Love T.K.O.. Pamela Yaye

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ She ambled over to the door, but didn’t open it. “You asked me what Igor could do to make things better. It would be nice if he said thank you. He doesn’t say thank you anymore. He just expects me to do stuff, you know?”

      “Maybe you should tell him what you just told me.”

      Nodding, Sophie opened the door and exited the room.

      Closing her office door, Yasmin returned to her desk and sat down. Plagued by a headache all afternoon, she picked up her remote control, selected disk number five, and sighed softly when the rich, soulful voice of Anthony Hamilton eased the tension flowing through her body. Yasmin couldn’t stop her eyelids from drooping. It was if they had a mind of their own. Kicking off her shoes, she rested back in her leather armchair.

      This was very quickly turning out to be the day from hell. Talking with Mrs. Kolodenko had been the only bright spot of the afternoon. First, her sister had called wearing a funky attitude. Imani had been in a mood ever since Yasmin had walked out on her favorite councilman and reminded her every chance she got that Cecil Manning was a terrific catch. Her session with the Fujiyamas had been going well until she suggested Mrs. Fujiyama foster her independence by getting a part-time job. It had taken her ten minutes to calm down her husband and another five to convince him not to cancel their remaining sessions. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the caterer she had hired for the charity fund-raiser had cancelled. It was the first time since Yasmin had arrived at the office that she had had a moment to herself, and it was long overdue.

      Yasmin was singing along with Anthony when she heard someone clear his throat. Her eyes shot open. Without her glasses, all Yasmin could make out was the shape of a man. Squinting, she pushed back her chair and sprang to her feet. Where the hell was Niobie? And who was this man in her office, smelling like soap and baby powder?

      Rashawn took his time appraising Yasmin. Her twists were pulled up off her face and drew attention to her delicate cheekbones. The charcoal-gray suit gave her an older, more mature look, and though he liked the way it fit her, he wished she was wearing something that showcased her sexy arms and legs. When she ran her fingers through her hair, he caught a breath of her perfume and forced his hands into his pockets. He didn’t know Yasmin well enough to touch her, but hell if the desire wasn’t crushing. “I hope you don’t mind me letting myself in. There was no one out front.”

      “It’s no problem at all,” she lied, grabbing the stereo remote. But instead of turning off the CD player, Yasmin increased the volume. The music blared so loud her ears throbbed. Grimacing, she marched over to the bookshelf and jabbed the power button. Smoothing a hand over her blazer, she gave the stranger a shaky smile. “I’m sorry about that.”

      “It’s no problem. These things happen, right, Doc?”

      Yasmin retrieved her glasses from the end table and slipped them on. Now that the room was in focus, she was able to match the voice with the face, and what a face it was. Heavy eyebrows, sensuous mouth, built-to-last physique. Her usual calm deserted her as she stared at Rashawn. He was more handsome than she had remembered.

      He wore large diamond studs in each ear, a wide-link chain on his neck and a platinum watch encrusted in diamonds on his wrist. A large tattoo of a cross with two daggers knitted together covered his arm. Only the strong survive was written in fine, black script. Faded blue jeans hung from his waist and his sneakers were spotless.

      “This is a pleasant surprise,” Yasmin said, pulling her gaze back up to his face. The man had sleepy, bedroom eyes. Eyes so deep and mysterious a woman could easily get lost in them.

      “I’m glad to hear that, because it took a lot of work tracking you down.” His eyes bore down on her, robbing her of speech. “When you didn’t return my calls, I didn’t know what to think. Thought maybe you were avoiding me.”

      Yasmin laughed. It was either that or confirm his suspicions.

      “Nice setup you got here,” Rashawn said, noticing the framed diplomas, leather furniture and flower-filled vases. A saltwater aquarium filled with vibrantly colored fish and seashells sat against the far wall. The fish tank gave the otherwise ordinary room a much-needed punch of color. “I just bought a house in Clearwater. Maybe you can help me decorate.”

      Locking a smile into place, she leaned against her desk. The man had a killer voice. It was heavy with masculinity and touched with just the right amount of sensuality. Getting rid of Rashawn wouldn’t be easy, but her last session of the day was about to start and she wanted to read over Mr. Gallagher’s file. “I wish we could talk further, but I’m expecting my next client any minute now. It’s his first time here and I want to be prepared when he arrives.”

      “Cool. Don’t mind me.” Rashawn stepped back, stretched out on the tan-colored couch and crossed his legs at the ankles. “Do what you have to do. I’ll wait right here until you’re ready.”

      “You’re not Brody Gallagher.”

      “I know, his assistant made the appointment on my behalf.”

      “I see.” Yasmin swallowed. She could do this. She was a trained professional, equipped to help clients resolve their personal issues and achieve self-awareness. It didn’t matter that Rashawn had a dreamy voice and rippling muscles. This was business and Yasmin refused to let anything stand in the way of doing her job. “I need a few minutes to get myself together and then we can begin.”

      He closed his eyes and folded his hands across his chest. “Like I said, Doc, take as much time as you need.”

      Yasmin was behind her desk, gathering assessment forms, when there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” she called, glancing at Rashawn, who was still lounging on the sofa.

      Her assistant came in, an apologetic look on her face. Niobie Slade had been with her from the first day she had opened the doors of A Better Way Counseling Services three years earlier, and though the twenty-three-year-old single mom still had a lot to learn, Yasmin could always count on her to be affable and efficient.

      “Yes, what is it?” she asked, trying to squelch her frustration. Niobie had a penchant for see-through tops, miniskirts and stilettos and, though Yasmin had spoken to her at length just last week about her wardrobe, she had shown up today in a getup straight out of a music video. If it weren’t for all the work that had to be done for the fund-raiser, Yasmin would have sent her home. The slinky tomato-red dress was a soft, lightweight material but looked very expensive. Yasmin liked it, but not on Niobie. Her assistant was literally busting out of it. Her breasts were on display like a Ferrari in a showroom and the sides bunched up in layers when she walked. The outfit was clearly intended for a woman with height and curves and Niobie was short on one and had too much of the other.

      “Sorry to disturb you, but Ms. Dubois called from Pastries and Stuff Catering. They’re booked the first Saturday in June, but when I explained it’s a charity event for inner-city children, she said they could squeeze us in,” Niobie explained, tucking a lock of golden-brown hair behind her ears. “The only catch is they can’t decorate or provide servers. We’ll have to take care of that ourselves.”

      “That’s fine. I think it would be a nice touch if we had the kids serve the guests.” Pleased that things were finally starting to fall into place, Yasmin said, “Did she leave a number where I can reach her?”

      “Yes. She asked that you call by five and let her know either way.”

      “Great. Thanks.”

      “No problem.” Niobie turned toward the door but stopped abruptly СКАЧАТЬ