Love's Courage (4 page)

“A lady, maybe?”

“Whoa,” she says, shaking her head incredulously. “Yes, a lady.”

“Then why don't you let us buy you and your friend dinner?”

“I'm not sure about that; this was supposed to be a girls' night out.”

“Richard, let her go,” Kenneth says, sounding irritated. “She's obviously not interested, and no gentleman forces his company on a lady.”

Joy notices Kenneth for the first time and immediately likes what she sees. She extends her hand and purrs, “Joy Phefu.”

“Kenneth Tumaole.”

“Nice to meet you, Kenneth. My friend will be joining me soon. Maybe I'll take a seat and have a drink with you while I wait?”

“Sure, please do,” says Richard, looking pleased. “One can always use the company of a beautiful woman.”

Joy laughs and Kenneth sits back to watch the sabre-sharp flirtation, wondering why these two can't see that they are perfect for each other. He doesn't really pay attention to their conversation but sips his drink, nodding politely every now and again. As he glances around at the patrons in the restaurant, he sees Lesego enter, dressed in a summery halterneck chiffon dress in bright yellow that shows off her curves to perfection. Her hair is pulled away from her face, with a few tendrils to frame it, and her gorgeous eyes are luminous.

Lesego looks around the place without seeing him. She takes out her phone and then Joy's phone rings.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Joy says, answering her phone and leaving Kenneth and Richard to listen to a one-sided conversation. “Yes, I'm here . . . Oh, there you are. Remember Richard? I've just bumped into him . . . No-no-no, I'm not doing it again . . .”

Joy gives the men a fake little smile. “Just come over and say hello to him, then we can go and find our own table. I'm over here.” She lifts her hand and waves daintily at Lesego.

Kenneth chokes on his drink and Richard gives him two slaps on the back to help him out. Kenneth gets up to flee just as Lesego arrives at their table. They both freeze and stare at each other; she shocked to see him here on her night out to get over what almost was, he amazed at the cruelty of fate.

“Lesego,” Kenneth says huskily.

“Kenneth,” Lesego says breathlessly.

Richard and Joy look from the one to the other.

“Oh . . . You guys know each other?”

“Yes,” Lesego says, “we met in a bookshop.”

“Oh . . . You're the . . . uhm . . . I mean, that's . . . uhm . . . interestingly weird and . . . wonderful,” Joy stammers. “Sssssooo . . . You remember Richard, Lesego?” Joy asks awkwardly, indicating him.

Lesego nods while gaping at Kenneth.

Joy and Richard look puzzled, but Lesego and Kenneth stare at each other blankly, doing their utmost not to show what they are thinking.

Lesego clutches her handbag tightly, wondering what to do. Is it too late to act cool or play things down? To make it all seem insignificant? She looks at Richard and Joy, and sees that it is too late. Damn!

Kenneth stands as if chained to the spot, without an inkling of what to do or say. The way Richard and Joy are staring makes him realise that he and Lesego are making a scene, even though they aren't saying anything. He clears his throat and then points to the empty chair at the table. “Would you like to take a seat and join us for a drink?” he asks courteously.

“Will that be okay?” Lesego asks, genuinely concerned. “I don't want you to have a vested interest or anything,” she says rather sharply, looking hurt and disappointed.

Kenneth frowns at her tone and becomes annoyed. “That was work, Lesego; what did you expect me to do? It was either that or leave the project to people who neither believe in it nor realise its importance. What would you rather I'd done? Prostrate myself and declare my undying love?”

Lesego gasps and then says, “No, but just an acknowledgement that you knew me would've been something.”

“So what exactly was I supposed to have said in the boardroom? ‘Guys, I know this woman, we've been SMSing each other, and we've just shared the most soul-shaking kiss I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing?' ” Kenneth sounds annoyed.

Joy gasps and looks at Lesego. Lesego's heart drops into her stomach with anguish, and she feels her throat constrict with deep sadness at what she has lost . . . Richard grins, realising that this is the woman his friend has told him about. He gives Kenneth an admiring nod. She isn't bad, not bad at all.

“No, I just . . . Never mind, you wouldn't understand.” Lesego realises that she is close to tears, and that horrifies her. She shakes her head to clear the confusion, swallows the pain in her throat, gives a polite smile, looks at Richard and Joy, realises to what conclusions they have come and then flushes a deep red. After a small apologetic nod, she turns to Joy, “Can we go to our own table now, please?”

As Joy gets up, Lesego says to Kenneth, “I'm sorry for having been irrational. Of course you did what you had to, as must I. Gentlemen, please excuse us.” She turns on her heels and walks to the front to get a table.

Joy shrugs apologetically at Richard, gives Kenneth a sympathetic smile and rushes off after her friend.

“I need a stiff drink,” Kenneth says, running his hand over his face. “And a big bloody steak. Actually . . . make that a few stiff drinks.”

Lesego and Joy are standing at the front desk. The maître d' keeps pointing towards a table right next to Richard and Kenneth, and Lesego keeps shaking her head.

Eventually Joy exclaims, “For heaven's sake, are you two adults or teenagers? Can't you just be civil? So what if our tables are next to each other?”

“Fine,” says Lesego, “but I don't want to have to look at him.”

“Okay, okay!” Joy says in exasperation.

The waiter leads the way to their table. Lesego makes sure that she sits facing away from Kenneth.

His eyes trail down her neck, to her graceful shoulders, to the back of the dress that is cut low above her ample bottom . . . He swallows and shifts uncomfortably. Richard moves his chair so he can look at Joy, and they flirt with each other throughout their meal.

Lesego can feel Kenneth's gaze trail her back and wishes she could change chairs. She is overly bright, laughs too loudly and tries to be cheerful until an annoyed Joy says, “I'm your friend; you don't have to pretend to be having a good time. You can just be quiet and let me do the talking . . . How many drinks have you had?”

“This is only my second. I'm not drunk.”

“Well,” Joy says, “it will have to be your last. I told you I should pick you up but oh noooo . . .” She sighs, then drops her voice and asks, “So, what happened with you two anyway?”

Lesego tells her the entire tale, in graphic detail as girlfriends do. Joy oohs and aahs throughout, and at the end she is completely stunned.

“Wow, I'm so sorry, girlfriend. I think he was actually just being considerate towards you, and he seems to believe in this project. How many men you know would behave that ethically? Sounds like he's a keeper; sorry it didn't work out. But you know, in this current climate it would be very bad for you and him if you carried on.”

“I know that, Joy. I'm not stupid. It just feels like I'm giving up something wonderful and life-changing. I've already given up so many things. I didn't think this would have to be one of them, that's all. I'm just deeply disappointed.” Lesego's eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Anyway, I guess I'm being foolish. After all, I've only known the guy for three days. God, I am pathetic! Can we please go?”

“Sure, let's ask for the bill.” Joy beckons the waiter and then says, “Listen, I'm just going to have a quick word with Richard before we leave.”

“Hhayi, Joy, you said you wouldn't.”

“I know, but he's hot and I still like him, so I'm going to go for it.” Then she walks over to Richard's table, picks up his phone, types her number in and says, “Call me.”

“You bet,” Richard answers with a broad grin, watching her swagger back to Lesego.

The girls pay their bill, wave goodbye at both men and leave.

* * *

Later that night Lesego tosses and turns, thinking about her humiliation in the restaurant and wishing she had been more in control and had taken more time to consider her words before speaking. Now the whole world knows how she feels, and that she is a woman scorned.

It feels like forever before she eventually falls asleep.

4

Lesego sits at her desk, typing away furiously. She is finishing off the last changes made to the script in order to accommodate the injured soap star. She attaches the document, presses Send and releases a tense breath, trying to relax.

She looks around the office and realises it is almost time to go home; only the most committed are still around. She logs on to her private email to see what her girlfriends have been up to and sees a message from the Sefalana group. She opens it and gasps – they've awarded her the funding! She reads the rest of the email, then calls her father excitedly.

“Papa, we got it! We got the money for the project.”

“I knew it! I knew you could do it. Well done, my girl!” her father says. “So, what's the next step?”

“Well, they say I have to go there so we can look at the financial structuring of the project. Do you think my three years of BCom will serve me well enough?”

“Yes, of course. I know you don't really enjoy that kind of thing, but you have a good basic understanding. We can worry about a proper accountant once the project is off the ground. This is wonderful! Let me go and tell your mother.”

“Okay, say hi for me. Bye.”

They ring off.

* * *

Kenneth is sitting in his boss's office, confiding in him.

“Patrick, I really, truly believe in this project, but my involvement, especially considering how I feel about this woman, places the reputation of this organisation, as well as my name and hers, in jeopardy,” he says sincerely. “So just take me off the project.”

“Listen, Kenneth, I understand your position. But you're the best man for the job, and the only one available at this point. When you initially agreed to run it, we assigned all the other fund managers to other cases.”

“But don't you think it will look bad if this gets out?”

“Of course. But even if we excluded your vote or appointed another fund manager, she would still have been awarded the project because there was a quorum that agreed on her receiving the funding. So I don't think that you unduly influenced the decision.”

“Okay . . .”

“When are you meeting her?” Patrick asks.

“Next week Tuesday.”

“You're one of those lucky people who do this work because you care and want to make a difference, not because you have to. There are other ways to make a difference, and there could come a time when you have to give this up to follow your heart. Don't be afraid to do what you need to by doing what you must. Okay?”

Kenneth frowns and then nods.

“Good luck. The contract has already been issued, and once we agree on the financials, it will be a done deal,” Patrick ends off the conversation. He gives Kenneth a sympathetic look and then waves his hand in dismissal; he has other work to do.

* * *

Kenneth makes his way across Johannesburg to Melville, to Lesego's address; he realises that she is one of those small business owners who work from home.

He is let into the garage. Its back door opens onto a small garden, and Kenneth is led to the front door by Lesego, who is wearing white linen drawstring pants and an airy cotton shirt. He catches a glimpse of her lacy white bra under the shirt, shakes his head and says to himself: You're here for work – work! Focus, man!

“So, how are you?” she asks politely.

“I'm fine; very little to complain about. Are you off work?” he asks, equally polite.

“Yes, I took the week off to concentrate on this and get my ducks in a row. As soon as everything is set up, I'll resign so that I can focus all my attention on this project.”

Lesego takes a shaky breath and releases it. “I've set up a work station in the cottage at the back. Shall we go through to my office?” They walk out of the kitchen door and into a lush green garden that could seem unkempt but rather has a feeling of organised, natural chaos.

Kenneth looks around at the well-used chaise longue next to a folded beach umbrella and a stone side table. Hanging between a massive tree and the wall is a hammock, and he wonders which she prefers.

They stroll into an open space in the cottage with its yellowwood flooring. Airy lace curtains line the windows, giving the place a country cottage feel; to the right there is a kitchenette with a coffee machine and a tray with muffins next to it. Facing the French doors they have walked through is a long wooden trestle table of deep red mahogany with a PC and telephone, and on a side table a printer/fax machine. A tight little one-man show, an impressed Kenneth decides.

“This is a nice space; perfect for doing all your creative work,” he says.

“Yes, it is. Many ideas have been born here, but unfortunately most died, except for this one. But now destiny's been on my side for once,” Lesego says, giving a bright but polite smile.

He can see that she wants to get right down to business and asks, “Can I grab a cup of coffee, then we get started?”

“Help yourself . . . I'll just switch this on so long. Oh, do help yourself to some muffins.”

Kenneth gets a cup of coffee and a savoury muffin, then crosses over to the trestle table. He sees the power point off to her right, takes out his power cable and walks over to her. As he passes behind Lesego, her breath catches . . . She gets a whiff of his spicy, musky man's smell and wonders what cologne he wears. Her mind shoots her right back to that torrid kiss at the Sefalana offices.

Lesego swallows and reminds herself that they have work to do. She lifts and turns her head; Kenneth's face is very close and her eyes travel to his well-formed, luscious lips. Her mind reaches for something to save her and stumbles upon the humiliating conversation at dinner the week before, and she is relieved. That is just the splash of cold water she needs to help her focus.

Kenneth settles down and turns slightly to face her. “You have your financials open?”

She nods.

“Okay. The costing you've done here isn't bad at all. I think you've done a pretty good job of trying to match your projected expenditure to your projected income. But the formulas you've used aren't always consistent, which leads to underspending in some areas and overspending in others – like in this block here, you see?”

He turns to look at her. There is a tense moment, as if they are both wondering how the other will react and whether they are strong enough to deal with this attraction and overcome it for the sake of professionalism and personal dignity. She nods her head at him. Both breathe a sigh of relief; it's good to know that you can be professional even under quite trying circumstances. They give each other a smile; they have overcome this hurdle with their dignity intact.

The two work together late into the morning. Sometimes Lesego struggles to follow what Kenneth is talking about, but she impresses him by catching on very quickly. Although her knowledge is quite rusty, she is glad that she isn't coming across like a complete idiot; at least she will be able to manage the finances in the beginning. The setting up of any business venture is always tricky, and you need a basic understanding of the way things work, otherwise you can easily be ripped off. Kenneth gives her a basic understanding of what Sefalana requires, how to structure her budgets and how to compile a financial report to them.

At around one she calls for a reprieve. “My brain can only handle so much. It feels like I've been through a five-hour exam; I'm fried . . . I need a break,” she moans.

He looks at her and can see her exhaustion.

“This is about all there is to know. We'll need you to reorganise your financing in this way, and then resubmit it to me. After that we can assess, approve and move the process forward. How long do you think it will take you?” Kenneth asks, all businesslike.

“Well, I can't seem to stop trying to reorganise and implement. I live, eat and breathe this project; I've never felt this revitalised. I know how much of a difference it's going to make to all those struggling villagers back home; to my parents, to me, to hundreds of thousands of Batswana across South Africa. That thought keeps me going. Have you ever felt like that?”

Lesego's entire being seems to light up when she talks about the project. Kenneth realises that she is even more beautiful than he remembered. He looks into her face and wonders what else puts that glow on her face; then he remembers the cheeky grin she gave him after they kissed, feels himself swell with desire at the recalled memory, and takes a shaky breath to calm his nerves. She looks at him with that bright, glowing, excited smile; as she catches the look in his eyes, hers also glaze over and she flushes with desire. The moment becomes heated.

She ducks her head and pretends to be tidying up the table. “I think I could be done by the end of the week. But to be safe, let's say I can give it to you on Monday . . . The proposal, I mean. What else could I mean? What else could there be to mean? You know what I mean, right?” she says nervously.

He finds her nervousness too cute for words, and then the moment passes.

“Monday is fine; it's sooner than I'd have thought,” he says, shutting down his computer. “Remember, if you need me, I'm available; email or call me. This project is an important one and I want to see it succeed.”

Kenneth gets up and comes around to get his cable but quickly changes his mind when he realises how close he would have to come to her. “Uhm . . . Could you hand me my cable?” he asks.

“Sure,” she says, unplugging the cable and swivelling in her chair. She hands it over, but because both are hesitant to touch each other, the cable slips through their hands and falls on the floor. Lesego bends over to pick it up. Her top opens slightly and exposes caramel-coloured, firm, well-rounded breasts clad in intricate white lace. Kenneth's manhood springs to attention at the unintended display and when she straightens up and sees his crotch, she flushes red. He thinks it's with embarrassment, but then she licks her lips and looks up at him, desire burning hot in her eyes.

She silently extends the cable and he reaches out for it. This time their hands do touch, and linger . . . He gently takes her hand and pulls her up. As she stands up, her entire front rubs against his. The delicious friction causes both of them to shiver with desire. Their eyes are locked on each other's, and then in perfect sync they travel down to each other's lips.

At this moment they both know that they have lost the battle. She rises on her toes and he bends at the knees . . . They are drawn to touch lips, to explore each other's mouths once again and drink from each other's nectar-sweet lips . . . to taste . . . to linger and seek out what they discovered once before in each other's arms – a sense of belonging, a sense of home, a sense of completion.

The initial touching of lips sends a shock through both their systems. Although Kenneth's masculine hunger demands that he dive right in to conquer and devour, he wants to savour this forbidden treasure. He knows he may never grant himself another opportunity to indulge in such delicacy as is to be found in Lesego Khumoetsile.

He sips on her lips, causing her to quiver with desire; he licks and sucks and rubs his lips on hers, melding tastes and essence . . . Even though he can sense her actively waiting, he only sneaks a gentle taste inside the nectar goodness of her mouth, which makes him moan soulfully with satisfaction.

That moan travels all the way down Lesego's throat, to the tips of her now deeply sensitised nipples, straight to the centre of her being. She finds herself moulding her body closer to his but not able to get close enough. She opens her mouth, trying to get him to take what she offers, but he continues to savour her, licking and tasting her as if she is his favourite dessert, moaning into her mouth with such palpable desire that she begins to tremble. She has never been kissed like this before . . . This is so different, so filled with emotion.

Lesego tries to hold back and maintain a semblance of control. But then Kenneth lifts her up and wraps her legs around his waist. The perfect symphony of his masculine strength robs her of her will. She gives a low groan and feels desire rob her of strength . . . She wraps her legs tighter around him and winds her arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer so that she may taste him. She sneaks out her tongue to delve into his mouth and then experiences a taste akin to dark, luxurious Swiss chocolate.

The sensation of her tongue in his mouth causes Kenneth's hips to thrust forward, to rub achingly against her heated centre. They both moan and the floodgates open . . . He turns around and urgently marches them to the wall, presses her back against it and spread-eagles her so that he can come in closer contact with her from head to crotch.

They devour each other . . . Not able to get close enough, not able to get enough of a taste, not able to do what they really want – delve into each other's beings and truly experience the closeness they both crave so much. His hand slides into her shirt and at the touch of her lace-clad breast, he feels himself spring to even harder attention, rubbing even more tightly against her.

She gasps and begins to whimper with desire, moving her hips to rub harder against him, making herself ache even more. She rips her mouth free and her lips travel to his neck and suck. She takes the lobe of his ear into her mouth and gently bites down, then sucks, blows and tickles, creating a frenzy of desire in him . . . He pulls her closer to him, mashing her even more against the wall . . . She rips open his shirt to see and explore more when a phone rings . . .

It takes a while to break through their haze of desire, and a few more moments for them to break free . . . It's Lesego's phone.

She sighs, looks at him and says, “Sorry, but I have to see who it is.”

He reluctantly lets her slide down his front, making both of them shudder with pent-up desire. She walks over to the desk, checks the phone screen and smiles apologetically at him.

“Hello, Papa,” she says as she walks out to the garden.