She pursed her lips. âThen why donât you answer my question, Mr. Winstead?â
So itâs like that. She was going to get formal with him, condescendingly. That was fine. He liked a little spark of excitement in his life. If she wanted to play the game that way, he had no qualms about laying it all out on the table. He sat back in his chair, laced his fingers in front of him. âPlease, call me Darius. As for my qualifications, I hold a bachelor of science in computer science, and an MBA as well as a masterâs in information technologies. I interned here at FTI in the nineties, owned my own software company, Winstead Development, in the early two-thousands. I invented the first smartphone operating system, sold it and for the past six years Iâve been enjoying a pretty sweet retirement.â He cocked his head to one side. âDoes that answer your question?â
Silence.
Her dark lashes fluttered in time with her rapid blinking, the surprise evident on her face. Her cherry-red lips hung just slightly open.
Franklin looked on without a word, although the slight upturn of his mouth gave away his amusement.
The room grew so quiet, he could hear her breathing. For a moment, he watched the rise and fall of her chest as she leaned close over the tabletop.
âMs. Franklin? Have I sufficiently satisfied your curiosity?â He flexed his fingers.
Closing her mouth, she swallowed. Making direct eye contact with him, she nodded. âYes, Mr. Winstead. Iâd say you have.â She sat up, and pressed her back against the chairâs tall backrest.
Franklin pulled a handkerchief from an inner pocket of his sport jacket, dabbed at the moisture gathering on his brow. âGood. Now I feel I can leave you two alone to get acquainted.â He stood, retrieved his briefcase from the floor and made his way toward the open door. âYou two play nice.â With that, he exited.
Darius looked across the table at his new colleague. Sheâd let her head fall back against the top of the backrest, her eyes focused on the ceiling tiles above them. She used her feet to swivel the chair a few degrees left, then a few degrees right.
He watched her for a few moments. Something was obviously on her mind, but with the bit of tension still hanging in the air, he didnât know if he should ask.
But finally curiosity got the better of him. âDo you think we can get along, Ms. Franklin? Can we keep this professional?â Before the last word left his lips, he knew it was going to be mighty hard to keep things that way with her. She was a beauty, full of fire and grace, like a Miles Davis recording.
She straightened, looked at him with a slight frown. âDonât worry. Professionalism is my area of expertise. You are standing between me and my destiny, but Iâm not petty.â
He circled the table until he was standing next to her chair. âI donât doubt it, but thatâs not what I meant.â
Her expression changed, and she looked away. âI donât know what youâre talking about, then.â
âSure you do. From the moment I stepped into that elevator with you yesterday, youâve been on my mind.â He knew he was taking a risk, but he couldnât resist. With his fingertips, he touched the edge of her hairline, brushing back the hair that had fallen over her forehead once again. It was just as soft to his touch as heâd imagined it would be. âThereâs something between us. Something incredible.â
The smallest of sighs slipped from her lips, and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Shifting in her seat to draw away from his touch, she shook her head. âLetâs not even go down that road.â
He wasnât about to let Ms. Sassy Mouth squirm her way out of this one. âAre you trying to tell me you donât feel it?â He touched her again, this time brushing his fingertips against her cheek.
The brief contact was enough to get her to shift again, then stand. When she did, her body was mere centimeters from his. âIt doesnât matter. I donât date people I work with, Mr. Winstead.â
He smiled. Her mouth was telling him what she didnât do, but what she hadnât said resonated with him even more. She hadnât denied her attraction to him, sheâd only dismissed it as irrelevant. He eased nearer to her, closing the gap between them until his chest grazed hers. âI canât just ignore how you make me feel. But call me Darius, and we can agree to disagree on this.â
âWe both know that if I called you by your first name, Iâd be encouraging you.â She raised her eyes to meet his, and for a moment, he saw the passion there. Her lips parted, as if she had more to say.
Of their own accord, his fingertips found the softness of her cheek once more. Whatever she was going to say next was muffled as he pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was short, fleeting, but unbearably sweet. Her mouth was softer and more intoxicating than anything heâd ever encountered. When she pulled away, he could feel the buttery remnants clinging to his lipsâtraces of her cherry lipstick left behind.
In the aftermath, she took a step back but didnât break eye contact with him. To his mind, she looked conflicted, as if she couldnât decide what to do or say next.
âHave a good day, Darius.â
The soft-spoken words still hanging in the air, she gathered her purse and slipped from the room.
Around eight that evening, Eve pulled her car into a VIP parking space at the Charlotte Westin. Bar 10, a favorite haunt of Eve, Lina and their book club buddies, dominated the first floor of the hotel. Ophelia, Cara and Tammy werenât joining them tonight, and she was looking forward to some one-on-one time with her closest friend.
Sheâd spent the entire crosstown drive replaying her encounter with Darius. There was something about him that made her common sense drain away. How could she have let herself be drawn in by his good looks and smooth talk? She knew better than to start anything with him, regardless of the fact that his good looks made her eyes sting. Yet sheâd let him kiss her. Sheâd had ample time and the opportunity to stop him but she hadnât. She brought her fingertips to her mouth, remembering what it felt like to have his lips crushed against her own. The memory of his kiss was vivid, intoxicating...and she could never let it happen again.
Realizing she still sat in her car, she unbuckled her seat belt, gathered her keys and purse, and hopped out. The sun hung low on the horizon, almost done with its daily trip across the sky. Up and down College Street, pedestrians strolled by, cars whizzed past and the trees lining the sidewalk swayed in the evening breeze. The beauty of the city wasnât lost on her, but on days like this it took a bit of extra effort to put her own thoughts aside long enough to enjoy it. Perching her sunglasses on top of her head, she entered the hotel in her favorite pair of pearl-white stilettos and sauntered toward the bar. Her eyes scanned the room for her friend.
The atmosphere at Bar 10 made it the perfect place for Eve and her gal pals to hold court. The large windowed wall facing the street gave a beautiful view of the Queen City and its residents coming and going; the comfortable furniture, tasteful decor and accommodating staff all conspired to create an inviting, relaxing destination at the end of a hard day.
Lina sat near the left side of the bar, in a caramel suede armchair beneath the large window that composed the entire wall. Eve spotted her easily, sitting crossed legged on the chair, wearing her typical evening attire: a silver sequined halter top and black pencil skirt with silver stilettos. A black clutch lay on the floor at her feet. Engrossed in the latest issue of Essence magazine on her lap, she didnât notice Eve until she slipped into the chair next to her.
âHey, Eve,â Lina said,