Caress (23 page)

Lysette looked at him apprehensively, hearing the urgency he had tried to hide. “Yeah,” she replied, “but he just left.”

Michael spun on his heel and put a hand to his forehead. Then he turned back to her and smiled. “By any chance, do you think you could tell me where he’s staying while he’s in town?”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Lysette said, nevertheless taking up a pen and a memo pad from the counter near the phone. “I mean, Nya would probably be pretty angry about this, if I were to tell you. I mean,” she continued as she wrote and then ripped off a sheet and handed it to Michael, “I just don’t know how I can comply with your demands and I don’t even know why you would ask me such a thing.”

Michael took what turned out to be a time and place and smiled brightly at her, thanking her. “Tell Nya I’ll see her tomorrow and that I’m sorry about tonight.” He glided quickly out of the room and out to his car. Striking through darkness interrupted only by street lights, Michael’s mind raced with more thoughts than he could organize. There were flashes of Nya dancing sensually with Deklerk, then the challenging way he had looked at Michael, and then the way Nya had felt in his arms. He would find the key to this and to her heart if it killed him.

h

Nya was surprised she hadn’t slept in. After she, Lysette, and a few other people stayed up late cleaning up after the party, she’d fallen asleep only to wake up two hours later to go into the office. There was still so much to do before the ball that night. After stopping by the galleries to check up on the progress, she finally arrived home again in hopes of getting dressed. Tonight was an extremely important night.

Nya stepped up to her door and looked down to see a large box wrapped in silver, satiny paper leaning against her door. It had to be the dress Ericka had sent around. Ericka was a godsend. Nya never had time to shop, and Ericka faithfully sent her something whenever she needed it and Lysette couldn’t help. She tucked the parcel beneath her arm as she pushed her door open, then bent precariously to pick up her mail. She kicked the door closed behind her and plodded upstairs.

In her bedroom Nya opened the silver gray box—not Ericka’s usual wrap—curious to know what Ericka had picked out this time. She always chose very tasteful and conservative clothing which was always very stylish. Ericka knew what Nya liked. She pulled back delicate white tissue and revealed satin as white as dove feathers. As she slipped her hands inside touching the material with careful fingers, she was overcome by the absolute sumptuousness of the fabric. She lifted it from the box, letting the dress hang as she admired the sheer beauty of it with its tailored bodice trimmed in the whitest pearls and the long, full satin skirt belling from it. She looked down into the box and saw a white chiffon scarf lying there, also trimmed with pearls. It was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen, and the most sensual. She laid the dress across her bed and glanced again into the box to find a small, white envelope inside. Ericka never sent a card.

She removed the card with shaking fingers and read, “Nya, I just wanted to make up for everything: the articles, the arguments, everything. Michael.” She sank down onto her bed with the card still clasped in her hand. She reread it, then lay back staring at her ceiling and picturing Michael Harrison, feeling the way his kiss stole her breath away. She wanted more than anything for him to see her in the dress. She wanted more than anything for the situation to be different. But it wasn’t, and she couldn’t wear that dress. She couldn’t give in to the way he made her feel. Why tease herself or him with something that just couldn’t be, at least not yet. At that moment, she heard her doorbell ring. She trotted down the stairs to see the usual delivery girl from Ericka’s.

“Hello, Ms. Seymour. Miss Ericka sent this around for you. She would have gotten it to you earlier, but you know how things are around this time of year. Everybody’s getting ready for the ball.”

“Tell me about it,” Nya sighed and took the box into her house and opened it in her room. Inside was a tailored, silk, slate-blue pant suit with a dark sequined shell beneath. She could tell that it was of the finest quality from an Italian designer; it would be perfect.

She stared again at the stunning gown Michael had sent her. It was so much more beautiful. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to wear it. Not when she couldn’t be involved in a relationship with him. Not when she had her company to worry about. Not when he insisted that one of her best friends was a traitor. Not when she wanted to so much.

Nya swung her car into her reserved parking space at the Hatsheput Galleries and checked her makeup in the mirror. She took a deep breath and flashed a brilliant smile at herself. She decided that was going to be the one that got her through the night.

“Aren’t we conceited?” she heard as she opened her car door to see Lysette climbing out of her SUV in a pair of jogging pants and a t-shirt that hung to her knees, her hair up in rollers.

“Lysette, what are you doing?” Nya asked, helping her retrieve her bags from the car. “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

“I just got back from the beauty shop, and I figured someone might need me here so I just came straight over. This way I can get dressed and keep an eye on things, too.”

“Jamie was at home, huh?” Nya asked knowingly and with a wry smile.

“Caught,” Lysette said, rushing toward the building. “I’m telling you, I can’t get anything done with that man at home. If he didn’t work out in the mornings, I’d never be able to help you out at work.”

“It takes two for a distraction to be effective,” Nya returned and pushed open the double doors with her back, leading Lysette past the many meticulous workers finishing up for the night and up the lighted stairs to the executive offices. “You’d think y’all were still on your honeymoon.”

As Nya searched through her purse for the key to her office, she heard a sing-song voice call out behind her, “Nya, you look to die for!”

“Thanks, Alex,” she replied to the rotund man coming down the hall towards her. Alex, who planned Hattiversary, was a striking picture in his tails and his kente cloth cummerbund and tie. “You look great, too.”

“And Lysette, I see you couldn’t get away from Jamie,” he chided.

“Is everybody in my business?” Lysette asked with a blush and pushed into Nya’s office as soon as she got it open.

Nya made to follow her but Alex stopped her. “A couple of questions, Nya.”

“Yes,” Nya groaned, knowing that if it was Alex, there were more than a couple.

“First, did we decide to have the speakers on in the gardens? You know the moisture in there’s a problem.”

“Oh, I think it’ll be all right for tonight.”

“And the flowers. Which ones are for the people who made pledges?” And with that Nya was swept into a whirlwind of finishing touches and snap decisions. When people finally began to enter, Nya stood as hostess and flashed the confident smile she’d practiced in the car, though she felt more butterflies in her stomach than she ever had before. Where was Michael?

As if on cue, she felt the whisper on her neck. “You’re not wearing the dress.”

“I didn’t think it was appropriate for a company function,” she answered, hiding her face behind the large lily bloom she’d saved from falling to the floor earlier. She didn’t turn to see him. He didn’t say anything, and in that silence was an unmistakable disappointment that she could hardly bear.

“I can understand that,” he said finally, and then with a smile in his voice, added, “As long as we find an appropriate time for you to wear it.”

“How’d you get past me?” Nya asked, changing the subject.

“I’ve been here all day with the photographers trying to figure out how we’re going to shoot this thing. I think you’re going to be extremely pleased with your new feature, Ms. Seymour.” His voice was like a caress and she moved to turn and face him, hoping to put some distance between them.

But distance couldn’t save her emotions from the sight of him in the most elegant dove gray double-breasted suit that only intensified the absolute strength personified by his muscular frame and towering height. He was a formidable picture. He smelled of a rich musk that made her want to crawl into his arms, and the black satin bow tie at his throat added an air of sophistication which no other man in that room could boast. And that debonair smile showed he knew it, or at least read the appreciation written all over Nya’s face.

“You look very nice,” she managed and felt silly immediately after.
Nice
was certainly not the word to describe him. And though she was embarrassed by it, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Luckily Lysette took the opportunity to make her appearance with her husband in tow. One glance at her and Nya nearly choked. “Oh, no, you didn’t!” she gasped.

“You think it’s too much?” Lysette made an extravagant turn in the glittering red-sequined gown that showed every curve of her small frame. It included a plunging neckline and a split nearly up to her hip.

“That’s your wife,” Nya said to Jamie, who merely shrugged and shook his head. “No wonder you had to get dressed here. I see you plan on being in the society spread this year no matter what.”

“You got that right,” Lysette acknowledged.

“Not like standing next to one of the most talented centers in training for what’s shaping up to be one hell of a basketball season doesn’t help,” Michael said, clasping hands with the tall man. “How do they get suits to fit you guys?”

“Trade secret.” Jamie smiled, though his eyes were possessively trained on his wife.

Nyron Seymour chose that moment to appear at Nya’s side. “Nya, girl,” he said, pulling her into an affectionate hug that she didn’t altogether return.

“You still mad at me, eh?”

“Where’s mama and Jenine?” Nya asked quickly.

“Your mother and sister are somewhere badgering the master of ceremonies about something or other. Don’t try to redirect me, girl.”

“I’m not mad, just wondering where my mother and sister are.”

Nya glanced at Lysette, who conveniently took that moment to explore the contents of the buffet table. Jamie followed her; Michael didn’t budge.

Nyron turned to him and stuck out his hand. “My daughter, she always thinks I’m mistreating her, although she doesn’t typically show her irritation with me in front of strangers. I am Nyron Seymour. And you are?”

“Michael Harrison,” he said, returning the handshake. “And I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now. I admire what you’ve done for the black community and for the art world at large.”

“Ahh, Mr. Harrison. Yes, I’ve wanted to meet you, too. I read your feature and was impressed that you and your team were able to restore our good name, at least in the eyes of your readers.”

Nya rolled her eyes. She had enough trouble with Harrison without him getting all friendly with her father.

“Well, sir,” Michael answered. “I thank you for the compliment. There were some questions that went unanswered in the article, though. For example, your retirement, and who’s going to follow you as head of Hatsheput.”

Nya nearly choked.

“You are a reporter, aren’t you?” Nyron asked, still smiling. “That decision will be made when the time comes.”

“Meaning no disrespect, sir, I think you should consider someone who cares just as much about the company as you do.” He glanced pointedly at Nya, who looked absolutely livid.

Nyron blinked and then laughed. “I see my daughter’s made an impression on you.”

Michael bristled at the insinuation. “The impression of a good businesswoman, sir.”

“You’re sure that’s what has sold her abilities to you?”

“She works harder than anyone I’ve ever met just to show you that she can do whatever’s necessary to run your company,” Michael insisted. Nya groaned and walked off.

Nyron was no longer laughing, “I’m not blind, Mr. Harrison, to anything,” he said with a narrowing of his elongated eyes, so like his daughter’s. “You should apologize to her. She hates it when people have underestimated her…which is something I have yet to do. She is my daughter, after all.”

Michael, feeling instantly embarrassed by his protective tirade, turned to go, but rethought that. First, he apologized to Nyron. The older man only grinned and told Michael he understood, though Michael wasn’t sure he did.

When he finally caught up with Nya, she didn’t give him time to express his remorse. “Look,” she exploded. “I don’t need you fighting my battles for me! I am completely capable. So just stay out of my life.”

“Oohhh, you’re making all kinds of friends tonight,” Michael heard from behind him as he watched Nya storm off.

“Lysette, you’re always ready to point out the faults of others. Why didn’t you tell me I was making a fool of myself?”

“I was too wrapped up in the drama, I think.” She popped a chicken salad finger sandwich into her mouth. She wiped her mouth and whispered to him, “However, I did have time to do you a little favor.” Michael turned to her. “Seriously. I think there’s someone up in the offices on the second floor who might feel stood up if you don’t get up there.” Michael looked at her quizzically. She huffed in frustration. “You got the note at the party. I’ve arranged a meeting you’ve been wanting for a long time. Just go up there and do what you do best.” She turned and began to mingle with someone Michael recognized as the deacon of an area church. He saw Nya off talking to a couple of people he recognized from the Birmingham office and thought to go after her. Instead, he shook his head and turned to find out exactly what Lysette had cooked up now.