Chapter 12
Phil awoke the next morning with a start, springing up from the pillow and glancing around the room.
“What’s the matter?” came Jamal’s sleep-roughened voice.
Her entire body relaxed with languid relief. He was still here.
“Nothing.” She eased back onto the pillows, and Jamal stretched an arm around her, pulling her against his side. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.
“We should probably get up,” he said.
“Probably.”
“I don’t really want to,” he admitted.
A smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “Neither do I.”
She stretched, lining her body up against his corded muscles. A shiver of desire ran through her as she felt his erection coming to life against her thigh.
“We definitely don’t have time for that.” She laughed.
“I can be really quick when I have to,” he murmured against her shoulder.
“But then you’ll just want to do it again,” Phil said, disengaging from his hold and scooting off the bed.
“God, you’re sexy,” he said, his eyes heating her skin as they ran up and down her naked body.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m breakfast.”
He crooked a finger, but by a force of will she didn’t know she possessed, Phil stopped herself from diving back under the covers.
“I’m going to shower,” she said. “And no, you can’t join me,” she added. “The new shutters are being delivered to Belle Maison this morning. I want to inspect them before signing for the delivery.”
“Dammit. I forgot all about that.” Jamal pushed himself up from the bed. “We need to swing by my place so I can change.”
Phil just stared at the absolute perfection of his well-honed muscles and flawless physique.
“If you don’t want me in the shower with you, you’d better stop looking at me like that,” he warned.
The humorous, cocky gleam in his eyes was just what she needed to douse her body’s amorous cravings. He was just a little too sure of himself.
“I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” she said. “And I’d appreciate a cup of coffee waiting for me.”
She closed the door behind her and heard, “God, I love a bossy woman,” from the other side.
A half-hour later, they were pulling up to Jamal’s home. Once they were inside, he gave her a swift kiss and said, “I won’t be too long. Just a quick shower and a change of clothes. Make yourself at home.”
She wiggled her empty travel mug. “Is there a coffeemaker?”
“More coffee?”
“Well, someone kept me up way too late last night.”
He shot her a wicked grin and pointed her in the direction of the coffeemaker, and Phil set about making another pot.
She walked over to the refrigerator in search of cream and noticed the wedding announcement and RSVP for Jamal’s sister’s wedding stuck to the stainless-steel refrigerator with a magnet.
She pulled it off and read over the embossed writing.
When Jamal walked into the kitchen, she pointed to the response card. “You haven’t sent this off yet?” she asked.
His shoulders visibly sank. “Don’t bring that up. Please.”
“Jamal, think of how much it would hurt your sister if you missed her wedding.”
His face turned so grim that he hardly resembled the same man she’d spent the night with.
“Not just Lauryn. My mom, too,” he said. “There was a message from her on my voice mail, asking again if I would make the wedding.”
“You have to go, Jamal. They’re your family. Be grateful you still have them.”
He stared at her for several moments before saying, “Come with me.”
Phil’s spine stiffened. “What?”
“Come with me to Arizona.”
She shook her head and took a step back. “That’s crossing a line between client and employee that definitely should not be crossed.”
“We’re more than just client and employee, Phylicia.”
She shook her head. “Not until I finish the job on Belle Maison,” she said.
Jamal rolled his eyes. “Fine, then consider it a business trip.” He paused for a beat, his eyes widening with interest. “That’s actually not a bad idea,” he continued.
“There are several bed-and-breakfasts out there that I’d like to see.
We can leave a couple of days early and check out a few of them.
I can interview the owners, see how they operate. ”
“I can’t leave my mom,” Phil said, even as the thought of spending a few days touring parts of Arizona with Jamal sent tremors of delight up her spine.
“It would only be for a couple of days. If something happens while we’re away, I can get you back here in a matter of hours. Johnson Construction has two private jets. I’d suck it up and ask for permission to use one of them if necessary.”
He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his hands at the small of her back.
“Come with me,” he urged. “Arizona is beautiful this time of the year. I want to show you my home state. And if I’m going to occupy the same space as my dad, I could use the support.”
Phil couldn’t believe she was actually contemplating this. Not only was she contemplating it, she was going to say yes.
What happened to learning from her mistakes? This had potential disaster written all over it. She would be out of her element and completely at Jamal’s mercy, because God knew she couldn’t afford to fly herself back home if she had to quickly return to Gauthier.
Yet, despite the objections bouncing back and forth in her mind, Phil heard herself say, “Okay, I’ll join you.”
“This house looks amazing!” Mya shouted from the front lawn.
Jamal waved at her from his perch on the ladder, earning a stern frown from Phylicia. He tightened the final screw in the antique hanging light fixture they had found at a salvage yard in Mississippi last weekend, then he made his way down the ladder.
Jamal laughed as Mya waddled up the porch steps. He pulled her in for a quick kiss on the cheek and motioned to her stomach. “How much longer until you let this baby out?” he asked.
“Five weeks, and not a moment later,” she said. “If she’s not ready to come out, I’m going in after her.” She gestured to the freshly painted porch. “Everything looks wonderful.”
“Thanks,” both he and Phylicia said at the same time. They looked at each other and chuckled.
“The contractors did a really good job. I was afraid the work would be sloppy,” Phylicia said.
“That’s because you think anybody’s work but your own is sloppy,” Mya teased.
“Because it usually is,” Phylicia quipped.
“There’s not much left to do,” Jamal added. “A few touch-ups here and there, but that’s it. The furniture will be delivered the day after we get back from Arizona.”
“Ah, yes,” Mya said, dragging out the word. “Arizona. You two leave in the morning, right?”
Phylicia rolled her eyes. “Just say ‘I told you so’ and get it over with.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Mya returned.
Jamal’s mouth twitched in amusement as he watched the two of them go at it. His phone rang, so he stepped away, leaving them to their debate.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Hello, Mr. Johnson.” Jamal recognized his Realtor’s voice. “There’s been an offer on the Saint Charles Avenue property. Have you decided whether or not you want it?”
“I…” Jamal started, but his voice fell silent. He didn’t know what the hell he wanted.
On one hand, it would be the ultimate payback to go to Arizona with the bill of sale to the building of his very own architectural firm in his hands…and shove it down his old man’s throat.
But if he bought that building, Jamal knew there would be no more excuses.
And if this venture didn’t work out, he would be the one who would have to eat his own words. His hand balled into a fist. He could just envision his father’s mocking, triumphant face.
“Mr. Johnson?” Tiffany prompted him.
“I…uh…I need just a few more days,” Jamal said. “I’m going out of town for the weekend, but I’ll have an answer by Monday.”
“Are you sure, Mr. Johnson? You’re taking a chance at losing this property. Are you sure you’re willing to risk that?”
Not only was he willing to risk it, Jamal hoped something like that would happen. If another buyer scooped up the house, he’d have to go back to square one and start the long process of searching for another suitable location. He would be off the hook…at least for a few more months.
Disgust churned in his gut, even as relief sank into his bones. Could he really be this much of a damn coward?
“Just”—he cleared his throat—”just give me the weekend. I’ll have an answer for you by Monday.”
He ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket with more force than necessary. He took a moment to shake off the self-loathing eating away at him before walking over to the Victorian’s east lawn, where Phylicia was showing Mya the new gazebo that had been constructed this week.
“Jamal is having custom-made cushions installed to match the fabric on the other outdoor furniture,” she was saying. She looked over at him and frowned. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine,” he lied.
“Are you sure?” She cocked her head. “You look…I don’t know…off.”
“I’m fine,” he repeated, dismissing her concern with a nonchalant wave. He turned to Mya and draped an arm around her shoulders. “Think you can handle a tour of the inside?”
“Absolutely,” she said, beaming.
His diversion technique sufficiently put an end to Phylicia’s questioning, but it tripled his outright disgust with himself. Not only was he a coward, but a liar, too.
Because one thing was for certain. He definitely was not fine.