After Hours (20 page)

I
'm the princess in a fairy tale. Lancelot is my prince and his apartment is our castle.

“What are you thinking about, baby girl?”

Dina pulled her gaze away from the lights in the buildings across the Hudson River to look at the man who'd done exactly what he'd promised to do: protect and take care of her. The flames from the votive on the table at LUA caught the brilliance of the precious stones in her ears and the warm, sensual glow in her eyes.

“It's not what but who.”

“Who?” he asked as a mysterious smile softened her lush mouth.

Running a fingertip along her hairline, she smoothed several strands of hair behind her ear. “I was thinking about us.”

Lance studied his right hand resting next to his place setting rather than stare at Dina. If she was going to reject him, then he wanted to hear, not see it. He was more than familiar with rejection. But now that he'd opened himself up to offer his heart to a woman for the first time in twenty-five years, he was mature enough to accept the consequences.

What he'd asked himself over and over was what was there about Dina Gordon that made him seek her out, made him want to spend time with her? And why would he continue to see her when there was the possibility they would never be intimate?

Sharing a bed with Dina and not making love to her had tested his resolve. He'd promised not to touch her unless she gave her permission. But, damn, there were just so many cold showers and porn flicks he could put up with before resorting to other measures to relieve his sexual frustration.

“What about us?”

Dina knew she had to choose her words carefully or Lance would misconstrue her intent. She didn't know why he'd come into her life, but she didn't want to lose him. Unwittingly he'd become the man she'd spent most of her life searching for. Although she didn't view him as a father figure, there was something about him that
was
paternal. Fathers protected and cared for their children in the same manner he took with her.

There was one thing that had to be resolved before she took their relationship to the next level. She'd dealt with her claim that she was a virgin with the surgical procedure, but now she had to devise a plan to keep Lance interested in her until she was medically cleared. “I want us to become more than friends.” Her smoky voice was lower than usual.

Lance stared Dina as if she'd spoken a foreign language. Had she read his mind? Did she know how much he wanted her? Not just her wit and companionship but all of her?

“Are you saying that you're ready to sleep with me?”

Dina lowered her gaze, staring at Lance through her lashes as a blush swept from her chest up to her hairline. “I want to sleep with you, but I'm still not ready.” She looked directly at him. “I feel something with you that I've never felt with other men who'd kissed me. You make me want you, LL.”

She hadn't lied. Each time she saw Lance the pull was stronger than it'd been the time before. She felt comfortable enough with him to crawl up on his lap like a trusting child. Whenever they were together, her world took on the brightness and goodness he radiated effortlessly. He'd said she was perfect when she knew he was perfect—for her.

Exhaling inaudibly a sigh of relief, Lance slumped back against the blond, curved Scandinavian-style chair. He'd mentally prepared himself for her rejection. “And I want you, too, baby girl. Like I told you before, I'm willing to wait for you to come to me.”

“What if it's three months?”

Reaching across the table, he patted her hand. “Then it will be three months. What you don't understand is three months ago I didn't know Dina Gordon existed, so what's another three months?”

That's because Dina Gordon didn't exist three months ago.
At least not the Dina Gordon he knew. Reversing their hands, she laced their fingers. Lance Haynes radiated strength, self-confidence and power.

“You're right. And since meeting you, I'm not the same woman I was a month ago.”

He lifted sandy-brown eyebrows. “Is that good or bad?”

“It's very good, Big Daddy,” Dina crooned, winking at him.

Lance returned her wink, squeezing her fingers gently. “Are you ready to order?”

“Yes.”

Reluctantly he withdrew his hand and picked up the menu. He was hungry.

He needed to eat.

But what he wanted was not listed on the menu. It was seated across the table.

C
ory Cumberland opened one eye, peering at the clock on the nightstand on his side of the bed. It was ten-ten. Rolling over, he placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, shaking her gently.

“Wake up, darling. It's after ten.”

Sybil moaned softly, pressing her face deeper into the softness of the pillow under her head. “I'm not going in today.”

Cory sat up quickly. “What's the matter?”

She moaned again. “Nothing's the matter, Cory. I'm just not going to work today.”

Resting a hand on her bare back, he ran his fingertips up and down her spine. “Are you feeling okay?”

Sybil rolled over onto her back and glared up at her husband. “What don't you understand, Cory Cumberland? I told you that I'm not going to work today. You've been complaining that we don't spend enough time together, so I'm going to accommodate you and stay home.”

Cory's soulful eyes widened slightly. “Accommodate me, Sybil? Is that how you view spending time with your husband? Thanks but no, thanks.”

Mumbling an expletive under her breath, Sybil swept back the sheet and swung her legs over the bed. “I just changed my mind. I'm going to work.”

Cory panicked, springing off the bed to stop his wife. “I'm sorry, baby,” he apologized, wrapping his arms around her body. “Stay home with me. Please.”

Sybil's arms remained at her sides when she wanted to hug Cory, tell him that he was forgiven. But something wouldn't let her relent. “Why are you sending me double messages, Cory? You bitch and moan that we don't take vacations together, that we're like two ships passing in the night, and now when I decide to take two days off you interrogate me. Why can't you just accept whatever I say without analyzing it?”

Resting his chin on the top of Sybil's head, Cory rocked her from side to side. “I am sorry, sweetheart. I'm just a little tense.”

“What are you tense about?”

“I've been sitting around the house doing nothing while I wait for the programmers to work out the kinks in the software for the spy plane.”

Sybil's arms came up and she placed her palms on Cory's solid pectorals. “I thought you went out yesterday.”

“I went for a drive to Red Bank, hung around a while and then came back.”

What Cory Cumberland couldn't tell his wife was that he'd gone to Atlantic City. He'd spent hours at the blackjack table trying to win back the money he'd lost. In the end he'd walked away with twenty dollars. A mere, shitty twenty dollars that wasn't enough to pay for the gas it took to drive there and back.

He was gambling—heavily. If it wasn't the casino, then it was the horses or lottery tickets. He won some and lost some, but even when he broke even it was as if he couldn't stop. The truth was he didn't want to stop.

Gambling was like a fever in his blood, the heat threatening to incinerate him whole. He'd begun gambling because he was bored. His wife worked long, erratic hours, and whenever they weren't together he found himself at a loss.

Before he'd met Sybil, he'd spent his spare time hanging out with his fraternity brothers. But one by one they married and the focus shifted to their wives and children. Now it was on a rare occasion when they got together, and if they did, it was always a family affair.

“Well, today I'm going to make sure you're not bored. I'm going to prepare brunch and later on tonight I'm taking you out.”

Cory smiled. “Where are you taking me?”

Pressing her naked body to his, Sybil kissed his throat. “It's a surprise.”

He knew enough not to pressure Sybil into disclosing her surprise. He would be patient and wait. Bending slightly, he picked her up and carried her into the bathroom. “I'll wash your back if you wash mine.”

Sybil looped her arms around Cory's neck. “You've got yourself a deal, Mr. Cumberland.”

 

“No, you didn't,” Cory said when Sybil maneuvered into the parking lot behind Shaken Not Stirred. Her surprise was what he needed to relax and forget about his gambling losses.

He'd met his future wife at the Plainfield café frequented by aging beatniks, hippies, bohemians and those disenchanted with the establishment. On any given night the patrons were treated to an art exhibit, jazz music or poetry readings. It was the poetry readings Cory liked best.

The first time he saw Sybil, she was with another man. Two weeks later he saw her again, and this time she was alone. He approached her, offering to buy her a glass of wine. She'd refused the wine, saying she much preferred a cappuccino. He'd never drunk cappuccino or espresso, but after several dates with Sybil he'd come to enjoy coffee, tea and different cuts of steaks. Sybil Johnson had resigned her position as a high school guidance counselor to become a chef.

“This place hasn't changed in seven years.”

They got out of the truck, Sybil moving closer to Cory when he put an arm around her waist. “It hasn't changed in more than thirty years. Same owners, same ambience,” she said, smiling up at him.

“I can't remember the last time I came here.”

“Remember when I catered the kiddie party in Philly this past April?” Cory nodded. “Before heading back home, I stopped for coffee. It was as if time had stopped. I saw some of the same people who came here when we were dating.”

Lowering his head, he brushed a kiss over her parted lips. “Thanks, baby. You can surprise me anytime you want.” He'd stopped frequenting Shaken Not Stirred once he found another favorite hangout closer to Princeton, where he'd enrolled in a graduate engineering program. He and Sybil had dated for a year, lived together for another year before deciding to marry.

“I'm glad you like it,” she whispered, deepening the kiss.

They walked into the dimly lit café with a stage, a bar and dozens of small round tables. In the past, a cloud of smoke from cigarettes would have hung heavily in the air, but it was now the fragrant aroma of brewing coffee that greeted them.

Sybil and Cory found seats not far from the stage, where a tall, thin man with salt-and-pepper dreadlocks rapped a passionate poem about finding and losing his Nubian princess as a prerecording of African drumming provided the musical backdrop for his sonorous chanting that ended amid thunderous applause.

Cory stared at the enthralled expression on Sybil's face. He knew she'd suggested coming to the café as much for herself as for him. She loved art, jazz and poetry, while he had no interest in art, read only technical magazines and was partial to hip-hop and R & B. However, poetry readings were the exception. There was something about the spoken word that held him transfixed.

He leaned closer. “Good evening, my sister, may I buy you a glass of wine?”

Sybil turned, gazing lovingly at her husband. Those were the exact words he'd said to her what now seemed aeons ago when in reality it'd only been seven years. “Good evening, my brother,” she said, playing along with him. “I hope you don't mind, but I'd much prefer a cappuccino.”

Cory leaned closer, staring intently at the woman with whom he'd fallen in love on sight. His gaze caressed her raven-black hair fashioned into a chignon, her small, straight nose and high cheekbones she'd inherited from her Asian-born mother.

“Promise me you won't run away,” he teased.

“I promise.” Sybil watched Cory as he made his way to the coffee bar. For a fleeting moment she experienced guilt, guilt that she
hadn't
spent much time with him

She'd married Cory because he was the complete opposite of her father. He was sociable, peaceable and incredibly gentle. He wanted children, and Sybil knew he would make a wonderful father because he talked about raising their children differently from how they'd been raised.

His father had abandoned his mother and their three children the year Cory turned fifteen. His younger brother, who'd joined a street gang, was now serving a life sentence for capital murder. And his sister, an unwed mother with three children from three different men, had sought counseling and had taken control of her life to turn it around.

Sybil had promised Cory that they would start a family when they celebrated their fifth wedding anniversary. And she had six months before making good on her promise.

She watched him make his way over to the coffee bar. A woman waiting on line in front of him turned and said something to Cory. He nodded, then turned and pointed in Sybil's direction.

“What was that all about?” Sybil asked when he returned with her coffee. He'd ordered a beer for himself.

“She wanted to know if I was here with someone.”

Sybil's eyes narrowed. “Hell, yeah, you're here with someone.”

“She knows that now.”

“How often do women hit on you?” she asked after taking a sip of the creamy coffee.

“She wasn't hitting on me.”

“You think not?”

Cory frowned. “I know not. And even if she was, I wasn't biting.”

“I hope not.”

His frown deepened. “Where's all of this jealousy coming from, Sybil?”

She gave him a steady look. “You say I don't spend enough time with you, so I thought maybe you were looking for attention from other women.”

“I told you before that I don't cheat. I didn't cheat when I dated and I definitely won't now that I'm married.”

Sybil took another sip. “I was just checking.”

There came a beat. “Is that why you decided to take a couple of days off? What's up? Don't you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, Cory. If I didn't, I wouldn't stay with you.”

Sybil schooled her expression to not reveal what she was feeling, had been feeling for a while. She knew she and Cory were growing apart, but that was because she was trying to grow her business. He claimed he understood, but did he really? Not when he complained of her not spending time with him.

It was the first time since she'd married Cory Cumberland that she wondered whether her marriage would make the five-year mark.