Donna Hill - A Scandalous Affair

And now, she’d gotten what she wished for—a relationship free of commitments and strings. And he was free as well. Free to be with her sister.

“Thanks for hanging with me this afternoon. It was great,” Samantha said as they stood together outside of Cisco’s. Her voice dropped a note. “I’m looking forward to Wednesday.”

“So am I.”

Samantha pulled in a breath. “Well, I guess I’ll see you.”

“Absolutely.”

“How long are you going to be staying at Mom and Dad’s?”

“I have to start apartment hunting as soon as possible. They keep insisting that I can stay as long as I want, but I can’t do that. I need to have my own space. Where I can work and think.”

“I know what you mean. As much as I love them, I love being on my own.”

Chad slid his hands into his pockets. “Are you really on your own?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you seeing anyone, living with someone, planning to?”

She smiled nervously. “No to all of the above.”

“By choice or circumstance?”

“A combination of both. I haven’t come across anyone that I want to be with—like that.”

“Hmm.”

“What about you? Is there a lady in waiting?”

“Not that I know of.”

Silence momentarily hung between them like a sheer veil until Chad brushed it aside. “Maybe if you have some time you can help me apartment hunt.”

Her heart raced. “Sure. Let me know when you’re ready.”

“I’ll do that.” Suddenly, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, not a big-brother kiss, but a man kissing a woman kind of kiss. A kiss promising intimacy to come. A kiss which set her entire body to tingling. He eased back. “Good seeing you, Sam. Get home safely.” He turned and headed for his rented car.

For several moments, Samantha stood there as if she’d been glued to the concrete, watching him move languidly down the street.

“It was good seeing you, too,” she whispered and opened the door to her car. She couldn’t wait to get home and call Simone.

Simone tossed her keys and purse on the hall table and aimlessly headed for the kitchen. The drive had done little to unfurl the tight coils of her tense insides. Rather, it aggravated her condition.

She opened the fridge, searched through its contents and took out a glass bottle of fruit juice. What she really wanted was a cigarette. A quick, relaxing smoke. But she’d given them up about a year earlier after a severe bout of bronchitis.

Sitting at the kitchen table, she twisted the smooth glass bottle around in her hands, staring blankly into space, and finally her gaze landed on the flashing red light of her answering machine. Slowly, she got up and pressed Play.

“Hi, sis, it’s me. I have so much to tell you. Call me when you get in,” she said, and Simone could hear the high pitch of excitement in her sister’s voice.

Simone pressed Erase. She stared at the phone, debating. A part of her wanted to hear the details and share her sister’s excitement. Another part of her dreaded what Samantha might say. Did he kiss her, touch her in that gentle way of his? Did he laugh at her corny jokes and did his eyes crinkle at the edges when he did?

She tugged in a breath. The truth was, she didn’t want to know, but she had to.

Simone defiantly snatched up the phone and dialed Samantha’s number.

“Hello…”

The voice sounded breathless. Simone flinched. Was Chad there? Were they…?

“Hey, sis, sounds like you were running.”

“Whew, sorry about that. I was outside when I heard the phone. I was hoping it was you.”

“This is your lucky day.”

Samantha chuckled, missing the sarcasm. She pranced into the kitchen and skulked around in the fridge for her container of vanilla soy milk. “Guess what?” she asked, following a long swallow of the creamy liquid.

Simone briefly shut her eyes. “What?”

“I had lunch with Chad today—at Cisco’s.”

“Really.” A tense bubble of laughter burst and dribbled over her lips. It was apparent that Chad hadn’t mentioned their brief conversation, so neither would she. “You make it sound like more than business.”

“Well…” She let the word stretch to four syllables.

Simone gripped the phone a bit tighter. “What does that mean?”

Samantha went on to explain about their upcoming “date” to the jazz club and Chad’s subsequent request for her to help him find an apartment.

“Sounds like you two are going to be spending a lot of time together.”

Samantha sighed. “I hope so, Monie,” she said, using her pet name for her sister. “I like him and I think we could have something.”

“You figured that all out after one lunch?”

Samantha frowned, startled by Simone’s sharp tone. “What’s bugging you?”

Simone caught herself. “Hey, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just tired and I have a headache brewing. A bit on edge.” At least that part was true.

“Did you take anything?”

“No, not yet. But I will.” Simone’s tight expression softened. Although they were only separated by one year, with Sam being the younger, early on Samantha had taken the opposite role as big sister and nurturer. Samantha was the type of person who couldn’t stand to see anyone suffering or in pain. She somehow believed it her duty and obligation to take on the weight of everyone’s ills and find a way to make them better. You had to love her.

“You go and rest. If it gets worse and you need me, just call. Okay?”

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. I think I will lie down for a while.”

“Good. I’ll check on you tomorrow. Later.”

“Hey, uh, when are you guys going to the club?”

“Wednesday. Why don’t you bring Chris and come along?”

“Chris Walker has risen to the top of my not-to-do list at the moment.” She’d been dating Chris for about three months, and although he was smart enough to have “Doctor” in front of his name, it had become abundantly clear, at least to her, that his intelligence was trapped between his legs. Whenever they were together all he ever wanted to do with any enthusiasm was to have sex. Any other activity he was always “too tired” to participate. That wore thin pretty quickly. Their relationship was going nowhere fast.

Samantha chuckled. “Girl, you and men. You shed them faster than I can keep up with. One of these days you’re going to have to figure out what you want and stick with it.”

“Sam, you don’t know the half of it. But that’s another story for another day. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

Simone absently hung up the hone. Humph. Figure out what I want and stick with it. I thought I had, once upon a time. Guess I was wrong.

“How’s it feel to be back in your own office?” Justin asked, leaning against the frame of the door.

Chad looked up from sorting the files on his desk, happy to see his mentor. He leaned back in his chocolate-brown leather chair and expansively linked his fingers behind his head. “Man, I am home,” he stated, enunciating every word.

Justin chuckled and stepped inside. Casually, he gazed around, intermittently picking up and putting down objets d’art that Chad brought back with him from his travels. Statues from Ghana, talismans from Uganda, native cloths from Liberia and fetishes from the Sudan, among others.

Chad monitored Justin’s apparent ease and lack of agenda, and knew from years of working with him that he had something on his mind. It was a tactic that worked like a charm with juries, and Chad, too, had mastered the technique—biding his time before making his move. The only unknown factor was when Justin would strike. Chad didn’t have to wait long.