Chapter 6 #2
“What makes you think he’s any good at all?”
They peered into the living room just as Corey and Jamal stood up and high-fived each other. His muscled arms and broad shoulders were displayed to perfection underneath the lightweight football jersey.
“Oh, yeah. He would be good,” Phil said.
“So good,” Mya agreed.
Phil was tempted. Good Lord, was she tempted. But she’d been burned once before. She needed to be smarter this time around. Her nightly fantasies would have to suffice.
Yet, even as the thought rolled through her head, another—just as strong—moved in.
Would it be a cardinal sin if she and Jamal saw each other outside of work?
Denying her attraction to him was harder than she’d ever imagined. She had not been this turned on by a man since…well, ever.
She’d convinced herself that she loved Kevin, but it had taken months of getting to know him before she felt even an ounce of the sizzle she felt when Jamal was near. It was primal, this awareness between them.
Why not see where it would lead?
Because it will likely lead to heartache.
“Don’t mix business with pleasure,” she murmured.
“What was that?” Mya asked as she leaned back on the stool to watch the TV.
“Nothing,” Phil answered. “Come on. I don’t want you crashing to the floor.”
They walked back into the den, and Jamal’s eyes turned in her direction. He picked up his beer bottle and stared at her as he tipped it back, his eyes lit with a knowing, humorous glint.
Don’t mix business with pleasure, Phil reminded herself. But the mantra became less and less convincing with every moment that passed.
Jamal balanced himself on the second rung from the top of the ladder as he stretched the tape measure to the bottom shingle.
“Are you trying to break your neck?” he heard from just below.
He twisted around so fast that he had to latch on to the house to steady himself.
Phylicia ran to the ladder and held it in place. “Get down from there,” she demanded.
“Just a minute.” He quickly took the measurements he needed before making his way down. “Thanks for holding it steady for me.”
“You do know better than to climb that high on a ladder without having a second person to anchor it, right? I know your comfort zone is usually behind a computer, but your family owns a construction company. You have to know at least that much.”
“I know all the safety rules,” he said. “I just needed a quick measurement.”
Phylicia rolled her eyes. Jamal grinned. She was bossy as hell, but it looked so damn good on her.
“Was your client satisfied with the work you did on the radio?” he asked her. She’d told him she would be a couple of hours late this morning because she had to deliver an antique radio she’d restored to a customer in Mandeville.
“My client was very satisfied,” she said.
“In fact, he hired me to restore an armoire that dates back at least a hundred years, I’m sure.
It is an absolutely gorgeous piece. It’s being delivered to my shop next week.
But it won’t interfere with my work here,” she said.
“I know we’re under a huge time crunch.”
“Since you came on board I’ve been able to catch up. I’m actually slightly ahead of schedule now. And once the work crew arrives in a few days, things will move even more quickly. Hey, what’s with the frown?” Jamal asked.
“Nothing,” Phylicia said. “Just sounds as if this job won’t last as long as I thought it would.”
“Yes, it will. That construction crew isn’t touching the woodwork inside. That’s a job for the much-sought-after restoration specialist.”
A modest grin curled the edges of her mouth. “Well, I guess the much-sought-after restoration specialist had better get started, then,” she said—but she didn’t move, just continued to stand there, her eyes locked with his.
Only a couple of feet separated them. Two steps. That was all it would take to bring their bodies into contact.
Jamal took a step forward, and Phylicia immediately stepped back.
“I’ll, um, get to work,” she said before turning and disappearing into the house.
“Damn,” Jamal said in a terse whisper. He had been so close. Why had he stalled? He should have just gone for it. What was the worst that could happen? She’d slap him? He’d take a slap in the face if it meant tasting those lips again.
He had to figure out a way to break through the roadblocks she continued to put up. He knew they would be good together, if only Phylicia would give them a chance.
But he wasn’t ready to push the issue again. He was still raw from the last time she shot him down.
As usual, Jamal spent the morning working outside while Phylicia labored inside the house. Around noon, she came out, wiping her hands on a stained rag.
“Did you bring your lunch?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he answered. “Didn’t you?”
She shook her head. “I had to leave the house so early this morning that I forgot to pack something to eat,” she said. “I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go over to Jessie’s. It’s fried okra day.”
A ham sandwich, or sitting across the table from Phylicia eating some of the best food in Gauthier? Tough choice.
“I’ll drive,” Jamal said.
As they both climbed into his truck, Phylicia picked up the mail he’d tossed on the passenger seat. When he took the stack from her, she tapped the heavy, cream-colored one on top.
“Is that a wedding invitation?” she asked, gesturing to the envelope that had arrived from Arizona this morning.
“Yes,” Jamal answered, a muscle automatically jumping in his cheek. “My sister’s.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. When is she getting married?”
“The Saturday before Thanksgiving,” he said. He stuffed the invitation, along with the rest of the mail, into a compartment in the center console and backed his truck out of the driveway.
As he maneuvered around her dusty blue pickup, Phylicia said, “Hey, careful there. Just because it’s a little banged up, don’t think you can get away with swiping my fender. I know each and every scratch.”
“I can tell you’ve had it for a while.” Jamal laughed. “I’m guessing there’s a reason you haven’t upgraded?”
“It was my dad’s,” she said, stating the obvious. “That truck is as much a part of Phillips’ Home Restoration as I am.”
Jamal allowed several moments to pass before asking, “How did he die?”
He barely heard her when, staring out the passenger-side window, she said, “Heart attack.”
She glanced at him with a somber frown, then brought her gaze back to the stalks of sugarcane lining the roadway.
“He was fifty-nine,” she continued. “Way too young.”
Damn. That had to have been rough. “I’m sorry,” Jamal said, wincing at the inadequacy of his words.
“Thanks,” Phylicia said. “It hasn’t been easy. Now that I think about it, his heart attack was the starting point of the three-year nightmare I’ve been living in.”
“Three years? What’s caused your life to be a nightmare for the past three years?” he asked.
She dismissed his question with a wave. “Forget I even said that.”
“No.” Without thinking, Jamal reached over and covered her forearm. It felt as if he’d leaped over a huge hurdle when she didn’t pull away. “You can talk to me,” he said. “Why has life been a nightmare for you?”
“Jamal, I appreciate the concern, but I really don’t want to get into any of that.” She looked over at him. “Just let it go, okay?”
He nodded. He could respect her privacy.
He had his own personal restricted area that he tried his hardest to avoid stepping into.
Jamal could list at least a thousand things he’d rather do than talk about his relationship with his father: roll around in a pile of red ants, walk across broken glass with his bare feet, leap out of a plane without a parachute.
Yet he was willing to do all of those things and more just to get Phylicia to share a bit of her life with him. What was it about her that intrigued him so damn much?
Maybe it was the fact that they were both single and around the same age. It just made sense that he would gravitate to her.
No, that wasn’t it. Gauthier wasn’t necessarily a hub for potential dating prospects, but he had his pick of available women.
Phylicia’s draw was more than just a matter of convenience.
Something about her had struck him from the very first moment they were introduced, and ever since the evening they’d spent together after Corey and Mya’s wedding, he’d been downright fascinated by her.
His cell phone trilled. Jamal slipped it from his pocket, seeing his Realtor’s number on the screen. He excused himself and took the call, hanging up a minute later.
“Would you mind if we got our food to go?” Jamal asked.
“That was my Realtor, Tiffany. She said she may have found the perfect place for my architectural firm. I want to check it out, make sure it’s what I’m looking for.
We can pick up the food from Jessie’s, and I can drop you back at Belle Maison. ”
“That’s fine,” she said. “Not like there’s much else for me to do for the rest of the afternoon, anyway.
I have to wait at least twenty-four hours for the stain on the molding to dry before it can be installed, and the part I need for the light fixture in the upstairs bathroom won’t arrive until tomorrow. ”
“In that case, do you mind coming with me to see the house?” Jamal asked. “I could use the extra set of eyes, and you know exactly what to look for.”
She sized him up, her shrewd eyes narrowing. “Is this all a part of some wicked plan to get me alone in the car with you for an extended amount of time?”
A smile broke out over Jamal’s face. “You see straight through me.”
“I don’t want any funny business from you, Jamal Johnson.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asked. “It would make the drive into the city so much more entertaining.”
She gave him a pointed look.
Jamal released his grip on the steering wheel for a moment, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine, no funny business. Maybe.”
Phylicia just shook her head and laughed.