A Forever Kind of Love (Kimani Romance) (9 page)

When Corey didn’t continue, Mya looked up to find him staring at her. “What?” she asked at his curious expression.

“You just called it ‘home.’ I like that you still think of it that way,” Corey said. “There’s a lot to love about Gauthier.”

Like the fact that he was there, Mya thought. His presence was like a beacon, drawing her into the clutches of a life she’d abdicated so long ago.

It was also what made her want to get out of Dodge as soon as possible.

Just as he’d been all those years ago, Corey was a threat to the freedom and independence she’d claimed for herself. He induced dangerous thoughts, elicited images of an era when she would have contemplated remaining in Gauthier just to be with him. She’d left that girl—that space in time—behind.

She would not give up the life she’d built for herself for anyone, not even Corey Anderson.

* * *

Corey stood in the middle of the dark microfiche room watching Mya as she trekked a five-foot trough into the carpet. She continued to rattle off ideas about how to incorporate their discovery into the town’s anniversary celebration. The more excited she became, the faster she talked. She used to do the same thing back when they were in school together.

“You know, there are companies that specialize in tours specific to African-American history in the South. They would jump on this. We can put together a walking tour of the town. Take them along Main Street, through Heritage Park, and then for lunch at Emile’s. It could be a package deal.”

It had been less than ten minutes since they had discovered there was anything worth seeing in Gauthier and she already had tour groups eating crab bisque at Emile’s. They first had to go through the rigors of getting the site in Gauthier acknowledged by the state’s historical society, which he was sure was no easy feat. But Corey wouldn’t put a damper on her enthusiasm. He was enjoying seeing Mya once again excited about their hometown.

She wasn’t the only one who was excited. The history buff in him was still reeling from this discovery.

Just yesterday Corey had been 100 percent on board with the potential construction of a national retail chain on Main Street, but this new discovery changed everything. If it turned out that Gauthier had indeed been a stop on the Underground Railroad, history buffs like himself would flock here. And making sure the downtown area maintained the essence of an authentic Main Street U.S.A. would be critical to the town’s appeal as a tourist destination. A big-box retail store no longer fit into the equation.

As stoked as Corey was about their finding, he was just as excited that he had been part of the team who’d discovered it. It was that part of him that was still aching to show the people in Gauthier that he’d changed from being the bad boy that used to wreak havoc with his brothers.

“We’re going to need to get in touch with the rest of the civic association,” Mya said. “This changes the focus of the celebration. We need to make this about playing up the history of Gauthier.”

“Don’t worry about that now,” Corey said. He reached out and captured her arm, stalling her back-and-forth march.

She looked down at where he held her arm, then trailed her gaze to his face.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the carpet,” Corey told her.

Mya blew out a weary breath. “I’m sorry. I can’t control myself when I’m excited.”

“Just calm down,” Corey said, bringing his other hand up to cover her arm. He rubbed her soft skin. “Let’s take a minute to just enjoy what we’ve discovered, then we can figure out where to go from here. Sound good?”

She sucked in another deep breath and nodded, but the calm didn’t last long. Excitement had her eyes lighting up like fireworks. “This is really cool, isn’t it? I mean, you being a history teacher and all, you should know.”

“It’s very cool,” he assured her, squeezing her upper arm. “If this discovery pans out, this may turn out to be the biggest thing to happen to Gauthier in over a century.”

A comfortable stretch of time passed as they continued to stare into each other’s eyes. Mya’s eyes took on a smoky quality as she gazed up at him.

“We always did make a good team,” she said, her voice husky.

“Always,” he agreed. He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers.

“Corey,” she whispered against his lips. But it was spoken too softly to be a protest. He took it as encouragement.

Corey bathed her lips with his tongue, back and forth, molding his mouth to hers, urging her to open for him. With excruciating sweetness her resistance relented, making way for his tongue to sweep in. He slipped an arm around her waist and settled his hand at the small of her back.

“God, you taste good,” he whispered against her lips.

The soft moan that rumbled deep in her throat traveled along his skin like a caress. She brought her hand up to the back of his head and held him in place.

Corey’s body ignited with sparks of desire. They ricocheted against the walls of his chest, imprisoning his breath. He clamped his palms on Mya’s firm backside and pulled her flush against him, nearly dying at how perfectly she fit into the cove of his body. She was soft and warm and woman, smelling like spring, tasting like heaven.

Just as he remembered.

Corey devoured her, stroking the inside of her mouth as he recalled those long-ago moments they’d shared. The times she’d given herself fully to him, allowing him the pleasure of her sweet mouth and that succulent body that still turned him on like no other woman ever could.

He trailed his tongue down her neck and nestled his face against her skin, breathing in the arousing scent that was all Mya.

“Damn, I want you,” he groaned against her neck.

She moaned, but then pulled back. “Wait. No,” she said, bringing both hands up and pushing against his chest.

He went for her mouth again, but she pressed her fingers against his lips. “No.” She shook her head. “We can’t do this.”

Corey’s shoulders sunk in defeat. “Why not?”

“Because,” she said with finality.

Based on her tone, Corey knew from experience that that was all the answer he would get. Mya disengaged from his hold and took several steps back.

He dropped his head back and grimaced at the ceiling. “It’s just a kiss, Mya. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.”

“It was never just a kiss with you,” she said. “Just a kiss always led to so much more.”

Corey cocked his head to the side as he stared at her in the dim light of the room. “Would that really be so bad?” he asked. “We’re not seventeen anymore, Mya. We’re two intelligent, single, consenting adults.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and jutted out her chin. “What makes you think I’m single?”

The question hit his chest with the force of a hundred-mile-per-hour fastball.

As ridiculous as it was to think she’d gone fifteen years without ever being with someone else, Corey could never stomach the thought of Mya with another man. But there was no way she was seeing anyone right now. He was certain of it. Even if she’d dated a hundred men over the years, she wouldn’t have let him get so close if she were in a relationship.

“You never would have let me kiss you if you were attached,” he told her. “Don’t try to play me, Mya Dubois. I know you better than just about anybody, even after all these years.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said after a pause. “This is still a bad idea. I’m only here for a few weeks at the most.”

“So why can’t we enjoy those few weeks? It’s better than nothing.”

Corey closed the gap between them and trailed a finger down her forearm, feeling her flesh pebble with tiny goose bumps. He loved that his touch could still elicit such a reaction from her.

“Tell me you haven’t been thinking about how we were together. We were damn good, Mya. You can’t deny that.”

She rolled her shoulder slowly, pulling away from his touch.

“And you can’t deny that it ended badly, with you breaking my heart.”

“It was one drunken mistake, and I was seventeen years old. It was the one and only time I ever cheated on you. That I’ve ever cheated in my entire life.”

“Once was enough,” she retorted. “Do you know how long it took me to get over you?”

“Not as long as it took me,” Corey said, moving in closer. “Because I’m still not over you.”

Mya’s eyelids slid shut. “Don’t say that,” she pleaded with a weary sigh.

“It’s true, Mya. You’re not the kind of woman a man easily gets over.” Corey took the chance of reaching for her hand again. He took both between his palms and gave them a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry for the way I hurt you that night. It’s one of my biggest regrets.” Corey trailed a finger along her soft cheek. “But now that we have a second chance, why can’t we see where this leads?”

Her entire body shuddered with the deep breath she exhaled. She watched him intently. “My good sense tells me this is a mistake,” she said.

“Tell your good sense to mind its own business,” Corey teased.

He could sense the war raging inside of her as her mind battled against her body’s response to him. He wanted her body to win the war. He could work on her mind later.

“C’mon, Mya. Aren’t you the least bit curious to see what I’ve learned in fifteen years?”

She released a breathless laugh. “As I recall, there wasn’t much you
didn’t
know fifteen years ago.”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.” He caught her wrist and pulled her against him. Burying his head in the crook of her neck, Corey nipped at her delicate skin. “What do you say, Peaches?”

With a moan she tilted her head to the side and gave him full access to her neck. Her hand snaking up the back of his head, she sighed and said, “I guess some mistakes are too good not to make again.”

Chapter 7

M
ya rested her head against the headrest, trying her hardest to continue the relaxed facade she’d maintained since losing her mind and allowing Corey to kiss her again back at the library. She closed her eyes, allowing the gentle sway of the car to lull her brain into believing everything was okay. But everything was
so
not okay.

Kissing Corey was like eating an entire chocolate cake in one sitting. She knew it was a bad idea, but it felt too good in the moment to stop.

And his suggestion to pick up where they had left off fifteen years ago?

Madness. Complete and utter madness.

And so much more dangerous than chocolate cake. She could take care of the damage of cake with a couple of workouts. Recovering from the destruction Corey could do to her heart would take a hell of a lot more.

“Are you sleeping or just resting your eyes?” came Corey’s soft voice. Mya lolled her head to the side and lifted her eyelids. He glanced from the road to her. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Mya assured him, straightening in the seat. “Did you need something?”

“We need to call an emergency meeting with the civic association, or at the very least with the members of the revitalization committee. We need to let them know what we’ve found. You think Mrs. Eloise would allow us to hold it at her house?”

“She would raise hell if we tried to hold it anywhere else.”

The corner of his eye crinkled behind his dark sunshades. He steered one-handed while he pulled his cell from his pocket and tossed it to her. “Find Mrs. Claudette’s number in my phone address book and give her a call. She’ll make sure everyone is there. Just tell them we found something really big.”

Mya made the call. As she waited for Claudette to pick up, she motioned toward the filling station a few yards ahead. “I promised Aunt Mo I’d top off her tank,” she said.

Corey nodded and clicked on the signal light, pulling up to a pump. Mya grabbed her purse and pulled out two twenties, but he waved her off. Before she could utter a protest, Claudette answered the phone.

“Hello, Claudette. It’s Mya Dubois.”

She explained that she and Corey had gone to the state library to research Gauthier’s history and had uncovered a significant finding that the rest of the civic association needed to know about. When Claudette tried to get more details, Mya cut her off, telling her to just do her best to be at her grandmother’s house at seven-thirty and to get as many members of the association there as well.

She then jotted down a list of refreshments Claudette advised her to pick up from the grocery store, because, apparently, if the association met, food must be involved. Mya made a quick call to her grandmother’s to make sure it was okay that she’d just invited a houseful of people over. Mya briefly relayed the day’s findings to Aunt Mo, but asked her not to say anything to her grandmother. She wanted to see Grandma’s face when she learned of what Mya and Corey had unearthed about Gauthier’s history.

When she was done with the calls she closed Corey’s phone and glanced toward the convenience store. Mya did a double take as she watched Corey drag a teenager out of the store by his arm. She jumped out of the car and ran toward them.

“What’s going on?” she barked.

“Nothing,” Corey called over his shoulder. He got up in the boy’s face. “Get your ass home now. I swear, Andre, I’d better not catch you doing something this stupid again.”

Without saying a word, the boy took off and jumped into a late-model car with shiny rims on the tires.

“What was that about?” Mya asked.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You remember Brandy Thomas?” he asked.

“Of course. She was on the cheerleading squad with me. Until she got pregnant junior year and dropped out of school.”

He nodded toward the car that spewed loose gravel as it left the convenience store parking lot. “That’s her son, Andre.”

“Wow. Really?” She stared at the car. “I guess he would be that old, wouldn’t he?”

“He’s the best player on my team. Has scouts calling from Division One colleges around the country, all offering him scholarships. Yet I catch him trying to stuff two cans of beer under his shirt.” Corey shook his head and started for the car. “I’m trying my hardest with this kid. He has so much damn potential, but he’s throwing it all away.”

Walking alongside him, Mya asked, “What does Brandy have to say about that?”

Corey got behind the wheel and started the car, but left it idling. “Brandy is serving twenty years at the women’s correctional facility in St. Gabriel.”

Mya gasped. “Oh, my God. For what?”

“Selling drugs, I think.” He shrugged. “I never did get the whole story. Her younger sister, Kendra, is supposedly raising Andre, but every time I try to talk to her she—” He hesitated. “She changes the subject,” Corey finished.

“Ah, yes. I remember Kendra in high school. She didn’t really try to hide her feelings for you,” Mya said.

Corey expelled a sigh. “She needs to focus more on Andre. I swear, he reminds me so much of myself at that age.”

“Well, you didn’t turn out so bad.”

“Not for lack of trying,” he said. “You remember the trouble me and my brothers got into after my dad had his first heart attack and could no longer handle us. But I was lucky. I had someone like Coach Edwards to step in and steer me on the right path. If he hadn’t convinced that judge to let me off with a warning after I got arrested for stealing Donaldson’s car all those years ago, who knows where I’d be?”

Corey slammed a fist against the steering wheel. “I’m trying to do for Andre what Coach Edwards did for me, but Andre is so damn hardheaded.”

“So were you,” Mya reminded him. “But Coach Edwards was even more hardheaded. He eventually got through to you. You’ll get there with Andre.”

“I don’t know.” Corey shook his head. “Andre’s got a cousin, T.J., who is just plain no good. He reminds me of Shawn and Stefan.”

At a loss for how to help him, Mya reached over and patted his thigh. “It’ll be okay,” she softly encouraged.

Corey looked down at her hand. “You’re asking for trouble if you keep your hand there,” he warned.

She jerked her hand away, mentally chastising herself. “Sorry.”

He reached over and captured her hand, placing a delicate kiss to the inside of her palm. “I didn’t say I had a problem with that kind of trouble, just wanted you to know what you were getting yourself into.”

He leaned toward her and seized her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. Mya tried to form a protest, but it felt too right to have his lips pressed against hers, his tongue delving into her mouth.

An hour later, Mya was perched on the arm of the sofa in her grandmother’s living room, nibbling on potato chips and grinning as the five women who made up the civic association’s revitalization committee gazed upon Cory with rapturous stares as he gave them an account of their findings.

“Mya and I have already gathered the information we need for contacting the local parish historical society. They have to check out the property first, then if they deem it a viable candidate, we go to the Louisiana Department of Historical Preservation.”

“We’re also going to work together to develop a package for the state tourism board,” Mya added.

“I don’t understand why nobody knew about this,” Claudette said. “Most of us have lived here our entire lives.”

Corey shrugged. “Not every bit of history makes it into the history books. Sometimes you have to dig. It’s a good thing Mya decided to go the extra mile and dig a little deeper into Gauthier’s history.” The smile he slid her way warmed her cheeks and caused Mya to squirm on the edge of the sofa.

“So what do we do with this?” Clementine Washington asked.

Corey motioned for Mya to take center stage. She handed her plate of chips to Aunt Mo and dusted her fingers on the back of her pants as she stood before the ladies.

“We think that this is the kind of news that can completely change Gauthier.”

“We don’t want to change Gauthier,” Margery piped in. “We like this town just fine.”

“No, no,” Mya said. “I didn’t mean changing the town, but changing the way people
see
it. If it turns out that the Gauthier Law Firm was actually a part of the Underground Railroad and the historical society gives distinction to the town, we can make Gauthier a tourist destination. Schools would take field trips here. We can market it as a day trip for history buffs visiting New Orleans. And the shops on Main Street and the rest of the town’s economy would benefit. You wouldn’t change anything about Gauthier. In fact, you would make the town more like it used to be.”

“And we think the 175th-year celebration is the perfect platform to kick this off,” Corey said.

“What about that new store?” Barbara Cannon looked pointedly at Corey. “Are you still planning to become an investor?”

“No,” Corey quickly said. “After what we uncovered today, I think we should keep the landscape of Main Street as close to its original form as possible. Adding a national chain store would take away from that.”

“That’s what we tried to tell you,” Claudette said.

With a conciliatory grin, Corey put his hands up. “Yes, you all did. You win.”

“Actually, Gauthier wins,” Mya interjected.

Corey’s eyes connected with hers and they shared a soft, private smile.

Or, maybe it wasn’t so private. When Mya finally managed to tear her eyes from his, she noticed the sly smirks and knowing looks around the room. Aunt Maureen’s brows arched in amused inquiry.

Mya cleared her throat, and hoped to God the blush warming her face wasn’t evident.

“As I was saying,” she began, “this link between Gauthier and the Underground Railroad truly is a game-changer. If we can get the people in town to rally behind this cleanup day, we can present Gauthier’s best face to the preservation society.”

“Are you planning to stay and see this through?” her grandmother asked.

Mya looked over at her, then at the other faces that stared back at her.

“That’s a good question,” Corey said. “Are you?”

She couldn’t feel more in the spotlight if one were shining down on her head. Mya looked from her grandmother to Corey to Aunt Mo, who was sitting on the sofa with a challenging smirk on her lips.

The walls closed in just a bit more, but Mya reminded herself that she always had a way out. All it would take was a quick call to an airline. The celebration was in three weeks. Twenty-one days. She could stick it out for twenty-one days.

“I’m in,” she said.

But in twenty-one days, she would pack her bag and head back to New York.

* * *

Corey pulled his Escalade into a slanted slot on Main Street, a few yards away from the front door of Matthew Gauthier’s law office. He’d had to cancel practice this afternoon while landscapers resodded the north end of the baseball field, but he wasn’t complaining. When Mya called to ask if he was up to poking around the building that housed Gauthier Law Firm, he’d left the equipment room and headed straight here.

He spotted Maureen Dubois’s dark blue sedan parked a few spaces down and couldn’t hold back his grin. He’d been smiling like a damn fool ever since Mya announced to the entire revitalization committee that she would remain in Gauthier until the celebration.

No, that was a lie. He’d been smiling inside ever since he’d taken her into his arms and kissed them both breathless in the state library.

God, her mouth was sweet. Like a ripe, juicy peach on a hot summer day. It’s how she’d earned her nickname. Now that he’d tasted her again, Corey didn’t know how he was going to work alongside her and not seek out those decadent lips every five minutes.

He stepped inside the law office and found Mya engaged in an animated conversation with the receptionist. They both turned when he came upon them.

“Corey, did you know Carmen and Scotty Mitchell were married?” Mya asked, pointing to their former classmate Carmen Manheim, now Mitchell. Corey couldn’t remember for certain, but he was sure Carmen had been voted most likely to get arrested...and throw a party in jail. The Manheim house had been known for its wild parties.

Corey nodded. “Their daughter, Malika, is in my ninth-grade American history class.”

“And she hates it,” Carmen laughed. “It’s no reflection on you,” she told Corey. “She hates all of her classes. All she wants to do is hang out with her friends. My mama warned me that I’d have a child who gave me as much problems as I gave her.”

“She’s a good student,” Corey said. “If only she would shut up for more than a minute.”

“Yep, just like her mom.” Mya laughed.

Carmen treated her to an obscene hand gesture, and they both cracked up.

Corey nodded toward the closed door with a brass nameplate with
Matthew Gauthier, Esq.
engraved on it. “He knows we’re coming, right?”

“He’s on a call right now, but it should be finishing up in a few minutes. This is all so exciting.” Carmen beamed. “Who knew this old building had so much history?”

“It’s fascinating,” Mya interjected, her enthusiasm coming through her voice. “I was up all night reading about the original owners, Micah and Nicollette Gauthier. They endangered their family for years by hiding runaway slaves here. I can’t imagine.”

“I wonder if Matthew knows this.”

As if his receptionist had called him forth, the door opened and Matthew Gauthier, dressed in shirtsleeves and a tie, walked out carrying a briefcase. He greeted Mya with a kiss on her cheek and clasped Corey’s palm in a firm shake.

“I hear we’re sitting on some history in my grandfather’s old office,” he said.

“You’re okay with us checking this place out, right?” Corey asked.

Matthew shrugged. “Not sure what you’re looking for, but knock yourselves out.”

“We heard that many of the stops on the Underground Railroad had secret hideaways where they stored the slaves,” Mya said. “We were hoping you had run across some little nook, but since you said you hadn’t, we just want to poke around a little.”

Matthew swept his arm out in a welcoming gesture. “Have at it.” He turned to Carmen. “I’m meeting Mr. Sellers at Emile’s. I should be back before you close up at five, but if not, just leave the door unlocked.”