Bittersweet Chocolate (23 page)

“No, seriously.”

“Rissa. You are the wildest, craziest thing I’ve taken on up to this point in my life. The reactions of the family and friends were expected, and for the first time in my life, I don’t give a shit.”

“I hear you,” she joked.

“Honey, I’m serious. The night we met, I glanced at you to acknowledge the introduction and I was more than a little pissed when you acted so indifferent. You had my total interest, yet you barely looked at me.” He shook his head. “I was so full of myself.”

“Yes, you were, but I cured you of that real quick, didn’t I?”

He snorted. “Yeah, your arrogance can’t be matched. But talk about being dumbfounded, to be having carnal thoughts about you...being a simple country boy...”

“
Pffft
...pul-
lease,
simple country boy...”

Disregarding her remarks, he continued. “As I was saying... Being a simple country boy from the hills of West Virginia, I felt out of my league. What I knew about blacks was practically nil, which didn’t prepare me for my reaction to you. I considered myself a heretic violating religious beliefs, or something.”

Marissa laughed. “Tell me about it. When you first walked into the club, I noticed you, and mentally kicked myself. You white folkes aren’t the only ones who grow up with certain beliefs about mixing with other races. Pissed wasn’t even an adequate word to describe my mindset.”

“You...” He hooted. “Hell, I arrived pissed at myself for showing up. You know Craig, like some kind of social director, dragging people from one club to another to meet his friends,” he declared. “Finding myself attracted to a woman who showed no interest in me, if there’s a word for being beyond pissed...”

“Uh-huh. And thinking about that whole scenario, Craig set us up.”

He chuckled. “I wondered when you’d figure that out. As a rule, when I found myself on the receiving end of Craig’s matchmaking, I’d limit myself to a drink to be sociable, and leave. But the moment I saw you, the attraction overwhelmed, and your smile scared me because it made me realize I wanted you. My mind was in denial, but my body overruled any resistance.”

“Hey, it surprised me to find you there after Craig left us alone, and I couldn’t help but smile. After my initial reaction to you, to see you hadn’t escaped like so many others, I took that as a sign of encouragement.” She giggled. “The attraction was compelling, ethnicity didn’t matter.”

“Do you know my worst moment?” he asked.

“Hmm.”

“After I asked you to dance, you hesitated for so long, I felt like a fool. I thought you were going to refuse.”

“I intended to refuse,” she said bluntly. “From past experience, most white men look right through a black woman like she doesn’t exist. For you to ask me to dance...don’t get me wrong, a lot of black men aren’t much better,” she insisted. “Black men are busy rushing to white women as soon as they enter the club, they’ll trample a black woman if she gets in their way.”

“You’re too cynical.”

“Maybe, but admit it, you were fighting your attraction to me, every step of the way.”

“My mind boggled to think I had any motivation for asking you to dance, other than being polite.” His smile lit up his eyes. “I couldn’t believe how turned on I was, just touching you.”

“Tris.” She turned, edged closer to him, ran her fingertips up his side, and across his chest. He grabbed her fingers as she started to maneuver them lower, and his grip on her hand tightened.

“Marissa...”

“Exactly.” She laughed, struggling to put her hand on him. “Today, the first night, whenever, it’s never any different with us. I’m a freak, surprised to find my equal.”

His laugh shaky, he kept her hand in a firm grip, pressed against his chest. “A freak... Yeah, you are that. While we were dancing, I worried about offending you.” He stared blindly at the ceiling as he reminisced. “But you kept moving closer and I stopped thinking. The feel of your body...”

“Yeah well, what I remember is your language. I heard what you said. You folkes need to learn how to cuss. You’re too damn proper, adding all those i-n-g’s to your cuss words, but you were impressive that night.”

“Thank you, I think.” He smiled sheepishly.

“The sad thing about the whole situation is neither of us is prejudiced, yet we hesitated and almost lost out,” she stated. “My attraction to you started the moment you stepped through the door, but my mind screamed, Caucasian, don’t even go there. Old taboos die hard, and that fear of crossing the line, it’s there, in all of us.”

“Yeah.” His lips curled in disgust. “Considering my family’s reaction to our relationship, those times you grew up in aren’t a thing of the past. I’m glad we moved beyond all of that.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “At least I have.”

She glared and he laughed. Releasing her hand, he leaned over, kissed her mouth, and in one fluid motion, he rolled to the edge of the bed, stood, and headed for the bathroom. Smiling, she watched him walk across the floor, her heart tripping. With him, that’s all it took―a look, a touch.

He paused at the dresser to retrieve his underwear and her gaze moved over his six-foot-two-inch frame, checking out the broad shoulders and back, rippling muscle tapering down to a narrow waist, firm tight ass, and long, muscular legs. All that soft, white-blond hair, worn just a little past collar-length, framed classic features and startling turquoise eyes. Oh yeah, he was just a typical, ordinary-variety, all-American white boy.

He disappeared from sight and she relaxed. Surely, she could get used to this, even though the relationship encompassed uncharted territory. Compared to some of the crap she’d been into as a young girl, their association should be a piece of cake.

So why didn’t she lighten up and enjoy it?

“Don’t you have to work today?”

Marissa flinched. She hadn’t heard him come out of the bathroom.

“Rissa, what is it?”

Uh-oh, he wasn’t going to ignore her distraction this time. She’d been doing it too often.

“What are you always daydreaming about? Why won’t you talk to me?”

“You’re right. I do have to get ready for work.” She slid off the bed and headed toward the bathroom, but as she started to pass him, he grabbed her arm.

“What is it? What’s the big damn secret?” he demanded. “I love you. We should be able to talk about everything.” Putting her arms around his neck, she lifted her face for a kiss. “Oh, no you don’t. Stop trying to put me off. What are you always thinking about, and why? Damn it, talk to me. There’s nothing so terrible we can’t deal with it together,” he finished.

Standing on tiptoe, she tried to kiss him, but he averted his face. “Kiss me.” She knew he wouldn’t refuse a direct invitation.

“Hell.” He bent, captured her mouth. It became an assault. Lifting his head, he griped, “Why do I let you keep doing this to me?”

She shrugged and walked into the bathroom. Why ask her, she didn’t have a clue. Their mutual attraction remained a mystery to her. The only thing she was sure of―she did have to go to work, and it was her choice of time.

After she became executive assistant to the controller, she set her hours, putting in ten-to-twelve erratic hours a day. On occasion, those hours included travel.

Tristan, on the other hand, had a much more regimented work schedule. A weapon systems analyst with a company under contract to the government, he worked flextime, but maintained a nine-to-five work schedule. His job required travel that disrupted their lives on a regular basis, and therein lay the root of her insecurities.

She’d been there, done that before with Joel, and she couldn’t shake the disquieting déjà vu she experienced every time Tristan left. He tried to reassure her, grasping every opportunity to ease her unreasonable doubts, and to make the most of their time together. She remained a non-believer.

Dressed and ready for work, she entered the kitchen and found Tristan there, his briefcase on the counter.

“What’s your schedule like this week?” he asked.

“No travel, what about you?”

“Tomorrow, I might have to make a run up north to Port Hueneme, could be gone a day, or a couple of days.” He glanced in her direction.

“Oh.”

“Shit! Don’t look at me like that. What more can I do to prove I love you?” He sighed, moved to the counter, and retrieved his briefcase. “Every time I leave, I come back. I always come back. What has you so edgy?” he demanded. “Is it something to do with your daydreaming, or those nightmares?”

She turned her back to him and he mumbled a few succinct curses. Stepping in front of her, he set his briefcase on the floor, pulled her close, and rested his chin on the top of her head. She tensed. He lifted her chin and scrutinized her features.

“Someone has hurt you pretty badly, haven’t they?”

She didn’t respond, and she hated acting this way every time he had to leave, but couldn’t help it. Oh, she never cried, never made a scene, but she became wary. She held on to him for a few more minutes, then pushed him away, her manner brisk. “Hey, I’m okay. You know I’ll be all right.”

“Yes, I do, but that’s not the point. Why do you get upset?” He ran his hands through his hair. “Haven’t I proven myself? I keep coming back.”

“Tris, I love you. I can’t find adequate words to express how much, and it scares the hell out of me because we haven’t known each other very long. As irrational as this may sound, I believe you love me, but none of what I’ve said keeps me from feeling so...uh, when you leave...” Her voice trailed off. “Let’s go out for dinner tonight,” she said, changing the subject.

“Rissa...hell, I’d rather eat in. Italian work for you?” She nodded. “Staying home will give us some quality time together before I have to prepare for my trip. How does that sound?”

“Great!”

His look said her false exuberance hadn’t fooled him. Voice strained, he asked, “What time?”

“I’ll be home around six. Does that work with your schedule?”

“That’s fine,” he replied. “I have to go. Kiss?”

She grinned. “Are you sure you want to do that? You know, when we kiss...”

“I’ll risk it.” He smiled down at her. “At times, you seem so vulnerable and I want to help, but I can’t, if you won’t talk to me.” Hands splayed on each side of her face, his thumbs caressed the corners of her mouth as he lowered his head and swooped in for a kiss. Pulling back, he gave her a gentle squeeze and said, “See you later.”

“Sure.”

The moment the door closed behind him, she picked up the phone and dialed Vi’s number. She needed an attitude adjustment, some girl talk. While she waited for Vi to answer, she moved about the kitchen, fixing a mug of tea for the road, her mood brightening as she thought about her friendship with Vi. They were good for each other. Vital, feisty, daring, and determined, over the past twelve years they’d had adventures, misadventures, good times, and bad times. Like sisters, there remained a deep, abiding bond between them.

Vi didn’t work at Garrett any longer. She’d moved up to the big time. She was the data entry supervisor at Harris’ Department store, which didn’t give them as much time to spend together.

Villia...how Vi hated her full name, and Marissa did love to agitate.

“Hello?”

“Villia.”

“Funny, Marissa, what’s up?”

“How about lunch today, I need to talk.”

“Ooo sounds serious.”

“Vi...”

“Okay, lunch. Where and what time?”

“How about one o’clock? Most of the lunch crowd will be gone by then.”

“What will it be today?” Vi asked.

“I’m in the mood for a good steak, how about Cask N’ Cleaver?”

“Sounds great, I’ll see you there, at one,” Vi assured her. “Got to run.”

Marissa shook her head and hung up. Always on the run, never on time, Vi seemed to thrive on waiting until the last minute.

After retrieving her briefcase, Marissa started toward the garage, stopped midstride. Mood pensive, she walked into the living room and checked the lock on the front door. Damn. The reemergence of old memories and dreams must have spooked her more than she’d thought. She left the house and drove to work, her mind occupied with thoughts of Tristan.

No longer certain what constituted true love, she fervently wanted their relationship to be the real deal. But that wasn’t going to happen until she came to grips with the race issue, his age, and his frequent absences, reminding her of the situation with Joel. No wonder the dreams were back and more upsetting than ever.

The blare of a horn snapped her out of her reverie and she drove on, adjusting her mindset for work. She tried to keep her private life from interfering with business.

Maybe her talk with Vi would help her sort through her concerns.

“Morning, Megan. Anything?” she asked, checking in with her secretary as she moved through the outer office.

Megan Chambers, with her heart-shaped face, bright brown eyes, cropped afro, and large gold hoop earrings, looked up and smiled. “
Noooo,
everything’s running smoothly. So far,” she responded and returned her gaze to the computer screen.

“Good, no calls.” Marissa smiled, went into her office, fixed a cup of tea, and settled down. She set about clearing her desk of current proposals and lost track of time.

“Marissa,” Megan interrupted. “Look at the time. Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting in ten minutes?”

Marissa’s head snapped up, she stared not seeing, then frowned at her watch. Ten minutes to ten, she had a ten o’clock meeting. “Shit! Thanks, Megan.” She scooped up the papers and folders she needed and hurried out the door, mentally calculating how long the meeting might last. Maybe until noon. It would give her plenty of time to get across town to meet Vi for lunch.

The meeting dragged on way too long, and they weren’t accomplishing a thing with the sales manager talking nonstop and not making a point.

She peeked at her watch and grimaced. Only twenty minutes to get down the road to meet—she cut off that thought mid-sentence, smiled, and relaxed. Already running late, what would be the point of her rushing when Vi never arrived on time?

Marissa returned her attention to her surroundings, realized the sales manager had stopped talking, and she stood to leave, pausing to speak to her boss before making her escape. She went back to her office, straightened the things on her desk, grabbed car keys and purse, and left.