with me,” he blurted out.
Nikki stared at him. Everything within her was saying that it was a bad idea. This guy wasn’t that caring guy in Cleveland who rocked her world. This guy was burdened down with responsibility, with views she found almost offensive, with an aura about him that made her know that if she went down that road with him again she would be all-in this time, whether he wanted her to or not. When she could least afford to be all into anything other than getting her career back on track.
“You haven’t given me enough,” she said to him.
Mo’s heart dropped. “Enough of what?” he asked cautiously, unnervingly.
“Information to give our readers your point of view.”
He relaxed. “Then give them your point of view,” he said, his arms still around her, experiencing the softness of her.
“I’m for real, Mo. I don’t see how I can justify to our readers why you should be recognized as one of this town’s heroes.”
“That makes two of us,” he said. “Have dinner with me.”
Nikki studied him. “When?” she asked.
“I can’t tonight,” he said and her antenna immediately went up. Was it because he had a date with another female scheduled already? “What about tomorrow night?”
No way should she have said yes. Not with this guy. Not when they’d only just met again and already her antenna had served her notice that there may be a lot of interference along the way. No man this fine was completely without drama, without having every gorgeous, every aggressive woman around working overtime to get his rod into their reel. And drama was the absolute last thing she needed right now. She had to tell him no.
But she remembered how he pulled that rod out of her reel when he realized she was a virgin. And how he held her all night long in such a loving embrace, and how she felt protected for the first time in her life. And she loved that feeling.
“Yes,” she said. “Tomorrow night is fine.”
Mo smiled. She could see the lines of age slowly begin to appear on the sides of his tired eyes. “Thank-you,” he said to her. And pulled her into that warm, protective embrace she loved once again.
FOUR
Early the next morning Nikki knocked over the alarm clock on her nightstand as she grabbed her ringing telephone. When she finally managed to get the receiver to her ear, her voice was barely audible.
“Yes,” she said.
Lance McKay laughed. He was standing behind the counter at his art gallery in San Marco, flipping through the morning paper. He was a slender man, barely an inch taller than Nikki, who wore skintight suits, always black or blue, and elegant ascots around his slender neck. He had a honey-brown complexion and often came across with an air of sophistication and playfulness all wrapped into one. Since college, when he was being bullied for being gay and Nikki was being dissed for not going along with their classmates’ hazing-style tactics, he’d been her best friend bar none. Her only friend if truth be told.
“Good morning,” he said.
Nikki grunted a sleepy reply.
Lance smiled. “Aren’t you late for work?” he asked her.
Her eyes immediately stretched open. “What time is it?” she asked with some panic in her now very audible voice.
“You are so easy. I’m kidding, all right? It’s only six forty-five.”
Nikki relaxed. Then she thought about it. “And you’re calling me at six-forty-five why?”
“Because, darling, I was surprised by your article.”
“On Judge Ryan?”
“That’s the one.”
“What’s surprising about it?”
“I thought you said you guys had a history?”
She usually told Lance everything, although, two years ago, she failed to mention her fling in Cleveland with a certain judge. She told him all about it last night, however, and how that same judge had asked her to have dinner with him
Nikki stared at him. Everything within her was saying that it was a bad idea. This guy wasn’t that caring guy in Cleveland who rocked her world. This guy was burdened down with responsibility, with views she found almost offensive, with an aura about him that made her know that if she went down that road with him again she would be all-in this time, whether he wanted her to or not. When she could least afford to be all into anything other than getting her career back on track.
“You haven’t given me enough,” she said to him.
Mo’s heart dropped. “Enough of what?” he asked cautiously, unnervingly.
“Information to give our readers your point of view.”
He relaxed. “Then give them your point of view,” he said, his arms still around her, experiencing the softness of her.
“I’m for real, Mo. I don’t see how I can justify to our readers why you should be recognized as one of this town’s heroes.”
“That makes two of us,” he said. “Have dinner with me.”
Nikki studied him. “When?” she asked.
“I can’t tonight,” he said and her antenna immediately went up. Was it because he had a date with another female scheduled already? “What about tomorrow night?”
No way should she have said yes. Not with this guy. Not when they’d only just met again and already her antenna had served her notice that there may be a lot of interference along the way. No man this fine was completely without drama, without having every gorgeous, every aggressive woman around working overtime to get his rod into their reel. And drama was the absolute last thing she needed right now. She had to tell him no.
But she remembered how he pulled that rod out of her reel when he realized she was a virgin. And how he held her all night long in such a loving embrace, and how she felt protected for the first time in her life. And she loved that feeling.
“Yes,” she said. “Tomorrow night is fine.”
Mo smiled. She could see the lines of age slowly begin to appear on the sides of his tired eyes. “Thank-you,” he said to her. And pulled her into that warm, protective embrace she loved once again.
FOUR
Early the next morning Nikki knocked over the alarm clock on her nightstand as she grabbed her ringing telephone. When she finally managed to get the receiver to her ear, her voice was barely audible.
“Yes,” she said.
Lance McKay laughed. He was standing behind the counter at his art gallery in San Marco, flipping through the morning paper. He was a slender man, barely an inch taller than Nikki, who wore skintight suits, always black or blue, and elegant ascots around his slender neck. He had a honey-brown complexion and often came across with an air of sophistication and playfulness all wrapped into one. Since college, when he was being bullied for being gay and Nikki was being dissed for not going along with their classmates’ hazing-style tactics, he’d been her best friend bar none. Her only friend if truth be told.
“Good morning,” he said.
Nikki grunted a sleepy reply.
Lance smiled. “Aren’t you late for work?” he asked her.
Her eyes immediately stretched open. “What time is it?” she asked with some panic in her now very audible voice.
“You are so easy. I’m kidding, all right? It’s only six forty-five.”
Nikki relaxed. Then she thought about it. “And you’re calling me at six-forty-five why?”
“Because, darling, I was surprised by your article.”
“On Judge Ryan?”
“That’s the one.”
“What’s surprising about it?”
“I thought you said you guys had a history?”
She usually told Lance everything, although, two years ago, she failed to mention her fling in Cleveland with a certain judge. She told him all about it last night, however, and how that same judge had asked her to have dinner with him
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