Passion Overtime. Pamela Yaye

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СКАЧАТЬ all of a sudden? “Yes, Terrence?”

      “Don’t work too hard.”

      Someone knocked on the door. “I have to go, but I’ll meet you in front of the stadium at nine o’clock sharp.”

      “I’ll be there, ready and waiting.”

      Kyra put down the phone. “Come in,” she called, adjusting her plum-colored suit jacket. It was probably her boss, wanting to see if she’d made any progress with Terrence yet. He’d been on her back all day, offering ideas on how to win the former NFL running back over. “Nikki, is that you under all those flowers?”

      The bouquet was enormous. So big, it covered the top half of Nikki’s body. If it wasn’t for the intern’s teal high heels, Kyra wouldn’t know who was carrying it.

      “This is a surprise,” she said, coming around her desk. Her office was inundated with the scent of pineapple and upon closer inspection Kyra realized it was a bouquet of fruit, not flowers. The white ceramic vase overflowed with stems of cantaloupe, guava and watermelon.

      Who knew? she thought, popping a heart-shaped strawberry into her mouth. Charles must be feeling guilty about what happened at lunch, because he’d never sent her flowers before. He’d apologized, promised it wouldn’t happen again and admitted he was under extreme pressure at work. Everyone lost their cool sometimes, even sweet quiet guys like Charles Roberts.

      Munching on a cube of banana-dipped chocolate, she took the miniature envelope from Nikki’s outstretched hands and ripped it open. “Looking forward to creating new memories with you,” she read aloud. “I had no idea Charles could be so romantic.”

      “Mind if I have some?” Nikki asked, setting the bouquet on the desk. “I skipped breakie this morning and the pineapples smell yummy.”

      Kyra nodded. “In fact, do me a favor and take it to the staff room. I’m liable to have a sugar overdose eating all this fruit.”

      “I forgot your phone messages on my desk, but Terrence Franklin called earlier. You were in with Mr. Morrow and I didn’t want to disturb you.” Nikki’s face shined.

      “What’s he like, Kyra? Do you think the tabloid stories about him are true?”

      “Every last one,” she blurted out. Casting a glance at her wide-open door, she leaned back against the desk and gave herself five minutes to indulge in some harmless, office gossip. Nikki Wakefield, the department’s high-spirited intern, was in her final year of the business management program and saw to it that everything ran smoothly. Once a week, Kyra took the senior out to lunch and it was always a lively, hour-long affair. “He’s conceited, macho and—”

      “Hella fine!” she shrieked. “Terrence Franklin is living proof that God exists. He’s the perfect male specimen, in my book.”

      “All that glitters isn’t gold, Nikki.” Kyra put a hand on the intern’s shoulder. “He might seem charming, but be very, very careful around guys like that.”

      Nikki’s eyes glazed over and Kyra knew she’d lost her. Trim, chesty and blessed with naturally curly hair, the management student had more admirers than a Playboy Playmate of the Year. “The man is gorgeous,” Nikki cooed, coiling a glossy curl around her index finger. “You could cover him in green slime and he’d still be fine!”

      Tell me something I don’t know.

      Nikki turned to leave, then spun back around and extended her right hand. “Oh, I almost forgot. Your dad called. He wants you to call him at the church.”

      Nodding absently, Kyra took the message slip and shoved it into her pocket. Returning her father’s call could wait. He was always imploring her to live the Christian way and Kyra wasn’t in the mood to hear one of his midday sermons. Not when she had Terrence Franklin hot on her trail.

      When Nikki departed, she picked up her pen and got down to work. The business letters weren’t going to write themselves, and Kyra knew Walter would come looking for them at the end of the day. But when she wrote the word fine instead of find for the second time, she got up from her desk and went over to the window.

      Students rushed to and from the dormitories, a group of international students kicked around a soccer ball, and couples kissed under the shade of lofty willow trees. Pride filled Kyra’s heart. Few people, including her parents, understood why she’d chosen to study at a historically black college. Scholarships had poured in from other prestigious universities, but she’d turned them all down. Here, among students of every shade of brown under the sun, she’d flourished. Her sorority sisters had cheered her accomplishments, challenged her way of thinking and offered a shoulder to cry on when she needed it most.

      Raised in a middle-class suburban neighborhood, Kyra had secretly longed to have friends and teachers who looked like her. She’d grown up wanting to be Debbie Allen and when she arrived at Hollington that balmy afternoon in August just days after her eighteenth birthday, she’d felt like a character on A Different World. Kyra had loved the community so much she’d applied for the public relations position the second she’d seen it in the newspaper, bought a two-bedroom townhouse in East Point and settled comfortably into her new life.

      A girl who couldn’t be much more than eighteen pushed a stroller down the street. Kyra rested her head against the glass. Everything she’d ever wanted in life had become a reality, and although she wasn’t a wife or mother yet, she knew in time it would happen. Once Terrence signed on to coach the Lions and the excitement of homecoming weekend was behind her, she’d think more about her future.

      For the last three months, the reunion had consumed her and now she had to fill the head coaching position. Her quiet life had suddenly become very hectic and something told her, Terrence Franklin, the former bad boy of the NFL, was going to be more trouble than he was worth.

      “Beverly, what do you mean you’re not going to the reunion?” Kyra asked, her hands propped on her slender hips. “This is a big weekend for the university and I’m counting on you to be there.”

      “I don’t see why,” Beverly Turner quipped, straightening a rack of printed skirts. Her trendy, high-end boutique, Hoops, was on North Highland Avenue and a steady stream of twenty-somethings flowed into the store and left carrying enormous white shopping bags with the dainty Hoops logo. The sparkling chandelier, golden cherubs and tasteful furniture gave a chic, intimate feel to the place. “Aside from you and a couple of other people, I haven’t kept in touch with anyone from our graduating class.”

      “Beverly, you were homecoming queen and everyone’s expecting you to be there.”

      “That’s too bad, because I’m not going.”

      “Give me one good reason why you can’t go.”

      “I’ll give you three,” she chirped, her low Southern twang taking on a hard edge.

      Kyra sighed inwardly. Beverly was a deeply thoughtful woman with a gentle disposition, but she was always poised with a comeback.

      “For starters, I’m swamped here.” Selecting a dazzling sheath dress from off the rack, she slipped it off the gold padded hanger and held it up to one of the mannequins in the front window. “I’m putting together the final touches for my new spring line, and I have to design a gown for Gabrielle Union to wear to an awards gala next month.”

      “You СКАЧАТЬ