Seduced by Moonlight (5 page)

In the shower, he let the water sluice over his taut, muscular six-two, two-hundred-pound body. When he had been playing his weight had been around one-ninety but over the years he'd picked up ten pounds and, thankfully, not in the gut. His muscle bulk had increased due to weight lifting.

At forty-two he was more at home in his body than at any time in his life. He was no longer that cocky young man who was so confident of his invincibility. Back then, he thought he could do any physical feat put before him. Today, he was just happy that he was healthy.

After drying off, he dressed in a Hugo Boss dark gray striped suit, white silk shirt and dark gray silk tie, and put on a pair of black Italian wingtips.

He liked to present the image of a well-dressed businessman when he made his rounds at the resort. Fully dressed, he went downstairs to the main dining room for breakfast.

Breakfast at the resort was a ritual Harry had come to enjoy. At first, he wasn't at all happy with all the interruptions. But now as a provider of hospitality he took it in stride.

He was not seated at his regular table, a cup of black coffee before him, for five minutes before a couple of African-American women in their fifties sought him out.

They were dressed in athletic suits and athletic shoes, both of them no taller than five-five, and both looked as if the athletic suits weren't just for show. They were fit. One of the ladies had café-au-lait skin and wore her short red hair in a relaxed layered cut that complemented her square-shaped face. Her friend had medium brown skin and wore her graying hair in a short afro, just like his mother did.

“Mr. Payne,” said the redhead, “we just wanted to drop by and let you know we're really enjoying ourselves.”

“Please sit down,” said Harry politely.

“Oh, no, thank you,” said the one with the short afro. “Sister and I have a nine o'clock appointment to go hiking. That tall drink of water with the ponytail is going to take us into your alpine forest. I'm Adele Franklin and this is my sister, Marilyn Walker.”

Harry smiled. Adele was talking about Terry Red Feather, one of their more popular guides, especially with the ladies. Terry was six-four and built. Because of his Native-American blood, he had reddish-brown skin and black hair that fell practically to his waist. Women guests got on a waiting list to have him guide them into the woods.

“Terry's a very good guide,” he assured the sisters.

“Oh, he is?” asked Marilyn, sounding disappointed. “We were hoping he'd get us lost for a couple of days and we could have our way with him.”

They all laughed.

“Now, ladies,” Harry chided lightly. “Terry's a good kid. He's working on his master's degree in psychology at the University of Colorado. Don't scar the boy for life.”

To which the sisters laughed even harder. “We'll be gentle,” Adele joked. She took Marilyn by the arm. “It's eight-fifty, sister. Goodbye, Mr. Payne. Wish us luck!”

“Good luck,” said Harry. He figured Terry Red Feather was the one who needed luck.

He picked up his coffee and took a sip as he watched the sisters hurry off. Nice ladies. A minute later one of the waiters arrived with his breakfast: scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese, a homemade southern biscuit and fresh fruit. He usually skipped meat in the mornings in favor of the protein in eggs. Although he wasn't close to being a vegan—he still enjoyed a juicy steak every once in a while.

A few minutes later, Harry made the twenty-minute stroll across the grounds to the site of the new condominiums. Workmen—and women—were finishing laying the floors and installing cabinetry. The condominiums would have hardwood floors, Berber carpeting, flagstone and marble tile, granite countertops in the kitchen and all the appliances, including a refrigerator, cooktops, a microwave and a conventional oven, a dishwasher and a washer and a dryer. Harry believed in sparing no cost when it came to furnishing the resort and wanted the guests to experience luxury second to none so that they would always come back.

What surprised him was that it was the little things that they raved about the most, such as the heated tiles on the bathroom floors. No stepping onto a cold floor for his guests!

The foreman of the work crew walked up to Harry as soon as he entered the first condominium. Evan Calder had worked with Harry before and knew what to expect if the work wasn't done right, and done on time. Harry knew that construction never went smoothly. He did not rant if supplies were hard to come by due to the recent building boom in the area. That was something Evan had no control over. What irked Harry was when a job wasn't done to his specifications or if the cost went way over Evan's estimate. Those were arguable offenses.

Today, Evan had nothing but good news for him. The two shook hands, their normal greeting. Evan was a short, muscular African-American with a shaved head and a thick black moustache. “Hey, Harry, we're actually ahead of schedule today. This unit is done and we should be finished in each of the units by quitting time on Friday.”

The men were taking Thanksgiving off and returning on Friday morning. Harry also was taking Thursday off. He planned to be back by Friday afternoon to check on their progress.

And the ribbon-cutting ceremony, just a low-key affair with local media and his staff, would take place on Saturday, after which photographers would be allowed inside the one furnished unit. The following week, the other units would be furnished, and then guests would begin moving in. All of the units were already booked for the next six months. Therefore it was vital that the workers finish on time.

“Good, good,” said Harry, pleased. “I'm just going to do a walk-through. Have a great Thanksgiving. I'll see you on Friday afternoon.”

“Same to you,” Evan said, referring to Harry's Thanksgiving well wishes. Then he turned and walked away, going to another one of the units while Harry stayed to painstakingly check his people's workmanship by walking on the floors, opening and closing cabinets and generally going over every inch of the finished unit.

An hour or so later, Harry left, satisfied that the work had been done to his specifications.

That left nine more units to look in on, although he wouldn't go over them as thoroughly as he'd done in the finished unit. That inspection would wait until Friday.

When he walked into his suite two hours later, he was surprised to find Marcia sitting on the couch channel-surfing.

It was only a few minutes after the noon hour. He knew she anchored the early morning news and then the five o'clock news. So for her to drive to Vail between the two shows was quite unusual. She'd never done it before.

“Marcia?”

She started as if she hadn't heard him enter the suite. Rising, she smiled wanly at him. Her lovely golden-hued eyes looked at him with an expression akin to sadness. “Harry, we need to talk.”

Harry went to her and kissed her on the cheek. This didn't feel like a “kiss on the mouth” moment. He could feel the tension in the air. Marcia didn't proffer her cheek as she usually did. When his hand touched her arm as he drew near he felt her stiffen.

“What's the matter?” he asked as he turned away from her and began removing his jacket. He put the jacket on the back of an overstuffed chair and regarded her with an inquisitive expression.

Marcia fidgeted. She couldn't stand still so she paced the floor. She would look at his ruggedly handsome face then look away as if the sight of him was painful to her.

Harry tried to remain calm, but her behavior was bordering on manic. This wasn't the cool, calculating Marcia who had been plotting to become the most important person in his life. That Marcia didn't have a nervous bone in her body. This Marcia was nervous as hell.

Harry sat on the couch and looked up at her expectantly. “You wouldn't be here if you could have told me what you need to tell me over the phone,” he said calmly. “So let me have it!”

His sharp tone made Marcia jump. She stopped pacing and looked him in the eyes.

“Harry, I can't see you anymore. Before you I was involved with LaShaun Gregory. We've decided to get back together.”

“You never mentioned LaShaun,” Harry said, trying to maintain his composure. He didn't know LaShaun well. He'd met him a few years ago. He knew he played for his old team, the Broncos, and that he was one of their highest paid and most prized players. But over the years Harry had not kept up with his old team like some of the other ex-players. In fact, he wasn't an avid fan of football. The way he looked at it, that was his old life.

Marcia went and sat beside Harry on the couch. She placed a hand on his muscular thigh and put on her most sympathetic expression. Harry swore he'd seen that same expression on her face when she was reporting on a catastrophe somewhere in the world.

He realized that her emotions were as detached from him as when she was reading a news story from the TelePrompTer. “Did you ever care anything about me?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“I'm here to take my lumps,” Marcia said bravely. “I admit, I asked you out in the beginning because you were just the type of man who would make LaShaun crazy with jealousy. But I came to like you, Harry. Truly, I did.”

Harry knew he was in the company of an actor when tears appeared in her eyes as she regarded him sadly. “I know you can't forgive me right now because this is so new to you. But maybe in a few weeks you'll come to realize that this is for the best.”

Harry removed her hand from his thigh and rose, looking down at her with a smile on his lips. Suddenly, he laughed.

Marcia looked personally affronted. She rose, too, and stared at him with narrowed eyes. “What is remotely funny about this situation?”

“I knew there was something missing in our relationship,” Harry told her. “I just couldn't put my finger on it. The problem was you were faking it from the beginning. To believe that after I overheard you telling your friend I was a momma's boy I let that slide in favor of trying to hang on to what we had! I should have known, then, that your heart wasn't in it. How could you resent a woman you'd never met?”

He slowly circled her. “So, I was just a plaything, huh?”

Lips pressed together in irritation at being called on the carpet, Marcia didn't answer right away. A minute or so later, she sighed. “I was wrong to say what I did about your mother. I'm sure she's a lovely woman. But I can't regret what I did. LaShaun had it coming. He broke my heart. Come on, Harry. We had fun, you and I. The sex was great and now you're free to move on to the next woman. I'm sure a multimillionaire like you isn't going to lack for female companionship.”

Harry wasn't paying strict attention to what she was saying. He was walking across the room to open the door and hold it for her. “You bet I won't.”

Marcia walked through the door without another word.

Harry closed it and laughed again. Talk about manipulative! He actually felt sorry for LaShaun Gregory.

T
he drive to Vail on Saturday morning was a peaceful one. Danielle had the tendency to go to sleep minutes after leaving on a road trip. So the only company Cherisse had this morning was Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals jamming on their
Lifeline
CD.

Cherisse knew every song and sang along. The music helped to dispel the nervousness she was feeling about seeing Harry Payne again. Would he remember her? And if he didn't should she remind him of their encounter on the balcony in the moonlight? She saw no reason she should. It would probably be better if he
didn't
remember her. She had been attracted to him that night and if she wasn't mistaken, he had been attracted to her.

He had a girlfriend. She would feel very uncomfortable if he conveniently forgot that fact and started making passes at her. Worse, she would be mortified if she found herself still attracted to him in spite of it.

She had to handle the situation with kid gloves. The thing to do was not to be alone with him. John Santiago had said Harry Payne would meet them in the lobby of the resort at one o'clock. He wanted to personally show them to their suite, and then he had arranged for them to tour the facilities. Later that evening, they were supposed to have dinner together in one of the resort's award-winning restaurants. At Danielle's urging, Cherisse had bought a new dress for the occasion. She had been reluctant to do so because, contrary to her daughter's opinion, she already had perfectly good clothes in her closet, even if they didn't have designer labels.

Not many nurses could afford designer clothing.

Cherisse checked the Cherokee's clock—it was eleven-fifty and they were about twenty minutes from their destination. A few miles later, she took Exit 176 and was soon on Vail Road.

“Danielle, wake up, we're here,” she said just loudly enough so as not to startle her daughter.

Danielle woke from her nap with a yawn and stretched. Blinking her eyes a couple times she looked around them. “Wow, this looks like a village in the Alps or something!”

Indeed, Karibu Resort resembled a quaint Swiss village surrounded by majestic mountains. Any minute now, Cherisse expected to hear somebody yodeling. Contrary to the Swiss image, though, she'd read that Harry Payne had named the resort Karibu because it was the Swahili word for
Welcome, join us!
He wanted his guests, he said, to feel as though Karibu was their home away from home.

When Cherisse drove up to the entrance, they were immediately set upon by an attendant, who ascertained their needs and then called for a bellhop to get their luggage and a valet to park the Cherokee in guest parking.

Cherisse had to admit to a touch of awe upon stepping onto the golden marble floor of the lobby.
And she'd been here before.
She looked at Danielle's animated face and knew her daughter was impressed. “Oh, my God,” Danielle breathed reverently. “I feel like Princess Mia.”
The Princess Diaries
had been one of her favorite books when she was younger, and in it an ordinary girl learned she was royalty.

Cherisse laughed softly. Even then, she felt as if her voice echoed in the cavernous lobby. “Well, you're my princess,” she said.

She stepped up to the desk. The woman behind it, a tall, attractive African-American in her late twenties, smiled at her. “Welcome to the Karibu Resort. I'm Rochelle. How can I be of service?”

“I'm Cherisse Washington and this is my daughter, Danielle. We have an appointment with Mr. Payne. Would you please let him know we're here?”

“Of course,” said Rochelle. “I was told to expect you at one. Mr. Payne will be in a meeting until then, I'm afraid. He wanted to be the one to show you to your suite. Would you and your daughter like to have lunch on us while you wait? I would be happy to show you to Millie's Place. It's our cafeteria-style restaurant.”

They were more than thirty minutes early. Cherisse supposed Harry Payne's schedule didn't leave room for surprises. “That would be nice of you, thank you.”

Rochelle let one of her co-workers in the office directly behind the front desk know she was leaving for a few moments. Then she came around the desk and said, “It's only a short walk in this direction.”

On the way to Millie's Place they passed a smart boutique and a sunny atrium that led outside to a lush garden, and encountered dozens of guests on the move between activities, no doubt. They were dressed in golfing clothes, hiking gear, ski togs and other athletic clothing, as well as casual clothing.

Cherisse had read that Karibu Resort catered to African-American skiers and was recommended by many AA ski clubs across the nation, but the guests weren't predominately black, they were from various ethnic backgrounds. She overheard at least three different languages en route to the restaurant: Spanish, German and French. French from a black couple on their way out the door with skis carried across their shoulders.

In the restaurant, Rochelle told the hostess that Cherisse and Danielle were Mr. Payne's guests. Then she said, “Enjoy your meal,” and left.

Cherisse and Danielle thanked her and were told by the hostess that they could sit anywhere they liked. This was a relaxed restaurant where diners walked through the line and chose their entrees, after which they went to the register. At the register, the hostess said, Cherisse was to simply tell the cashier that they were guests of the owner.

Cherisse didn't have much of an appetite. She got a salad and a bottle of water. However Danielle appeared to be ravenous. She ordered the turkey cheeseburger with the works, thick fries and a salad, plus chocolate milk.

Danielle ate heartily. Cherisse picked at her food.

After a while, Danielle, who was sensitive to her mother's moods, remarked, “Don't tell me you're nervous about seeing Mr. Payne again.”

“Well, don't you think this is a strange coincidence?” Cherisse asked reasonably. “We met as strangers and the next time I turn up I'm the mother of the skier he's sponsoring. Yes, I'm nervous.”

“Don't be,” said Danielle, shoving more fries into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed. She consumed her food just like her father did, quickly and with relish. Cherisse wondered if eating habits were genetic instead of learned. Danielle had spent much more time around her and her mother, both of whom were slow eaters.

“What are you most afraid of?” asked Danielle. “That he won't remember you, or he will and since that night he hasn't been able to get you out of his mind?”

Cherisse snorted. “Yeah, that'll never happen.”

“It could happen,” said her daughter, after which she opened her mouth wide to accommodate the huge burger and chomped down on it. She moaned softly.

Cherisse smiled. Her daughter definitely enjoyed her food. Fortunately, she was so active she had never had a weight problem. Her tall frame was exceptionally fit.

Putting down her burger, Danielle regarded her mother with a serious expression. “Let's change the subject, okay? Obviously talking about Harry Payne has ruined your appetite. Remember Dad phoned me on Thanksgiving day?”

Cherisse immediately steeled herself for dire news. Charlie was an inveterate gambler who had lost his house to foreclosure five years ago, and that was when he was a highly paid professional football player. He was retired from the game now. She imagined he was in even greater financial straits.

“Yes?” she croaked.

Danielle smiled. “It's nothing horrible. Dad told me that since he retired he's been going to Gamblers Anonymous. He has his gambling under control, and he was recently offered a recruiting job with the University of Colorado at Denver. You know, his being a hometown boy and all. He accepted. Dad's moving back to Denver!”

Cherisse couldn't help it, her eyes stretched in horror. “Denver! Charlie?! What would possess him to do that?”

Danielle laughed. “Grandma was right, you're not happy about Dad moving back home.”

“You told Ma about this before you told me?” Cherisse said incredulously.

“I was trying to find the right time,” Danielle explained.

“And you chose now?”

“It made you stop obsessing about Harry Payne,” Danielle pointed out after which she took another bite of her burger. Chewing and talking out of the corner of her mouth, she said, “Grandma also said you wouldn't agree to Dad staying with us until he found a place.”

“Staying with us?” Cherisse shouted and immediately lowered her voice. “That man has some nerve.”

“He didn't suggest it, I did,” said Danielle. She wiped the smile off her face and sighed. “He hasn't got anybody else in Denver, just you and me.”

“You,” Cherisse corrected her. “He's got you.”

Danielle acknowledged her mother's comment with a nod. “Okay, he's got only me. And I wanted to spend some time with him before I started going away practically every weekend to compete in the preliminary rounds for the Olympics. I missed him a lot while I was growing up.”

Cherisse couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt at her daughter's statement. It wasn't that she had tried to keep Danielle and Charlie apart after the divorce. Charlie had his priorities: football, gambling and women. Cherisse got tired of reminding him to send Danielle a gift on her birthday, or to phone her on major holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving if he were not able to come see her.

She looked Danielle straight in the eyes. “You and I have had this talk before. I never did anything to prevent Charlie from seeing you. Never! Now, all of a sudden, I'm supposed to bend over backwards to accommodate him because he has seen the light and wants to be in your life more? You're seventeen, practically a woman.
Now
he wants to be a father?”

“You told me when Granddaddy died four years ago that a woman will always need her father. Remember that?”

Chagrined, Cherisse had to think quickly to get out of this one. She could say that her father had been a loving, responsible parent, unlike Charlie, who visited Danielle once or twice a year and sent her checks whenever he won big at the gaming tables.

That wasn't parenting!

However, looking into her daughter's face, which held a hangdog expression, Cherisse was unable to utter those words without feeling extremely selfish. Danielle wanted to be closer to her father. How could she fault her for that?

Living with Charlie was quite another matter, though. “How long?” she asked.

Danielle immediately brightened. “Not long, a few weeks at the most. He's going to look for a place near the university.”

Cherisse shook her head in astonishment. “I can't believe Ma is okay with this.”

“She said you and Dad got married too young and that's why your marriage didn't work out. She said you were always more mature than Dad. But now that he's trying to get himself together and do what's right, she didn't want to stand in his way.”

Cherisse had to admit that sounded just like her mother, always willing to give somebody a second chance.

“When is he supposed to move to Denver?” she asked cautiously.

“Next week,” said Danielle. She visibly winced in anticipation of her mother's reaction.

Cherisse surprised her and laughed. “I'd just as well give in since it's obvious I've been outvoted, two against one. All right, your Dad can stay with us no longer than two months. Eight weeks ought to be long enough for anybody to find a place to live.”

Danielle screeched with delight and, like her mother earlier, immediately lowered her voice. They'd already gotten some odd looks from their fellow diners.

 

Harry strode into Millie's Place two minutes after one o'clock. He wore a dark gray suit with a white shirt, a striped maroon tie and black wingtips. Gold cuff links twinkled at his wrists, but aside from his watch that was the only jewelry he wore.

Going over to the hostess, a petite brunette with brown eyes and ample hips, he said, “Hello, Alice, I'm looking for Cherisse and Danielle Washington. Rochelle told me she escorted them here.”

Alice blushed. She tried her best to control the girlish reaction she got to Harry's nearness but in three years of working there she had never been able to do so. “They're the two attractive ladies over there,” she said with a nod of her head.

Harry smiled at her. “Thanks.”

As soon as he turned his back, Alice fanned her face. “Lord, that man is fine,” she said under her breath.

Harry took his time walking across the restaurant. For one moment, his legs had gone weak under him when he saw Cherisse Washington. It was Cheri. He was sure of it. That glorious, thick, wavy black hair was a dead giveaway, to say nothing of her beautiful clear skin and warm brown eyes. He was standing less than twelve feet away from her and her daughter. Cherisse wore a classic navy blue dress whose hem fell a few inches above her shapely knees. She wore a pair of navy sling-backs with it. And as he recalled, her legs were gorgeous. A woman with legs like that—long, with slender ankles, lovely calves and exquisite knees—should never wear slacks.