Silver Screen Romance. AlTonya Washington
He gave her a look of phony discomfort. “Would telling you that I own a jet make you hate me even more?”
“I already know you own a jet. That fact is more than obvious.”
“Hell.” Kale looked decidedly uncomfortable as he released her elbow. “How?”
Davia’s laughter made a boisterous entry. “Surely the guy who envisioned the era of the luxury multiplex rates such perks!” Her eyes narrowed to fix him with a lightly discerning look. “Do trappings like that disturb you?”
“They do when I’m trying to gain the approval of someone who’s already got me in the doghouse. And since the cat’s out of the bag,” he continued before Davia could refute his doghouse claim, “and since we’re going to the same place, the least I could do is give you a lift.”
As her sense of precaution and treading carefully had pretty much abandoned her, Davia didn’t see the harm in going all-in. “Lift accepted. Thanks.”
Kale nodded his satisfaction and tilted his head toward the desk where a beer mug waited next to a frosted bottle of the brew. “Enjoy your drink. I’ll see you later.”
“Aren’t you having something?” she called, realizing he was leaving.
“I’ve got it stocked on the jet. I’ll have one later.”
Davia glanced at the bottle, noticing it was her own label. “How—?”
“My attorney’s file was very detailed.” Kale’s eyes sparkled as he enjoyed her surprise. “It’s a good product, Davia. You should be proud that you’re a partner in that brewery. See you later.”
“And I suppose you already know where I live?”
Hand on the office doorknob, Kale paused and turned to her. “Like I said, my attorney’s file was very detailed. I’ll see you, Davia.”
The door closed at his back just as Davia released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Davia headed home to pack more. The turn of the discussion with Estelle Waverly had clearly indicated that more than a three-day stay would be required. But why?
Realizing her thoughts had rendered her immovable inside her walk-in closet, Davia shook herself. She pulled a few more garments from the rack that held everything from fisherman’s sweaters to ankle-length cardigans and shearling coats.
She had a pretty good idea that her questions pertaining to the Mullins affair would be answered soon enough. What she wasn’t sure of was whether her questions pertaining to Kale Asante would be answered. Her conversation with him had taken an intriguing turn, as well, she recalled.
What he’d had to say about Martella...was it really true? She had spent so long living under a completely different version of the truth. That version of the truth felt good, it felt safe. Yes, that truth was like a warm blanket, because the more time she could spend despising Kale Asante for Martella, the less time she had to despise herself for not doing more to help her dearest friend. Still, she hadn’t been able to shake the man’s explanation. Something about what he’d shared stuck with her. When he’d spoken, she’d felt a tug of sincerity in his eyes.
She couldn’t stop the snicker that tickled the back of her throat. A tug from the sincerity in his eyes? While she wouldn’t claim Kale Asante wasn’t sincere, that element hadn’t been at all responsible for the definite tug she’d felt in his presence.
Earlier, she’d been amused by her receptionist’s clearly dazed demeanor around Kale. While he’d been exceptionally polite to Leslie, Davia had the sense the man was both accustomed to and appreciative of the reactions he drew from the women fortunate enough to make his acquaintance.
Davia tossed another sweater into the case a bit more forcefully than necessary. She cringed over her selection of the word fortunate but...hell, she was alone. She could admit she’d felt fortunate indeed to have been given the opportunity to look upon such a specimen like Kale Asante.
His looks were assuredly a study in patient craftsmanship. It was rare that she met a man who managed to make her feel dwarfed by his height when she was decked out in heels, for which she had what had to be an unhealthy obsession. With her feet encased in a chic, strappy pair like the ones she wore, her height could top out at a whopping six-two.
Not that such things mattered. The men Davia met were usually business-related instead of personal. She hadn’t been thinking of Kale Asante in a business sense...
Davia shook herself again, selected more sweaters from the closet and dumped them onto her bed where the open suitcase sat already half filled.
No, she hadn’t been thinking of Kale in a business sense. Ironically, it was for that reason she’d been so quick, so certain, of her belief that he’d used his allure to deceive her best friend.
Was it so inconceivable that Tella was made of stronger stuff? After all, her interests at the time had involved elements that threatened her very safety. Whatever Martella may’ve been preoccupied by at the time, Davia was pretty sure Kale Asante’s looks hadn’t gone unnoticed by her best friend.
What woman wouldn’t notice such a body and face? The athletic build, the length of him that had to top the six and a half feet mark at least. His skin was the tone of molten caramel. His deep-set stare possessed the same coloring. Not to mention his close-cut crop of light brown waves. The rich coloring was an attraction on its own.
Holding on to intense dislike in the presence of such an erotic distraction was virtually impossible and now it was only going to get harder. Now they were to be in close proximity for however long it’d take to unravel the mystery they’d inherited.
Davia had enough confidence in her abilities to know she could set aside the allure of Kale Asante, but she still had to admit the man had far more going for him than his good looks. That quiet voice of his was deep but noticeably soft in its delivery. She wondered if he ever raised it. She mused it’d hold a raspy quality if he did. Such was the case with her own husky tone, she knew.
Beyond the voice, there were additional mannerisms that had captured her attention. The way he’d handled her elliptical, the slow brush of the back of his hand along the machine’s bars and levers... She wondered if his touch was so gentle with other things.
Then there was the grin and the playful wince he gave when she’d managed to surprise him or challenge him on some point. She’d been attracted by his looks, but his mannerisms...those were the elements that had intrigued her.
And now you’ve got no reason to hate him.
Davia shook her head free of the unwanted reminder. No, if she took his explanation as fact, she had no reason to dislike him, but that didn’t mean she could fall into bed with him. Well, she could...but should she? And why the hell was she even considering that? Aside from his comment about wanting to know if she was incredible to look at, he’d been the consummate gentleman. She was the one with her mind in her...lingerie drawer.
The accusation had her leaving the suitcase to check the aforementioned drawer for tights and other undergarments.
Davia was tossing an assortment of socks and underthings into the case when the doorbell rang.
She checked her wrist but found she hadn’t yet put her watch back on. Then she looked to the small grandfather clock on the second-floor landing of her town home. She had over an hour before the car arrived. Davia gritted her teeth in dread of an unforeseen business emergency that might be about to throw a wrench into her plans.
She ran downstairs and was surprised when she opened the door.
“Kale?” She gave a self-conscious tug to the hem of the T-shirt she wore with an old pair of denim capris. Once again, she checked her wrist for