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“Hi. This is Byron. Did I call too late?”
“No. It’s only nine. How are you?”
The word fine came to mind, but he didn’t feel fine. He’d spent the day smiling and pretending. “I’m not sure how I am, Tyra. I think I’d feel better if you were here.” He knew he’d shocked her, but it was no use pretending.
“You’ve surprised me, Byron. If something’s wrong, I’m sorry. I’d fix it if I could.”
“I’m not certain you can’t. Ever since I met you, I’ve been a little off kilter.” And he had. Things that usually satisfied him just didn’t anymore.
“Are you unhappy?” she asked. He heard in her voice the softness and compassion that he’d missed for four long years.
“I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m obviously not myself, either. And I shouldn’t be dumping this on you.”
“That’s what friends are for. Look, come by and let’s go some place and get an ice cream cone.”
“That’s a wonderful idea. In fact, I think it’s just what I need. Can you make it in twenty minutes?”
“Twenty minutes it is.” She brushed her teeth, dabbed a bit of perfume behind her ears and went in the family room where she knew Maggie was watching television. “I’m going out for a few minutes.”
“If it’s who I hope it is, make good use of the time,” Maggie said as she threw a handful of popcorn into her mouth.
“No comment.”
Tyra grabbed her pocketbook from the back of the dining room chair, took her hair out of a ponytail and closed the front door behind her. As the Cadillac drove up, she started down the walk. Byron got out of the car and met her.
“Hi.” He slipped an arm around her waist, bent over and kissed her cheek. “I’m not moody, but—”
“Oh, you don’t have to explain,” she said, taking his hand. “We all need a lift some time. You’d do the same for me.”
He opened the passenger’s door for her and helped her in. “You’re right. I would, and I won’t forget it.”
Without thinking Tyra reached over and patted his hand. “Were you really feeling depressed?”
“Yeah. If things aren’t going right, I usually fix them. Right now, I’m feeling better.”
She thought it best not to comment, but still, the idea that she could make a man like Byron Whitley forget about whatever was bothering him was good for her self-confidence. She wanted to hug him.
She knew she’d better be on her guard with this man. She slid down in the comfortable leather seat. What the hell, she said to herself. I’m thirty-one, and it’s time I did some living.
She’d thought he would take them to a place nearby, but since she lived on the outskirts, he began driving in a different direction
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask where we were headed.”
“I knew you were taking us to a place that sold ice cream. What else did I need to know?”
He parked and turned to her. “You’re growing on me. So you’d better be careful.”
“Thank you for warning me.”
She wasn’t prepared for the cozy, romantic atmosphere inside the massive ice-cream cone-shaped shop. Under hanging lanterns, white pillar-candles were nestled in arrangements of yellow, red and blue nasturtiums atop wrought-iron marble-top tables. Soft music filled the air. With his hand pressed against her back, Byron guided her to a table with a view of the moonlit sky.
They seated themselves, and he picked up a menu. “Whatever flavor you can imagine is here. What would you like?”
“As much as I love ice cream, I feel as if I can’t eat anything. I mean, Byron, it’s so…perfect.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased, but I’ll be disappointed if you don’t have some.”
“I know, but not to worry. The chance of my leaving here and not tasting any ice cream is close to nil. I’ll bet they don’t have pomegranate ice cream.”
A grin flashed across his face. “Let’s see. Last time I was here, it was on the menu, and it was delicious.”
“I’ll have a double cone.”
“Good. That’s what I’ll start with.” He called the waitress. “Two double scoops in a cone of pomegranate, please. I’ll get an apricot cone for dessert.”
If she wasn’t careful, she’d fall for him. The waitress brought their ice cream and some napkins. Tyra ran her tongue over the ice cream, closed her eyes and savored the rich creamy dessert.
“This is fan—” She stopped in the middle of the word. When she opened her eyes, she was staring into pools of naked desire. She put the cone on the plate that the waitress had placed in front of her.
“Byron—”
“It’s all right. You caught me off guard. Aren’t you going to finish your ice cream?”
She nodded, and as soon as the ice cream touched her lips, her discomfort disappeared. She reached across the table and stroked the back of his hand. He turned his hand over and caressed hers. It was too much.
“Byron, tell me why you called me tonight.”
“I’ve always been a loner, Tyra. I have always been that way. I enjoy being with people who are interesting to me in some way. But I liked the peace and quiet of being alone. I always did my best thinking walking in the park or in the woods by myself. Tonight, I suddenly felt lonely. I sat in my den trying to work, and suddenly I felt so alone that I couldn’t stand it. And you were the only person that I wanted to see. You can’t imagine how happy I was when you suggested we get together.”
“I see.”
“I won’t ask what you are thinking.” He leaned forward. “Can we spend some time together? I mean a lot of time. Is there a man in your life?”
“The answer is no.”
“Do I stand a chance with you?”
“Well, I haven’t left my house at night on the spur of the moment to go any place with a man other than you.”
He sat back in his chair and gazed into her eyes as if to make certain that he had heard her correctly. “Not only do you and I have a lot in common, but there’s something else important going on here. At first I thought it was just physical attraction. But you’ve quickly proved me wrong. And it isn’t one-sided, either. Are you willing to explore it?”
“What can I say? The same feeling that hit you hit me. But let’s go slowly.”
“You’re telling me not to rush you?” She nodded. “All right, I won’t,” he said, grinning from ear to ear, “but I certainly won’t take things so slow that you’ll think I’m dragging my feet.”
“Would you mind spelling that out?” As soon as she said it, his expression brightened, and she wished she hadn’t asked him to explain.
He leaned forward, his eyes twinkled, and a smile—just short of salacious—framed his lips. “I mean, when I kiss you, I won’t pour it on. I’ll make it sweet and tender, and when I touch you and stroke you, I won’t be too possessive. I’ll be careful.”
For a full minute, he had her spellbound. She thought of him sinking into her body. Her fingernails scored the palms of her hands, and the pain brought her back to her senses.
She stood. “It’s getting late. We should go.”
“Of course,” he said. He paid the bill, took her hand and walked with her to his car. On the drive back to her house, they didn’t talk. He put a CD into the player, and the sound of Chet Atkins’s guitar enveloped them. Byron parked in front of Tyra’s house and walked her to the door.
“Give me your key, please.” She did, and he opened the door, walked in with her and closed it. “You made me feel special tonight,” he said. “You were there for me.” His left hand stroked the side of her face, and his right hand held her arms, eased across her back and gathered her to him.
She knew he meant to kiss her, and she wanted it so badly that she could hardly wait. Her heart beat so wildly that she feared she would faint. His eyes darkened. When he lowered his head, she rose on tiptoe to meet him. He ran the tip of his tongue across the seam of her lips, testing them. She opened her mouth and sucked him in. His groan stunned her. A prickly sensation shot through her, making her tremble uncontrollably. He gathered her into his arms and held her there.
“I’d better go while I still have my sanity,” he whispered after some minutes. “I’ll call you when I get home.”
She kissed his lips. “Drive carefully. You’re carrying precious cargo.”
“I promised not to rush you, but if you say things like that to me, keeping my word won’t be easy. I won’t be like a long distance runner but more like a sprinter.”
She floated up the stairs in a world of her own. If he could make me feel like that with just a kiss…I could be wrong, but how do I know he’s the one? But before I get involved with him, shouldn’t I see what else is out there?
Chapter 3
Byron drove three blocks, stopped and put the car in park. Overwhelmed, he hadn’t reached his car before he wanted to turn around and go back to her. What the devil was wrong with him? He was his own man—always had been. But this sudden need for a woman he’d seen three or four times boggled his mind. He wasn’t upset. He just couldn’t understand it. He’d never felt about any woman the way he felt about her. It was if some vital part of him was missing the moment he left her. He shook his head, put the car in gear and continued home. It was probably a fluke. But she made him feel so good. God, please let it be real.
He hadn’t told Tyra about Andy. She didn’t know he had a son and, until that moment, he hadn’t thought it important. But it was. For if his feelings for her persisted, his having a child could become an issue. He’d have to do something about that, and soon.
He drove into his garage and entered his house through the passageway that connected the garage and the kitchen side door. Vowing not to allow anything to spoil his good mood, he took a bottle of ginger ale from the refrigerator, sat down in the family room, kicked off his shoes and flicked on the television. He switched between late-night talk shows, but didn’t see or hear much of either. Tyra had seemed to want him as much as he wanted her. Lord, she was so sweet. And she had an air of innocence that didn’t seem to fit with what he knew about her.
He remembered that he’d promised to call her and looked at his watch. A quarter to twelve, twenty minutes since he left her house, but too late to phone. But if he didn’t call, she’d probably think he wasn’t a man of his word. He dialed her number and prayed that the phone wouldn’t ring in anyone’s room but hers.
When she answered the phone by saying “Hi,” he knew he’d done the right thing.
“I almost didn’t call, because I was afraid I might awaken you or your family. But I didn’t want you to think of me as unreliable. I’ve been thinking about you, and about us, and I can hardly believe that I had you in my arms. If it doesn’t happen again and soon, I’ll think I imagined it.”
“Not to worry, Byron, if I thought you forgot it, I’d remind you.” Her laughter, warm and hearty, floated to him through the wire.
That comment surprised him. He hadn’t known many straightforward women. He was used to women who liked to play games with a guy. “It’s really refreshing. I hope the time soon comes when you’ll feel free to kiss me whenever you want to.”
“You promised to go slowly.”
“It seems to me that I’m crawling at a snail’s pace.”
“Really? A roller coaster is more like it. I enjoyed being with you tonight, Byron, but I’d better get to sleep. I have to get up at six-thirty.”
“Stay sweet. At least I’ll see you Friday at five. Good night.” He’d wanted to add sweetheart, but he knew she’d say he was moving too fast.
“Good night, dear.”
She hung up. He sat there staring at the receiver. She’d said, good-night, dear. Was he dear to her? He’d give anything if he understood women, any woman. He took a shower, dried off, slipped into bed and let the cool sheets tantalize his naked body. What he wouldn’t give if she were there to wrap her arms and legs around him! He couldn’t help laughing at himself. Every man had at some point knelt before a woman. Who was he to complain about the order of things? He had to wait, and he’d be glad to cool his heels while he waited for Tyra Cunningham.
Tyra strode into the Legal Aid Center office building the next morning feeling like a lottery winner, until Christopher Fuller blocked her way.
“Feeling frisky this morning, are we?” he said with a rakish grin. “I thought I saw you in the pool area yesterday at noon fully dressed. A beautiful woman like you should take a dip so we can appreciate you fully.”
She caught herself before she did something she’d later regret. “Not all of us are exhibitionists, Mr. Fuller.”
His eyebrow shot up. “When you’ve got it, flaunt it.”
She moved around him, and as she passed, she said, “When what you’re flaunting isn’t so special, you’re wasting your time.” His shoulders seemed to sag, so she knew she’d hit him where it hurt. He’d hoped she had seen him sprawled out in the lounge chair. She admitted to herself that he appeared well endowed, but he could bet she’d never know for sure.
But of all the men here, he’s the one who’s after me. He’s the only one that I don’t want near me, she said to herself. As far as she was concerned, all he had going for him was below his waist, and she didn’t need that from him.
She found a note on her desk from Lyle Riddick, the man Barbara Johnson said was her supervisor and whom she hadn’t yet met. “Ms. Cunningham, could we meet in my office at ten this morning. Thank you, L. Riddick.” She reread the note. At least he said thank you. Since he didn’t say what they would discuss, she couldn’t prepare, so she began drafting a questionnaire designed to obtain essential information from her clients—questions that would help her determine the best way in which to help them. Tyra walked into Lyle Riddick’s office at exactly ten and stopped short. Was she in a bird sanctuary?
“Come in. Come in, Ms. Cunningham. I surround myself with my favorite things…to the extent that I can. And birds and squirrels are among my delights. My yard is full of squirrels, by the way.” He stood and shook hands with her. “I’ve been away at a conference. Delighted to meet you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Riddick. I hope the conference was worthwhile.”
“Indeed it was. Are you satisfied with your assignment so far?”
She leaned back in the chair, assessing the man as best she could.
“Thank you for asking,” she said. “I haven’t had anything to do really. I’m sorry for being so blunt, but you asked, and I always try to tell the truth.”
“Honesty is a good thing. I have a case for you. The boy’s name is Jonathan Hathaway. He’s a great kid, but he’s got some family problems. If you have extra time after dealing with this problem, I’d like you to counsel Erica Saunders. After twenty-five years of marriage during which she never held a job and lived off her husband’s earnings, she got bored, had an extra-marital affair. She feels she’s being mistreated because her husband is divorcing her and refuses to pay alimony. She’s depressed, almost suicidal and thinks the whole world is against her. I thought you might be able to help her.”
She stared at him. “I hope you don’t think I’d sympathize with her.”
“I think we’ll work well together, Tyra,” he said with a hearty laugh. “And please call me Lyle. We have a couple of young turks here, but I see that you’re able to keep them in line.”
“Yes. I’ve met both of them, and I don’t anticipate a problem.”
“Good, Ron Parker took a turn with the Saunders case, but I decided he wasn’t the person to deal with it. Stop by his office and get the file. If you have any problems, I’m right here.”
She thanked him and left. A knock on Parker’s office door brought a response that was more akin to a growl than a greeting. He stood when she walked in.
“Well. Well. Things are looking up around here. I hope you’re the secretary I ordered. Hmm.”
Another one of those. “Mr. Parker, I’m Tyra Cunningham, and I’ve been assigned Erica Saunders’s case. Lyle said you have her file. May I have it?”
“Walked right into that one. No hard feelings, I hope. I didn’t know we were hiring women.” He searched through a stack of folders on his desk and handed her one of them.
“Thanks. I’m sure that’s not all you don’t know.” She couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Another lesson learned. If she’d met him at a party and he’d asked her for a date, she would probably have gone out with him, though she doubted she’d have done it a second time. She wouldn’t say that Ron Parker was a problem. Nor did she expect him to be one, but he was obviously accustomed to getting what he wanted, and he seemed to want what didn’t come easily. Or so it seemed. On the way back to her office, she stopped to get coffee.
“Can we have lunch today?” Matt Cowan asked her when she bumped into him in the coffee room.
“I have to prepare for a new client this afternoon, so it’s probably not a good time.”
He dropped three packets of sugar into his coffee and stirred, all the while gazing intently at her. “You have to eat, don’t you? Why not have dinner with me.”
She smiled, because she didn’t want him for an enemy. But she couldn’t imagine why anyone would care about a having lunch with someone who didn’t matter. “All right, but I’m planning to read while I eat.”
He put the coffee cup down and put both hands in his pants pockets so that his suit jacket hung at his sides and back. To her mind, exasperation was the only word that could describe him.
“Are you brushing me off?”
She didn’t try to control the smirk that formed around her lips. “Would anybody dare to do that?”
Matt ran his fingers through his silky curls, a testament to his Native American heritage.
She looked at her watch. “It’s eleven o’clock. Meet you in the lunch room at twelve thirty.”
“I’d almost given up hope.”
“Well, you’re nicer than I thought you’d be,” said Tyra.
“Are you trying to get a rise out of me?”
“No, but your brusque manner doesn’t impress me. Fuller and Parker impress me to the extent that I don’t like their company.”
“But I’m just another guy, eh?”
“I didn’t say that, and don’t put words in my mouth. See you at twelve-thirty. I have to work.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
She went back to her office and closed the door. What would Byron think about that? It was just lunch, but it was still a date. She told herself to tread carefully, and not risk ruining her relationship with Byron just to prove that she could find her own man.
She headed to the cafeteria to meet Matt for lunch and, to her surprise, he was already there waiting for her. She had assumed that he would be late. Once they had gotten their food, she decided to initiate the conversation. “How old are you?” she asked him.
“Thirty-five.”
“Are you married?”
He didn’t seem a bit taken aback, considering her question. “I am. But I’m at a different state in my life. I want stability and a family. Right now, I don’t have either.”
“Is it you or her?”
“It’s a combination of things, and it’s too bad. What about you?”
“I’m sorry. As for me, I’ve never married or even come close to it. But I met someone recently who seems interesting.”
“He’s a lucky guy.”
She was surprised that he was so open about such personal matters. But she realized that he was vulnerable and seemingly very unhappy.
“Are you separated now, Matt?”
He nodded. “Yeah, but it suits me. The longer it lasts, the more I learn about myself and the happier I am.”
She sipped sweetened ice tea as she waited for Matt to finish his apple pie. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t, because she knew he would see the pity in her eyes.
As they left the lunch room, she asked him, “Do you think you and your wife could make a go of it if she worked harder to understand your needs?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Neither is what the other needs.”
“Thanks for your company, Matt.”
“I thank you. Just talking about it has strengthened my resolve to put my life in order. You’re a good listener, and I’ll bet you’re a good counselor.”
“See you later.”
She sat down at her desk, leaned back and exhaled. She understood the wisdom of letting Byron know her feelings, and that meant letting him know her dreams and aspirations. She cared for him, and she wanted him.
At two-thirty, a tall, handsome and well-dressed teenager walked into Tyra’s office and extended his hand. She liked him at once. “Ms. Cunningham, I’m Jonathan Hathaway, and I hope you can help me,” he said. She asked him to have a seat.
“Thanks. My seventeen-year-old girlfriend is pregnant, and her dad won’t let us marry.”
“Did you date her without his permission?”
“No. I went to her house practically every evening, took her out or stayed there and did my homework with her. Sometimes he was at home, and sometime he wasn’t.”
“I don’t think the courts can give you permission to marry this girl so long as she’s under eighteen, but you do have some rights, and we’ll see that those rights are honored.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I sure hope so.”
She talked with him for half an hour and realized that they might be forced to go to court. “Where does your family stand in this, Jonathan?”
“They’re angry. She could stay with us and my folks would help me pay for everything, but her dad won’t allow it.”
“What is he demanding? He must want something.”
“Oh, he does. He’s asking for money.”
Tyra bit back her anger. “I’ll see what we have here and collect the resources that we need, Jonathan. Meanwhile, try not to worry. She’ll be eighteen in about six months, and her father will have no legal jurisdiction. Of course, we want marriage for the two of you before the child is born, if possible. You’re my number one priority.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I know you’ll do what you can.”
She said goodbye to Jonathan. She’d lost track of time and realized that it was past time to go home. She quickly packed up her things.
“How about a drink?” She looked up and saw Christopher Fuller holding the lobby door for her.
“No thanks. I’m in a hurry to get home.”
“If you’re in a hurry, why’d you stay so late? What were you doing? Making out with Cowan?”
“What I was doing is none of your business. I don’t have a damn thing to do when I get home. I just can’t stand you.” She whirled around and bumped into Matt. “Matt, this idiot says I’ve been making out with you. I’d appreciate it if you’d straighten him out.”
As she rushed off, she heard Matt say, “Come off it, Fuller. You wouldn’t know a lady from the pigs you lie around with. You’ve had one warning. If you don’t want a second one, you’d better change your tone.”
When she got home, she went to her bedroom, closed the door and kicked off her shoes. She’d decided it would be foolish to jeopardize her relationship with Byron merely to put her siblings in their place.
Byron was a block from his house when he remembered his promise to buy Andy a bicycle. A four-and-a-half year-old could handle one he reasoned. He turned the Cadillac onto Genstar Drive and headed for the Francis Scott Key Mall. Once inside the mall, Byron passed a bookstore window and saw a children’s book about Frederick, Maryland heroes. He went in and bought it. Andy loved stories that he could retell in his day school and was fast earning the title of class storyteller. Byron made a note to read the book first so that he could answer his son’s questions, and he knew there would be plenty of them.
Byron found the bicycle that he wanted, remembered to get a helmet and headed home. He pulled into his garage, left the bicycle and helmet in the car and entered the house through the kitchen. In his haste to greet Byron, Andy nearly fell out of the chair.
“I need a new story, Daddy. Kisha told one today, but nobody clapped.”
Byron lifted the boy into his arms and hugged him. “Why didn’t you clap?”
“I didn’t want her to be as good as me.”
“As good as I. You should have clapped. You’re good at it, and you can afford to be gracious to other children who try to tell stories.’