Gotta Get Next To You (8 page)

“You want to say something to Miss Noble?”
Jamal nodded to Andrea.

“Sorry,” the man mumbled as he rubbed his
shoulder. “Sorry what?” Jamal stepped close to him and Bo
winced.

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“And?” Jamal prompted.

“It won’t happen again.”

“Get out and don’t come back,” Jamal said.
The man glanced at the door as though scared to move. “Go on.”

Bo hustled out, but not without throwing a
hostile glance at Jamal. “Yeah, right.”

Andrea watched as Jamal strode out into the
hall to make sure Bo was gone. He was lithe and powerful at the
same time. She blinked hard. Jamal Turner was not her type, she
argued. He was too charming, too sure of himself, and had serial
lover written all over him. She had him down pat, right? No way
would she ever fall for the muscle-flexing, beat-on-his chest type
of man Jamal was, with his slick talk and sexy walk. Yet her pulse
raced. He walked back into the room.

Andrea breathed hard, but not from fear.
“Thanks,” she said softly.

“No problem. You okay?” Jamal’s sharp gaze
swept her from head to toe.

“Fine. He didn’t really do anything. You
didn’t give him a chance. How did you know ... I mean, you got here
so fast.” Andrea brushed her hair back from her face.

“I was in the computer room and heard your
voice. You didn’t sound too happy, so I decided to check it out.”
Jamal walked up to her with worry in his brown eyes. “Are you sure
you’re okay? You looked rattled.”

“No, no. I’m just fine, like I said. Really.”
Andrea moved away from him as she tried to compose herself.

“If you say so.” Still he eyed her as though
he wasn’t convinced.

“What?” Andrea blushed at the protective
force that radiated from him.

“Nothing. I just... Nothing.” Jamal looked
away.

“You must have taken karate courses or
something, the way you handled Bo.” Andrea glanced at his muscular
arms as she spoke.

“Yeah, that and I grew up in a rough
neighborhood.

In South Central you gotta know how to take
care of yourself.” Jamal shrugged.

“I see. Sounds like a scary place.” Andrea
stared at his lips; the way they moved when he formed words wove a
spell that captured her.

“It could be. Just like here, there’s good
people and bad people that live there. Course, it’s not as scenic
as Bayou Blue.” Jamal smiled.

“Right,” Andrea murmured. She stared into his
eyes.

Jamal’s expression softened; his breathing
became audible in the silence that stretched for several seconds.
“I mean this place is more beautiful than I’d imagined it to
be.”

“It is. A lot of trees and plants stay green
even in win-ter. Then there are the bayous and swamps.” Andrea
chewed her bottom lip gently.

“I’m glad I made this move, Andrea,” he said,
his voice a soft rumble.

The sound of it, deep with hidden promise,
sent a shiver all the way to her toes. “Lucky for me you did come
to town. You’ve saved me twice now.”

“I guess that means me working at the clinic
is a good thing?” Jamal’s dimple deepened along with his smile.

He exuded a potent combination of sexiness
and boyish charm at that moment. She wanted to run her fingers
through his dark hair and feel the texture of those ebony
curls.

“Well... I guess it does.” Andrea smiled
back.

A door slammed and voices approached. Andrea
blinked hard and glanced away from him sharply. It seemed to her
that the air between them crackled with electricity. Jamal cleared
his throat.

“I’ll, uh, check around and make sure he’s
gone,” he said.

“Good idea,” Andrea replied, her throat tight
from the effort not to show how he was affecting her.

“Then we can walk out together.” Jamal wore
an expression of gentle concern. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“No. I was leaving after the last appointment
to go to a meeting.”

He nodded and walked away. She stared at him
for several seconds. Andrea was almost panting at the way his back
pockets moved with each stride. It took all her willpower to tear
her gaze away from him. Jamal Turner was dangerous indeed. She
could well imagine the long line of smitten females he attracted
just by curving that full mouth up at the comers. Well, she would
not be one of them. After giving Katy several quick instructions,
she headed out. Jamal stood at the door waiting for her.

“Keep this up and people will think you’re my
body-guard,” Andrea quipped.

“You might need one around here.” Jamal
walked be-side her. “And even though you weren’t thrilled the board
hired me without consulting you, you could use the help.”

“It’s okay.” He held up a large palm. “A
little muscle isn’t a bad idea with the rough characters hanging
around.”

“Ahem, yes.” Andrea could not help but glance
at his chest and arms again. “I think we can learn to work
together.”

“So do I.” Jamal waited until she unlocked
her car door, and then opened it for her. “See you tomorrow.”

“Good-bye.” Andrea got in and allowed him to
shut the door firmly.

He stood outside until she drove out of the
parking lot. Andrea glanced back to see him still standing there.
When he waved, she waved back. The image of strength and caring
stayed with her for the rest of the day.

***

Andrea looked around her mother’s living
room. Charlene lived in an upscale town house in New Orleans right
off St. Charles Avenue. Vibrant emerald green, deep purple and
royal blue were represented throughout. The fine wool Oriental rug
complemented the upholstered furniture. Drapes of deep taupe and
green were pulled back from the windows. The room was just like
Charlene, bright but not garish. Charming and elegant.

Andrea frowned. Yet it lacked something. This
was not a home Andrea would come to at the end of a hard day and
feel comfortable enough to leave her shoes in the middle of the
floor. Her frown turned into a smile. It was just like Charlene to
have the perfect showcase. A far cry from the homey “take off your
panty hose and let it all hang out” feel of Gran’s house. Gran used
to joke that Charlene used to line up her toy teacups just so.
Charlene would faint if she were to find a ceramic knickknack on
her fancy mantel.

Still, Charlene was making an effort to be
maternal. Her invitation for Andrea to “work me into your busy
schedule” had held just the right amount of guilt to make her
point. Andrea could not be irritated since Charlene wanted to spend
more time with her. Today was part of her campaign for them to mend
their relationship, which was strained at best. Andrea made a
silent promise to put forth more of an effort. Perhaps next time
she would invite Charlene out. What could they do together? They
had such different interests and tastes. Andrea was turning over
this riddle when Charlene entered the room carrying a tray bearing
coffee and the doughnuts she knew Andrea loved so.

“Here we go. Hot beignets from Cafe Du
Monde.” Her reddish brown hair was cut short and feathered to frame
her heart-shaped face. She was dressed in a taupe short-sleeved
silk blouse tucked into white jeans. Silver dangle earrings
sparkled as she moved. Charlene reveled in looking even younger
than her forty-six years. She was delighted when people expressed
amazement that she had a daughter Andrea’s age. Indeed, they were
frequently mistaken for sisters, a mistake Charlene did not always
correct. Andrea gazed at her. Their features were alike. Andrea had
always felt she was a copy of her mother, but did not quite capture
the spark of the original.

“I told you not to go to any trouble.” Andrea
sat down at the dining room table.

She knew her mother was far from domestic.
Yet Charlene had prepared fresh fruits, juice, and coffee. She’d
been determined to make this mother-daughter breakfast special.

“Don’t worry, honey. I didn’t cut up the
fruit.” Charlene giggled. “But even I can make good coffee. What
kind of Louisiana girl would I be if I couldn’t?”

“I hope it’s not as strong as Gran makes it.
That first cup she gave me almost made my eyes pop. Guess I’ve been
drinking weak Yankee coffee too long.” Andrea laughed. “Gran is
something else.”

“You mean stubborn.” Charlene sat down across
from her and flipped open a cotton napkin that matched the place
mats. “She’s got no business drinking coffee.” “She’s cut back on
the number of cups she drinks. Only one a day. And her blood
pressure is just fine.” Andrea dug into her bowl of fruit.

“All the same, herbal tea would be better.”
Charlene sniffed. “But at least she listens to somebody''

“Don’t start. You two are always digging at
each other.” Andrea shook her head as if she were chastising two
bickering children. “Am I going to have to referee again?”

“Actually I’m in her good graces since I
helped you get that job and come home. She usually ignores anything
I suggest.” Charlene waved her fruit fork in the air.

Andrea stiffened. “Yes, and exactly what did
you do to get me the job?”

“Ahem, I know some people in state
government. We all belong to the Krewe of Ashanti. When I heard
about the clinic—”

“How did you hear about it?” Andrea asked.
“You don’t visit Bayou Blue very often.”

“Are you trying to say I don’t keep in touch
with Mama? I call her at least once a month.”

“She told you about the clinic?”

“She might have mentioned it. I don’t
recall.” Charlene shrugged and sipped from a china coffee cup.

“You talked to that man.” Andrea couldn’t
bring her-self to say his name. “Why can’t you just tell me the
truth for once?”

“Now, wait a minute, young lady. I may only
be six-teen years older than you, but I’m still your mother.” She
put her cup down with a sharp clink.

Any other time, Andrea might have been
amused. Not today. A dull, thudding headache started at the base of
her skull. It was a familiar attempt to deflect Andrea from a
subject Charlene did not want to pursue.

“This move back home was good for us all.
Yes, I missed my child. Is that a crime?” Her mother added just the
right plaintive note.

“Oh, Charlene, please!” Andrea shook her
head.

“Don’t call me Charlene,” she snapped back.
“I’m your mother.”

“Only when it suits you,” Andrea retorted.
Pain flashed across Charlene’s face. Andrea immediately regretted
her words.

“I see.” Charlene got up and went to the
window. “I suppose you think Mama really raised you, that I
neglected you.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it came
out. Re-ally.”

Andrea searched for a way to back away from
this emotional cliff. They’d never openly discussed John
Mandeville. As though by mutual agreement, one of them would
quickly end any argument that threatened to open that deep
wound.

“Maybe I’m not the ideal mother.” Charlene’s
voice was sad and subdued. She turned sharply to face her. “But I
do care about you.”

Andrea went to Charlene and hugged her. “Of
course. I know.” She tried to smile. “Guess I’m the latest
generation of smart-mouthed Ricard women.”

Charlene pulled back and held both of
Andrea’s shoulders. “I only wanted the best for you, Drea,” she
said, ignoring Andrea’s attempt to lighten the moment. “You have to
believe me.”

“I do.” Andrea smiled. “And I’m glad you’re
my mommy. Even if I do have to put up with people thinking you’re
younger than me.”

“Oh, stop,” Charlene said with a pleased
smile. “But you’re right about me choosing when to be your mother.
I’ve darted in and out of your life like a bumble bee.” “Now,
Char—Mother, I said I was sorry.”

“It’s time I follow your grandmother’s advice
to grow up.” Charlene assumed a matronly expression.

Andrea looked worried. “And what does that
mean?” “Just that I plan to be here for you. I don’t want you to
end up on one of those horrible talk shows telling the world how
awful a mother I am.” Charlene’s copper eyes widened.

“Oh, really.” Andrea laughed with relief. Her
dramatic, lovely mother was back, thank the Lord. “Could you see me
baring my soul on national television?” Charlene giggled. “I guess
not.” Then her expression grew intent as she swept Andrea from head
to toe with an appraising gaze. “In fact, you’re too restrained.
Too serious.”

“Not that again,” Andrea said with a sigh.
She went back to the table and sat down, with Charlene following
close behind.

“Your hair is lovely, but my hairdresser Eric
could give you a sexy new cut.” Charlene lifted a lock of Andrea’s
hair as though already planning what she’d tell him to do.

“I don’t want sexy hair, thank you.” Then a
vision of that chocolate dream Jamal flashed in her head. “You
think he could, you know, fluff it up a bit?”

“Absolutely!” Charlene clapped her hands
together in anticipation. “You’d love it.”

“Nothing too drastic,” Andrea put in quickly
with a frown. She had to put reins on Charlene or who knew what
she’d end up looking like.

“Leave it to me.” Charlene stood back with
one hand under her chin. “And these clothes ...”

Andrea tugged at her blouse self-consciously.
“What’s the matter with my clothes? They look fine.” “Pu-leeze.
Where do you shop? Frumps R Us?” Charlene frowned at the skirt and
blouse set Andrea had worn.

’ “There is nothing wrong with my clothes,”
Andrea said, sticking out her chin. “I don’t like short skirts.”
“Well, there is one thing Mama and I agree on. You need a good man
to set your soul on fire.” Charlene sat down across from her and
winked.

Andrea started, her jaw almost hitting the
tabletop. “Gran talks entirely too much. I’ve got too much work to
do to think about him.”

“He’s a nice enough young man. Why shouldn’t
you think about him?” Charlene picked up the ceramic coffeepot on a
heated base and refreshed both their cups.