Tender Loving Passion. Donna Hill

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      “When things get so that they’re not working for you, you need to tell me,” Steven was saying, drawing her back and away from her cascading thoughts.

      “I can’t imagine that happening.” But fear and doubt knotted her stomach. She cuddled closer. He tenderly kissed the top of her head. “You want to tell me what almost happened?” she tentatively asked.

      “It didn’t. That’s what’s important. Didn’t come close, only the suggestion—if I’d been willing.”

      Mia listened intently for words between the lines and beneath the surface. She found none. Only the simple truth.

      Mia gently draped her leg over his. Their toes touched and played. She smiled inside.

      Steven pressed his lips against the sensitive spot between the space of her neck and her collarbone. She trembled. He ran his hand down and along the curve of her body’s right side, covering each inch like the brush of a master painter.

      Mia spontaneously arched her body into his. The pulse of his growing erection pressed between the juncture of her thighs. She moaned softly as he brushed his thumb across her nipple before cupping her breast in his palm and caressing it. Her body became infused with heat.

      Steven eased her onto her back. He stared down into her eyes. He looked as if he was on the verge of saying something. Instead he kissed her long, deep and slow. And she gave in to the kiss, the feel of his hands on her body, the weight of him pinning her beneath him.

      Mia closed her eyes, wrapped her arms and legs around Steven and let the sensations take over her mind, body and soul.

      * * *

      The following morning after Steven left for work, Mia set up the tools of her trade and spent the next hour watching the computer screen for activity and listening to the phone taps for something worthwhile.

      Just as she was about to pack up and head to the office, Michael received a call on his Sag Harbor phone.

      She sat up straighter.

      “Hi, it’s Michelle. I need some extra hours. Slot me in for any upcoming openings. Thanks.”

      Mia frowned. What did that mean? Was Michelle one of the alleged women in the service or nothing more sinister than an employee who needed some O/T or the cleaning lady?

      She looked at the incoming call for the number. It read like a cell phone. She made a note to give it to Jasmine to see if she could get a last name and maybe an address.

      Mia checked the time. It was nearly ten. She needed to stop by the cleaners on her way to work and drop off a few things. She had a conference call at noon.

      She put everything away, shut off the computer and stashed her PDA and cell in her tote, along with her go bag. She collected the clothes that she’d tossed on the side chair in the bedroom. She added the two pairs of slacks and a dress shirt that Steven had hung on the back of the bathroom door.

      One last look around to ensure that she hadn’t left any telltale signs of her clandestine activity and she hurried out.

      * * *

      “Good morning, Ms. Carol,” Mia greeted her.

      Carol Bennett was the matriarch of the Bennett Dry Cleaning family. Mia had been bringing her clothes to them for years. And although there was a more modern cleaner closer to her condo, she preferred the personal touch, and it gave her a sense of pride to support a black-owned business.

      “Mia, how are you, sweetheart?” Carol slipped on the glasses held around her neck by a beaded chain.

      “I’m fine, Ms. Carol. How is the family?”

      “The children—” she shrugged “—they wish they had a different business to inherit. But it’s like I tell them all the time—baby doctors, morticians and cleaners will always have business.”

      Mia chuckled. “You are so right.”

      Carol held up each garment and jotted them down on the slip. “Okay, one ladies’ suit, two blouses, two dress shirts and two slacks. When do you need them back?” She peered at Mia from above the top of her glasses.

      “Hmm. Tomorrow? Can I pick them up around six?”

      “Sure.”

      “Great. Thanks. I gotta run. Have a good day.” She picked up her purse from the counter.

      “You, too, dear.” She gathered the clothes up into a bundle with the intention of putting them in the basket when some change fell out of one of the pockets.

      Mia stopped. “I’m sorry. I should have checked the pockets.”

      Carol picked up the change from the floor. “A whole sixty-two cents,” she said with a smile. “Not enough to retire on, so you keep it.”

      Mia grinned. “Thanks.”

      Carol went through each item to check the pockets. “This is yours, too.” She gave her a business card.

      Mia took it and stuck it into her tote.

      “That’s it,” Carol concluded.

      “Good. If anything else turns up, just leave it with the clothes. Bye!” She hurried out. Hopefully, she wouldn’t get caught in traffic. She probably should have left home sooner, but she’d let her quest for answers—or vindication—consume her morning.

      Once behind the wheel of her car, she dug her cell phone out of her tote and gave the voice command to call Ashley.

      “Hey, Ashley,” she said through the speakerphone. “I’m running behind schedule. Hopefully, I should be there in about forty minutes.”

      “No problem. I have everything covered.”

      “Any calls?”

      “Just one.” Ashley paused. “Michael Burke. He plans to stop by later.”

      Mia’s brakes squealed as she nearly rear-ended the driver in front of her. She had about ten seconds to pull herself together before the cars behind her demanded her head on a platter for holding them up.

      “Thanks,” she managed, easing her foot off the brake and onto the gas. “Did he say what time?”

      “I told him we had an early-afternoon appointment. He said it would be around 2:30. He had some information on the event that he wanted to deliver personally.”

      Mia’s heart skipped a beat. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.” She pressed the speakerphone button and disconnected the call.

      What could he have to bring that he hadn’t turned over already? Ideally, she wanted to limit her face time with Michael to the bare minimum. Obviously, he had other ideas.

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