Here I Am (Arabesque) - By Rochelle Alers Page 0,46
kiss her good-night or for the obligatory thank you.
When she’d sat on the bed with him to watch a movie the night before, he knew they’d crossed the threshold where they could sleep together without making love. His disappointment was profound when he woke not to find her beside him. His first reaction was to go to her, but pride had stopped him. What if she didn’t want him in her bed? What if she wanted to be the one to make the overture? The questions had assailed him until Brandt realized he wasn’t going back to sleep and got out of bed.
Opening the drawer, Ciara found the box of condoms. It hadn’t been opened. Taking off her glasses, she left them on the vanity. She closed her eyes, then opened them, staring at the mirror. “What are you doing, Ciara Dennison?” she asked her reflection. “Do you really intend to sleep with a man you’ve known such a short time? Are you crazy as hell or just plain old horny?”
“Who are you talking to, Ciara?” Brandt called out from the bedroom.
She opened her eyes. “Myself.”
“Why are you talking to yourself, babe?”
A wry smile twisted her mouth. “Maybe I’m crazy.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m already talking about it. I’m talking to myself.”
“Either you come here or I’m coming in there to get you.”
“Don’t move, Brandt. I’m coming.” Ciara broke the seal on the box and took out a condom. She walked back into the bedroom, tossing the condom at Brandt, who caught it in midair.
He patted the bed. “Come here, baby. Let’s talk about what has you so crazy.”
She got into bed, but instead of lying next to Brandt, Ciara sat on folded knees at the foot. “Don’t you think it’s odd that we’re going to make love when a few weeks ago we didn’t know each other? Well…maybe you didn’t know me.”
Crossing his arms over his bare chest, Brandt angled his head. “A week, a month, a year,” he drawled. “It’s only time.”
Sandwiching her hands between her knees, Ciara saw something in Brandt’s eyes that made her uncomfortable. It was as if he were looking at her for the first time. “Are you saying time means nothing to you?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Miss Ciara Dennison. When it comes to you it doesn’t matter whether I’ve known you one week, one second or one lifetime.”
Time no longer mattered to Brandt. Not when he’d lain in a hospital for two weeks, not knowing what city he was in, the day, hour or who’d come to see him. Time had ceased being important because he didn’t know how long it would take for him to heal completely. It could take a year—or longer. He went to sleep. He woke up. And in between that time there was Ciara Dennison. She’d become the one by whom he measured his existence.
Ciara was asking questions and he had some of his own. What, he mused, was it about the woman living under his roof, sitting at the foot of his bed that tugged at him in a way no other woman had? He’d never been one to lose his head or heart over a woman, but she was different—she was the total package, something Dr. Victor Seabrook had also recognized. Unfortunately for the doctor with the overblown ego, he’d failed in his attempt to brainwash and control her.
Her indifference to his celebrity-athlete status, or that he was a member of a prestigious New York family, had set Ciara apart from the other women who’d passed in and out of his life. Some he’d dated had beautiful faces with bodies to match, but offered nothing else, because being seen with him was all that mattered. He had tween cousins who had more sophistication than most of them. Yet he’d still played the game—on and off the gridiron—and he’d played it very well.
What he’d found puzzling was that he had resigned himself that his world hadn’t stopped because he hadn’t joined his teammates for preseason games. He’d turned off his cell phone because he hadn’t wanted to talk to any of them, and he hadn’t watched a televised game because he did not want to be reminded that instead of tossing a football he was sitting in a wheelchair.
“We’re both consenting adults, so I don’t understand why you’re intellectualizing this, Ciara.”
She gave him a long, penetrating look. “I just want to make certain we’re both on the same page.”