Redemption (Iris Series) (4 page)

“Yeah, but then how would he be able to fuck all those younger women?” Emily deadpanned.

“Maybe we should ask her to join us for the self-defense class.  That might make her feel better,” Janie interjected.

“That’s a good idea.  Can you ask her when you get home?” Ryann asked.

“Yup,” Janie agreed.

They talked for a little while longer, then the girls headed out around eight o’clock.

“I’m gonna head up and say hi to Jonathan real quick,” Emily said.  “I’ll see you guys next week.”

Hugs were shared all around.

“Tell him I said hi,” Ryann said.

“Okie dokes.  Later guys,” and with that, Emily was gone.

Ryann and Janie headed for the door, as well.  Janie said her goodbyes then waited in the hall for Ryann.

Ryann reached out her hand.  “You doing okay?”

“You mean without sex?” Ayanna asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ryann smiled softly.  “This is a big deal for you, Yan.  I imagine you’re learning a whole lot about yourself.”

Ayanna snorted.  “That’s putting it mildly.  At least I have B.O.B. to keep me company,” she muttered, referring to her vibrator.  “Which reminds me, I need to get me some more batteries.”

Ryann laughed and hugged her.  “No appearance from Jonathan yet, I assume.”

Ayanna snorted again.

Ryann sighed.  “He’s a good guy.  He’ll apologize eventually.  They’re just such friggin’ idiots sometimes.”

“Whatever.  I’m not waiting around for it, or anything,” Ayanna said, sounding a little pouty.

Ryann looked at her and started to say something, then changed her expression.  “Well, love ya.  I’m sure we’ll talk before next Monday, but I’ll see you then.”

“Love you, too.”  They hugged and Ryann left.

Ayanna was finally alone.  She looked at the box of pizzas longingly, but closed it up and put it away in the fridge, continuing to unpack.

……

After putting on a mix of her favorite songs, she hung one of her saris up as a separator from her kitchen to the living room.  She had a whole collection of the deeply vibrant authentic Indian fabrics in beautiful jewel tones, embroidered with gorgeous metallic threads and beading.  She loved to drape them around and they looked great against the deep wine color on the living room walls that Ryann had painted only weeks before. 

The collection of silks,
organzas, and satins always made her feel close to her heritage, and the place was finally beginning to feel like home.    

She had just finished hanging the one by the kitchen when there was knock on her front door. 

She paused and looked slowly toward the entrance of the apartment.  Her heart rate began to pick up. 

This time she knew it wasn’t one of the girls.

This time she knew it would be the person she had been wanting, but dreading, to see.

She made her way to the door.

She looked through the peephole and sighed.  Stepping back, she took a steadying breath and opened the door.

There before her stood her nemesis.  The man who was her worst nightmare, and her best wet dream. 

She wished to hell he didn’t look so good.  A pair of worn jeans and a tight gray t-shirt showed off his cut arms and chest to perfection.  His short dirty blonde hair was sticking up as if he’d been running his fingers through it, and his smart glasses were highlighting his baby blues.

Yup.  Ryan Gosling
had nothing on him.  Johnny Be Good looked, well, good.  Delicious, actually.

Dammit.

She, however, looked like she had just rolled around in a dustbin after all of the unpacking she had done.  Leggings and white t-shirt, hair up in a messy ponytail. 

Oh, well.  She wasn’t trying to impress men for the time being, right?

“Well, Mr. White,” she drawled.  “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

He looked intently at her, leaning against the door jam with a brown paper gift bag hanging from his fingers. 

“Welcoming committee,” he murmured, raising an eyebrow.

“Really.  You’re on the welcoming committee of the co-op board?  Is that what you’re telling me?”

His eyes took on an apologetic gleam and he said, “I knew you were moving in sometime today and I wanted to bring you something.”  He paused.  “Emily just popped up and said you were here, so. . .,”
His voice trailed off and his eyes focused in on her.  “Can I come in?”

New leaf, Ayanna.  New leaf. 
She moved away from the door and nodded. 

After closing the door, they walked into the living room.  He looked around.  “Looks like you still need to get some stuff.”

“Yeah.  I’d offer you a seat, but as you can see, I don’t have one.  Looks like you’re gonna have to use your own
seat and park it on the floor over there.”  She pointed to a spot where there were no boxes. 
And my my, what a fine looking seat it was.

He gave one of his amused smiles and said, “Well, before I do that, I wanted to give you something.”  He handed her the brown paper gift bag.

She pulled out the following items and placed them on a side table that was clear.  A loaf of Italian bread, a shaker of salt, a bottle of red wine, and a decorative glass container of expensive olive oil.

She looked up at him and swallowed down the emotion that hit her.  “Bread so I don’t go hungry, salt for adding flavor to life, wine for happiness, and olive oil for health.”

His eyes twinkled.  “I figured you’d know the tradition.”

She spoke quietly. “You got all of this for me?  All by yourself?  Like you picked it out and everything?”

He nodded while looking at her.

This was the first gift she’d been given by a man who wasn’t expecting a blow job in return.  She was a little thrown to be honest, and melted a little inside.

She waited a beat, then spoke.

“Well, thanks.  That was very thoughtful of you,” she said softly.  And she meant it.  She took a breath.  “Would you like some wine?”

His mouth kicked up.  “I thought you’d never ask.”

She went into the kitchen and pulled out two wine glasses, opened the wine and poured, all the while wondering what he was really doing there.  She brought the wine back into the living room, just as she caught Jonathan looking at her sari collection.

He took the glass and directed it toward the fabrics.  “These are beautiful.  Are these from your family?”

“Just this one here,” she motioned to one that was folded on top of a box.  “It was my grandmother’s.” 

“Where did you get the rest of these?”  He sifted his fingers through the fabric of her grandmother’s sari.  She had worn that very one to her cousin’s wedding the year before.  Watching him intimately touch the silky fabric that had once touched her skin caused a moment of awareness to stir, and her body clenched.

“I’ve collected them over the years.  I’ve always loved the colors, the feel of them.”  She shrugged.  “They just make me feel good having them around.”  She took a sip of wine, trying to calm herself from the unexpected pleasure she felt.

“I can see why.  They give the place a more sensual feel, like a boudoir or something.”

Ayanna choked a little on the wine, but tried to cover it up with a cough.  “A boudoir?  What is this, 19th century England?”  She gave him a smile.

He chuckled and looked at her.  “Haven’t you ever seen those old period films?  The woman who has a red sitting room, and her sexy silky things hanging all over lamp shades and stuff?  It screams female.  The word ‘boudoir’ just seems to suit you.” 

He gave her an inscrutable look and she had no idea where he was going with this.  He better not have been implying that the room looked like it belonged to a woman of ill repute or anything like that.  She bristled slightly.

“Why are you really here, Jonathan?”

He sighed.  “Do you mind if we sit?”  He didn’t wait for a reply and sat, leaning against the wall opposite her.

She sat as well and took another calming sip of her wine.

He bent one leg while the other was out straight in front of him, then he propped his arm on his knee, the wine glass dangling from his fingers. 

A moment passed while they let the soulful voice of Sarah McLachlan sing about her inability to speak every time she was close to the man she loved.  The ballad floated over them.

He cleared his throat.

“I wanted to apologize.”

She nearly fell over, but played it cool.  “For what?”

He gave her a droll look.  “You know for what.  And it’s been a long time in coming, I’m ashamed to say.  My mother taught me better.”

Her heartbeat skipped.  “I’m listening.”

He looked at her and appeared to be thinking of how to start.

“You’re a very attractive woman, Ayanna,” he said, and he didn’t look too happy about it.

“I’m...sorry?” Why did she feel like she needed to apologize for that?

He rolled his eyes and continued.  “You don’t need to apologize.  You
know you’re beautiful.  At the 4th of July barbeque,” he sighed, “I don’t even know why we started arguing. I just know that I said some things I shouldn’t have said.  And I’m sorry for saying them.  For hurting you, if I did.”

The weight which had been sitting on her chest for the past several weeks every time she was around him seemed to lift.  She took a moment and nodded, breathing in deeply. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly.  “And for the record, the reason we started arguing was because you thought I was shamelessly flirting with all of the men at the party.  And you thought I was dressed inappropriately.  I believe your exact words were I had on a pair of shorts that barely covered my ass crack, and I was wearing a shirt that was practically painted on.” 

He cringed and she smiled sweetly at him.  He took a sip of his wine, then put it down on the hardwood floor beside him.

Remembering Ryann’s thought that there was a story there, she decided she’d push him a little further.

“Why did you say it?”

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair then back down his face.  He took a quick burst of a cleansing breath.  “I said it because I’m an ass.”

“That might be true,” she quipped, “but that’s not
why
you said it.”  She gave him a pointed look that made him squirm like a worm on a hook.  “Why, Jonathan?  Did my choice of clothes really offend you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why?”

“Because,” he shifted on the floor, “you have a way about you that
—” He took another cleansing breath.  “That
screams
sex.”  He gave her a heated look.

Whoa.  She wasn’t expecting that.  The look he was giving her was making her want to change her mind about the 40 day thing.  Like, right now.

“Umm.  Okay.  And so you have something against sex?” she asked, just to get his goat.

“I have absolutely nothing against sex.  I happen to like sex,” he said, then paused with meaning.  “Very much, actually,” he murmured, pointedly looking her in the eyes and causing a zing to go through her girly parts.  “I just
—”
His voice trailed off.

“You just what?”

“This way about you,” he continued. “It’s very open, to men especially.”

“And?”  Ayanna wasn’t tracking with him.

He looked at her as if she was purposely being obtuse.  “And men see that, and want that from you, obviously.”

“I say again,
and
?  Apparently not all men. 
You
didn’t want it.”  She felt it was necessary to point that out to him.

He looked like he was struggling for words.  He ignored her comment and continued.  “It was annoying me for some unknown reason that you were being that way with the men at the party.  If you want a man to take you seriously, then maybe you shouldn’t let guys think it’s so readily available,” he said in a disgruntled tone.

Everything he was saying was right on the money.  But he was still pissing her off.

“Listen, Johnny Be Good, you need to relax a bit.  First of all, you shouldn’t care about my approach with men because you’ve made it abundantly clear you’re not interested.  Secondly,
I wasn’t flirting with any of the men at the party.  I was being nice, conversational.  Charming.  Trust me when I say, I know the difference.  I can’t help it if men are attracted to me.  And I wasn’t propositioning them. I wasn’t asking them to take me home so I could have my wicked way with them.”

“You did with
me
,” he growled, getting his own piss on.

Yes, she had, much to her embarrassment.  Being turned down by him was not her finest moment.

“Touché,” she acknowledged.  “But not at the party, I didn’t.  And rest assured, I won’t be propositioning you again, so don’t worry.  Your virtue is safe from my sluttiness
,
” she said feeling annoyed, gulping the rest of her wine.