’t wear tights.”

“Pity.” She shrugged and bit into her sesame chicken.

“Of course, you weren’t too shabby yourself,” he complimented her.

Brooklyn smiled as the memory of their evening played in her mind. “We make a good team.”

“It’s about time you admit it.”

“I was referring to dancing,” she informed him with a sarcastic grin.

“I wasn’t.”

When her eyes met his, her heartbeat quickened. She viewed the wicked glint in his eyes as dangerous. It held
an underlying determination that threatened to steal her heart.

“So what’s in the box?” she asked, wanting to alleviate the building tension between them.

He shrugged as if it was unimportant. “A gift.”

“I figured that much. When do I get to see what’s inside?”

He lifted the last of his rice on his chopsticks. “Soon.”

Brooklyn resisted the urge to throw something at him. She took the last bite of her food, wiped her mouth, and then crossed her arms. “How soon?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How bad do you want to open it?”

She stopped herself from saying she didn’t care, mainly because she feared he’d take it back.

“Well?” he asked, carefully examining her expression.

“Can I see what’s in the box?”

“First, answer my question.”

She gritted her teeth. He’d backed her into a corner. “I’d like to see what’s inside the box.”

Amusement monopolized his features. “How bad?”

“Bad.”

He arched his brows. “Is that all?”

She inched closer and bounced with exaggerated excitement. “Real bad.”

He wiped his hands, moved the empty food cartons
between them, and grabbed the package to set it beside him. “This gift comes with a price.”

Her hands fell to her hips as her gaze narrowed. “What sort of price?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and stroked his chin in thought. “I guess the going rate for gifts is a kiss.”

“A kiss?” Her smile returned. “I can handle that.” With her hands, she crawled the scant space between them.

When their lips were inches apart, Isaiah placed his index finger against her lips. “I have to warn you.”

Brooklyn stopped with her eyebrows furrowed high above her eyes.

Isaiah chuckled, obviously enjoying his little game. “This can’t be an ordinary kiss.” He lowered his hand and looped his strong arm around her waist. “This kiss has to be the mother of all kisses.”

She laughed but could already feel the army of butterflies swarming inside her. “Talk about pressure.”

He shrugged as his smile died away. “Well, if you don’t want it.” His arm fell from her waist.

She quickly grabbed his arm. “I didn’t say that.”

A lazy smirk curved the corners of his mouth while his brows jiggled playfully. “Up for the challenge?”

Brooklyn’s gaze lowered to his full lips. Their humor vanished beneath the room’s sudden sensual intensity. She leaned forward, careful to just brush her lips
lightly over his and place a hand over his quickening heartbeat.

Then, as she expected, Isaiah’s passion took over and his lips nearly devoured hers.

Her arms slid around his neck and she drew him even closer. Intoxicated by his kiss, the erotic caress of his tongue revived her physical ache.

Their lips parted, but their hold on one another tightened.

Isaiah continued to rain smaller kisses along her neck and the gentle slope of her shoulder.

“How did I do?” she managed to ask between large gulps of air.

“Better than your average bear.”

His sexy rumble of laughter filled her ears. She pulled back and settled her weight on her folded knees. “Can I have my gift now?”

“You got it.” He picked up the package and presented it to her. “For you, madam.”

Never a delicate flower when it came to unwrapping gifts, Brooklyn tore into the beautifully wrapped package and stopped abruptly when she recognized the jeweler’s burgundy casing. Her mind raced with possibilities at the box size.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Isaiah inquired, his anxiousness reflected in his voice.

Gently, she opened it and gasped.

Isaiah leaned forward and kissed her. “I hope you like it.”

Brooklyn stared openmouthed at the sparkling tiara, unable to pull her eyes away.

Isaiah took the box from her hand and removed it from the velvet interior. “When you told me about your childhood dream, I had no trouble picturing you with this.” He slid the small crown onto her head, taking the time to make sure it fit properly.

“I don’t believe this,” she said, finally recovering from her shock to bubble with laughter.

He stood and reached a hand out to help her up. “How about some music?” He walked over to his jacket he’d draped over the sofa and extracted a CD case. “Let’s see if we can put what we’ve learned tonight to good use.”

Seconds later, a slow instrumental filled the room and Isaiah approached her with a slight bow. “May I have this dance?”

“Yes, you may,” she answered with a pounding heart. When he took her into his arms, Brooklyn lost herself in his beautiful eyes. She ignored the warnings bells ringing in her head, blocked out her vows of never falling in love again, and just submitted to the magic, which enfolded her whenever she was around Isaiah. Trust this feeling, her heart begged. Trust this man. And God help her, she did just that.

I
saiah and Brooklyn stepped out of the Atlanta Civil Center arm-in-arm after seeing the Broadway tour of
The Lion King.

“I have to admit it was better than I expected,” Isaiah marveled over the production.

Brooklyn’s eyes lit up. “Better than you expected? It was wonderful. I can’t thank you enough for bringing me. How on earth did you get tickets on such short notice?”

Infected by her excitement, Isaiah brightened. “Let’s just say I have connections.”

She leaned into him as she squeezed his arm. “Thank, you, thank you, thank you.”

“You really enjoy the theater, don’t you?”

“Ever since I can remember. Believe it or not, my mother was an actress once.” She laughed softly. “She had visions of being the next Dorothy Dandridge.”

His brows rose in surprise. “What happened?”

Brooklyn shrugged. “She met an athlete, fell in love, and had a little girl.”

“Any regrets?”

“None that she mentioned. She and my father are still going strong and if you’re ever around them, it’s like being around two teenagers.”

“They sound wonderful.”

She nodded. “They are. I’m lucky to have them. It’s been hard trying to get down to see them in Florida since…”

He glanced at her. “Since the divorce?”

“Yeah.”

Smiling, he leaned over and kissed the top of her head. It was important to give her as much support as she needed. It was the only way to conquer the hurdle she kept between them.

They reached his car in the parking lot, two blocks away from the Center and drove to Buckhead, a suburban city of Atlanta.

“So tell me more about your son, Jaleel,” he said, glancing over at her in the passenger seat. “He’s coming home in a couple of weeks, right?”

“Yeah.” She smiled and sighed. “Jaleel is wonderful…when he’s not angry at me.”

“The divorce has been hard on him?”

“Too hard. I’m hoping his time away with his father will help him put things in perspective, but I don’t know. Sometimes it seems like he’s just bound and determined to blame me for everything.”

“How old is he?”

“He’ll be seventeen in September.”

Isaiah laughed and shook his head. “I can’t get over it.”

“What?”

“You just don’t look like you have a seventeen-year-old son.”

“You certainly know the right words to a woman’s heart,” she said.

“That’s good to know.” He pulled into the parking lot of The Prime restaurant and turned toward her in his seat. “Have you ever thought about having more children?” Her head jerked toward him and he met her startled gaze with his cool one. “Have you?”

Her mouth moved, but no sound came.

He laughed as he reached over and squeezed her hand. “Don’t answer that one.” He winked. “I’ll ask it at another time.” He got out of the car and smiled as he walked over to the other side.

Brooklyn accepted his hand after he’d opened her door.

“You purposely asked me that to throw me off, didn’t you?”

“Did I?”

She drew in a breath and then allowed her gaze to fall away.

As they headed toward the restaurant, he slid his arm possessively around her waist. She loved it when he did that and her pleasure only increased when she, too, wrapped her arm around him.

The hostess led them to a secluded table near the back and Brooklyn reveled in the ambience of the dimly lit restaurant.

“So what do you think?” Isaiah asked once they were told the day’s specials and handed their menus.

“This is quite cozy. I like it.”

“Good. So far I’m two for two.”

“Actually, I thought the score was much higher that that.” She smiled at seeing the sparkle in his eyes. She leaned forward. “It’s a shame.”

“What?”

She shrugged with the casual flare of a good actress. “That the night will have to end with a handshake. I’m just dying to express my gratitude for this evening.”

His smile faltered as his gaze lowered to her lips. “A handshake might be a bit too formal, don’t you think?”

She forced herself to frown and pretended to consider his words. “Mmm. I don’t know. We don’t want to do anything that might lead to…other things.”

Isaiah inched to the edge of his seat. “Surely, we can handle a small kiss or peck.”

“Can we?”

He nodded and pulled himself erect. “Not to brag, but I handled myself rather well with that knockout teddy you had on last week.”

“Oh, you should see the one I have on tonight.” She winked.

Isaiah grabbed his glass of water. “You have one on now?”

She nodded. “Red. Your favorite color.”

Their waitress appeared and took their drink orders. When they were alone again, Isaiah flashed her a smile.

“You don’t play fair.”

“Someone told me that all was fair in love and war.”

“Are we in love?”

Her smugness evaporated and she was suddenly trapped by her own words. While his eyes leveled with hers, she knew he deserved an honest answer. “I’m not sure.”

His hand covered hers and he gave it an affectionate squeeze.

The confession was a strange sort of relief, but at the same time, she was petrified. Despite her protests and denials, something was happening to her—to them—and she was ill-equipped to handle it.

The waitress returned with their wine and scurried off to place their dinner orders.

“Tell me more about your job,” she said, desperate to change the subject.

“Okay. What would you like to know?”

“Once upon a time you told me that you were married to it. Is that still true?”

“Not in the past few months.”

“And when you leave here?”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged at his flicker of confusion. “One of the excuses you gave for not being able to commit to your old girlfriend was because you devoted so much time to your career.” She held his gaze. “What makes you so sure that it wouldn’t happen again?”

“I never felt the desire to give up one thing for another.”

“And now?”

“Now I am.”

Her skepticism morphed into shock. “You would give up your career for me?”

“Yes.”

His answer filled Brooklyn with a new wave of anxiety. Of course, she’d never dream of asking him to do such a thing, but for a moment, she grew heady with the power she held over him.

He gave another squeeze to her hand. “Don’t be afraid to love me.”

Her eyes moistened. “I can’t help it.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Then I’m going to do all I can to help you.”

During the course of their dinner, the conversation drifted to lighter subjects and Isaiah delighted himself in listening to her laughter. However, the tension returned after he drove her home and walked her to her door.

Brooklyn retrieved her keys from her purse and looked up as she smiled. “I guess this is good night.”

His brows rose in surprise. “You’re not going to invite me in?”

“Do you think that’s wise?”

“I can handle it if you can.”

“Is that a challenge?”

He simply smiled and shrugged.

“Okay, Mr. Confident. Why don’t you come in for a nightcap?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

She opened the door and he followed her inside.

“I’ll get us some wine,” she said, and headed to the kitchen.

Isaiah watched the gentle sway of her hips as she walked away. “One week to go,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “I must be crazy.” He turned and entered the living room.

A few minutes later, she joined him. “Here we are.” She extended a wineglass and sat next to him on the sofa.

“Let’s make a toast,” he said.

“What should we toast to?”

He held his glass to her. “To us.”

Her beautiful eyes met his serious gaze while a ghost of a smile danced across her lips. “To us.”

They clinked their glasses, and then sipped their wine.

Brooklyn settled against Isaiah and he casually draped his arm around her shoulder. No words were needed, as both were content with their intimate pose.

She could easily get used to this small world they’d created. Who wouldn’t want a man who doted on her every word or wish? What would it truly be like to be Mrs. Isaiah Washington?

He kissed the top of her head. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” she whispered as a warm glow radiated from within.

“Anything good?”

“Always. What were you thinking about?”

“The red teddy you have on.”

She laughed and tilted her chin so she could look at him. “Ah, ah, ah. Seven more days, lover boy.”

He leaned down and kissed her. “Don’t remind me.” He kissed her again; his tongue gently delved into her warm mouth.

She moaned softly, her kiss as hungry as his own.

He turned away and a surge of disappointment nearly paralyzed him.

Brooklyn kissed his cheek and silently took their wineglasses and set them on the coffee table. When she curled against him again, her voice held a note of
amusement. “Doesn’t this remind you of being teenagers and necking on your parents’ couch?”

He laughed softly. “My mother would have killed me.”

She kissed his chin. “Mine, too, but the possibility of getting caught is part of the thrill.” Belatedly, she thought of Jaleel and Theresa and shook her head. “Of course nowadays, teenagers seem to do a little more than just necking.”

“Jaleel?”

She nodded. “Trust me. You don’t want to hear about it.” She dotted kisses along his jaw, and then settled on a sensitive spot just below his earlobe.

Isaiah sucked in his breath and couldn’t believe his toes actually curled. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” she whispered.

He quivered from her warm breath against his neck and at the feel of her hand as it slid beneath his shirt. He cursed at their agreement and raked his fingers through her hair. Tugging her head back, he devoured her mouth like a starved man.

His need for her overwhelmed him and he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten her dress off. All he knew now was how incredibly sexy she looked in that damn teddy. He slid the thin straps from her shoulders; his mouth watered at the sight of her full breasts.

He wanted them—wanted her, but he couldn’t move.

“What is it?” She looked up at him with passion-filled eyes.

He rolled to her side and monopolized the remaining space on the sofa as he sighed. “We have to stop.”

“Why?” Annoyance filled her voice. “I want you and you want me. Why do we have to stop?”

“Because of our agreement.”

His answer infuriated her as she pushed herself up and off the sofa. “Fine. I think it’s time for you to go.” She snatched her dress off the floor and with tremulous hands she jerked the material back on.

“Don’t be angry.” He sat up and reached for her.

She sidestepped his touch. “Who said I was angry?”

He stood. “It’s obvious.”

“And it’s obvious to me that you’re playing games,” she snapped back.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he thundered.

“I’m not a toy. You can’t just get me all worked up and then shut down.”

Isaiah’s stare turned incredulous. “I didn’t mean…we agreed—”

“Spare me the speech about us developing a relationship,” she said, refusing to let go of her anger and humiliation. “I never said I wanted a relationship out of this. In fact, I made that clear in New York.”

“So what we had this summer meant nothing to you?” He snatched his shirt that had somehow been flung onto the coffee table.

“Of course it did. It meant sex—great sex if you want to stoke your ego.”

“Now, who’s treating whom like a toy?” he asked in a flat tone while he struggled to hide his bruised pride. He turned with a desperate need to get away before their words became ugly.

Brooklyn’s hands dropped to her sides as she watched him storm away. She wouldn’t and couldn’t say the apology perched on the tip of her tongue. She also refused to follow him to the door. Yet she jumped at the force of which he slammed it.

At that same instant, her heart leaped into her throat and her vision blurred. She allowed one sniffle and then wiped her eyes clear with the backs of her hands. “I will not cry over another man,” she declared adamantly and lifted her chin with a false bravado.

She retrieved the wineglasses and turned out the lights in the living room and then the kitchen. By the time she’d locked up the house and slid into bed, her tears had returned and she was miserable.

“Damn him,” Brooklyn moaned into her pillow. Her ache for him wasn’t merely physical, but it was mental and spiritual as well. She closed her eyes as tears slid from their corners.

“I don’t love him, I don’t love him,” she chanted in desperation, but her words lacked conviction. This revelation caused her tears to quicken and her sobs to fill her bedroom.

She cried until there were no more tears and she was left to stare at a sliver of moonlight that filtered through
her window. Soon, her heartbeat slowed and her jumbled thoughts became easier to comprehend.

When had it happened? How did she get blind-sided?

Brooklyn sat up in bed and hugged the pillow. “I’m such a fool,” she whispered. “I wasn’t supposed to fall in love.”

Isaiah had ignored her protests and with small gestures destroyed the well-constructed wall she’d built around her heart.

Whenever he spent the night, she’d awaken to breakfast in bed. Notes of endearments were taped in odd places throughout the house. Twice, he’d showed up at her office and treated her to a picnic lunch in the park. She also loved the time she’d come home to discover a blanket of rose petals that led from the front door to her bedroom where a naked Isaiah lay sprawled across the bed.

Despite her solemn mood, a smile curved her lips. She even loved the time shared during pillow talks. In their short time together, she’d told him everything about her marriage, her friends, life before Evan, and even her childhood fantasies.

Brooklyn laughed as she remembered the tiara he’d purchased and the night he’d dubbed her Princess Brooklyn. Again, what was there not to love?

Isaiah sat in his mother’s living room cloaked in darkness and replayed the night’s events in his head. His anger had long left him and he was thinking of
ways to salvage what had happened. He still wanted Brooklyn and he was convinced now more than ever that she wanted him, too.