Like Slow Sweet Molasses (18 page)

The
breath he drew at the end of his tirade scorched his throat for he was so very
hot and enraged. Hands akimbo wedged his sports jacket open showing a glimpse
of dark metal. “You— two—are—pathetic. She deserves better people to call
relatives. You’re not good enough to claim her in your gene pool.”

“It
was more than a generous offer,” Jason defended.

Control
was hard to come by as Chance cut him down to size with his blade-sharpened
stare while ignoring the constant vibration at his waist.

“That’s
enough. Both of you.” Philip walked to the door as an invitation for Chance to
depart. “Lt. Alexander, under other circumstances I’d have the time to woo
Angela into a father-daughter relationship. As things stand for me—I’m on
borrowed time. See what you can do to convince her to reconsider the offer. You
seem to have influence over her. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Chance
shook his head at the words buzzing around him like gnats. “You bastard. Keep
your bribe money. I’ll see the pair of you in hell first before I say a word to
her on your behalf.”

The
hallway was empty when Chance bounded from the room in pursuit of her. He paced
in front of the elevator wearing down the plush carpet while jabbing at the
button that brought the elevator no faster. Once on board, the button volley
continued as he thumbed the lobby button the entire ride down. Chance’s strides
lengthened to a near run as he rushed passed the check-in counter, cut through
the atrium bistro dodging wrought iron tables and chairs and streaked near the
conference rooms lining the long expanse of hall leading to the garage. He let
loose a sigh at the sight of Angela patiently waiting at the car, poised and
composed beyond his belief.

“I
need to walk.”

He
didn’t voice the skepticism of her request though he wondered how long she
could manage dressed in that knock-out frock and decked out in those stylish
high heels. His eyes traced from her footwear, up her shapely legs, lingering
slightly on her curvaceous form before resting on her eyes now watery with
unshed tears. “I’ll take you home to change.”

“No.”
She resisted the offer backing away as he moved in closer.

“Okay.
Okay.” Briefly, he checked the readout on his phone while performing the
gentlemanly act of opening the door.

The
going was slow as he traversed the narrow streets of the French Quarters loud
with life as revelers out for a New Orleans-style weekend caroused and
canvassed the businesses. Music blasted, delicious smells wafted in the air,
sidewalk hawkers hired to entice passers-by into establishments railed against
the cacophony of sounds circulating in the area. Chance’s senses repelled the
activities for he was sympathetic to her trials. She, on the other hand, looked
far and away from him.

The
parking garage was in one of the French Quarter hotels centrally located to the
most popular spots. He assisted her from the car with a hand to her elbow. Her
passive expression said more than if she verbalized her pain to him. Her fire
barely burned, dulled to a simmer and her despair all but extinguished it
altogether. There was a crowd on the streets making them weave their way to nowhere
in particular. Out of the corner of his eye, Chance monitored her demeanor
noting not even the antics of the bawdy swinging lady swooping in and out, over
the balcony railing and above the strollers on the street, caused any change in
her manner.

They
strolled side by side covering blocks at a time without a word passing between
them. He felt he had to do something to bandage her soul. The opportunity
presented itself at the next turn in the bend. “Wait here.” Angela hardly
responded encouraging him to take her by the shoulders. He had to make her
talk. “Are you listening to me, Angela?” Her look ripped away a piece of his
heart.

“Yes.”

They
blocked a store’s entrance moving to one side to continue the
conversation.
 
“Angela, promise me you’ll
stay right here.”

Angela
gazed at the man who willed her back to the land of the living. “I’ll be here.”

He
shot away.

Angela
saw him disappear into a courtyard establishment ensconced behind a wrought
iron fence. She internalized her pain and now realized what was needed to face
this bout of adversity; what she always did in times of trouble.
 
To dig deep inside to draw on the character
inherited from her mother’s side of the family. She would survive. Experience
taught her that.

Chance
returned with a Hurricane souvenir glass in each hand. The thought struck him
she seemed to relax whenever her taste buds got their dose of flavored ice. He
would try anything to ease her discomfort. “Here.”Angela rewarded him with a
genuine smile though it was slow in coming. “I didn’t know if you drank
alcohol, so, I bought virgin. Hope that’s alright.”

“That’s
perfect.” She sucked the strawberry ice from the giant hourglass shaped
container showering him with a visual “thank you”.

His
conjoined look of concern and sensuality swaddled her curvy body. The hand
cupping the side of her face smoothed his thumb over the soft skin of her
cheek. She tapped under her eye drawing her hand away to peer at the wetness on
her fingertips. Chance could stand no more and closed in for a gentle caress.
All sights and sounds receded to the background as he shared his strength with
Angela happy she was receptive to his touch. The first idea they were the focus
of attention were the hardened, disapproving stares cast their way from some in
the crowd. Reasons for such animosity he couldn’t explain jumbled his brain. He
was relieved she pressed her face against his chest, blinding her to the unkind
looks.

“Tired
of walking, yet?”

His
chin stirred the pleasing fragrance of her hair. They hadn’t moved from the
spot in the middle of the street, their sensibilities tuned to each other and
not the maliciousness surrounding them. Chance’s faith in society restored with
the empathetic smile spirited their way by another couple. His wish was that
someday Angela would accept him and the feelings growing inside of him as
worthy of her taking a chance on them.

Something
scary nested in the pit of her stomach as she realized her predisposition to
judge Chance based on his race was disturbingly narrow-minded. He was definitely
knocking down all the stereotypical reasons to shut him out like making strikes
at the bowling alley. She loved the way he always showed interest in any
subject she chose to discuss. It never failed that what developed was a
vigorous debate. Angela had to admit her fondness for the man with the
remarkable compassionate side.

“Chance?”

“Hmmm?”

“Thanks
for being with me during one of the lowest points of my life.”

He
pushed her to arms length, saddened that her head dropped. “Angela, look at
me.”

Embarrassed,
she scrunched her face refusing to meet his eyes. The enticement to opening
them was the warmth of his lips on her lids.

“You
are a class act. They’re undeserving of another minute of your time, thoughts
or energy.”

“My
head knows that, Chance. It’s my heart that cries out in pain.”

“Pain
builds character. Character speaks to endurance. Endurance is the foundation
for life. Live your life, Angela, today. Tomorrow will take care of itself.”

He
embraced her tenderly while monitoring the message on the screen behind her
back.

“Let’s
go.”

Chapter Twelve

Angela
was surprised when Chance turned on the street that led to his loft deciding to
take it all in stride and not make waves. She wasn’t ready to be alone right
now, anyway. Night had fallen during their stroll through the Quarters and now
the headlights sliced the darkened roadway, flashed on the rising double-sized
door and flooded the garage with artificial brightness. He grabbed her
attention as he downshifted causing that deep rumble that signaled his arrival
whenever he came next door. She believed it was his way of notifying her of his
presence and availability should she need to see him—for any reason. Until
today, she’d never taken him up on the offer. Today, she needed a diversion. He
seemed more than willing to provide one for her.

“I
hope you don’t mind,” he began once quieting the motor. “I had an urgent call
and have to get a status report.”

Angela
opened her door to let herself out guilty for having taken him from his work to
babysit her. His door slammed one second and he was there beside her the next
his eyes pleading for understanding.

“Why
didn’t you tell me you had work to do? I would’ve understood.”

“No,
you wouldn’t have,” he disagreed. “Our spat is the reason you would have
applied to my unavailability to go with you.”

Spat
she thought his choice of words
interesting. “I’m getting it, now, Chance.” Angela started towards the stairs
knowing he followed close behind. “You’ve opened my eyes. I’m convinced to base
my trust of you on merit and not on race.” She pivoted to see a new gleam in
his eyes. “What’s that look?”

“Pure
satisfaction.” He elaborated. “I no longer have to mince my words when engaged
in conversation with you. I can be myself and know you’ll accept me for what I
bring to the table. Not for what someone else has or has not said or done—or
left there.”

“Have
I been that unreasonable?” she queried bashfully.

“I’d
call it self-preservation.” She stood two steps above him putting them face to
face. “I’m about to kiss you, Angela,” he warned what was to come, “unless you
tell me otherwise.”

She
immersed herself in his green eyes feeling an invigorating rush in her
bloodstream. There was no mistaking the sincerity in their depths. He made no
move towards her, yet, waiting on her answer. “I’d like that,” was all she
said.

Chance’s
hands rested at Angela’s waist as his lips claimed hers, without hesitation, to
savor their lushness. So in favor of the move, she cupped his bearded face with
trembling hands and allowed his seeking tongue access. A flurry of sensations
pulsated through her body leap-frogging to invade his being. His grip tightened
matching the deepening of his kiss. Her pliant body leaned into his.

That
was his undoing.

Angela,
unconsciously feeling the changes erupting in his posture, weathered the storm
of emotions bursting for release inside of her. She lost herself wholly to the
hot surging passion—suddenly going adrift at the loss of his lips on hers.
Depravation broadcast in her questioning look as she and Chance sieved through
the outcome of their brief but jolting connection. Neither said a word. There
was no reason to speak. Heavy breathing publicized the depth of what crackled
in the air. Chance nearly exploded when Angela removed lipstick from his mouth
by brushing her thumb across his lips.

She
smiled—a knowing smile—did an about-face and marched to the living area
upstairs, leaving him lusting after her and tussling for control. His haven
invited a sense of security to surround her, one that eased all concerns as
proven when she stood at the cabinet she knew held the jelly jar. A yank and
the door opened to a smorgasbord of a non-cooker’s culinary delight. Angela
spotted just what she wanted—went for it—only to halt at Chance’s irritated
yell.

His
hand clamped her wrist as she reached for the peanut butter jar. “What in hell
do you think you’re doing?” He saw the look of happiness present on her face
minutes ago drizzle away under his attack.

“Sorry.
I didn’t think you’d mind if I made a sandwich.”

Chance
snatched the peanut butter from the shelf to score a three-pointer in the
garbage pail several feet away. After that, he washed his hands thoroughly at
the sink before coming to stand in front of her.

“Why
did you do that? That’s a waste of perfectly good food.”

“Are
you forgetting what happened to you the other day?” He nipped her chin. “You
mustn’t come anywhere near peanuts. That means I can’t come in contact with
any, either.”

“The
jelly. I only wanted to make a jelly sandwich.”

They
stayed in close proximity squared off for a fight.

“Your
jelly’s in the fridge.”

Angela
walked over to open the refrigerator door amazed at what met her eyes front and
center on the top shelf. “You put my name on it.”

“No
need taking a chance on contaminating your jar.”

Angela
made her way back to Chance very appreciative for his kindheartedness. It
required no thought and even less effort to encircle his neck to deliver him a
knee-buckling kiss of thanks. “You’re unlocking a place within me I feared
forever sealed, Chance. Are you toying with my emotions?” She felt the
vibrating alert at his waist.

He
silenced the hum without removing the device from its holder or letting her go.

“Go
take care of your business. I’ll find something to occupy my time.” She watched
him shed his jacket to reveal the instrument of his trade strapped in a
shoulder holster under his right arm and cuffs clipped at his back. Her eyes
magnetized to the gun.