In Bed with Her Boss. Brenda Jackson
last year of college when she was killed in a boating accident two weeks before their wedding.”
“Oh, how awful that must have been for him.”
Opal nodded. She knew that Colleen, who was pursuing a degree in psychology, was probably trying to figure out if D’marcus’s past somehow had had an effect on his present state.
“You’re back,” she heard Pearl say behind them as she came out of the house carrying another bowl of potato salad. “What was so important that The Hunk had to call you away?”
“Nothing important,” she said quickly. Because of the often confidential nature of her job she never divulged any private information. “He just needed me to take a few notes for him.” And to change the subject quickly she glanced around and asked, “Where’s Ruby?”
“She’s inside trying to bring order to the kitchen,” Pearl responded over her shoulder.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Opal said to Colleen. “I need to talk to Ruby about something.”
As she entered the back door into the kitchen, she paused. Ruby, who had fixed most of the food and gotten the meats ready for Luther to grill, was sitting at the kitchen table while Luther massaged her shoulders. It seemed her sister was taking a much-deserved quiet moment.
Opal smiled. Not for first time, she wondered when her oldest sister would finally open her eyes and realize that, although they claimed to be only friends, she and Luther were meant for each other.
She went back outside. She shook her head when she found Pearl and Reverend Kendrick involved in another debate. As long as this one didn’t turn as heated as the last, then it should be okay.
She noticed the couple who owned the house next door, Keith and La Keita Hayward, had arrived while she was gone, and she decided to go speak to them. As she walked crossed the yard, she glanced back and studied the Tudor-style single-family brick home. Located in inner-city Detroit, it had always been a home filled with love and warmth.
After their father’s death, she and her three sisters had been raised by their widowed mother, and their family had been one of the first African-American families to integrate into the neighborhood. Despite the urban blight that now surrounded the area, they had remained in their majestic family home basically on principal, not to mention their shoestring finances. Now everyone but Ruby had moved out. Opal couldn’t help wondering what would become of their home if Ruby ever decided to go live some place else. Would they sell the house? Rent it out? Or, now that it was paid for, would they leave it as a place they could come back to whenever they felt the need to escape and chill? Whatever decision she and her sisters made would be the right one.
Her thoughts then drifted to D’marcus. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was still at the office and if he had gotten something to eat. She knew how easy it was for him to work through lunch. Then she remembered the chill in his tone when he’d dismissed her offer of food. Well, as far as she was concerned, it was his loss.
She sighed deeply, thinking that she should be used to his curt and unfriendly nature by now. But there wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t hope his attitude would improve. So far it hadn’t.
As she stopped in front of the Haywards, she smiled and quickly decided that D’marcus Armstrong was the last person she wanted to think about. She refused to let his behavior completely ruin her day.
D’marcus tossed aside a file he’d been working on and glanced over at the clock. It was after five already. Where had the day gone? He heard the growling of his stomach and immediately thought of all that food Opal had named when she’d offered to bring him a plate from her family gathering. Maybe he should have accepted her offer. But a part of him felt he’d done the right thing by not doing so.
He leaned back in his chair as he picked up the framed photograph of the young woman. The woman who was to have been his wife. The pain of that loss was still with him even after six years. Tonya had been the one thing he had wanted in his life, the person he had loved with all his heart, and he’d lost her in one afternoon, two weeks before they were to marry. What really had torn him in two was finding out that at her death she had been a month pregnant with their child. He hadn’t just lost the woman he’d loved but also the baby that would have been theirs.
He placed the photograph back on his desk and walked over to the window. It had been a beautiful day, warm for the first week in October, although the forecasters were predicting a cold front sometime next week.
His gaze swept the empty parking lot where Opal’s car had been parked earlier. A part of him regretted his rude behavior to her. That same part knew there was no excuse for it. But another part, that part of him that had been protecting himself for the past six years, refused to agree. It believed there was an excuse. Opal Lockhart was a woman who could wiggle her way inside a man’s head and heart if he wasn’t careful. She was the first woman since Tonya who had ignited even a spark inside him. What was so sad was that he hadn’t been trying for that spark.
She had worked late one night, her first week with Sports Unlimited, and he had left the office for the day. He had gotten as far as the third floor when he remembered that he had left behind a file he needed to take home to review. He had returned and walked into her office area to find her standing at the window in deep thought. Because of the long day, she had taken off her shoes and jacket, and the fashionable scarf was no longer around her neck. He had stood studying her. Without knowing he was there, she released her bun and ran her hands through her shoulder-length hair. Without the jacket he’d seen her small waist and the delicate curves of her hips. She had looked beguiling, sexy, a total turn-on.
For the first time in six years, he had felt long-buried sensations. Sexual chemistry to a degree he’d never known before had nearly driven him to take her in his arms. Instead, he had regained control of his senses and left. But from that evening forward, he’d made it a point to make sure he placed distance between himself and his administrative assistant, and he took on a gruff demeanor to make sure things stayed distant. The last thing he needed was for the two of them to get too friendly with each other. The only woman he could ever possibly love had died six years ago.
Moving away from the window, he returned to the chair behind his desk. He would work for another hour or so before he called it a day. On the way home he would stop at one of the fast-food places and grab a sandwich. Usually he didn’t stay all day at the office on the weekend, but, after the press conference, he had decided to get a headstart on next week’s work.
He cringed in anger every time he thought about Dashuan Kennedy and his poor attitude. Players like him gave any game a bad name. He definitely wasn’t any kid’s role model. In fact, as far as D’marcus was concerned, whether they won or lost, the Chargers probably would be better off without Dashaun. There was no doubt Kennedy was a gifted young basketball player—but he was one who had some kind of a chip on his shoulder. D’marcus felt whatever issues Kennedy was having extended beyond his bad-ass ego problem. Frankly, D’marcus was ready to trade him, but the other two owners saw Dashuan as their hope for the coming season.
He felt a strange prickling sensation and looked up, surprised to see Opal standing in the doorway of his office. Before he could open his mouth to ask what she was doing there, she entered and placed a take-out box in front of him.
“I know what you said, but I couldn’t see myself letting you starve. If you don’t want to eat it you can trash it,” she said, before turning to leave.
“Why?” he asked before she had reached the door. When she turned around, his eyes flicked over her with a cool expression. “Why did you come back? With the food?”
She tilted her chin and he saw a stubborn glint to it when she said, “Because I refuse to become a grouch like you. Life has been too good to me this year for me to do that.”
“Then, I suggest you count your blessings, Ms. Lockhart.”
To his surprise, she smiled. “Trust me, Mr. Armstrong, I do. Maybe it’s time for you to start counting yours.”
His