Lovin' Blue (24 page)

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Authors: Zuri Day

BOOK: Lovin' Blue
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51
Eden walked up to Alex and Christina, who were chatting amicably while sharing chips from the same paper bowl. “Excuse me, Alex, a word, if I may?” They'd barely made it back to his office before she closed to the door and angrily reeled around. “What in heaven's name do you think you're doing?”
Alex remained calm, his demeanor unruffled. “Call me touchy-feely, but I didn't see any harm in embracing a colleague. It wasn't like I kissed you or patted your rear.”
And I want to do both, believe me.
“I don't think a man who was secure in himself and his relationship would have had a problem with it.”
“Alex, I don't want to argue about this, and I don't want there to be problems with you and the man I love. It's true that you and I have grown closer during these weeks that we've worked shoulder to shoulder on this event. And while I feel comfortable with your innocent physical displays, Jansen is not. So because we will continue to have these types of functions and other social occasions that may involve you and Jansen being in the same vicinity, I'd like to know you'll both be adult enough to . . . get along.”
“But, Eden, you know me. I'm expressive, and often my hands are a part of that. I'll place my hand on your arm, squeeze your hand, or tweak your cheek—it's nothing! What kind of jerk—” Eden cleared her throat. “All right,” he continued, his hands raised in surrender. “I'm sorry for touching you in front of your boyfriend. In the future I'll keep a respectable distance and my hands to myself.”
Eden let out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”
The next two hours went by without a hitch. Phyllis and Kathryn had had their massages, and after initially balking, were now sitting in a beginner yoga class. Michael was talking with the percussionist of the band who'd just played, and Bridgett had gone in search of her favorite thing these days . . . food. Eden was talking with Ariel when she felt a pair of large, strong hands grip her shoulder.
“Hey, you,” she said, giving him a wink and an air kiss. “We were just talking about you.”
“All good, I hope.”
“What else is there?” Ariel asked, her green eyes sparkling as she looked from Jansen to Eden and back again.
“Ariel said that even without a uniform she would have guessed you to be law enforcement or some type of security. She also said she thought she could best you at the target range.”
Jansen's eyes widened. “What? A woo-woo shooting expert?”
Ariel laughed and told him about her country roots. “I can knock off a cola can from fifty feet,” she boasted. “Blindfolded,” she added with a lyrical laugh.
“Ha! Sounds like I'd have my work cut out for me,” Jansen said. “Maybe you can join Eden and me when she goes for her shooting lessons.”
“Oh, no. I'll leave the fun with fire power up to you guys.”
Jansen asked Ariel what types of guns she'd used, and they continued chatting about kick, recoil, and other firearm verbiage of which Eden wasn't privy.
Sounds Greek to me.
She looked to her side and saw Alex approaching with Christina.
Well, speak of the devil . . . .
Jansen saw Alex seconds after Eden, and the smile he wore disappeared.
“Jansen,” Alex began as soon as he reached the trio. “I need to apologize for my earlier actions. While I did not intend to upset you, your reaction proved otherwise.” Jansen cut his eyes from Alex to Eden. “We'll undoubtedly be seeing each other in the future. I don't want there to be any hard feelings or bad blood between us. So I wanted to apologize, and I also wanted you to introduce you to my friend, Christina Montague.”
Jansen hesitated only briefly before extending his hand. “It's all good.”
52
Eden, Phyllis, Bridgett, and one of Jansen's sister-in-laws joined Kathryn in the large, airy kitchen of her Long Beach home. The men, which included Michael, Jansen, and Jansen's brothers, gathered in the dining room around a mean, competitive domino game. Their trash talking filtered in and out of the women's conversation, which bounced between food, movies, yesterday's health fair, and now . . . men.
“Girl, I hope you don't think your dating Jansen came as a surprise,” Phyllis said, pulling the potato and vegetable casserole she'd assembled out of the oven. “You can't keep anything from your mother.”
“Obviously,” Eden replied. When the evening before had come and gone without Phyllis saying anything about what she'd seen at the center, Eden knew her mother hadn't been surprised. She'd believed it to be mother's intuition. Now she knew it was just Michael's big mouth. “That boy gets on my nerves!”
Kathryn and Phyllis shared a look between them. Neither felt it necessary to tell Eden that Jansen had been the first one to spill the beans, having shared the news about his and Eden's first date. Kathryn had promptly called Phyllis, overjoyed that what she'd wanted for years was finally happening—that her son would wake up and see that Eden was one of the good ones. Michael's tattletale phone call had come about a week later.
“What difference does it make?” Bridgett asked, eating almost as much of the salad as what went into the bowl. “I'll tell anything moving or breathing that Michael is my man. In fact, I'm thinking about taking out a wedding announcement in
USA Today
.” When three pairs of wide eyes turned in her direction, she added, “Just kidding.”
“Well, just for the record,” Kathryn said as she basted a rump roast in its own seasoned juices, “I couldn't be happier. I could do worse for a daughter-in-law.”
“Ha! That sounded like a backhanded compliment, Miss Kathryn.”
“Wasn't meant to be, child. I've known you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper; that you're one of my best friend's daughters is a bonus. Let that boy step out of line one time, and we'll be on him so fast it will make his head spin. He'd better treat you right, act like he's got some brought-upsy.”
Eden thought back to the night before and how Jansen had treated her. He'd been “up” all right, almost half the night, and that he'd been anything but gentlemanly was why Eden's body seemed to tingle still. She'd been so pleased that Alex's health-fair antics hadn't been mentioned, that Jansen had indeed put the incident behind him. Or maybe that was what had fueled him, and why Jansen had sexed her to within an inch of her life—branding her time and again, thrust after thrust.
In the dining room, bones were being slammed, smacked, and spun on the table.
“Take this, my
brothah
,” Jansen's younger brother howled as he put down the double six and got thirty points. “You know the boss man rules. All y'all getting ready to sing Donald Byrd.
Fallin' like dominoes
—ha!”
“Man, shut up,” Jansen replied, placing a double five on the board and increasing his lead over his sibling. “Your butt has the fewest points of anyone sitting here.”
When the men around the table laughed, Michael chimed in. “Don't let 'em get you down, son. Because they're getting ready to be right where you are.” Michael played his last bone, a double trey that locked the board and clinched the game. “Lost!”
Groans and curses dotted the trash talk as the men pushed all the dominoes into the bone pile and started a new game. As Jansen reached for his bones, he glanced up and caught Eden and his mother sharing a laugh. His heart clenched and filled his body with love for her.
She belongs here,
he thought, remembering how his mother had often babysat her when she was six, seven years old. How he and she would work puzzles together before it became uncool for him to hang out with someone's kid sister. Back in the day, he hadn't wanted her anywhere around. Now he never wanted her to leave.
Bridgett joined them, and now both Michael and Jansen seemed more preoccupied with what was going on in the kitchen than the domino game. Michael watched as Eden put a hand on Bridgett's stomach.
Yeah, that's my seed growing in there,
he mused as his chest swelled with pride.
I'm getting ready to be a father.
He couldn't wait.
Jansen followed Eden into her condo, using his foot to kick the door closed while his hands balanced containers of sock-it-to-me cake. Eden had run ahead of him to use the restroom, a testament to all of Kathryn's spicy, nonalcoholic sangria tea she'd drank that afternoon.
“That feels better,” she said, joining Jansen in her bedroom. He'd already pulled off his shoes, jeans, and shirt and now lazily gazed into the dresser mirror, eying his five-o'clock shadow. Eden stripped off her tan jeans, jeweled T-shirt, and bra and donned a cotton baby-doll lounging dress that hit midthigh. She slipped into a pair of fuzzy yellow house shoes, pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and headed for the kitchen. “You want to start the movie while I warm up the cake?”
Jansen swatted her behind as she passed him. “Sounds like a plan.”
Moments later they sat cuddled up on Eden's chenille divan, eating divinely moist cake with warm glaze. In between bites they shared kisses and laughed at the antics of Paul Mooney and others in the Robert Townsend classic,
Hollywood Shuffle
. In the month they'd seriously dated, watching these urban classics was just one of many things Eden and Jansen had discovered they both enjoyed. The one-thousand-piece puzzle they'd recently purchased—and that now lay spread out on a card table in one of Jansen's guest rooms—was another. They both were suckers for sweets and loved dogs, nature, and the Lakers. They also relished making love. Jansen had always been insatiable; for Eden, nightly loving had been an acquired taste.
“Mmmm, look at that,” Jansen purred, gently brushing a glaze-tipped fork across Eden's barely covered nipple. “I've gotten glaze on my baby.” He continued to lightly graze the fork over her peak until it hardened into a dark chocolate pebble.
“You sure have,” Eden eked out through a suddenly constricted windpipe and awakening nana.
“Well, I can't have that,” he whispered, smoothly setting the saucer on the coffee table in front of them. “Let me . . . clean that up.”
Jansen dipped his head inside her wide bodice, his tongue immediately finding its goal. He flicked the nipple back and forth with his tongue, swirled it around the areola and then sucking her full into his hot, wet mouth. Eden gasped with the impact of his mouth on her breast. Jansen kissed his way up her neck, eased the dress off her shoulders, and gave attention there before licking the side of her face, nibbling her earlobe, and placing wet kisses along her temple.
Then he reached for the fork, swirled it into the glaze. Now Eden knew why he'd requested she pour extra on his slice. She held her breath and watched the gooey substance come toward her, watched in awe as Jansen lowered the fork to the other nipple and repeated the process. Eden squirmed and moaned, reaching for Jansen's T-shirt, wanting to feel his flesh.
Jansen's laugh was throaty, knowing. “Patience, little garden. I like to take my time with dessert.” He eased the dress over Eden's head, directed her to lie back, and then slowly rid her of the beige bikini panties she wore. His pupils blackened with desire, and for a moment he simply stared at her. Eden grew more heated under his intense perusal, her mouth watering in anticipation of things to come. Jansen dipped the fork in the glaze over and again and, like an artist, began to paint Eden's body with the sweet treat—her breasts, stomach, inner thighs . . . and elsewhere. Then his tongue gave special attention to everywhere the fork had been.
Finally it was Eden's turn. Jansen stood and removed his shirt and boxers. His arousal sprang up like a python—stood at attention like a private greeting brass. He stood beside the divan, waited, and watched to see what Eden would do. She was unsure at first, but then, smiling, she rose to her knees, ran her fingers through the glaze, and rubbed them up and down his engorged shaft. Soon, as Jansen had so expertly demonstrated, her tongue followed the frosted trail as she licked, sucked, nibbled, and squeezed.
“Mmmm,” Jansen growled. “Damn,” he barely whispered, followed by a hissing sound as Eden took in as much as she could. He reached for her hair, released it from its holder, and then began to massage her head as she massaged . . . his head. Jansen's legs began to shake, and Eden, emboldened with the power she wielded, turned toward the wall, grabbed the back of the couch, and commanded, “Now, Jansen. I want to feel you inside me. Hard. Deep. Show me what you're working with.”
Her commanding tone turned Jansen all the way on. He spread her wide and plunged inside her with one long thrust—hard and deep as she had ordered. He spent the rest of the night showing her what he was working with—and then some.
53
After taking two days off to spend time with her mother, Eden returned to work. She was barely in the door when an unexpectedly early Ariel pounced.
“He's gorgeous! Eden! You didn't tell me you were dating a god!”
Eden laughed. “Okay, Ariel, I admit he's handsome, but that's a bit much.”
“Eden, he's—”
“Amazing,” they both said together and then laughed.
“Well, he is!” Ariel walked to the kitchen with Eden.
“Speaking of amazing, where was Travis? I just now realized he wasn't there, that I have yet to meet this artiste who has captured your heart.”
“He's in a forest near Seattle attending a rainbow gathering/sun dance.” When Eden cast Ariel a questioning look, she continued. “It's a communal meeting that involves meditation, visualization, and focus on peace, love, harmony, freedom, and community, among other things. But back to your guy—wow, what a bod. No wonder you're willing to forego your reservations and handle his gun.”
“Ariel!”
The sound of Ariel's tinkling laughter trailed behind her as she returned to her desk. Eden finished fixing her tea, shaking her head and smiling at Ariel's bawdy comment. Ariel was like the little sister Eden had never had. She was a bit flighty, and a tad extreme, but Eden knew the freckle-faced redhead had a heart of gold and emitted love like sunbeams wherever she went.
Eden entered her office and immediately began tackling a massive to-do list. She began with her e-mails, responding to the hordes she'd received from satisfied attendees of the weekend's health fair. She crafted a thank-you letter and had it sent out to all the practitioners, chefs, artists, and others who'd participated, and sent a special package to the City of Venice for their stellar cooperation throughout the day. The package included gift certificates for all of the Zen Den's offerings to be given to the employees at the mayor's discretion. Next she went through her regular mail, sorting from “important” to “file,” from “pending” to “trash.” Before she knew it, it was noon, and Alex was knocking at her door.
“I was beginning to think you might not come back.” His smile was easy and his stride confident as he entered her office and sat down in a chair facing her desk.
“Wild bears couldn't keep me away from this place, Alex. You know that.” Eden continued working, scanning over various memos and other items in her inbox.
“That I do. The health fair was a rousing success, thanks in large part to your participation and organizational skills.”
“You're too kind, doctor. Christina had everything under control by the time I came on board. I simply helped execute.”
“And you did so brilliantly.”
“Thank you.”
“How's Jansen?”
Eden looked up from the paper she held and, seeing only sincerity in Alex's face, answered. “He's good.”
“I really like your mom.”
Eden smiled, remembering a point in the afternoon when she'd seen her mother conversing with the doctor, her flirty demeanor more fitted to someone sixteen instead of nearing sixty. Thankfully, her mother had waxed poetic about Alex only during their phone conversation, and not when Jansen had been anywhere around. “You impressed her, that's for sure. She thought you were the handsomest thing on the block—raved about your eye color and wanted to know if they were contacts.”
“Ha! One look at my mother's eyes, and she'd have her answer.” Alex stood. “How about some lunch? I called RFD and got the specials for the week—BBQ Bello and Buddha's Belly.”
Eden groaned. “I am so there! Just give me about ten minutes to organize my desk, and then I'll meet you in the lobby.”
Lunch was lovely. Alex was more laid-back than Eden had ever seen him, and she wondered how she'd missed his cutting sense of humor. As they tasted each other's dishes—the chilled, marinated portobello with mango, avocado, and other vegetables topped with spicy ranch dressing, and the Thai-inspired noodle dish that made up Buddha's Belly—Alex plied Eden with stories of his antics as a seventeen-year-old college student, and passing the medical board at an unprecedented twenty-seven years old.
“You could say I was driven,” Alex concluded as the waiter brought over helpings of gluten-free chocolate cake and apple-fig crisp. “But after fifteen years I began to get bored, wanted to expand my concept of healing. That's when I went to India and trained for three years under a brilliant doctor and surgeon named Thadmi Kaur. I also spent time in China, Tibet, and Africa.”
“Africa?” Eden's surprise was evident.
Alex nodded. “Sat at the knee of village doctors and wise old women who'd never gone to school, much less college, but could cure anything that ailed you and dress a wound better than any I've seen. One of the more fascinating concepts I heard was the use of okra to bring about less painful childbirth.”
“Okra?” Eden's forkful of chocolate cake stopped in midair. “I'm all ears.”
“They believe that ingesting large amounts of okra during pregnancy helps line the vaginal cavity with a slippery substance, aiding the child in its passage through the chamber. I watched a woman give birth, and I swear she simply squatted down, grunted, and out came a baby!”
“Ha!” Eden's guffaw caused other patrons to look around and smile. Soon Alex joined in the merriment, and the more they laughed, the funnier the story seemed, until they were holding their stomachs and wiping their eyes.
Eden sat back from the table and placed her napkin in her plate. “Alex Kostopoulos, you are one of a kind.”
“That I am, Eden Anderson . . . that I am.” Alex picked up his water and winked at her over the glass.
I'm a lucky woman,
Eden thought.
And so is Christina.
The afternoon flew by, and soon Eden was on her way home. As soon as she reached the condo and changed clothes, she returned the missed call from Jansen.
“Hey, baby.”
“Hey, weed. You coming over?”
“Jansen! We discussed this. I'm staying at my house, and you're staying there. I'm worn to a frazzle, you insatiable beast. And as much as I'll miss you, I'm looking forward to a hot soak in the tub, bed by nine, and at least eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.”
“Sounds boring,” Jansen replied, a pout evident in his voice.
Eden chuckled. “You'll live.”
They chatted a moment longer, and then Eden retrieved her laptop and sat perched against her bed's headboard. She'd decided to check her personal e-mails while the tub slowly filled. There were a ton of Facebook messages. Many were from her holistic friends—suggestions to
like
this and invitations to that. She bypassed them for a more thorough inspection later and scanned her inbox for personal messages.
“Renee!” Eden exclaimed when she saw the name Renee Newton in her inbox. She hurriedly clicked the e-mail and read the note that contained Renee's number and a request to call ASAP. Eden went to the bathroom, turned off the water, and retrieved her phone to dial her friend.

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