Man of Fate. Rochelle Alers

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      The incessant ringing of the telephone penetrated the comfort of her deep sleep, forcing Ava to open her eyes. The shades in the room were drawn, making it impossible for her to discern the time of day. Patting the mattress, her fingers curved around the receiver. She managed to find the Talk button after several attempts.

      “Hello.” Her voice, still heavy from sleep, had dropped an octave.

      “Ava, it’s Kyle.”

      A dreamy smile parted her lips. His deep voice came through the earpiece like watered silk. “How are you?”

      “I’m good, Kyle.”

      “You sound sleepy. Did I wake you up?”

      “Yes.”

      “Good.”

      “Good?” she asked.

      “Yes. That’s means you’re conscious.”

      “I was sleeping, not unconscious, Kyle.”

      “Thank goodness for that. Do you want me to call you again in another two hours?”

      Ava sighed softly. “Call me again in four hours.”

      “Are you sure?”

      “I’m very sure, counselor.” She smiled when his laugh caressed her ear. “Thank you for checking up on me.”

      “You’re very welcome. I’ll talk to you later.”

      A click signaled that Kyle had hung up. Ava lay staring up at the shadows on the ceiling. She didn’t know why the lawyer had taken an interest in her well-being, and she didn’t want to believe he had an ulterior motive. When it came to men, her batting average hovered close to triple zeros.

      It’d been more than a year since her last date and two years since a man had shared her bed. The only thing she’d missed when she’d ended her relationship with Will Marshall was the intimacy. The lovemaking between them ran the gamut from hot to cold depending on their interaction, yet there had never been a time when they got into bed together that they didn’t cuddle. Waking up, limbs entwined, was the perfect way to begin a day.

      Ava knew she would’ve continued to cohabitate with her live-in lover if he hadn’t felt the need to monitor every aspect of her life. After a while she felt as if she were a parolee having to check in with her parole officer. In the end she had to leave Will or she would have fared no better than the victimized women she counseled.

      She didn’t want to repeat her mother’s mistakes. Alice Warrick had fallen in love with and married a man to whom she’d surrendered her will. Charles Warrick made every decision for his wife and children until their youngest left home to go to college. A week later, Alice served her husband with divorce papers, citing emotional abuse and lack of communication. Alice’s decision to take control of her life was the impetus for Ava to leave her job as an elementary school teacher and go into social work.

      The pounding in her forehead intensified, and Ava knew she had to get up and take some Tylenol. She’d predicted that she’d be out of work for a couple of days. But with this severe pain that made it nearly impossible to think clearly, she knew it would be longer. The note the neurosurgeon had given her said she’d be unable to return to work until she was medically cleared.

      Ava went into the bathroom and after swallowing two Tylenol capsules with a full glass of water, she returned to the bedroom to lie across the bed. The medication worked quickly and when she closed her eyes she forgot about the pain and the incredibly handsome man who’d unknowingly become her knight in shining armor.

      Chapter 3

      Kyle walked out of his brownstone and into a blanketing fog so thick it was virtually impossible to see more than a few feet in front of him. The humidity intensified the different odors of the big city—the smell of fuel from passing cars and buses was magnified in the thick air.

      In the past he’d taken the subway downtown to his office, but the days of taking the iron horse to work was relegated to the past. The brownstone where he’d set up his office was less than a mile away, and he usually made the walk from 139th Street and Frederick Douglass Boulevard to 121st Street and Adam Clayton Powell Boulevard in under half an hour.

      On the days he jogged, he made it in ten minutes. The closet in his private office was filled with suits, slacks, shirts, jackets, ties and underwear. An adjoining full bathroom was stocked with his favorite cologne and grooming supplies.

      Lately Kyle found himself spending more hours at the brownstone than he did at home. His caseload had doubled after he’d won a high-profile case—the accidental shooting death of a teenage girl by a bank guard trying to prevent a robbery. Kyle brought a suit against the bank and the security company for negligence because the retired police officer had failed to go for his mandated firearms training update.

      He’d expected a long and drawn-out litigation until he’d uncovered information that the guard, who wore glasses, hadn’t had an eye exam in more than five years. Rather than go through a lengthy trial, the case ended with a multimillion-dollar settlement to the parents of the dead child, who was a musical prodigy. The case was closely followed by the local dailies. Rarely a week went by when Kyle’s name or photo didn’t appear in the New York Amsterdam News, and winning the case turned him into a local celebrity.

      He’d gotten out of bed before his alarm went off because of the disturbing dream he’d had СКАЧАТЬ