Scream My Name. Kimberly Kaye Terry

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СКАЧАТЬ the elevator doors opened smoothly and Leila breathed a sigh of relief.

      “Miss, I’ll need to see some identification, please.” Leila glanced around and sighed as she spotted an older uniformed man with an obvious limp slowly ambling toward her.

      She forced a smile on her face as she fumbled in her purse for the necessary ID.

      Afterwards, she turned away before his voice halted her. “Who you comin’ to visit, Ms. James?” he inquired, hoisting his already high-waist pants farther up his body, his hand coming to rest on the nightstick holstered to his wide hips.

      “I’ve got an appointment with Jacob Swabb,” she dutifully supplied.

      “You’ll have to come this way to sign in, young lady.” The old man nodded his head toward the kiosk desk where another guard, at least ten years older than he, sat in one of the upright chairs.

      Damn, just what she needed. A geriatric watchdog to make her even later than she was.

      She walked alongside the limping old man, and in her side vision, sized him up.

      She could take him down. Easily.

      Her stilettos added three inches to her already impressive five foot, nine inch frame, making the top of the old guard’s head reach to about the midpoint of her breasts.

      One feign to the left and a swift reverse mad dash to the right. Yep.

      That’s all it would take.

      Old man, you’re going down, she thought.

      She could reach the elevator, be inside, and on her way up before the old man knew what hit him.

      “Lee Lee, God don’t like ugly…”

      Guiltily, Leila hung her head at her mean thoughts as she imagined Aunt Sadie bringing her to task just as she’d done so many times when she was alive.

      After what felt like forever, the guard pulled out a large black book and Leila waited impatiently as he fumbled with his glasses before scanning the book.

      “Hmmm.” He looked away from the book and glanced at Leila over the tops of his bifocals. “You sure you have an appointment with Mr. Swabb?”

      “Yes! Please, I don’t have time for this. Mr. Swabb is waiting for me!” Leila took a deep breath and forced herself to lower her voice at his bushy, white upraised brows.

      “Well, looks like you gone have to wait. ’Cause see here, if you had an appointment with Mr. Swabb, you already missed that boat, honey,” he said in a slow and easy southern drawl before shutting the book definitively.

      “Wha…what are you talking about?” she asked, dread pooling in her gut.

      “Mr. Swabb had a meetin’ to attend. Left ’bout fifteen minutes ago, he did. Ain’t that right, Charlie?” he asked the guard sitting next to him.

      Without glancing away from the paper, the old man nodded his head and said, “Yep. That’s about right, Charlie,”

      “Both of your names are Charlie?” Leila asked, momentarily distracted.

      “Yep. Makes it easier that way,” Charlie number one replied, nodding his head vigorously up and down, his mouth doing some strange movement around his teeth, as though he were chewing on something.

      Leila quickly forgot the strangeness of the matching names, and didn’t bother to question the oddness of his statement.

      What was she going to do now?

      “Whaccha gone do now?”

      With irritation, she glanced at the old man as he mirrored her exact thoughts.

      “Hey, Charlie, how’s it going?” a deep masculine baritone voice, asked and Leila turned as both old men began grinning.

      She turned her head to see what—or who—had made Charlie number two turn away from his paper, and both Charlies’ wrinkled faces split in identical Cheshire Cat grins.

      Oh, my. No wonder, Leila thought as soon as she caught the visual of the man coming their way.

      Her breath caught in her throat and everything feminine inside her cried out in welcome as well.

      Leila had always prided herself on the fact that she was no wilting flower, no damsel in distress. She was a strong, capable, independent businesswoman on her own who didn’t need or want a man to complete her.

      She was educated, talented, and had her own business. Even though she was fast approaching the big three-oh, and hadn’t had a date in longer than she wanted to think about, she was more than happy with her life. On her own.

      But…well, damn.

      She didn’t know the last time she’d been presented with a fine piece of manhood like the one coming her way.

      Even from a distance she could tell the man was built like a Mack truck, all broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist and, as her eyes traveled down the rest of his body, legs so thick they looked like they could choke the heck out of a horse.

      Her gaze traveled back up the length of his body. He wore a broad Stetson on his head, shadowing his eyes, but as he drew nearer she could see a finely chiseled nose, a sensual mouth with a slight crinkle in the corner as though he was used to smiling, and a strong square chin with a deep dimple in the center.

      At her height, and with her penchant for wearing heels three inches or higher, even while at work in the café, she was used to being eye level with most men. Usually she had the advantage, and many had to look up to her to see her face.

      But not with this one.

      As he stood in front of the kiosk, his eyes—startling they were so vividly blue—ran over her in a lazy appraisal and Leila felt an instant awareness arc between them. She felt off kilter, strange, as he gazed at her.

      The old guards exchanged remarks, and when the blue-eyed man turned away from her, she let out a small whoosh of air, unaware that she’d even been holding her breath.

      Lord, what a man.

      A man’s man, her great-aunt would say about this one, Leila thought in reluctant appreciation and agreement.

      As he greeted the guards, Leila’s admiring glance traveled back over him, from his trouser-clad thick legs, over his muscular tight butt she thought she could bounce a quarter off of, over the shirt tucked into his lean waist, and over his thick chest and broad shoulders…until her eyes met his bright-eyed gaze. He tipped his hat in a small silent salute.

      Embarrassed to be caught so obviously ogling him, Leila pulled herself up short and glanced away.

      “Mr. Walters! How you doin’ today?” Charlie number one asked.

      “Nothing much new, fellas. Another day, another dollar,” he returned in a deep, lazy baritone.

      The kind of voice that brought to mind long hot summer days, with her perched on top of an old fence, watching СКАЧАТЬ