If I Were Your Woman (8 page)

B
arbara felt like a teen on prom night. Wil would be there any minute and she was a nervous wreck. Although she and Wil had been spending all of their free time together and had even gone on a weekend getaway, this would be the first time she had Wil's son, Chauncey, at her home. She wanted to make a good impression on him.

It was still hard to believe that Wil had a teenage son, a son who should have been theirs. How different would their lives have been had she told him about the baby, had she not subsequently lost it? Would they have made it as a couple? And the sad irony was she thought she was helping him by not telling him. He had an athletic scholarship. He was destined for the NFL. But fate had a zinger in store for both of them.

Funny how things turn out, she thought as she fluffed the pillows on the couch. He wound up with someone else and so did she, and after so many years had passed they'd found each other again. You couldn't make up for the past, but you could certainly make plans for the future. They'd been given a second chance to get it right, and she didn't intend to miss a beat.

She was heading for the kitchen to check on the pot roast when the downstairs doorbell rang. Her heart rushed to her throat. She took a deep breath and went to the intercom.

“Yes?”

“It's Wil and Chauncey.”

She pressed the buzzer, then dashed to the mirror in the foyer to check her hair and makeup. It would be the first time that Wil had seen her since she'd cut her hair. She hoped he liked it.

She hurried to her front door and pulled it open, just as they'd stepped off the elevator. “Come on in. Chauncey, it's good to see you. I'm glad you came.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” He walked behind his father into the apartment and looked around. “Nice place.”

“Thanks. Let me take your coats.”

“I'll do it, Barb.” He took his and Chauncey's coats and hung them in the hall closet. “Something sure smells good.”

“We're having pot roast. I hope you like it. I should have asked.”

“Pot roast is fine. We eat everything,” Wil said, laughing.

Chauncey was in the living room.

“Thanks for doing this,” Wil said quietly. “And by the way, you look incredible.” He kissed her lightly on the lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I was hoping you liked it.” She nervously patted her head.

“Very much.”

They walked into the living room hand in hand. Chauncey was checking out her music collection.

“You like Prince?” he asked with raised brows and wide eyes.

Barbara grinned. “Absolutely. Doesn't everyone?”

“You have some really good stuff here. You even have 45s. Wow.”

“Well before your time. The Dells, The Moments, The Delfonics, The Stylistics, Main Ingredient, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, and of course Marvin Gaye, Martha Reeves, and the Vandellas, The Supremes. They're all there. I even have Mary J, Jill Scott, India Arie, John Legend, Luther. I've always enjoyed music, so I try to keep up. I still can't handle rap, though.” She made a face.

“Yeah, my dad can't handle it either.”

“Maybe I wouldn't mind so much if most of it wasn't so violent or just plain ridiculous. And the videos…” He shook his head sadly. “Damned shame.”

“Don't get him started,” Chauncey said, “we'll never eat.”

“Speaking of which, are you guys hungry?”

“Always,” Chauncey said.

Barbara ushered them into the dining room while she got the pot roast and put it on a serving platter.

“Need some help?”

She looked over her shoulder to see Wil coming up behind her. “Not the kind of help you want to give,” she teased as he kissed her on the back of the neck. His palms curved around her waist as he subtly moved his hips.

“I heard the flame went out on the stove and somebody needed to turn it on.” He tugged at her earlobe with the tip of his teeth.

She swatted him on the thigh. “Wil, you need to stop,” she said in a rough whisper filled with laughter. “What if Chauncey sees you?” She felt his growing arousal bump up against her behind, and her heart beat a little faster.

“Then he'll know his old man ain't so old and is still getting it.”

“Wil Hutchinson, I can't concentrate on what I'm doing with you rubbing up against me like that.”

“Oh, really? I'm sorry,” he said and rubbed up against her some more. “Hmm, that feels good. Let's forget dinner, get rid of the kid, and run to the back room.”

Barbara burst out laughing. “You have lost your natural mind. Now move out of my way while I have this knife in my hand.”

Wil reluctantly backed up, the bulge visible in his pants. Barbara's eyes zoomed in. She pointed at it with the knife. “Better do something about that,” she mouthed before heading off into the dining room with the platter of food. “And bring in the casserole dish of rice and the one with the string beans,” she called out from the doorway.
That ought to keep him busy for a minute and off my behind,
she thought with amusement. Humph, she might be fifty but she still had it. Having her brief but torrid love affair with Michael, a man young enough to be her son, was proof in the pudding. She'd almost married him, dazzled by the attention, his youth, that eye-popping diamond ring, and his celebrity status on the NBA. Many a night she'd have to pinch herself to make sure it was all real. And now Wil was in her life, confirming the adage that what you may lack in energy you sure make up for with experience. Wil made love to her as if they had the rest of their lives to get from point A to point B, and he intended to use every minute. Slow and steady, like the mighty Mississippi. Wil's loving didn't start in the bedroom. He seduced her with a look in the middle of the street, an impromptu massage while they waited for the light to change, talking to her for hours and listening just as long. Wil's loving was as much the act itself as it was getting there. Lord, that man knew how to love up a woman.

“Need some help with that?”

Barbara blinked, then realized she'd been staring into space, thinking all manner of naughty thoughts. Her face heated when she looked at Chauncey and swore he could read her mind. “Oh no. Thanks. Maybe you could help your dad bring the things in from the kitchen.”

“Sure.”

She exhaled and shook her head.
Hold it together, girl.

As per her usual dinner guest routine, everything was placed on the mahogany sideboard for folks to take what they wanted.

“Help yourself to as much as you want,” she said once Wil and Chauncey joined her. “There's plenty.”

They sat at her grandmother's table with their plates piled high.

“Wil, would you say the blessing please?”

They bowed their heads while Wil blessed the food and the cook.

“Amen,” they said in unison.

Chauncey dug right in. In between bites he asked, “How did you and my dad meet?”

Barbara smiled at the memory. “We met in high school, through a friend.” She stole a look at Wil. “Your dad was much older than me.” She emphasized the “much” with a glimmer in her eyes. “Then he went away to college.” She hesitated, not sure how much more to say.

“We stayed in touch by phone and letter for a while,” Wil said, seeing Barbara's uneasiness. “But with school and distance, we drifted apart.” He looked at her and saw gratitude in her eyes for not sharing that very painful time.

“Then you guys have me to thank for getting you back together. If I hadn't dragged Dad to the spa kickin' and screamin' you may never have seen each other again.” He took a big forkful of pot roast and chewed triumphantly.

“He's right,” Barbara said. “And to think that we've been living right here in the same city all these years and never ran into each other.” She shook her head in wonder.

“Well, we're together now,” Wil said.

“So, Chauncey, your dad says you work at the Schomberg.”

Chauncey talked about his part-time job and his long-term goal of becoming an engineer when he went to college in the fall.

They chatted amicably throughout dinner, with Wil sharing stories of Chauncey's growing up and his take on his latest girlfriend, Missy.

Chauncey looked woefully embarrassed, but took it all in stride. They were just finishing up and Barbara was about to announce dessert when there was a knock on her front door. She frowned.

“Excuse me. Must be one of my neighbors.” She couldn't imagine it was anyone else since she didn't hear the intercom buzz. She got up and went to the door. The last person she expected to see stood in front of her.

“Hey, Barb.”

“Michael…what are you doing here?” Her stomach did several flips, then leaped to her chest as she looked up into his handsome face. He looked like a model for a men's fashion magazine, his two-button shark-gray suit, the open-collar white shirt, and the familiar heavenly scent that floated around him all lent themselves to his star power. There was no way to ignore a man looking as good as he did.

“I know I should have called. But I'm only in town for a couple of days. I wanted to see you and didn't want to take the chance that you would say no.” His light brown eyes rolled slowly over her. “You look incredible.”

She tried to swallow over the dry knot in her throat and nearly choked. “Uh, thanks. I'm—”

“May I come in?”

Jeez, her thoughts had come to a grinding halt. She couldn't get past the fact that Wil, her current man, was sitting at her dining room table and Michael, her ex-fiancé, was standing at her door. What was a girl to do?

“Babe, everything okay?”

Oh, damn.
She turned to see Wil moving toward her, his gaze zeroed in curiously on Michael. Then recognition kicked in.

“Umm, yes. This is Michael Townsend. Michael, Wil Hutchinson.”

Michael stuck out his hand. Wil stood taller and sucked in his stomach before shaking Michael's hand.

“Michael was in town and stopped by to say hello.”

“You missed dinner, but we were getting ready for dessert. Why don't you join us?” Wil asked, with the authority of the man of the house.

“Thanks. I've missed Barbara's cooking,” Michael replied, not to be outdone.

Barbara turned toward the dining room and rolled her eyes to the top of her head.
This only happens in the movies,
she thought.

When Michael entered the room, Chauncey's mouth dropped open. He jumped up from his seat. “Michael Townsend, the Miami Heat!”

Michael grinned. He walked over to Chauncey and extended his hand. “You got me on that one. And you are?”

“A fan, I mean Chauncey. Chauncey Hutchinson.” He vigorously shook his hand. “Do you know Shaq?”

“Yeah, pretty well.” He chuckled.

“Wow,” he said in awe. “I watched you the other night against Detroit. Creamed 'em! And that shot you made at the buzzer. Man!”

“We had a good night.” He slid his hands into his pockets. You're pretty tall. What, six-three? Do you play?”

“Yeah, on my high school team and some pickup games in the park.”

“You got game?”

Chauncey stuck out his chest. “I ain't bad.”

Michael clapped him on the back. “Good for you. Maybe I can see you play sometime, give you some tips.” He kept his hand on his shoulder.

Chauncey's eyes widened with astonishment. “Get out. The guys will flip. They'll never believe I actually met you.” He turned to his father. “Dad, you hear that? Michael said he'd come see me play.”

“That's nice, son. But I'm sure
Mr.
Townsend is pretty busy.”

Michael looked directly at Wil. “I get to New York quite often.” He turned his attention to Chauncey. “Next time you're playing let me know.” He pulled a business card out of his jacket pocket and handed it to him. “If I'm in town I'll be sure to stop by.”

“Wow.” He stared at the card as if it held the secret to eternal life.

“I'll bring out dessert,” Barbara announced, snapping the rope of tension that was tightening between Wil and Michael.

“Since I busted in on you guys, let me help you at least.” He started after Barbara before Wil had a chance to react.

“So that's who replaced me?” he asked once they were in the kitchen.

“He didn't replace you. Not the way that you're thinking.” She kept her back to him as she put the peach cobbler on a platter.

“Were you seeing him while we were together?”

She spun toward him, a resolute expression on her face. “No,” she lied through her teeth. One thing a woman never did was confess an indiscretion to another man, even if the relationship was over. That afternoon of spontaneous combustion between her and Wil in the massage room would stay between them. She moved past him to go into the dining room. “Bring some plates,” she instructed. “And don't ever come here again without calling first.” She walked out.