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“I was on phone with Mrs. Blake. She was yelling so loud I probably didn’t hear you knocking.”
“Is that woman still giving you a hard time?” Brandi asked.
Glancing out the window, Makayla said, “Veronika Blake makes the Wicked Witch of the West look like Mami from The Young and the Restless.”
Laughter erupted from the front seat.
Makayla didn’t join in her girlfriends’ laughter. Mrs. Blake had Principal Gibson wrapped around her finger and she questioned Makayla’s ability to teach every chance she got. Mrs. High-and-Mighty was making her life miserable, and it infuriated Makayla that she wasn’t getting more support from administration. “Terrance pulled the fire alarm and she blamed me for not keeping an eye on him! Said if I had been watching him he wouldn’t have gotten into trouble.”
“Is he really that bad?” Brandi wanted to know.
“Worse. Yesterday he flooded the boys’ washroom.”
“Well, don’t let this Veronika woman bully you,” Brandi advised. “Stand up to her or it’s going to be a very long year.”
“That’s easier said than done, Brandi. You’ve never had the misfortune of meeting the Wicked Witch of the West.”
On Thursday, seven-fifteen came and went without any signs of Veronika Blake. Closing her appointment book, Makayla pushed back her chair and stood. God does answer prayer, she thought, allowing herself a small smile.
Makayla erased the board, straightened the desks, and put a stray yellow cap in the lost-and-found box. Returning to her desk she contemplated whether or not to notify the school secretary that Mrs. Blake had missed her seven-fifteen appointment. Nixing the idea before it took root, she cleared the clutter off her desk. Wanetta was a sweet woman, but she could out-talk a TV evangelist, and after a long evening of parent-teacher interviews, Makayla was anxious to go home.
Piling notebooks into the homework basket, she checked the time. It was almost eight o’clock. Way past quitting time. Makayla counted the math folders, then slipped them into her bag. She hated taking marking home, but the tests had been sitting on her desk since Monday and she had promised to give them back tomorrow.
Saturday can’t come fast enough, Makayla thought, slipping on her jacket. Her gaze fell across the stack of old newspapers piled up in the recycling bin. A smile tugged at her lips. Makayla’s very first article was appearing in the weekend edition of The Philadelphia Blaze and she couldn’t be more excited. A lot was riding on the piece. If readers responded favorably, she’d be one step closer to being a travel writer. One step closer to living her dream.
Swinging her purse over her shoulder, she bent down and picked up her tote bag and basket. She turned off the lights and closed the door behind her. In the empty hallway, the growls of her equally empty stomach echoed. A soggy tuna-fish sandwich and a cup of raspberry yogurt had been her only meal of the day and she was so hungry, she felt light-headed.
Fantasizing about a thick slice of lasagna and some garlic bread, she rounded the corner and slammed head-first into what felt like a brick wall. Loose-leaf papers and notebooks sailed into the air, the contents of her purse spilled onto the floor and her feet slipped out from under her.
“I’m sorry,” she heard a voice say. “I didn’t see you.”
Are you blind?
An arm curled around her waist. Allowing the stranger to help her to her feet, Makayla frantically brushed the dust off her pleated skirt. Straightening her sweater, she wondered why things like this always happened to her. Prone to getting flat tires, spilling food and knocking things over, she kept her cell phone charged, spare clothes in her trunk and an emergency credit card on hand.
“Are you all right?”
Do I look all right? Anger gained control of her mouth, but when she glanced up at the stranger, her lips parted wordlessly. Staring down at her, with a remorseful look on his face, was none other than Kenyon Blake.
“Here, let me help you with your things.” He collected the sheets of paper littering the hallway, then proceeded to stack all twenty-two notebooks back into the plastic basket.
Standing rigid with shock, Makayla watched as Kenyon retrieved the contents of her purse. When he picked up her tube of mascara, she scrambled to action. Scampering around like a busy hen, she grabbed the box of gum, her leopard-print change purse and her car keys. Spotting two tampons by the heel of his shoes, Makayla prayed the earth would open up and swallow her whole.
Following her gaze, his full lips curved into a grin.
The heat of her humiliation quickly spread through her cheeks and down her neck. With as much composure as she could muster, she swiped the tampons off the floor and shoved them into her purse.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked. “You don’t look so good.”
Makayla forgot how to speak. The pitter-patter of her heart and her shallow breathing filled the silence. Swallowing, she touched a hand to her chest. Is this what it feels like to have a heart attack? she wondered, patting her brow with the back of her hand. “I’m fine” came out of her mouth in a painful squeak.
Kenyon Blake was standing in front of her, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Makayla knew she was staring, but so was he! The years had been kind to him. He had transformed from an adorable teen to one fine-looking man. Kenyon was extra tall. Extra dark. And extra handsome. The width of his shoulders suggested he was a man of great strength. His straight nose, sensuously wide mouth and smoldering brown eyes fuelled his bad-boy look. His skin was mahogany brown, smooth and clear. A single diamond stud clung to his right ear, and the chain around his neck held a cross at the end.
“You must be Ms. Stevens,” Kenyon said. “Sorry I’m late, but Terrance’s hockey practice ran long. I’m his—”
“Oh, of course,” she replied. “You’re here for the interview.” Makayla cringed at the sound of her high-pitched voice. What else would Kenyon be doing here if not for parent-teacher interviews? Now that he clued her in, she could see the resemblance between father and son. They shared the same dark skin, high forehead and blunt nose.
“I must admit, Ms. Stevens, you’re not what I expected.”
Same here. “I get that a lot,” she confessed. At a paltry five feet, two inches, Makayla was often mistaken for an older sister of one of her students.
Smoothing a hand over her hair, she wondered how her makeup was holding up. Her last three interviews had been back to back, which left little time to catch her breath, let alone freshen up. And the last thing Makayla had expected was to run smack-dab into her old high school crush.
I hope he doesn’t recognize me, she prayed. But how could he? In high school, the chips had been stacked against her. Grossly overweight, she had been saddled with thick glasses, colored braces and a severe case of acne. And it didn’t matter how many times her grandmother pressed her hair, it still looked like she had stuck both hands in an electrical socket.
Kenyon had been the all-American boy. Teachers loved him, male students emulated him and every girl on campus wanted him. Makayla never had any male friends in high school, let alone a boyfriend, and as her weight climbed, she realized someone as popular and as charismatic as Kenyon Blake would never be interested in a girl like her.
Makayla felt as if she was going to melt. Not only was sweat trickling down her back, wisps of hair were sticking to the sides of her face. Drying her hands on her skirt, she avoided his intense gaze. Get it together, girl! You’re acting like you’ve never been in the presence of a man!
“I don’t mean to hold you up, but Veronika will kill me if she finds out I missed the interview.”
I believe you, Makayla agreed silently. An image of Mrs. Blake flashed before her eyes and she shuddered. “How about we reschedule for one day next week?”
“Sorry, but I’m leaving for Fiji the day after tomorrow. I’m a freelance photographer so I take the jobs whenever they come. “
“I guess I could stick around a little while longer,” Makayla said. She cleared her throat to conceal the loud rumbles coming from her stomach.
His cheeks dimpled when he smiled. “Why don’t we discuss Terrance’s progress over dinner? That is, unless you have someone waiting for you at home.”
“That’s not necessary. My classroom is just down the hall. Please, follow—”
“I know a nice place up the street. What do you say?”
“I don’t know—”
“The service is great, the food is fast and it’s quiet.”
“I really don’t mind staying here.”
“I insist.”
“Well, I am hungry—” she said out loud.
“Then we can talk over dinner.”
Swayed by his smile, she nodded in response. His eyes were every bit as dark and mysterious as they had been in high school. Makayla didn’t think she could handle having dinner with Kenyon, but her curiosity got the best of her. She wanted to know if he had lived out his dream of playing in the NFL, if he still jogged five miles a day, but most important, she wanted to know how in the world he had ended up married to a woman like Veronika Blake.
Chapter 2
Kenyon glanced up from his menu, just in time to see Ms. Stevens exit the ladies’ room. He couldn’t believe this dainty woman with the pretty eyes and sensuous mouth was his nephew’s teacher. Her sun-kissed complexion paid tribute to her Caribbean roots, her cute, gumdrop nose gave her a youthful look and her curvaceous figure only added to her appeal. Everything about her from her shy smile to her tiny waist came together perfectly in a petite, compact package.
Hot damn! he thought, as he settled back into his chair. Kenyon must have spoken out loud because the plump-faced waitress strolling by stopped abruptly.
“Welcome to the Barbecue Kitchen. I’m Christine, but my friends call me Sunny.” She tapped her pencil on her notepad, her smile growing wider by the second. “Can I interest you in something to drink?”
“I’ll have a beer.”
“Great. I’ll be right back.”
Kenyon returned his attention to Ms. Stevens. He had never had a teacher that fine. Despite her low-key appearance and the air of timidity surrounding her, she was stunning. Her hair was pulled back, her makeup simple and her jewelry tasteful. The navy, slim-fitted cardigan, straight black skirt and sensible, round-toe shoes fit the bill for a first-grade teacher, but Kenyon had a feeling beneath all those stuffy clothes was one very sexy woman.
It wasn’t just her beauty he was drawn to. There was an innocence about her that appealed to him. “Here, let me.” Kenyon stood, pulled out her chair and waited until she was comfortable before returning to his seat.
“Thank you.” Makayla picked up the menu.
“See anything you like?”
“The spinach salad looks good.”
“Salad? You’ve got to be hungrier than that.” Kenyon helped himself to a roll from the wicker basket. “Don’t be shy. Order anything you’d like. It’s on me.”
Makayla downed her water in two quick gulps. “I’m not that hungry. I, uh, had a big lunch.”
An amused expression clouded Kenyon’s face. A big lunch? It was eight-thirty. Unless she’d eaten a buffet with all the trimmings, she was probably starving. Beckoning the happy-go-lucky waitress back over to their table, he said, “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
While Kenyon placed their orders, Makayla secretly watched him. This was all too much to take in. She was having dinner with her first crush. The only guy she ever loved. Or, thought she loved. At thirty-three, Kenyon was a husband and a father. How had that happened? Back in high school, Makayla had never pictured him the marrying type. Passing him in the congested halls of Lincoln High, surrounded by a bevy of perky cheerleaders, she had been convinced the all-star athlete would end up a life-long bachelor with children sprinkled all across the east coast.
“How is Terrance doing?” Kenyon asked once the waitress departed.
“Mr. Blake—”
“Call me Kenyon. The only person who goes by Mr. Blake is my pops.”
“Okay.” It took Makayla several seconds to organize her words. Labeling Terrance a nuisance would undoubtedly get their conversation off on the wrong foot and she needed Kenyon’s support to turn things around. “Terrance is a strong student. He excels in math and science, he’s reading at grade level and he has a vivid imagination. However, his behavior has been—” After searching for the right word and coming up empty, she said, “—less than desirable.”
His shoulders rocked with laughter.
“Did I say something funny?”
“Instead of trying to be tactful, why don’t you come right out and say he’s acting like one of Bebe’s kids?” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m not Veronika, Ms. Stevens. You don’t have to sugarcoat things for me. Be straight up.”
“All right. Terrance is doing well academically but his actions give me cause for concern.”
Kenyon suspected he would have any easier time extracting her wallet from her purse than getting a straight answer. “Which means?”
“He’s aggressive, defiant, disrespectful and—”
His face showed disapproval, but he didn’t interrupt.
“Yesterday I had to sit him out of gym because he kicked one of his female classmates. When I asked him to apologize he said he didn’t have to because I wasn’t his mother. There have even been a few occasions when he has thrown things in class. Sure, they’re small items, like crayons or marbles, but that doesn’t excuse his behavior.”
The expression on Kenyon’s face was serious. “He’s been having the same problems at home, but Veronika insists it’s normal kid stuff. The last couple years have been tough on all of us, but I think Terrance has been hit the hardest.”
“I asked Mrs. Blake if there was anything wrong at home but she said everything was fine.”
“Veronika doesn’t like to talk about it.”
The waitress arrived with their orders and hung around the table until Kenyon told her they didn’t need anything else.
Alone with their thoughts, they ate in silence for several minutes.
“Do you want me to order some more?” Kenyon asked, noting the depleted plate of nacho chips and Buffalo wings.
Flushed, Makayla wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “No, thanks. I guess I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
“Tell me about yourself, Ms. Stevens.”
“But we’re here to discuss Terrance.”
Kenyon grinned. “When I get home, I’ll get a switch from off a tree and give his butt the lashing it deserves. Problem solved.”
Makayla laughed, low and soft, her shoulders shaking lightly.
“I’ll have a talk with Terrance first thing in the morning. We have a great relationship and more times than not, he’ll listen to me rather than his mother. Veronika spoils him and he knows how to win her over.”
“Thank you. I think things will get better if we’re all on the same page.”
Kenyon pulled out his wallet and handed her a business card. “Feel free to call me anytime. I travel a lot but I’m reachable on my cell no matter where I am.”
“Hopefully I won’t have to call.” Makayla took the card and slipped it into her purse.
“I don’t even know your name,” Kenyon said. His eyes lingered on her lips. Like the rest of her, they were soft, moist and incredibly sensuous.
“My name?”
“You do have a first name, don’t you?”
The question triggered the memory of the first time they spoke. More than fifteen years had passed, but their conversation was still fresh in her mind. It was a balmy spring afternoon in senior year. Makayla was lounging under a tree, listening to Salt-N-Pepa, munching on a bag of potato chips. She felt a shadow fall across her face and opened her eyes. Lucas Shaw was towering over her, his thin, chapped lips moving at a rapid pace. Makayla couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the sinister expression on his face told her it wasn’t good. She slowly pulled off her headset. “Yes?”
Lucas kicked the side of her leg. “Beat it, moo-moo. We need to use this tree for an end zone and your fat ass is in the way.”
Hot tears burned her eyes as she gathered her things. Ever since Makayla wiped out in the cafeteria, Lucas had made it his personal mission to make her life a living hell.
Makayla was running across the field when she heard Lucas holler behind her, “Come on, QB, we’re ready to play.” She looked up just in time to see Kenyon and his girlfriend-of-the-month trot down the steps. After a long, sloppy kiss, the two love birds parted ways.
“What’s the hurry?” Kenyon asked. “You’re running like Freddy Krueger is chasing you!”
Makayla didn’t realize she was holding her breath until he waved a hand in her face. “Hello? Anybody home?”
