No Commitment Required
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~ EXCERPT ~
Michael leaned against a column, impatient. Where the hell was this Mitchelson woman? Her name sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it. He had her paged; the attendant had been most helpful until he told her he was looking for a woman. And Jeff had been too busy yelling at the tow truck driver to give a good description.
His attention was snagged by a bright red pantsuit. A Black woman carrying a briefcase and black duster sported the body-conscious suit. She moved toward the attendant's booth with a feline grace.
Michael watched as more than a few men slowed their hurried pace upon catching sight of her. He couldn't blame them-he'd almost forgotten why he was in the airport. She wasn't Naomi or Tyra, being just below average height, but that suit and that walk demanded and received attention. He wondered who the woman was and if she was having someone paged. Maybe she was new to Atlanta. Perhaps she needed to know where to pick up her luggage. Perhaps she needed someone to take her to dinner.
To his surprise, the Delta clerk pointed in his direction. The woman turned, and Michael could feel her eyes, hidden behind sunglasses, assessing him. Then she turned back to the attendant, shaking her head. But the clerk nodded and again pointed to Michael.
The woman in scarlet walked toward him. Instinctively, he checked his tie. When she was close to him, she removed her sunglasses.
Their gazes met and Michael was brought up short. He forgot about Jeff, Jeff's girlfriend, and losing his patience. He forgot all that because he was losing himself in that gaze.
Her large, almond-shaped eyes were expressive and syrupy- soft, the color of brandy. They caught him and held him, mesmerized.
She broke the silence. "You've been waiting for me?" she asked, the Yankee of her accent softened with a slight drawl.
It was the perfect line and he couldn't resist. "You have no idea how long." He gave her his best smile.
Completely unfazed, that's what she was. Michael could feel his day taking another downturn. A wry smile twisted her lips. "I'm sure you've waited all your life, and from the look on your face a few minutes ago, you don't like it much."
Her expression was wary. "Why don't you tell me who you are and why you paged me."
It took a moment for that to sink in. "You're Yvonne Mitchelson?"
She took a step backward, her expression suspicious. "Who are you? How do you know my name, but not what I look like?"
"I'm Mike Benjamin. Jeff Maxwell asked me to come get you. Your name's familiar, but Jeff didn't tell me you were African-American."
"That's probably because I'm not from Africa, and neither were my parents."
Michael could feel his ears turning red. "I'm sorry, I'm still confused by the political correctness of it all. But if Jeff had told me you were Black--"
"You'll have to forgive Jeff," she cut in, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "He has this annoying little habit of not categorizing people by their color. I told him not to be so blind to other people's hang-ups, but he--"
"Wait just a minute," he interrupted. "I don't have a hang-up about color."
She held up a hand. "Let me guess. Some of your best friends are Black, right?"
Michael looked down at her, feeling his face flush in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Yvonne Mitchelson didn't top his shoulder, but she was primed to take his head off. Damn, today definitely wasn't one of his better days. What the hell did Jeff see in this woman anyway?
"Actually, that was not what I was about to say, Ms. Mitchelson," he said coldly. "But if you must know, Jeff happens to be my best friend. My business partner is Black, and I was best man in his wedding to a beautiful woman who is from Africa. What I was trying to say is that it would have saved a hell of a lot of trouble if Jeff had told me what you looked like."
He dug into his jacket pocket, then dropped his cell phone in her hands. "Why don't you give Jeff a call and verify my credentials? And while you're at it, call a taxi."
Ready to leave her where she stood, he folded his arms and counted back from fifty. Instead of answering him, she massaged her temples with her free hand.
"Look, I'm sorry," she said thinly, obviously not used to apologizing. "I've had a day from hell."
"You're not the only one capable of having a bad day," he informed her. "In fact, I think it's pretty contagious."
To his surprise, she smiled, a dazzling display of teeth and dimples that nearly blinded him. "You're right. That was kind of bitchy of me, pissing off my ride home. I really do know better, so why don't we start over?"
She stuck out her free hand. "I'm Yvonne Mitchelson, but you can call me embarrassed!"
Michael took the proffered hand, and felt a surge that was almost electric. Looking at Yvonne, he realized she felt it too. The pulse at the base of her throat actually jumped. With a subtle tug, she attempted to extricate her hand until his fingers hit the big diamond she wore.
Without seeming to, he examined the gem. A lot of money had gone into the ring. A whole lot. "You can call me your ride home." Trying to keep disappointment out of his voice, he caught himself. Why the hell was he disappointed? He decided he didn't want to think about it.
They headed for the baggage claim, Michael explaining Jeff's bad luck. As they walked, he assessed the woman beside him. She was petite, barely five-five, yet the elegant confidence she exuded as she walked made her seem taller. Her skin was a rich warm caramel and her shoulder length hair a mass of dark brown curls. And somewhere under the pantsuit, he was sure, was a body that could stop traffic on the Downtown Connector.
He frowned slightly. Why did her name seem so familiar? Jeff, also a confirmed bachelor, would have told him if he was engaged. They even had a running bet on who would get married first. But someone had put a rock the size of Stone Mountain on her finger. Michael suddenly wanted to know who.
"So what brings you to Atlanta, Yvonne?" he asked, retrieving the luggage she pointed out, surprised to see only a large rolling suitcase in addition to the briefcase she held. "Visiting your fiance?"
They left the airport for the parking lot. "Jeff really hasn't told you about me, has he?" she asked. "I mean, it's not a big deal, but you should at least be aware that you're not playing taxi for a mass murderer."
Michael stopped before a pristine '65 Mustang convertible, painted shiny black. "You're definitely not a mass murderer," he stated matter-of-factly, putting her cases, hat, and coat into the trunk. He came around to hand her into the car. She hesitated, then got in. The graceful way she swung her legs inside made him warm. Some women practiced that forever without mastering it. "A dancer, perhaps?"
Yvonne turned to face him when he entered the car. "I've been living in Atlanta for about eight years," she informed him. "I'm not a spy or a dancer or even engaged."
She waved her left hand. "This is my 'keep away' ring. It helps deter unwanted attention. I'm too busy with work to maintain a relationship."
The day was looking up after all! "So what kind of work keeps you so busy?"
She fastened her seat belt and pushed her seat as far back as it would go. "Have you ever heard of Your Heart's Desire?"
"Those local shops giving Victoria's Secret and Frederick's a run for their money? Yes, I know them-the one in Buckhead turns Peachtree Street to permanent gridlock around Valentine's Day."
He paused before merging on the expressway, darting a glance at her. "Wait a minute! Are you that Yvonne Mitchelson? Of Gemini Enterprises?" She nodded. "Well, I'll be damned! No wonder Jeff said I'd recognize you when I saw you. You were the cover story in 'Georgia Business' magazine last month."
"If you read that, you're more than a pin-up guy," she said, smiling.
He grinned back. There was a compliment in there somewhere, he supposed. "I hope so. Thom wouldn't like it if I didn't pull my share at BBC."
"BBC?"
"Better Business Concepts. It's a--"
"Well if this isn't the mother of all coincidences!" she exclaimed, turning in her seat to face him again. "I have a meeting scheduled with your firm next week."
"You're kidding."
Yvonne shook her head, her gaze on the Atlanta skyline as it came into view. The last of the sun gleamed on the dome of the Capitol, turning its gold cap into a burnished copper. The rest of the city proper spread along the skyline like an electric rainbow. "I've heard a little about your firm, so I called and set an appointment with Kyle or Conrad or someone like that. Jeff said he knew someone at the firm, and he was going to pick me up so that I could pick his brain over dinner."
Forcing down the surge of excitement at her words, Michael kept his eyes on the highway. "It must be fate, because I'm a senior partner of Better Business Concepts. If you believe Gemini Enterprises is at a level where a management firm would be a benefit, then BBC would certainly like to be considered."
Yvonne laughed. "Spoken like a true businessman. Where's the sales pitch?"
"I've definitely got one. Care to hear it over dinner?" That slipped out on its own, but now that he thought about it, dinner was a good idea. He certainly wasn't ready to say goodbye yet.
He stole a glance at her. Her profile was determined, and her hand had the armrest on the passenger door in a death-grip. "I really should call Jeff," she said, her voice hesitant. "We were supposed to go out to dinner, but if that precious Lexus of his got hit, he'll probably want to baby-sit it."
"We can call him from the restaurant. That way, he can join us and explain how we both know him and not each other."
She had to laugh at that. "Sounds like a segment on Unsolved Mysteries. But surely I'm keeping you from more important pursuits this evening? I will be more than happy speaking with Kevin or Carter next week."
A little frisson of worry had him tightening his grip on the steering wheel, his only outward display of emotion. "What could be more important than discussing a terrific business over a wonderful meal? And given our mysterious mutual friend, I must ensure that you receive the best consultation BBC has to offer." Besides, the only consulting Conrad's going to be doing is with the classifieds.
"All right." She settled firmly into her seat, rechecking the seatbelt. "On to dinner. I can see Jeff tomorrow."
Michael watched Yvonne watching the skyline and hid a smile. The day was definitely ending better than it had started.