Fools Rush In Read online

  She twisted her hair into a knot at her nape, slipped into her favorite ecru lace underwear and wondered what to put on top of it. She opened the closet door without turning on the light and, as she faced the darkness, the burning remains of the Sutton Motel in Falls Church, Virginia, flashed through her mind. She could almost smell the incinerating rubbish and hear the crackle of the roaring flames. She squeezed her fists tight and fought to shake off the gnawing sounds and sights of the past. She wanted to live in the present, grab whatever happiness came her way, and hold on to it.

  “Don’t fool yourself, girl. There’s no happiness here for you.” Her hand rested on an orange and black patterned caftan that had known years of wear. It made no difference what she wore, she knew, because she had cast the die against herself when she answered Duncan’s ad. She slipped the caftan over her head, stuck her feet into a pair of low heeled black slippers and left the room.

  Duncan rose when she entered the dining room. “It’s pretty late, so I called a cab for Mattie and sent her home. She’s got a pot roast, turnip greens, and candied yams.” He took their plates, went into the kitchen, and filled them. “I’d like some good wine. How about this Chateau Neuf du Pap?”

  She preferred white wine, but in the sweet aura that he wrapped around them, she would accept whatever he offered, and she’d do it because he obviously wanted to please her.

  “Your dress is beautiful. Why haven’t you worn something like this before? I like it. You…You’re…well, lovely.”

  Maybe the evening’s drama had left him in shock. Her hair was a mess, she didn’t have on a speck of make-up, wore no jewelry, and looked maybe the worst he’d ever seen her. And he thought she looked lovely? She told herself not to believe it. Maybe it was because the caftan camouflaged her size.

  “Thanks.” It sounded lame, but she couldn’t manage more.

  “Don’t you believe me?” he poured their wine and stopped. “We’re going to start saying grace at the table. Mattie says I’ll raise Tonya to be an infidel.”

  She bowed her head while he said grace. How had her child been so fortunate as to be given this man for a father? She raised her head and treated him to a luminous smile, lest a flood of tears break through her controlled facade.

  He raised his wine in a silent toast to her. “You don’t know how relieved I am that you’re both here and all right. It’s been decades since anything got to me like that did.”

  She’d known that not knowing their whereabouts at that time of night would upset him, but she hadn’t imagined his reaction once he knew they were safe—not one cross word not a reprimand.

  “I knew you had to be miserable, Duncan, and I wouldn’t have put you through that for anything if I could have avoided it.”

  “I know that, Justine.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

  He sipped his wine, his fiery eyes bewitching her over the top of the glass. “You’ve had a bad time, too. I figure you’ll tell me as soon as you can.”

  She blinked her eyes, hoping to break the spell. “After we left the doctor’s office, I stopped at a drugstore to pick up a newspaper, went to pay for it, and realized I’d left my pocketbook on the floor in the front seat of the car. I had Tonya with me, because I never leave her anywhere, least of all in a car. I ran to the car and saw my pocketbook there, but the doors were locked and I couldn’t get in. I didn’t have a cent in my pocket, and the drugstore clerk didn’t believe my story. He did make one call here, but there was no answer. I guess Mattie was in one of her moods and ignored the phones. Anyway, when I asked him to call the police for me, he refused. He asked for identification, but all I had was in the car.”

  “When a tow-truck came to tow my car out of the no parking zone, I told the driver my plight, and he called the police on his cell phone. The policeman came and opened the car, handed me my pocketbook and asked to see my driver’s license and car registration. Unfortunately for me, both were in the house here in my credit card case. He put Tonya and me in the squad car and took us to the station. By now, it’s five o’clock, and I’m getting nervous. I asked them to call here, but nobody answered, because Mattie hates phones. The car went to the pound, I didn’t have a cent, and your office phone went unanswered.

  “Tonya began to cry, because she was wet and hungry, but she’d already made friends with the men, and one of the officers got a box of chocolate milk from the refrigerator, found a straw, and held her while she drank it. She went to sleep happy as a robin in a freshly dug spring garden. They wanted a social worker to interview me but, thank God, their regular one was out sick. The shift changed before they figured out what to do with us, and when the new chief arrived, I blurted out that they were holding Duncan Banks’s child and that they could expect to see their names in the morning paper.

  “Why hadn’t I told the other officers? He wanted to know. I figured that wasn’t the time for me to articulate my disgust. The one who brought us to the door said he’d drive us to your house and check my story. If I was lying, I could expect a nice long vacation in the clinker.”

  Duncan narrowed his eyes and tightened his jaw, his face clouded with anger. “What is that captain’s name, the one who kept you there until the shift changed?”

  His thunderous expression would have unsettled her had she been the object of his rage. She told him the man’s name, reached over, and laid her hand on his. “We’re all right now. If you want to scold him, please do, but don’t make trouble for him on my behalf. At least they gave Tonya some milk.”

  “If those jackasses ever do something like this again, call James Randolph, my lawyer. If I could get my hands on—”

  Shivers raced through her. If she got high-profile publicity, he’d soon know the story of her life. Just mention the names of either her husband or her father and the tabloids and supermarket trash sheets would descend like the vultures that they were.

  She hastened to diffuse his anger. “Duncan, we came out of it all right, and don’t forget I was wrong on two counts—driving without a license and without car registration—and I wasn’t charged.”

  “That’s because they were so busy being stupid that they forgot it. I’ll get your car tomorrow morning.” He stood and pushed back his chair. “They treat good citizens the same as they do criminals. No difference.” He stopped his fist just before it hit the wall. “If I could get my hands on one of them, I’d—”

  “Honey, let it ride. Call him up if you want to, but then drop it, please.”

  His body stiffened, and his reddish-brown eyes became orbs of sizzling heat. And like a big tiger stalking its prey, he moved toward her. “What did you call me?”

  If she’d been standing, she’d have fled to her room, but he was there lifting her out of the chair as though she weighed sixty-five pounds instead of a hundred and sixty-five, holding her shoulders and staring into her eyes with his heat swirling around her and the man in him bellowing for release.

  She’d never stuttered, but every syllable stuck in her throat. “I…I…s…said—”

  “I didn’t ask you what you said. What did you call me?”

  If only she could know the man in him for one minute. Of their own volition, the words flew off the wings of her breath. “Honey. Oh Duncan. Duncan, Dun—”

  His hot breath sent sensations hurtling through her, and his right hand pressed her buttocks and pinned her cradle of love to his hard frame. Then the earth stopped when he held her head with his left hand and took her mouth. Her blood raced wildly from her fingers to the tips of her toes, as his lips moved over hers. Seeking. Branding her. She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, and his hot moist tongue rimmed her lips. The little sense that she had right then told her that she should push him away, but she needed the steel-like arms that held her as she’d longed to be held. Somewhere in the archives of her mind, she knew she had to resist him. She had to. But she was powerless to do so while tremors raced through her and his heat coiled around her ma
king perspiration plaster tendrils of hair to her forehead. She braced with one hand, but the other caressed his head.

  “It’s too late, Justine. It’s always been too late. Open your mouth for me, Justine. Sweetheart, I need to love you.”

  His fingers found her nipples, teased them while they flowered beneath his talented touch, and her woman’s heat furled up to them until, besotted with him, she pulled his tongue into her mouth and nearly died of pleasure as he anointed every centimeter of it. More. She had to have more of him. Her tongue battled with his until he gave her what she wanted and let her feast on it. When her aroused body demanded everything that he could give her, he tightened his grip on her buttocks and let her feel his powerful erection. She moved into him, greedy for more, anxious for what had always been denied her.

  His hoarse voice reached her as though from another planet. “Wait a minute here, Justine. Are your ready for this? Do you know what you’re doing, baby?” He jerked away from her when her hand went to his belt buckle. “I want to make love with you, honey. I want it more than anything on the face of this earth. Are you sure?”

  She reeled away from him as though in a drunken stupor. “What?”

  “I said do you know what you’re about to do?”

  It could have been the tremors in his voice, or what looked like love in his eyes, or was it desire? Having been subjected to Kenneth’s masterful charade, she wasn’t sure she knew the difference, she didn’t know. But she’d never been so certain that a man cared more for her well being than for his own. She stepped away from him.

  “If you hadn’t stopped us, I know I wouldn’t have. Maybe it’s everything that happened today; maybe it’s you and what you are. I don’t know the answer, Duncan. But I’m certain I’ve never before known what I felt just then, so don’t think unkindly of me for letting it get out of hand.”

  He pulled her to him, and his hand stroked her back, soothing her. “It didn’t get out of hand, Justine. We needed each other, and we had postponed that so long that I’m surprised I could back away from it. We’ll have to talk about this, but not right now. You go on upstairs. I’ll straighten up here.”

  “Why should you take responsibility for…for my behavior, I—”

  His stiffened body sent her a message that his words confirmed. “You’d better get out of here, Justine. I don’t want you one bit less now that I did five minutes ago. Leave while it’s possible. Good night.”

  She knew he meant it, and she knew the price if she stayed. “Good night.”

  Justine closed her bedroom door and slumped against it. Thank God, he’d called a halt to it. He didn’t know the half of it. She’d never come close to losing herself with Kenneth, and she’d never known any other man. She rubbed her arms, stumbled to her bed, and fell across it. He’d lifted her as though she were a feather. Lifted her and held her to his body. Kenneth hadn’t even taken her across the threshold of their apartment door on their wedding day. He’d jokingly said that life was full of choices; if he got a hernia lifting her, he wouldn’t be able to make love, and he was sure she’d choose the latter. She gave in to the giddiness that swept over her, threw her arms open wide and let laughter pour out of her, as she gloried in her femininity.

  Duncan finished straightening up the kitchen and dining room and looked around for something else to do. Nothing. Before he’d managed to settle down from his anxiety over Justine and Tonya’s whereabouts, she’d revved his engine with a taste of the woman she was. He shook his head. Women were not strangers to him; he’d known enough of them well enough not to be surprised, but Justine Taylor had come around his blind side and pole-axed him. This perfect, well-mannered lady turned out to be the most sexually aggressive woman he’d ever touched. He rubbed the back of his neck, turned out the lights, and started up the stairs. And she was not only the sweetest woman he’d kissed, but the most honest about her feelings. And sleeping across the hall from him in an unlocked room! He laughed and started up the stairs. “Man, you’ve got your work cut out for you. Don’t even glance that way,” he told himself. He noticed the light that shone beneath her door. “Oh, no, you don’t,” he mumbled, retraced his steps, and headed for the basement. Two hours later, still pitching darts, he hadn’t once hit the bull’s eye.

  The next morning, Justine opened the door of her closet and her gaze fell on the black and orange caftan, her idea of an old thing and Duncan’s notion of a lovely dress. She resisted putting it on, but unable to forego an opportunity to make him notice her, she settled for a red-printed, Portuguese-style broomstick skirt and a white peasant blouse. She wasn’t crazy about the effect, but it was at least feminine and, right then, pants didn’t suit her mood. She bathed and dressed Tonya, whose morning greetings had already become the most cherished moments of the day.

  “Well, now, I don’t care what Mr. B says, that outfit is proof you don’t need these pancakes,” Mattie declared when Justine entered the dining room with Tonya in her arms.

  “I thought we’d had the last of that song, Mattie. I am not interested in being like those tubercular models on the covers of fashion magazines, and since I’m satisfied with myself, don’t let it bother you.”

  If Mattie was defeated, she didn’t show it. “Magazines? I don’t pay no attention to the women in those magazines. My sister—you know, the one who works for that rich lady in the Watergate Apartments—gave me one called American Woman. It didn’t have one black face in it ’til you got to the last page and looked at Dionne Warwick advertising her psychic friends. And that in the year of our Lord about two thousand. I bet if you pick up Emerge or Today’s Black Woman, the women won’t all look like they dying of consumption.”

  Justine shifted Tonya to her left hip and held up her right hand palm out. “Duncan said he didn’t want to hear that again in this house.”

  “And he ain’t hearing it, either.”

  “Who said so?” He bounded into the room, stopped within inches of her, and heat burned her face as he scrutinized it. “Hi, baby.” Justine’s eyes rounded, and she thought she’d swallow her breath.

  “How’s my favorite daughter?” he asked Tonya, though his eyes devoured Justine. “Aren’t you saying ‘good morning,’ Justine?”

  She spoke slowly, making certain of a steady voice. “Since you walked in and found me here, you should speak to me first.”

  His smile sent her pulse racing. “And you think I didn’t?” he asked and took Tonya from her.

  She decided to ignore his brazen comment. “Mattie, I want four pancakes oozing with syrup and real butter, please. None of that imitation stuff you keep back there.”

  Mattie put her left hand on her hip and waved a spoon with her other hand. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Justine, I got a sister who sews. She don’t even need no pattern. Just bring her eight or ten yards of cloth, and she’ll make you a dress in no time. ’Course, for me, she only needs a yard and a half.”

  Justine stared at Duncan, who gaped at Mattie. “I thought I told you, Mattie—”

  Mattie put on an air of contrition. “My sister’s a poor woman, Mr. B; she needs all the work she can get.”

  Justine thought it wise of Mattie to make a swift exit toward the kitchen. Ordinarily, the twinkling of his eyes and that shadow of a dimple in his right cheek mesmerized her when he lost himself in her laughter, but what she felt right then was a desire to punch him.

  “Walk Daddy to the door,” he said to Tonya, who bounced up and down on his thigh. “Daddy’s in a hurry this morning, but I promise to take you for a stroll this afternoon.” Justine watched Tonya bubble with smiles as though she understood and anticipated the pleasure of their time together. She could hardly bear the mixture of pain and joy that swirled within her as Tonya looped her arms around her father’s neck and left the print of oatmeal on his cheek after a long kiss. It amazed her that he neither complained nor wiped his face.

  “Come on,” he repeated. “Walk me to the door. It’s time you used your two little feet.
”

  “I’ll take her,” Justine offered.

  “I guess you will,” Mattie said, draining her coffee cup. “Otherwise, she’ll have to crawl back here after she walks him to the door. I declare, men is so fanciful. Just ’cause Tonya’s last name is Banks don’t mean she super baby.”

  Tiny needles pricked at her insides, but she marveled that, only weeks earlier, pain would have seared her heart if anyone had mentioned Tonya’s last name in that way. Had she begun to accept the impossible, or were her feelings for Duncan going to betray her?

  Duncan kissed Tonya, accepted her wet response, winked at Justine, and stepped out into the crisp, early November air. He paused on the steps for a second and counted his blessings. At last, he could go to work knowing that his child was safe, and that she would not lack for love, affection, and the best of care.

  Dave Jenkin’s taxi drove past as he started toward the garage and, on an impulse, he whistled for it, deciding to take the train to Baltimore rather than drive. The forty-six minutes head-time should be more than enough in which to make it to the station, especially with Dave driving. That and the thirty-minute train ride would give him an hour and a half in which to edit his report. He finished it as the Morning Congressional rolled into Baltimore’s Pennsylvania Station, hopped a cab, and was soon at the Roundtree building on Charles Street.

  “Here’s the story on chemical waste dumping,” he told Wayne. “Got anything for me?”

  Wayne scanned the story for a few minutes. “Man, this’ll light up City Hall. Good going, Duncan.”