Diary of a Mad First Lady (8 page)

The man continued to stroll with groceries in one hand and his cell phone in the other. I plastered my best look of despair on my face, and all but fainted when he started walking my way. The moment reminded me of one of those scenes in a movie when the woman in distress was broken down beside a long, dusty road, fanning away the heat with her wide-brim hat, her dress clinging to her body like the wrappings of a Christmas gift, and just enough leg showing to get the first man’s attention. With that thought, I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my white cotton blouse, signaling that at any moment I would just melt from sunburn.

The closer he got to me, the more the scent of his cologne, Cool Water, filled my nostrils. He had a perfect blend of cologne and body chemistry, and a gorgeous smile that sent me into a whirlwind of emotions leaving me with flushed cheeks.

Suddenly, the man whose attention I was desperate to get, had stopped and was facing me.

“Ma’am, I’m headed to my car, but I can’t help but notice that you appear a little flustered. Do you need some help?” he asked.

I laughed gently. Who did he think he was fooling? He couldn’t help but notice all right. “I guess I do look a bit of a mess out here in this hot sun, huh?”

“No, ma’am. I didn’t say that.” He returned the smile.

“Oh, you said it all when you called me ma’am,” I teased back.

He laughed. “You know, people are always telling me that I have a tendency to put my foot in my mouth.”

If only he knew what all I wanted him to do with his delicious mouth. His lips were perfectly curved, made perfect for soft kisses.

“Well, we’ll call it even if you can somehow help me get my jalopy back rolling.” I patted the old beat-up Honda.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been having several problems out of this antique.”

That was true, but I lowered my eyelashes so that he wouldn’t be able to see the lack of innocence I possessed at the moment. And when I raised them again, his smile was even wider.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t get your name.” His intense stare almost made me crumble into pieces.

Somehow I managed to think of my name. “Daphne. I’m Daphne Carlton.”

Even though I couldn’t see the smile plastered on my face, I was sure that it would have intimidated the most photogenic model.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Daphne Carlton.”

The way he said my name was as smooth as silk. Who was this man?

Why did he unnerve me?

“And you are?”

“Oh, I’m Darvin Johnson.”

He was looking so deeply into my eyes that I could have sworn he saw past my little attempt to seduce him. Obviously, he was enjoying this moment of flirting, because he allowed it to linger.

“So, Mr. Darvin Johnson, you’ve come to save the day. My day.” I flashed another smile before lowering my lashes once more.

“That’s me. Darvin Johnson, Superman here to the rescue,” he joked.

What I wanted to ask was if he’d been rescued by some lucky woman, but I didn’t want to seem too desperate. I made a mental note that he was not wearing a wedding ring. “So, you know much about cars?”

“Not really, but I know enough to stay rolling. Why don’t you raise your hood and let me take a look.”

He shifted the bag he held to his other arm and walked to the front of my car. He set the groceries down on the ground as I released the latch to the hood. When I did, smoke almost suffocated the poor man. I hurriedly jumped out of the car to find him coughing and gagging, trying to catch a breath.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

Still coughing profusely, “Yes,” was all he said. He slammed the hood of the car back down, wiped away the sweat from his forehead, and walked back to where I was sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Daphne, as I said, I can’t say that I know a lot about cars. But I know enough to know that something is terribly wrong with yours.” His gaze shifted back to the hood of the car. “I think that it may have run hot, but I don’t want to take a chance that the problem may not be a more serious one.” He turned his piercing gaze back to me. “Do you have someone you can call to come and get you? I wouldn’t trust this thing even if it was running.”

It was at that moment that it hit me. I knew how I was going to learn more about the man who had silently, and without knowing, seduced me.

“No, Darvin, I’m afraid I don’t. I just recently moved from Florida and I have no relatives here. Matter of fact, I haven’t even started my new job, so I don’t even have friends.” I put on my most somber face. “I guess I will just have to call a wrecker and then maybe call for a cab.”

Darvin studied me intensely. I could almost see the battle going on in his mind. He was trying to determine if he should trust my story and offer additional assistance, or walk away in approval of my own solution. He looked as if he’d been in this very predicament before.

His conscience and better judgment must have given way to his heart.

“The wrecker is going to cost you a fortune.” He paused. “The cab, too.” He paused again. “Do you think you can afford that?”

There it was again, the battle. Little did he know, I didn’t pick fights I couldn’t win. And this was one that I intended to win. “Mr. Johnson, I know that I must appear to be in bad shape here, but I’m not destitute.” I pretended to cast angry eyes at him. “Thanks for your help.” I got out of the driver’s seat, closed the door, maneuvered my way around his muscular body, and proceeded to walk back in the direction of the store.

As I walked away, I made sure to add a little extra sway to my hips. If he was like any other man, he couldn’t resist a shapely body and feet clad in three-inch heels.

Just as I expected, he called out, “Ms. Carlton!” I wanted to allow his voice to bounce off my back for added drama, but I couldn’t resist him. I stopped in my tracks and hesitated to turn around, so he would think that I was really upset. When I did swirl around, I was facing a very apologetic-looking Darvin.

“Ms. or Mrs. Carlton,” he said more in a question form, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to seem as if you couldn’t afford to handle your business. As I said before, I always have a way of putting my foot in my mouth.”

And if it weren’t for those cute little puppy dog eyes, I wouldn’t have broken my resolve so soon. A smile curved the corners of my lips.

“That’s okay. The truth is I can’t afford it right now. I mean, I can, but . . .” I paused. “Anyway, don’t let me trouble you with my problems. I’ve already held up too much of your time.” I touched his arm gently. “Thanks again for your help, and oh, I’m sorry about my attitude back there.” I pointed in the

direction of my car. “I’m just so frustrated.”

“I understand.” He lowered his head and cast his eyes toward the ground as if it would somehow show what his next words should be. His head slowly came back up.

“Daphne, why don’t I give you a ride? I can take you wherever you need to go.”

Yes! The scent of victory was a sweet-smelling fragrance in my nostrils.

“I really don’t want you going out of your way for me, Mr. Johnson.”

“Daphne, please, call me Darvin.”

Another victory. “Darvin, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I’m sure you were on your way someplace.” I fanned away heat as if I had a built-in fan on my hand.

Darvin looked at the diamond Rolex flanking his arm. “I have a couple of hours to spare before my meeting. I could at least take you home so your groceries won’t spoil.”

I hadn’t even thought of that. That would be even better. Taking me to my home signaled that he trusted me. And that meant that I could invite him in for lunch to thank him for his kindness. Once again, a wide grin spread across my face. “That would be great. I’d forgotten all about my groceries.”

We both turned and went back to my car. I grabbed my bags and purse, and turned to thank him again, but he was making a call from his cell. He moved over a couple of feet to get some privacy, and I did everything I could to distract myself so that I wouldn’t eavesdrop. After a couple of seconds, he ended his call and came back toward me.

“So, Daphne, where to?”

“Home,” I said with meaning behind it. Darvin must have felt it, because he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “To my house,” I corrected quickly.

“All right, Miss Daisy,” he teased, “to your house it is. That’s my horse and buggy over there.”

The horse and buggy that he referred to was a shiny black Mercedes S500 parked a couple of spaces over. Some horse and buggy. I sashayed over to his car, and being the perfect gentleman, he opened the passenger’s door for me as I got in, and then he dipped to his side of the car.

“This is a really nice car.” I admired the smooth gray leather interior.

“Thanks. It’ll do,” he said, obviously trying to show his humbleness.

He started the engine, and if I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t have known that the car was even on. The quiet purr of the luxury car was soothing, and the air that was blowing generously from the vents surrounded by cherry wood grain was like water in the desert. I leaned back to fully enjoy the comfort and allowed my body to sink into the plush leather.

“So, which way?” he asked.

I adjusted myself in the seat. “I live in Atlantic Station.”

He jerked his head in my direction. “Atlantic Station?” he said in surprise. “No wonder you don’t have any money.”

I glared at him. I knew that he would think that as soon as I told him where I lived. But I was always ready for a comeback. “It’s not like what you think. I’m subleasing from a friend who relocated to Texas. She’s allowing me to stay there until my house is finished. I bought a place over in South Atlanta.”

“Really?” he said in even more surprise. “What a coincidence. I live in South Atlanta.”

This must be fate. “Really?” I said in astonishment. “What part?”

“Fayette County.”

“Me too!” I said with a little too much excitement.

Darvin looked at me as if I were growing a second head.

“I’m just excited because at least I know one person in Atlanta,” I explained to help reduce his concern.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about not knowing anybody,” he said as he drove onto the interstate. “Do you go to church?”

Wow. Was he inviting me to his church already? This was going better than I could imagine. I couldn’t contain my excitement. “Of course I go to church.” I looked over to him. “Do I look like I need to be saved or something?” I said sheepishly.

His laughter returned. “No, I was asking because I was going to invite you to my church tonight.” He paused. “Tonight is our midweek service.”

Who would’ve known that my old beat-up Honda would prove to be a blessing in disguise? “Sure. I would love to go to your church. Only thing is,”—I bowed my head to my lap for added measure—“I don’t have transportation, remember?”

“I’ll handle that. You just be ready at six-thirty.”

This man was a godsend. My mother had always told me that God will give you the desires of your heart. Darvin Johnson was certainly becoming a desire of my heart, and my moving to Atlanta was starting to be one of the best decisions of my life.

Chapter Eight

Daphne

I got out of bed still thinking about that day. The smile on my face quickly faded as I remembered how the remainder of the evening had played out.

I strolled into the bathroom and snatched a towel from the linen closet. That stunt Darvin pulled that night still had a way of upsetting me to this day.

I sat on the edge of my oversized Jacuzzi and allowed my mind to once again drift back to that day.

Finding an outfit for church had been like finding the perfect dress for the red carpet. That night was about more than just going to church; it was about making a statement. I’d already thought of the women that I would have to impress because I was sure that Darvin was a highly sought-after bachelor. My thoughts for the men included leaving a hint of jealousy behind, so that they would envy Darvin and the new woman-to-be in his life.

Finally, I selected a black Chanel suit that my ex-boyfriend had purchased for me. The skirt stopped flirtatiously above the knee, and the four- inch heels that I selected to accompany the suit were the perfect item to accentuate my long, mocha-colored legs. I got dressed, dug through a plethora of unpacked boxes to find my jewelry box that contained my diamond necklace and earrings, took one final look in the mirror, and went to the living room to wait for Darvin.

After a few times of going back and forth to the mirror to assure myself that I still approved of my look, I glanced at the clock sitting on the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen, and noticed that Darvin was late.

It suddenly dawned on me that he and I had not exchanged phone numbers, so even if something had come up, he wouldn’t have a way to contact me.

The clock now read 6:45, and that meant he was fifteen minutes late. He struck me as the type to be prompt, but maybe I was mistaken. My thoughts drifted to the many possibilities that would cause him to be late or not show up at all, and I suddenly felt a wave of sadness come over me. Maybe he’d known the entire time that my intentions had more to do with him than going to church, and he had decided not to be bothered with me. I could have kicked myself. I should have never been so aggressive.