Tempo Of Love. Kianna Alexander
of iced coffee and a warm croissant in hand, Nona slid into a seat at a table for two near the front of Starbucks Tuesday morning. It was eight thirty, well before the time she was scheduled to meet with Ken Yamada, but she’d come in early for several reasons. First, she needed to get something in her stomach and get caffeinated so she could be fully ready for this crucial first interview.
The other reason she’d come in early was to snag the right table. It needed to be small so that she would be sitting in close proximity to her interview subject. She found that nearness made people more likely to open up. The table also needed to be near the front so she could see him when he walked in. After years of doing in-person interviews, she’d become an expert at reading people: their stride, their expression and their body language.
She munched on her croissant, washing it down with a sip of the cold, sweetened coffee. While she ate, she wondered what Ken would be like in person. Their brief phone interaction had given her very little to go on. From that conversation, she could only tell that he had a deep voice, that he was a busy person and that he wasn’t a fan of being interviewed. He’d been pleasant with her but still managed to be a bit brusque when he’d asked her how many interviews she’d need.
She settled into her seat, pulling out her phone. She’d made sure it was fully charged so she could use its recording app to capture their conversation. Beyond that, she’d brought along her charger, just in case. She considered being prepared to be one of her greatest strengths.
She was scrolling through her email when the phone rang and her best friend’s face and name appeared on the caller ID. Knowing she still had at least ten minutes until Ken would arrive, she swiped to answer the call. “Hey, girl.”
“Hey, Nona.” Hadley Monroe, Nona’s closest pal since college, sounded chipper as ever. “What’s up in the big city?”
Nona chuckled at Hadley’s quip. “I’m guessing most places are big cities when you compare them to Sapphire Shores.”
Hadley popped her lips, the familiar sound reverberating in Nona’s ear. “Nona, don’t be hating on my little slice of paradise. But for real, what are you up to today? Anything interesting?”
“I’m actually at a coffee shop, waiting for an interview subject to arrive. Remember the feature I told you about Saturday?”
It sounded like she was chewing something. Between bites, Hadley spoke. “Yeah. The one about the architect and the old opera house or something.”
Nona rolled her eyes. “It’s a theater. But yes, I’m interviewing the architect today.”
Hadley stopped chewing. “Oh, girl. Is he fine? Have you seen him?”
“No, he hasn’t gotten here yet, so I don’t know what he looks like.”
“Um, hello, Ms. Ace Reporter. We have this invention now where you can look people up. Have you heard of it? It’s called the internets.” Her tone was rich in sarcastic humor.
“Shut up, Hadley. You know I have a very specific method of doing my stories. I never web search someone until I’ve met them in person. I don’t want anything clouding my first impression of them.” That had always been her policy, and it had never failed her, so she didn’t plan on changing it any time soon. Balancing the phone on her shoulder, she spread her favorite pens in front of her. She rarely took handwritten notes due to advances in technology, but she liked to have the pens there anyway.
“All right, whatever. But I’m expecting a call after you meet him. If he’s fine, I wanna know about it.” The sounds on Hadley’s end of the line included the rattling of pots and pans and running water.
“Hadley, what are you doing? There’s a lot of background noise.”
“I just finished breakfast and now I’m washing up my dishes before I head over to the office.”
“Another fun-filled day at Monroe Properties, eh?” Nona chuckled, knowing most people would be very happy with having an ocean view from their desk. But since Hadley worked for the family business and often complained about feeling stifled, she probably saw things differently.
Hadley sighed. “Yes, girl. But at least Savion is on vacation this week, so I only have to deal with Campbell. Working with family ain’t easy.”
“Let me get off the phone. I’ve got an interview and you’ve got to go do your brother’s bidding. I’ll talk to you later.”
“’Bye, girl.” Hadley disconnected the call.
As the phone returned to the home screen, Nona glanced at the time in the upper right corner. Nine twenty? Where is this guy? She hoped he had a damn good excuse for being late, because she considered punctuality very important. She placed the phone on the tabletop and let her gaze move to the doorway.
Just as she looked toward the door, it swung open, and in walked a dark-haired man she assumed to be Ken Yamada. He wore dark sunglasses, a button-down shirt in a soft shade of blue and navy blue slacks. A belt with a gold buckle depicting two crossed swords encircled his trim waist. He was taller than she’d expected, and his upper body was muscled but not beefy. He moved with a sure stride, his entire manner radiating a confidence that bordered on arrogance.
She stood at the table and called out to him at just above normal volume. “Mr. Yamada?”
His head swiveled her way. “That’s me.” And he turned, began moving in her direction.
She watched his approach, wondering when he would take off his sunglasses. She knew she could get a much better read on him if she could see his eyes.
When he entered her space, he stopped. Lifting his hand, he removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket, looking down as he did so.
“I’m Nona Gregory with the Charlotte Observer.” She stuck out her hand.
When he looked back up at her, with his eyes in full view, Nona’s heart skipped a beat. Damn. He had the most beautiful, expressive brown eyes she’d ever seen. They were rich and dark, only a shade lighter than the jet black of his hair. A few moments passed with her staring into his eyes, silent and entranced.
The corners of his mouth lifted in a slight smile as he gave her hand a brief shake, then released it. “It’s nice to meet you. Are we going to sit?”
His words reached her ears, working their way to her brain for processing.
Snapping out of her trance, she gestured him toward his seat. “Yes. Thank you for meeting me, Mr. Yamada, although I wish you’d been on time.”
The smile faded as quickly as it appeared. “I’m sorry, Headmistress. Are you going to give me detention?”
She cocked a brow. Apparently, the architect was no pushover. “I’ll let it slide this time, since it’s your first infraction.” She gestured to the table. “Shall we sit, or do you care to grab a coffee?”
“I’ll get a drink first, if you don’t mind.” His tone was dry, and his expression told her that he had fully intended to get his drink, whether she minded or not.
“Go ahead.” She sat back down and watched him walk away. As he stood at the counter ordering a beverage, she watched his every move. His steps were somewhat stiff now, a contrast to the way he’d moved when he’d walked in. His body language had changed as well. His shoulders were squared, hands clenched at his side. He looked more ready for a fistfight than an interview.
Then and there, Nona knew she would have her work cut out. He was guarded, and she was going to have to come up with some way to get him to reveal himself to her.
And she’d have to do it while trying to ignore how hot he was and how gorgeous his eyes were.
This wouldn’t be an easy interview. But she’d never been one to back down from a challenge.
* * *
While he waited for his dark roast, Ken purposefully kept his eyes