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  “I’ll say you are,” he finally said. Then he winked. “See you in a few.”

  Chapter 7

  By the time Dexter vacated the bathroom a few minutes later, Genevieve had brushed her hair in her room and styled it in a French braid down the back of her head, securing the end with a coated rubber band. When it was her turn to use the bathroom she brushed her teeth and applied lipstick and blusher, and as she emerged the fully dressed Dexter simultaneously stepped out of his room.

  He wore a long-sleeved collarless white shirt in a light textured cotton, starched, faded jeans, and t-strap brown sandals, looking casual and crisp at the same time. “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yes. Just let me get my purse.”

  She preceded him down the narrow inside stairs. “Where are we going, anyway?” she asked when they reached the street.

  “Have you ever been to the Caribbean place around the corner?”

  “I’ve gotten take-out from them. Good food.” She’d found the tropical atmosphere appealing as well and would have eaten there, but was reluctant to do so alone. When she dined with Barry it was usually at a downtown location near the network’s offices. His living in Brooklyn made coming to Harlem inconvenient.

  “Oh, it’s great. And a lot cheaper than flying to Jamaica,” he said with a chuckle.

  The center of the restaurant consisted of long communal tables with chairs on both sides, with smaller rectangular tables for four along the walls. The host greeted Dexter by name and showed them to one of the latter. The waitress who quickly appeared with menus knew his name as well. “You must be a regular,” Genevieve remarked when some female patrons seated in the center perimeter waved to him.

  “Yeah, I’m here most weeks. Sometimes I just get take-out, and sometimes just dessert. They’ve got a rum cake that’s out of this world.”

  “Dexter! No wonder you’re not sitting with us tonight. You’ve got a lady friend with you,” cooed a pretty brown-skinned woman who appeared to be in her mid thirties. “You must introduce me.”

  “Chiara, this is Genevieve,” he said with perfect pronunciation a long way from his initial question of ‘Jon who?’ “Gen, this is Chiara, who eats here about as often as I do.”

  “Nice to meet you, Genevieve,” Chiara replied.

  Genevieve was pleased by the way Chiara aced her name. “Likewise.”

  “You must be a very special lady,” Chiara continued. “We’ve all been coming here for ages, and Dexter’s never once brought a date.”

  Genevieve’s eyes darted to Dexter, unsure if he wanted her to spill the beans. The slight shake of his head told her he wanted to continue the charade, so she flashed the questioning woman a sunny smile. “Well, I think he’s pretty special, too.”

  “Y’all gonna stay for the music?”

  “Of course,” Dexter replied.

  Genevieve casually opened her menu after Chiara moved on. “You’re a popular fellow,” she remarked.

  “Usually I sit at the big tables in the middle. When you sit with strangers they’re not strangers very long. And as I said, I come here pretty regularly. It’s my treat to myself after a long, hard week.”

  “Do you think you’ll get in school for the fall semester?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not looking good, but I’m still trying.”

  “I’m so sorry, Dexter.” She truly was.

  “It’s all right,” he said with a shrug. Then he grinned at her. “I’m not worried about it, and certainly not now. Not when I have such a beautiful dinner companion.”

  A warmth spread over Genevieve’s cheeks “Well, thank you.”

  They had finished their coconut shrimp appetizer and were awaiting the arrival of their entrees when a band set up and began to play reggae music. Genevieve sat back in her chair and enjoyed the music. Before her father’s disappearance, the sound of reggae would have made her homesick.

  A wave of sadness spread over her like a raincloud, threatening to overpower her cheerful mood. She struggled to reclaim it as their plates were delivered.

  “How’s your chicken?” Dexter asked after she’d had taken her first bite of the jerk chicken they’d both ordered.

  “Wonderful.” Even as she ate, Genevieve inadvertently swayed her upper body to the infectious beat of the music. The same sounds that had brought on melancholy just moments before now perked up her spirits. Aside from funeral marches, most music was meant to cheer.

  “You look happy,” Dexter observed.

  “I’m enjoying this,” she admitted. “I’m so glad I ran into you.”“You don’t know many people in New York, do you, Gen?”

  “No, not really. Neither of the girls I kept in touch with after graduation still live here. I do have a friend who lives in Brooklyn, but we usually meet in midtown because it’s centrally located.” This fun place, full of chatter and laughter and music, seemed very distant from the rather staid restaurants Barry brought her to.

  It was probably just as well, because her reaction to her handsome floor-mate was very different from the one she had with Barry. The spark of attraction that was nowhere to be found when she looked at Barry was very much in evidence with Dexter, reinforcing for her that becoming Mrs. Barry Henderson would be a terrible mistake.

  Twenty minutes later Genevieve placed her cloth napkin on the table when their waitress asked if she could bring them dessert. “None for me, thanks. I’m stuffed.”

  “How about some rum cake?” Dexter suggested, nodding to the waitress to bring him an order.

  “Oh, I can’t. But I will have another rum punch.” Her eyes sparkled with exhilaration. She’d already had two. Still, she didn’t expect Dexter’s next words.

  “Let’s dance.”

  “Oh! I don’t think so, Dexter. I’m more of a chair dancer. Besides, the song’s half over.”

  “There’ll be another one after it,” he said, the outer corners of his mouth turning upward in amusement. “C’mon, Gen.” He stood and took her hand.

  Laughing, Genevieve allowed him to lead her to the open space directly in front of the band. Five or six couples were already dancing. She closed her eyes and swayed her hips to the beat, her feet barely moving. Reggae was so relaxing to dance to. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so stress-free. Of course, those two rum punches probably had a lot to do with the free and easy way she felt. She rolled her head from side to side on the axis of her neck, her arms held high and outstretched, with lots of hip motion. Eventually she did open her eyes, and while she expected to see Dexter opposite her, the smoldering flame in his eyes as he watched her movements came as a surprise. She felt a rush of heat course through her body as her breathing became ragged. She recognized the rush of attraction, and she welcomed it. It had been far too long since she’d felt this way. She closed her eyes as she continued to rotate her hips, her feet barely moving, in a dance just for him.

  The song ended way too soon, disappointing her, but the band quickly blended into one of her favorites, the Peter Frampton classic, Baby I Love Your Way. When Dexter pulled her close she merely closed her eyes and breathed in his clean, male scent. How long had it been since she’d danced? And how long had it been since she’d been held in a man’s arms? A man whom she found devilishly sexy?

  Dexter didn’t hold her too closely, but his thigh with its hard muscles did brush against hers repeatedly, and his large palm felt warm against her back. How appropriate that the band played this song, Genevieve thought. Dexter really did have a nice way about him, plus he was so handsome. His chest was directly in her line of vision, the top buttons of his tailored shirt undone to reveal a minimum of skin. She found herself wishing she could see more.

  One thing she felt sure of. Whoever landed Dexter was going to be a lucky woman.

  “I’m glad you came with me tonight, Gen,” he said, his lips just inches from her ear.

  “So am I,” she replied dreamily.

  They left the restaurant after Genevieve finished her
drink and he finished his cake. She split the sizeable tab with him – they were, after all, neighbors who had shared a hearty meal that included appetizers, drinks, and dessert, not a couple out on a date. Besides, Dexter needed to apply all available funds to his tuition.

  She remembered something Chiara had said and suddenly became curious about it. “So Dexter, why haven’t you ever brought a date to the restaurant?” she asked when they stepped outside onto the still-lively street.

  “Because I can’t afford to,” he replied without hesitation. “I’ve got to get my tuition squared away first.” He looked at her curiously. “But if I were in a position to date, you’d be the one I’d ask out.”

  “I’m flattered. Thank you.” She gasped as cold raindrops began to stab at her skin. “Oh, my. Where’d this come from?”

  “It’s too dark to see any changes in the sky.” He grabbed her hand. “C’mon, let’s make a run for it.”

  Still holding hands, they ran the half block to the brownstone, getting to the top of the stairs and safely beneath an overhang just before the sky opened up and the rain came down in sheets. Dexter released her hand, and for a minute or so they simply stood outside, watching the downpour as they struggled to catch their breath. Genevieve knew most of her breathlessness came from running, but part of it came from the heady sensation of his fingers that until just a minute ago had been intertwined with hers.

  Dexter unlocked the large oak door. The double parlor doors leading to the Smith’s quarters were closed when they stepped inside the foyer. Genevieve shivered in the air conditioning, which felt frigid to her torso and bare arms, both wet from raindrops.

  “Here, let me dry you off.” Dexter stood behind her and rubbed both his palms and his sleeve-covered arms—the cotton fabric puckered by raindrops—up and down the length of her bare ones, both drying and warming her skin in an action that made her long to turn and throw her arms around him.

  Instead she said in an even voice that belied her arousal, “Oh, that’s much better. Thanks.” She headed for the elegant maple staircase. “I must tell you, Dexter,” she said as she slowly climbed, “tonight was a lot more fun than my bringing a sandwich back to my room.” She paused mid-flight to turn and flash a smile his way. “Uh...you do realize that I’m the envy of Chiara and her friends.”

  “Oh, I saw some men who clearly looked like they’d be happy to change places with me as well.”

  Genevieve knew her slow steps resulted from a combination of the three rum punches she’d consumed and fatigue from running to dodge the raindrops. She turned to Dexter when they reached the landing, standing just outside her bedroom door. “I guess you’ll be catching up on your rest tomorrow and Sunday,” she said, a touch wistfully at the thought of not seeing him.

  “Actually, I’m due at the lab first thing in the morning. I’ll probably come home tomorrow afternoon and sleep straight through till Monday morning,” he said with a laugh.

  “Well, you take care of yourself, Dexter. Good night.”

  “Good night, Gen.” Before she could turn away to unlock her door he leaned over and planted a quick kiss squarely on her mouth. As he straightened she saw the surprise flash in his eyes, as if he’d just realized how inappropriate his action had been. “Um...I don’t know what possessed me to do that.” He shrugged. “I know this wasn’t a date, but I guess I just did what I usually do when I see a pretty girl to her door.”

  The kiss had caught Genevieve by surprise, but she shocked herself with her verbal response to it. “All I can say is, if a man kissed me like that when he brought me home, I’d think he didn’t want to see me again.”

  Dexter took a moment to absorb her words, and his eyes brightened in amusement. “That’s a misconception that warrants correction.”

  She stared up at him, her heart pounding in an erratic rhythm as he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her. For a long moment they just gazed each other, then his lips slowly descended to meet hers.

  Genevieve’s eyelids fluttered shut. She drank in the sweetness of his kiss, welcomed his searching tongue into her mouth, and savored the feel of his strong hands, one at the base of her neck and the other bracing her lower back, his fingers spread and clutching at her skin. She’d come out and dared him to kiss her, and he was clearly up to the challenge. Her eager hands reached up to frame the sides of his face, his unshaven chin tickling her palms, the dark curls of the hair on his head soft beneath her fingertips. The pleasure she felt radiated downward, settling between her thighs.

  When he broke the kiss—well before she was ready—her body was left tingling all over.

  “What message did that send?” he whispered, still holding her, his breath hot against her neck.

  “That was definitely a kiss that says you’ll be calling,” she said breathlessly. She hastened to add, “If this had been a date.”

  “Good. I can’t leave you thinking otherwise. Sweet dreams, Gen.” He released her and walked toward his door.

  Inside her room, Genevieve absently creamed her cheeks and slipped into a lace-trimmed cotton nightgown after turning on the air conditioner. As she sank onto her bed she was still conscious of the lingering aura surrounding her. She pressed her lips together in an attempt to recreate the feel of Dexter’s kiss. A wonderful shiver of wanting ran through her in the not-yet-cool room. She didn’t know what had gotten into her, practically issuing an invitation for Dexter to kiss her. She’d been perfectly content to bid him goodnight and retire to her room. But then he gave her that quick kiss, and she wanted more. It must have been the rum talking...or maybe the rum had made her more aware of the fact that she found Dexter extraordinarily enticing. That kiss had awakened something in her, something she feared might have died because Barry had been unable to bring it out.

  And she knew she wouldn’t be able to simply put that feeling away in some dark space like clean, dry dishes.

  As she drifted off to sleep, she remembered her mother’s words to her of half a lifetime ago, about how the man she chose to marry would make her laugh and would leave her dizzy and breathless. Barry’s kisses could never make her feel this alive. Once again she knew she’d made the right decision. Marriage to Barry was akin to robbing herself of the passion every woman deserved to feel for the man in her life.

  But she still had to figure out how to stay in the United States.

  Dexter didn’t know if he’d done the right thing by kissing Gen so impulsively. But then she’d all but challenged him to do it again, and he’d never been one to back down from a dare, especially from a woman who looked as good as Gen did. He’d been only too glad to let his lips and hands do the talking. She’d felt so perfect in his arms, like she belonged there.

  That aside, he sensed she was in a vulnerable state, and it was probably difficult for her, far from her home and friends. He wondered if her father still lived here in New York.

  Funny. He was known to be close-mouthed among the friends he’d made here in the city when it came to his personal life, but it suddenly occurred to him that while Gen knew quite a bit about his situation, he knew next to nothing about hers. Somehow she’d always managed to keep the conversation focused on him.

  Dexter stripped down to his shorts, throwing his shirt and jeans over the back of a chair, and laid atop the queen-size bed, positioning himself diagonally so his feet wouldn’t hang over the edge. He pondered how little he really knew about Gen. Not even her last name, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t have to know those details to know he wanted to get to know her better. He licked his lips at the memory of her sensual movements on the dance floor. Only with masterful self-control had he kept their kiss short and restrained himself from letting his hands wander further down her body, over the round behind he’d so admired and pressing it against his swollen erection. If he had his way, she would be under him in this bed right now.

  He sighed. He was tired of putting his love life on hold. Once he completed one more semester and graduated, he’d
be home free.

  All he needed was the money to pay for it.

  He resolved to give his all toward getting his tuition paid. Forget a hundred percent or a hundred-and-ten. He was going to give it a hundred-and-fifty percent.

  Because only after he was finished would he be able to wine and dine Gen the way she deserved.

  Chapter 8

  June turned into July and then August with no alternate solution to Genevieve’s dilemma. She tried to remain calm, but she nonetheless became more and more despondent about her future. The weather didn’t help matters any. These were the traditional dog days of summer, when New York transformed from being the Big Apple to the Baked Apple.

  In midmonth Barry, exhausted from the demands of his job plus the added burdens of trying to finalize his divorce, took off for his summer place on the Vineyard, having been unsuccessful in his attempts to get her to come along. Massachusetts might be off the radar of the INS people who were looking for her, and of course she could work from anywhere, but Genevieve wasn’t up to socializing with crowds any more than she was ready to be alone in a house with Barry. He might be the only person she’d entrusted her secret to, but all the solitude in her life made her dangerously vulnerable...and they both knew it.

  Neither of them spoke about their plans since that phone conversation weeks ago, when she told him she would not marry him. As far as Genevieve was concerned, nothing had changed. She did suspect, however, that Barry with his trademark confidence fully expected them to marry as soon as he was free. She felt that would only make it more difficult for him to accept, but she couldn’t worry about everything, and she had enough on her plate. Instead she concentrated on plans for the future. She would do her best to avoid the INS, even if it meant continuing to live in the Smith’s brownstone indefinitely. She planned to meet with a property management service to arrange for the rental of her condo. Genevieve didn’t know how long she would be able to elude capture by the U.S. Government, but she knew there were people who’d managed to do it for years. At least between her work and organizing her personal life, she had plenty to keep her mind occupied.