Pleasure In His Kiss. Pamela Yaye
rolling her eyes skyward. “Do what you have to do.”
His jaw clenched. She spoke in a clipped tone of voice, with plenty of attitude, infuriating him. Horns blared, but Morrison didn’t move. He felt like an ass for holding up traffic, but he wasn’t going anywhere until Reagan got into his SUV. He’d arranged to have her beloved car towed to his estate, and hoped his actions would send a powerful message to his niece.
Morrison put on his hazard lights, checked his rearview mirror for oncoming traffic and opened his door. Marching around the hood of the car, he struggled to control his temper. He was so intent on reaching Reagan, and talking some sense into her, he didn’t notice Karma until she called his name.
“Morrison, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”
Karma appeared on the sidewalk, wearing oval-shaped sunglasses and a bright smile.
One look at her was all it took. Instantly, his shoulders relaxed, and his anger receded. For the sake of peace, he said, “Reagan, please get in the car so I can drop you off at your grandparents’ house. They’re expecting you for dinner, and I don’t want you to be late.”
“Why do I have to go to their house? Why can’t I stay home alone?”
“Because I’m going out with my friends, and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“So?” she argued. “I can stay home alone. I’m seventeen, Uncle Morrison, not seven.”
“I’d feel safer if you were with your grandparents.”
“But I don’t want to go. I want to stay home and relax.”
“You can relax at Grandma and Grandpa’s estate.”
Reagan groaned. “This is so frustrating. Why do you keep treating me like a kid?”
“The last time I left you home alone you threw a raucous house party!”
“It wasn’t a party. My friends came over, and we ordered pizza and listened to music.”
“A hundred kids isn’t a get-together, Reagan, it’s a party.”
Reagan mumbled under her breath.
“This isn’t the time or the place to have this conversation,” Morrison said, mindful of the people around them. The streets were busy, full of families and shoppers, and he didn’t want anyone to overhear them. “Like I said, we can talk about this in the car, so get in.”
Morrison opened the passenger side door and waited patiently for his niece to get in.
“I don’t have to listen to you. I’m practically an adult. I can do what I want.”
Stepping forward, Karma took Reagan by the shoulder and spoke to her in a quiet voice. “Sweetie, go with your uncle and work out your problems,” she admonished, wearing a sympathetic expression on her face. “How can you fix what’s wrong in your relationship if you don’t talk to him?”
“Why bother? He doesn’t listen to me,” she complained.
“Real women don’t run from their problems, they tackle them head-on.” Karma helped Reagan into the SUV, then patted her hands. “I’ll call you later to see how you’re doing.”
“Bye, Ms. Karma. Thanks again for lunch. It was delicious.”
“My pleasure, sweetie. Next time I’ll take you to the Peacock Alley at the Waldorf Astoria,” she said, licking her lips. “Their brunch is to die for, and the waiters are supercute!”
Standing on the sidewalk, listening to his niece talk and giggle with Karma made Morrison smile. His admiration for the salon owner grew as he watched her interact with Reagan. Gregarious, and down-to-earth, it was easy to see why Reagan worshipped the ground Karma walked on. Her warmth and openness was endearing, what appealed to him most, and if they weren’t polar opposites he’d take Duane’s advice and ask her out.
Pressed for time, he marched back to the driver’s door and got inside the SUV.
“Can I come by the salon on Wednesday?” Reagan asked, her eyes bright with excitement. “I’m Devin Skye’s biggest fan ever, and I’d love to meet her.”
“You’re as sly as a ninja!” Karma teased. “I didn’t tell anyone about her appointment, so how did you know the actress was coming to the salon after closing?”
“I overheard you on the phone with her manager when I came to refill your coffee...”
Morrison opened his mouth to protest, to remind his niece that she had a physics test on Thursday she needed to study for, but thought better of it and held his tongue. He didn’t want to upset her again, but made a mental note to talk to her about the test later. He loved Reagan as if she was his daughter and wanted to raise her the way his sister would.
Sadness pricked his heart. Emmanuelle had been gone for years, but Morrison missed her more each day. He tried not to think about her untimely death, only the good times, but as he listened to his niece joke around with Karma his emotions got the best of him and tears filled his eyes. Glad he was wearing sunglasses, he blinked them away. Not only was Reagan the spitting image of Emmanuelle, she had his sister’s quick wit and her outrageous sense of humor.
“Please,” Reagan pleaded, clasping her hands together. “I’ll never ask you for anything again. I swear. It’ll be my birthday present, and grad gift all rolled in one!”
“If it’s okay with your uncle, it’s okay with me.”
Karma looked at Morrison, and their eyes locked, zoomed in on each other.
Pleased with her answer, he nodded his head in agreement. He spoke to Reagan, but his gaze was glued to Karma’s face. “You can go to the salon as long as you finish your homework.”
Reagan cheered. “Thanks, Uncle Morrison. You’re the best!”
Karma beamed, and for some strange reason Morrison felt prouder than a gold medalist on a podium. Reagan spoke, but he missed her question because he was busy admiring Karma. Her curled eyelashes, bejeweled lavender nails and colored extensions didn’t make her beautiful; it was her radiant smile and effervescent laugh that appealed to him. She waved, then turned and walked back into the salon, switching her shapely hips. Transfixed, he watched her every move. Wet his lips with his tongue. Groaned and grunted in appreciation.
“Uncle Morrison, snap out of it!”
Reagan waved a hand in front of his face, and Morrison blinked. Bolting upright in his seat, he put on his seat belt and started the car. Merging into traffic, he stepped on the gas and sped down the street. Anxious to get to his parents’ house, he switched from one lane to the next, passing slow-moving vehicles and teens cruising the block in their flashy sports cars.
“So, you like Ms. Karma, huh?”
Morrison coughed to clear his throat. “Who, me?”
“Yeah, you. Want me to put in a good word for you?”
“Nice try, Reagan. I know what you’re trying to do, but I’m not going to let you change the subject. What you did last night wasn’t cool, and I’m very disappointed in you.”
Hanging her head, she fiddled with her gold thumb ring on her left hand.
“Prove to me you can be trusted, and I’ll give you more freedom.”
“Sorry about last night, Uncle Morrison. It was an honest mistake. Really.”
“I’m going to cut you some slack this time, but if you ever stay out all night you’ll never drive your Mini Cooper again.” Morrison opened the center console, took out Reagan’s car keys and handed them to her. “Remember what I said.”
“I will. Thanks, Uncle Morrison.”
Driving along Main Street, he marveled at how much the Hamptons had changed