AlTonya Washington - Silver Screen Romance

Holding on to intense dislike in the presence of such an erotic distraction was virtually impossible and now it was only going to get harder. Now they were to be in close proximity for however long it’d take to unravel the mystery they’d inherited.

Davia had enough confidence in her abilities to know she could set aside the allure of Kale Asante, but she still had to admit the man had far more going for him than his good looks. That quiet voice of his was deep but noticeably soft in its delivery. She wondered if he ever raised it. She mused it’d hold a raspy quality if he did. Such was the case with her own husky tone, she knew.

Beyond the voice, there were additional mannerisms that had captured her attention. The way he’d handled her elliptical, the slow brush of the back of his hand along the machine’s bars and levers... She wondered if his touch was so gentle with other things.

Then there was the grin and the playful wince he gave when she’d managed to surprise him or challenge him on some point. She’d been attracted by his looks, but his mannerisms...those were the elements that had intrigued her.

And now you’ve got no reason to hate him.

Davia shook her head free of the unwanted reminder. No, if she took his explanation as fact, she had no reason to dislike him, but that didn’t mean she could fall into bed with him. Well, she could...but should she? And why the hell was she even considering that? Aside from his comment about wanting to know if she was incredible to look at, he’d been the consummate gentleman. She was the one with her mind in her...lingerie drawer.

The accusation had her leaving the suitcase to check the aforementioned drawer for tights and other undergarments.

Davia was tossing an assortment of socks and underthings into the case when the doorbell rang.

She checked her wrist but found she hadn’t yet put her watch back on. Then she looked to the small grandfather clock on the second-floor landing of her town home. She had over an hour before the car arrived. Davia gritted her teeth in dread of an unforeseen business emergency that might be about to throw a wrench into her plans.

She ran downstairs and was surprised when she opened the door.

“Kale?” She gave a self-conscious tug to the hem of the T-shirt she wore with an old pair of denim capris. Once again, she checked her wrist for the watch she still wasn’t wearing.

“You’re not late. I’m early.” Kale met her gaze and smiled.

“I, uh, I thought you were sending a car for me?” Davia’s tone was cautious, curious.

“I did.” Kale turned from the doorway where his frame had eclipsed her view of the cobblestone drive beyond the courtyard where a silver Land Rover waited.

Davia blinked as if mildly stunned. “You drove?”

“I’ve been known to.” His manner was playfully bland.

“So are you trying to make a statement?” Davia joined in on the tease.

“Trying to. I hope it’s one that’ll impress you.”

It occurred to Davia that they were still in her doorway. Quickly she inched back to wave him inside.

“I’ve only got to get dressed and throw a few more things in my suitcase,” she said.

“No rush. It’s not like we’re gonna miss our flight.”

“Right.” Inwardly, Davia gave herself a few mental kicks for behaving like a nervous girl on her first date. She was so not that and a date was so not what this was.

“I was just going to take a quick shower before I got dressed.” Her tone was still breathy and anxious. She wanted to kick herself for real.

Kale laughed. “Davia, it’s all right. We don’t have bags to check. No security gates to clear. I’m ready when you are. Call down to me when you’re done with your packing and I’ll come up and get your suitcase.”

“Oh, no, you...you don’t have to do that,” she told him, only to have him move into her personal space.

“I want to do that,” he said.

Her actual height of five-eleven was greatly dwarfed by him. She admitted to feeling appreciatively overwhelmed and knew it was time to go.

“The kitchen’s behind the bar around this side of the stairway...” she began in an airy, much lighter tone. As she motioned in the direction, she noted, “Just help yourself to anything you want.” Then, turning, she quickly sprinted back up the way she’d come.

Only when Davia had disappeared around the corner at the top of the stairs did Kale look away. Just help yourself to anything you want. Her words reverberated in his head. He muttered an obscenity to criticize himself and wondered if he should tell her to be careful what she said to him.

No...he shouldn’t tell her because it would confirm that solving the mystery of what she was like in bed had consumed the bulk of his thoughts since they’d met. Correction—since he’d seen that picture of her in Felton’s file. And wouldn’t that just take her right back to hating him?

Back to? Had the truth of what really happened between him and Martella Friedman changed or at least softened her perception of him? He wanted Davia to believe that hustling a woman into his bed was not the first thing he thought of when he conducted business. He wanted her to think that because it was actually true. He wanted her to think that even though all he could think of in that moment was having her amazing legs wrapped around his back and that smoky voice of hers moaning his name while he lost his mind inside her.

Muttering to himself, Kale charted a path for the bar and didn’t stop until he tossed back a swig of her fine, locally brewed beer. Why the hell should he care about any of that? Before two days ago, he never thought he’d meet Davia Sands. Providing the truth about Martella hadn’t even been a blip on his radar despite the fact that he didn’t appreciate dark marks being put on his business reputation unless he put them there.

Now he was...what? Trying to pass himself off as a better man when he was nowhere near that? It was as he’d told Davia earlier. He had no interest in being that type of guy.

You did right by Martella. The quiet voice wedged in from his subconscious.

With a grunt, he took another swig of the beer.

* * *

Davia completed her packing and shower in record time. She left her bedroom carrying the weight of her suitcase, garment bag and tote with apparent ease. Impressive, when one considered the stiletto-heeled, mocha-suede boots climbed just above her knees.

Though he approved of the vision she was, Kale didn’t hold much hope that the stairs, heels and luggage would play well together. He took the steps two at a time and relieved Davia of her things before she took the third step down.

“Nice boots,” he said.

Davia glanced down. “Thanks. I thought so, too.”

Kale hoisted the garment bag strap over a shoulder. “Not sure how well they’ll go with an Iowa cornfield.”

“I’m sure I won’t be finding out.” Davia’s reply was full of humor. “My plan is to be in a pair of sneakers or hiking boots by the time I’m in range of one.” She gave another look toward her stylish stems. “These are just for first impressions.” And to appease my unhealthy obsession, she added silently.

Kale carried down the luggage with a fluid grace. “So we’re trying to make a good impression? I should’ve kept my suit on, I guess.”

“I think they’ll take you seriously enough.” Davia admired the quarter-length chamois suede jacket he wore with dark green hiking boots and a shirt of the same color that hung outside a pair of indigo jeans.

“So tell me why we’re trying to make a good impression? I assume it’s for more than the obvious reason of being polite.”

Davia was making a quick check of her tote for anything she may have forgotten. “We don’t know what we’ll find when we get there,” she said. “We may actually want to hold on to our inheritance. If so, we’ll want our new neighbors to like us, right?”