Holiday Hearts (3 page)

Of course he was sure, Keysa had sighed, since her father knew Russell Maser and just about every other wealthy African American family in the country. Her father was one of the Donovans. The Donovan family that had their hands in everything from oil to casinos to almost every philanthropic cause there was. They were black, successful, generous and highly regarded around the world. And she was one of them, at least a part of her was.

“I’ll take time off after I finish this project. But you and Jocelyn and Brynne have a great holiday.”

“Keysa, I want so much more for you than you’ve decided to settle for. You’re an adult. Mary can’t hold you hostage anymore.”

“She’s not,” Keysa had said but recognized a bit of truth in his words.

The whole conversation had been bittersweet. As usual he wanted to see her and as usual she was afraid. Her mother had felt so betrayed by this man. It wasn’t as if Keysa had never seen her father or spent time with his family. Still, how could she even remotely consider spending time with her father at this time of year? It just wasn’t right.

Just as Ian sitting in her office at this very moment still smiling at her wasn’t right. Keysa was so irritated now she did something she hadn’t done in years. She rolled her eyes at him, and then reached to turn off her radio.

“Don’t get mad at me,” he said as his fit of laughter subsided. “I can’t help it you’re keeping tabs on how many women are falling for me.”

She ignored him.

“How many is it by the way?”

“Oh, shut up, Ian.” And just as she said that the DJ’s voice interrupted them.

“Still cold outside, so be careful out there.  That black ice is nothing to be played with.”

She pushed the button hard to turn it off then pushed her chair back and went to retrieve her coat.

Ian jumped out of his chair, quickly taking the coat from her hands, then holding it for her to put on.

“I don’t need your help.”

“No,” he said as she slipped first one arm then the other into the sleeves. “But I need to be close to you.”

She sighed. “Ian, please. Can’t you take a hint?”

Turning her in his arms he gave her a little shake until her head lifted and she stared up into his eyes. “Can’t you?”

“I’m not giving up on you, Keysa. I’m not giving up on us.”

“There is no us.”

“There could be.”

“No.”

“There will be,” he said with finality.

“Go away, Ian,” she said moving out of his grasp. “I’m tired and I’m going home.”

She was halfway to the door when he asked, “Did you get a new car?”

“What?” she asked spinning around to face him.

“A new car, did you get one or are you still driving that little matchbox thing?”

“It’s not a matchbox thing,” she said unable to resist his attempt to get a rise out of her. He’d been with her the day she bought her candy apple red convertible Mini Cooper. He’d told her it looked more like a toy then a real car. But she’d loved it, so she’d bought it.

“Well, whatever it is, it isn’t good enough to get you home tonight.”

“What are you talking about? My car has excellent gas mileage and drives faster and smoother than that clunky SUV you have.”

“Yeah, but my clunky SUV is an all-terrain vehicle and has four-wheel drive, which keeps me from slip-sliding all over the streets of Detroit.”

She paused, he had a point. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will because you’re having dinner with me and then you’re staying at my place.” He moved quickly taking her elbow and leading her out the door.

“What? No I’m not staying at your place! Why? I have a house, remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” he said walking beside her as she tried to wiggle out of his grasp. “You live in a nice single family house in Shelby Township, which is a forty-minute drive from here. It’ll be at least an hour before you get home, considering how slow you’ll have to drive to avoid skidding off the highway.”

“But—” she tried to object.

“I,” he interrupted, “live in an overpriced condo on Riverfront Drive, just five minutes from here. It makes more sense, for your safety, that you stay in town tonight.”

They were at the elevators now and he’d pushed the down button and stood directly in front of her.

“Then maybe you should drive me home with your four-wheel, all-terrain SUV,” she said, unwilling to admit that he was making sense, and hating every second of it.

He cupped a hand to her cheek and gave her that half smile that always made her weak in the knees. “Maybe I’m supremely thankful to Mother Nature for these freezing temperatures and icy roads. I’ve wanted to get you to stay at my house since the day I first saw you.”

He pulled her closer, his fingers firm at the base of her neck. “No, I’m not going to take you home in my clunky all-terrain SUV. I’m taking you home with me—a very special Christmas present to myself.”

Then he kissed her. She knew he would. And she secretly wanted him to. His lips touched her softly, Ian always started off slow, soft. She loved it, felt her heart beat wildly the second his tongue touched hers.

She didn’t want to be his Christmas present—didn’t want to enjoy Christmas or fall in love. It would be a betrayal. Wouldn’t it?

Then his soft and slow turned to hot and fevered and she leaned closer into him, opening her mouth wider, sighing. Whatever the answer was she couldn’t figure it out just then. She couldn’t think of anything besides Ian.

FOUR

Dinner was more than she’d bargained for. Actually, she’d assumed they’d stop and pick up fast food, but Ian had other ideas.

His condo was gorgeous—white walls, high ceilings and floor to ceiling windows that stretched along one side of his living room. The dining area was connected, actually divided by a long marble and glass console table with an ebony sculpture in the center. On one side was the living room with sleek deep-cushioned black leather chairs, an octagonal-shaped glass coffee table and a deep chocolate-colored rug that formed the perimeter of the space. The leather sofa faced the windows with a panoramic view of downtown Detroit. To the far left was a fireplace with a mantel filled with photographs.

Keysa instantly gravitated to the pictures. This was her first time being inside Ian’s condo. On one of their dates she’d met him there, but he’d been in the lobby when she’d arrived. At that time a part of her had desperately wanted to know more about him, yet was still resistant.

The mantel was lined with framed pictures, some large, some small like oversized lockets with wallet-sized photos inside. Starting at one end she looked at each of them, a deep yearning in the center of her stomach began to form. Ian had a family, and from the looks of it, a big one.

“That’s my Mom and Dad,” he said from behind her.

She hadn’t heard him approach, but she’d felt he wasn’t far away.

“Do they live here in Detroit?” she asked her eyes resting on the old wedding photo. The woman’s complexion was just a shade darker than Ian’s. The man was a little lighter, his skin more tinged with an orange tone, but his eyes were dark like Ian’s.

“Yes. Mom was born and raised in Wayne County.”

“But your father, he’s from the Dominican Republic, right?” She’d remembered that was one of the first things he’d told her about himself.

“Yes, Santiago to be exact. He’s one of twelve children, only two of them live in the States.”

“What does he do?”

Behind her Ian chuckled. “He originally came here to become an actor. But after the first few rejections and finally landing a gig with a modeling agency just to pay his bills, he realized he wanted something different. His agent introduced him to a couple of producers and now he is a partner in the RioGrande Production Company with his cousin.”

“RioGrande? That’s one of our accounts.” Keysa had always worked in the publishing department, but she still liked to keep up with whatever Maser was doing.

“It is. That’s the account that got me in the door.”

“Oh, using your family influence, huh?”

“Whatever works,” he said touching a hand to her shoulder as he nodded towards the next photo.

“That’s my grandmother, Odessa—my mother’s mother. She passed away last year. Man, I miss her mac and cheese.”

Keysa hadn’t known her grandparents. Her mother’s parents were already dead by the time she was born and her father’s—well, she just hadn’t known them.

“My mom makes pretty good mac and cheese,” she added but didn’t really know why.

“How is your mom?”

He sounded concerned, and for a moment that seemed strange. Had she told him about her mother? Obviously she had.

“She’s fine, still working at the department store. She’s head buyer for women’s apparel now.”

“That’s great. So is she enjoying it?”

Keysa shrugged. “As much as she’ll allow herself to enjoy anything,” she said. Again, she didn’t know why she felt comfortable enough with Ian to actually talk to him about her personal life. It seemed like it had been that way since their first date.

“Is she seeing anybody?”

Keysa sighed. “Of course not.”

“Really? How long’s it been?”

“Too long, if you ask me.” She looked at the other photographs, touching the one of Ian with his parents. “How long have they been married?”

“Thirty-six years.”

“Hmph. I guess there is a happily ever after for some people.”

Now both his hands were on her shoulders, massaging her blades lightly as he pressed closer into her. “Happiness is what you make it.”

“That sounds so simple.”

“And so true.”

She just shook her head. “Not for everyone.”

Resting his chin on the top of her head to still her he said, “For anyone, Keysa. If you want to be happy you can. All you have to do is go for what you want. Stop being afraid and stop being held back by someone else’s problems.”

“She’s not holding me back,” Keysa said defensively, but even to her own ears the words sounded hollow.

His hands moved up and down her arms and he leaned to the left until his lips touched her cheek. “I’ll warm dinner. Make yourself comfortable.”

And she did. He’d started a fire before going into the kitchen.  She took a seat in one of the black leather chairs and watched the fire grow, listening to the crackling sound of the wood. The warm glow was soothing, and for once she decided to simply relax and enjoy the moment. No questions. No doubts.

***

Dinner was delicious, leftover lasagna that Ian had made two nights ago. And she wasn’t just being polite when she’d told him how delicious it was. Not only was he incredibly good-looking and successful, but he could burn in the kitchen. Ian was going to be a very good catch for some woman one day. That thought made her nervous.

Keysa excused herself after they’d loaded the dishwasher and went to the bathroom, to put some distance between the two of them for a moment.

“Why don’t you get out of your work clothes,” he’d yelled to her from the other side of the bathroom door, making her jump. “There’s a basket full of clean clothes in there that I didn’t have a chance to fold and put away. Just rummage through until you find something.”

“Ah, okay,” she’d murmured but wondered how smart that would actually be.

Here she was in Ian’s condo at almost eleven o’clock at night. She’d had dinner with him and now she was using his bathroom. He wanted her to change “into something more comfortable.” Alright, he hadn’t said that exactly but she got the hint.

What am I doing?
she wondered dropping down to sit on the side of his Jacuzzi style tub.

Outside, she heard a light drizzle--freezing rain and sleet. She’d noticed it when she walked from the dining room, through the kitchen. If she got close enough to the window, she could hear it hitting the glass and making a tiny clicking sound. There was no denying the logic of her staying at Ian’s tonight. Driving would be a disaster. Still, she wished there was another alternative. Or did she?

By the time she’d come out of the bathroom Ian had the fire roaring again and the television was tuned to some black and white movie. The shirt from the laundry basket that she’d put on was long, and the fabric was soft against her skin. His distinctive masculine scent clung to the shirt surrounding her like a warm cocoon.

She walked over to the sofa unsure of herself and sat on the edge of the cushion, trying to decide once again if she was doing the right thing. Did she really have to stay here with Ian or was it a convenient excuse? Maybe she should have gone to a hotel. That way she wouldn’t be tortured by her desire for something that was at best only fleeting.  It was unfair of him to suggest that she stay with him. Dinner was virtually prepared and waiting, as if he’d been expecting her all along. And the setting—the dim lights, the gorgeous Christmas tree, the moonlight that poured into the living room from the huge windows—created the most romantic surroundings. Why didn’t he invest in mini blinds like other people?