Chapter 10
Lamar blew out a breath, at the same time patting his flat belly over his sweater. “Everything was delicious. If I eat like this every day I’d weigh well over two hundred pounds.”
“You wouldn’t if you had to walk five flights of stairs several times a day,” Nydia said, smiling. “By the way, how much do you weigh?”
“One eighty,” he admitted.
“That’s not much for your height.”
“It’s enough for someone who’s six foot.”
“I thought you were taller than that.”
Lamar winked at her. “That’s because you’re a little bitty thing. What are you, five-one?”
She managed to look insulted. “Not! I’m five foot two.”
“Five-two is still petite. My daughter is ten, and she’s already five-four.”
Nydia leaned back in her chair. “How tall was her mother?”
“Valerie was five foot six.”
“There you go, Lamar. Your daughter will be at least her height or taller. I know she’s only ten, but does she know what she wants to be when she grows up?”
Lamar folded his napkin and placed it beside his empty plate. He’d eaten one biscuit, then another, and before long he’d devoured four of the buttery, incredibly melt-in-the mouth quick breads. He wanted to tell Nydia that she was every normal man’s dream. She had looks, brains, and she could cook!
“Kendra claims she wanted to be a fighter jet pilot.”
Nydia leaned forward. “You’re kidding.”
Lamar shook his head. “No, I’m not. She loves to fly, and I guess she got that from her mother. Valerie was a flight attendant.”
“That would mean a career in the military. If she can get into the Air Force or Naval Academy, then she can write her ticket, because times have changed where women are now piloting military jets.”
Lamar spayed his fingers on the table. “That’s only a possibility if she keeps her grades up. Fortunately, she’s a whiz kid when it comes to math and science.”
“I suppose she gets that from Daddy.”
“I did okay.”
Nydia pointed at him. “There you go again being self-effacing.”
“I thought I was modest,” Lamar countered, reminding Nydia of what she’d said the night of Cameron’s wedding.
“That, too.” She stood and began clearing the table. “What type of engineering was your major?”
Lamar rose and gathered plates and flatware. “Construction engineering.”
“What’s the difference between a construction engineer and a civil engineer?”
He followed Nydia into the kitchen, scraped and rinsed the dishes before handing them to her to stack in the dishwasher. “Construction engineering is a professional sub-practice area of civil or architectural engineering.”
“I still don’t understand the difference.”
“As a construction engineer I deal with designing, planning, construction, and management of infrastructure such as tunnels, roads, bridges, railroads, dams, and other projects. Civil engineers concentrate primarily on the design work, which is more analytical. My partners are civil engineers and I’m the CM, or construction manager. I focus on construction procedures, methods, schedules, costs, and personnel management. My primary concern is to deliver a project on time, within budget, and of course with the desired quality.”
“Do you have cost overruns?”
“Spoken like a true accountant,” he said, smiling. “Yes. A few times, but that’s something we strive to avoid.”
Lamar enjoyed the easygoing shared domesticity as he and Nydia cleaned up the kitchen. It was a task he hadn’t performed since becoming a widower. Valerie would prepare dinner and he’d always volunteered to clean up afterward. It was their time to talk about what had occurred during the day or what she’d experienced when returning home for a few days or a week of jetting to different cities. Other than sharing a bed it was the only time when they were able to spend quality time together.
“Did you enjoy working for Wakefield Hamilton?” he asked Nydia.
He’d asked because he wanted to know if Nydia used the excuse she didn’t want children because she preferred career to motherhood. It was only after Valerie gave birth to Kendra and took a two-year maternity leave that she’d admitted that if she’d had a choice she wouldn’t have become a mother, because she loved being a flight attendant. His late wife was always restless and sometimes short-tempered when she wasn’t in the air.
“I loved working for them,” Nydia admitted. “Firstly, they paid off my student loans, and offered me a phenomenal starting salary with incredible perks and benefits, and secondly I was assigned the responsibility of scrutinizing the accounts of our foreign clients.”
“Did you ever uncover any shady transactions?” he asked.
Nydia took a saucer from him and stacked it on the lower shelf. “Once, but I was never given the chance to expand my investigation.”
“What happened?”
“When I alerted my supervisor of my suspicion the customer was using the bank to launder money using one of our depositor’s real estate properties, he assigned it to another accountant who he claimed had more experience investigating fraud. It was BS. They hired me because I have a bachelor’s degree in forensic accounting and an MBA with a concentration in taxation.”
“So, you’re like that little dude that sharpened his pencil and took down Al Capone for income tax evasion.”
Nydia bumped him with her hip. “Don’t knock us pencil pushers. We’re the ones who find the evidence to indict crooks for embezzlement, corruption, and other financial crimes.”
“Have you ever considered working for the feds?”
“I’ve thought about applying to the FBI as an accounting and finance special agent.”
Lamar stared at Nydia out of the corner of his eye. “What made you change your mind?”
She smiled. “My family doesn’t need another cop. My father retired from the NYPD as a sergeant, and my brother is also a sergeant who just passed the test to become a lieutenant.”
“That’s a lot of shields and automatic handguns.”
“Word,” she drawled, smiling.
“After dinner I’m going to drop you off here and then check into a hotel near the Thruway.”
“You don’t have to do that. I have a spare bedroom where you can spend the night. Go and open the door opposite the bathroom. It used to be Tonya’s daughter’s room. She decorated it like a studio apartment, but I use it as an in-home office. The convertible sofa has a firm, full-sized mattress that’s a dream to sleep on.”
Lamar dried his hands on a terrycloth towel. He had planned to check into a hotel in the Bronx rather than at the airport because he planned to spend more time with Nydia before his return flight.
He opened the door and smiled. Nydia was right. The bedroom was more welcoming than a hotel with the off-white sofa covered with Haitian cotton that converted into a bed. A desktop computer and printer sat on a computer table. Bookcases packed with books and magazines spanned one wall, while another was decorated with framed movie posters and photos of movie and recording artists. A drop-leaf table held a flat-screen television and audio equipment. His gaze lingered on a large white area alpaca rug covering the gleaming waxed parquet floor. It was a space that beckoned him to come in to sleep, study, or relax. After walking across the room, he opened a closet door to find shelves and a rod to hang and store clothing.
He returned to the kitchen to find Nydia cleaning the stovetop. “I’ll take it.”
She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Good. As soon as I’m finished here I’m going to change and we can go for our walk.”
“While you’re changing I’m going to unpack my carry-on.”
Lamar didn’t want to congratulate himself—not just yet. He’d taken a risk flying up to New York on an impulse, not knowing whether Nydia would appreciate his abrupt intrusion into her life. However, he’d been truthful when he told her how much seeing the distress on her face and hearing the pain in her voice when he’d called her tugged at his heart. And if he were truly honest with himself he would acknowledge that he wanted her the way a man wanted a woman.
He knew he’d shocked her when he’d admitted he’d been sexually aroused seeing her for the first time. That hadn’t happened to him since the onset of puberty, when his body would betray him at the most inopportune times, and he had to either conceal the bulge in his groin with his hands or sit and wait for his erection to go down. Lamar could have never imagined that at thirty-eight just a single glance directed at an unknown woman had caused him to lose control of his body. He’d wanted to blame Nydia for returning the long, penetrating stare, which he interpreted as meaning she was just as enthralled with him as he’d been with her. It was as if his ego had gone into overdrive.
Even now that she had invited him to stay over at her place, he found it difficult to get a read on her. Lamar didn’t find Nydia uptight or tense with him, and for that he was grateful. She had been through enough with her jackass of an ex-boyfriend so he knew it would take time for her to trust a man again.
He emptied the bag of several changes of underwear, a pair of charcoal-gray slacks, a light blue dress shirt, and a silk and wool-blend gray jacket, leather toiletry bag, and a pair of black loafers in a drawstring shoe bag. Lamar had gotten used to traveling light, a practice that had come from visits to construction sites that required an overnight stay.
The cooler fall weather in New York City had come as welcome respite for Lamar from the unrelenting heat in his hometown. The past two summers were unusually hot, and scientists were blaming it on global warming, and Lamar had begun to agree with them. The daytime temperatures coupled with the humidity made it dangerous to remain outdoors for any appreciable length of time. Tourists and locals alike were carrying umbrellas to shade themselves from the blistering rays of the sun or sought shelter indoors until the daytime heat abated. The nighttime temperatures were in the mid-eighties, and the only saving grace was the absence of sun.
Lamar put away his clothes and then brushed his teeth, a ritual he’d developed from childhood at the insistence of his father. Dr. Abraham Pierce had become the local go-to orthodontist for children needing braces.
Nydia came out of her bedroom at the same time he exited the bathroom. She’d brushed her hair and pulled it off her face into a ponytail. She’d also changed into a pair of jeans, a gray St. Joseph’s College sweatshirt, and pair of pink-and-gray running shoes. She held a small leather wristlet in one hand and a pair of sunglasses in the other.
“Ready!” she announced, smiling.
Lamar returned her smile with one of his own. It was obvious she was ready to leave the apartment that had become her sanctuary. “As soon as I get my hat and glasses we can leave. I want to show you the building where Iggy and his family used to live. It’s not that far from here.”
* * *
Going down five flights of stairs was much more enjoyable than climbing them. Lamar opened the doors leading to the street, then grasped Nydia’s left hand in his right. They hadn’t made it to the corner of the tree-lined street when a woman with a microphone appeared between two park cars.
“Miss Santiago, may I have a word with you?”
Nydia lowered her head. “No comment.”
She shoved the annoying mic at Lamar. “Sir, can you tell us your connection to Miss Santiago? We saw you going into her apartment building earlier this morning. Were you on your way home?”
He stopped, turned to face Nydia, and cradled her face with his free hand. The sun glinted off the gold band on his third finger, and he deepened the kiss when he spied a man filming them. “Thank you, darling,” Lamar said, loud enough to be overhead by the two stalkers when he ended the kiss.
“Is she your wife? Focus on his left hand!” the reporter shouted at the photographer balancing a video camera on his shoulder. “Are you the reason she couldn’t marry Danny Ocasio, because she’s married to you?” the reporter screamed at Lamar and Nydia as they strolled to the end of the block and turned the corner.
Lamar saw Nydia’s shoulders shaking, and at first he thought she was crying, but then she covered her mouth with her right hand to stifle the erupting laughter. “What’s wrong with these people? I can’t believe the lengths they go to to get a scoop.”
Nydia smiled up at him. “I think it’s over now.”
A frown settled between Lamar’s eyes behind the dark lenses. “What are you talking about?” It had taken Herculean self-control not to snatch the reporter’s and the photographer’s equipment and hurl it to the ground.
She lowered her hand. “They saw your wedding band and because you kissed me they assumed we’re married, and that’s why I couldn’t accept Danny’s proposal.
Lamar’s laughter floated up from his throat and mingled with Nydia’s when she laughed again. They’d only seen his left hand and not Nydia’s because he was holding it close to his side. “I believe you’re right, sweets.” He brought her hand to his mouth and dropped a kiss on her fingers. He’d enjoyed kissing her, even if it was for show. It was something he’d wanted to do when they’d danced together, shared nearly an hour sitting in an alcove at the hotel, and especially after their date at Ruby’s.
There were more times than he could count when he’d contemplated taking off his wedding band, but hadn’t because he still wasn’t ready to let Valerie go. He knew she was gone, and he would never look for her to walk through the door of the home they made together and where they’d made memories that would stay with him for the rest of his life. And Lamar did not delude himself to say he had the perfect marriage, because there were a few rough patches they’d had to smooth over, but he could honestly say he’d enjoyed being a husband and father.
“It’s a good thing you don’t live here, or you’d become their next stalking victim,” Nydia said.
Lamar shook his head. “I don’t think so. Danny’s folks got what they came for, and now it’s time for their client to write a love song about losing the love of his life to another man.”
“Now that I look back, I don’t think I would’ve married Danny even if he was a recording star at the time we were dating.”
“Why not?”
“I loved Danny, but I wasn’t in love with him.”
Lamar’s shielded Nydia’s body with his when a man who appeared to be high on something nearly collided with them. “Is there a difference?”
“Of course there is. I can say I love horror movies or a particular dessert. This means I can give them up at any time if they prove injurious or detrimental to my health or emotional well-being. It’s the same with people. There were things I liked and disliked about my relationship with Danny, and in the end I knew it was time to let him go because nothing was going to change.”
Lamar waited at the corner for the light to change. “Is it too personal to tell me about it?”
Nydia shook her head. “Not at all.”
He hung on her every word, when Nydia revealed her ex’s reluctance to look for steady work and his bragging to his friends about her making enough money to support him until he made it big. “Did you tell him how you earned it?”
“No, because it was none of his business. One day I left him in my apartment to run to the store, and when I got back I’d discovered he’d gone through a drawer where I had my pay stubs, and when I questioned him he said he was looking for something to write with. I knew he’d lied when my cousin who was dating one of his friends told me Danny said he was going to hang onto me until he made it big because I made lots of money, then after he was a star, he could have all the bitches he’d ever want. That’s when I knew I had to leave. I wasn’t his bitch, and whenever we went out I never opened my wallet for anything.”
“How did he get money?”
“He was the lead singer in a Latin band. They were booked at different clubs for weddings and other celebrations. He spent most of his money buying studio time.”
“Did he live with you?”
She shook her head again. “No way. He lived with his sister. The one time we talked about moving in together I told him he would have to come up with half of whatever the rent was. When he told me that wasn’t possible, it gave me another reason to stop seeing him. Now when word gets back to him that I was seen with another man, maybe he and his circus will bring down the big tent sooner rather than later and leave town.”
Lamar wondered if her ex really knew whom he’d been involved with. Not only was Nydia a feisty, educated, independent woman, but she lived by a certain set of standards, and she wasn’t going to lower them just because she’d dated him.
He gave Nydia’s fingers a gentle squeeze. “And just to mess with him, I should download Smokey Robinson’s ‘Tracks of My Tears’ and ‘Tears of a Clown’ and post them on his Insta-gram.”
Nydia slipped her hand out of his and put an arm around his waist. “That’s cyberbullying.”
“What he needs is a good thumping. What he’s put you through is humiliating and reprehensible, and he’s lucky your brother didn’t jack his ass up.”
“I don’t want to talk about Danny anymore.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Us, Lamar.”
“What about us, Nydia?”
* * *
Nydia did not want to think Lamar kissing her was for any other reason than what it was: to prove to the reporter she’d rejected Danny’s proposal because she was involved with another man who could possibly be her husband. And if the scenario had been different, Nydia knew she would have kissed him back.
“I doubt if anyone’s going to recognize you in a cap and sunglasses, but what if they do and identify you as the one who kissed me while we were being filmed? What are you going to say to them? I told you before I don’t want to involve other people in this . . . this . . .”
“Crazy shit,” Lamar said, completing her sentence.
Nydia couldn’t stop fingers of heat stealing across her face. “I have to stop saying that,” she whispered.
“What? Crazy shit?”
“Yes.”
“Well, sometimes shit can get crazy, and we nerds are entitled to let loose every once in a while.”
“Yes, we are,” she said, smiling.
He’s good for you. Her silent voice confirmed what she was beginning to feel about Lamar. He was the first man she’d met with whom she felt comfortable enough to be herself. With him she did not have to censor whatever came to mind or out of her mouth. Outspokenness and sincerity had become the bedrock for her friendship with Tonya, Hannah, and Jasmine. They did not bite their tongues when they told her to get rid of Danny, because she could do a lot better than dating a man who wasn’t able to come to the table and pull his own weight in an adult relationship.
She’d heard Did you kick his ass to the curb? so often that it had become a catchphrase each time they’d asked her about Danny. Even when she confirmed she was no longer seeing him, Jasmine would look at her sideways as if she didn’t believe her. Nydia was only able to confirm the breakup once she moved out of the furnished Bronx apartment and in with Tonya. It was then her friends realized the separation was final. It had taken her a while, and despite what she’d gone through with Danny, she’d learned from the experience and vowed not to repeat it with another man.
Cultivating a relationship was not a priority at this time in her life. Her focus was on becoming an innkeeper. The instant she downloaded the signed contract with Hannah she knew she had been given a second chance to start over.
“Did you say something?” she asked Lamar as he led her down a side street.
“I asked if you’re all right, because you seemed to zone out for a few minutes.”
“I was thinking how my life is going to change once I move to New Orleans.”
“Do you think the change will be that dramatic?”
“Not as dramatic as different.” Nydia glanced up at Lamar staring down at her. “I won’t get to visit with my family as often as I’d like, and I don’t have to take public transportation to my job, because I’ll live onsite.”
“You’ll be living at the inn?” Lamar asked.
“Yes. Hannah set aside six suites for personal use and twelve for her guests.”
“I had no idea her home had that many rooms.”
“There are eighteen rooms and two guesthouses on the property.”
Lamar slowed his pace, stopping in front of a five-floor walkup. “The size of some of the homes in the Garden District is outrageous, but I suppose the original owners felt the need to flaunt their wealth.”
“Do you begrudge people who have a lot of money?”
He shook his head. “Not in the least. If you work hard and manage to accumulate wealth, then more power to you. Did you really believe I’m that shallow?”
A shiver of annoyance snaked its way up Nydia’s back at his chastising tone. “I don’t know you well enough to say whether you are or not.” She knew she’d struck a nerve when a muscle quivered at his jaw. One thing she had come to know was that Lamar had a short fuse on his temper. If she said something that ticked him off, he wasn’t reticent in letting her know.
“Maybe one of these days you’ll get to know exactly who I am, and then you won’t be so quick to judge me.”
Anger, frustration, and the enduring helplessness to control her life over the past week surfaced, and Nydia opened her mouth to tell Lamar exactly what she thought of his overblown ego, but the words died on her tongue when he angled his head and kissed her. It wasn’t just a joining of mouths but a deep, passionate kiss that made her weak in the knees and forced her to hold onto him to keep her balance. The delight of his tongue in her mouth elicited a rush of moisture between her legs. It was the second time within minutes that he’d kissed her, but this time it wasn’t a mere brush of mouths, but a deep, passionate joining that left her knees shaking uncontrollably and forced her to lean against Lamar to keep her balance as she waited for her body’s traitorous sensations to subside.
“Get a room!” a booming voice shouted from across the street.
* * *
Nydia closed her eyes and buried her face against the soft fibers of Lamar’s sweater. She was certain he could detect the runaway beating of her heart against his chest. If the kiss hadn’t been so pleasurable she would have told him in English and in Spanish about publicly embarrassing her. She’d had enough humiliation in a week to last her a lifetime.
Hot tears pricked the backs of her eyelids. “Why did you do that?” she asked, unable to keep her voice from quivering.
Lamar removed his sunglasses and cradled her face in his hands. “I knew what you were about to do, and it’s the first thing I thought of to stop you.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop you from cussing me out.”
She sobered quickly. “How did you know?”
Lamar smiled, showing off perfectly aligned white teeth. “You have a habit of biting your lower lip before you explode. I first noticed it when we went out to dinner and you got into a huff when I asked you about crack.”
“I didn’t cuss you out, Lamar. I simply told you I’ve seen crackheads.”
“It’s not what you said, but how you said it, sweets.”
“Oh, now I’m sweets?”
He kissed her hair. “Of course you are.”
She blinked slowly. “Do you call all women ‘sweets’?”
“No. Just the ones I like.” His expression stilled and grew serious. “If I didn’t like you, Nydia, I never would’ve come here to stage an intervention for you.”
It was the second time Lamar made her feel as if she’d been chastised. Did he do it because as a father he’d had to reprimand his daughter, or did he see her as someone who was immature and impulsive?
There was only a five-year difference in their ages, yet there was something about Lamar that made him seem older, worldlier. Nydia wasn’t willing to change who she was, but if she and Lamar were going to remain friends, then he had to accept her as she was.
“I do appreciate you coming to my defense. And I also trust you.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Do you really?”
“Of course I do. Otherwise I never would’ve invited you to spend the night in my home.” She flashed a saucy smile. “You may look benign and profess to be a nerd, yet you still could be someone that will befriend a woman and then keep her prisoner in their basement for years, using and abusing her at will.”
Throwing back his head, Lamar let out a full-throated laugh. “Something tells me you’ve watched one too many horror movies. And for your information homes in New Orleans don’t have basements because it is the only American city below sea level.”
“I do like some horror movies,” Nydia admitted sheepishly.
“The one with sexy vampires?”
Her smile was dazzling. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.” He put back on his sunglasses and pointed across the street. “Iggy’s folks lived over there on the second floor before they moved back to Puerto Rico. It’s the apartment with the plants in the window.”
Nydia looped her arm through Lamar’s. Their tense moment had passed as if it had never occurred. “So that’s where you became an adopted Puertorriqueño?”
“Sí, cariña.”
“Showoff. I like being called sweet in Spanish. It’s more musical.”
“Then cariña it is. Do you feel like walking some more, or do you want to go back to the apartment?”
“Let’s walk.”
Nydia felt more confident to venture outside now that she was with Lamar. He made her feel what she’d been unable to experience with any other man who was not family: protected.