Tender Touch (12 page)

Jade could not stop the gasp she uttered as
a blast of hot energy surged down her back to spread through her
hips. The desire to have his hands on her body left her weak, too
weak to pull away when his tongue flickered over her mouth. He
kissed her with a slow, sweet searching moment of his lips and
tongue. But soon urgency took control as his hands gripped her
shoulders tighter. Jade could feel the rest of the world slip away
until there was only the touch of his skin and the warm, tangy
scent of him. Her mind filled with a kaleidoscope of pastels that
swirled. All she wanted was for this to go on forever. She wanted
more than to just be with him, she wanted to be inside him. No, she
needed to have him inside her. Close was not enough. This man moved
her to a place so wondrous, so delicious it was almost
supernatural. His large hands moved with a gentleness that drove
her wild. Damon was not just holding and kissing her, he possessed
her the way a powerful spirit might possess a poor mortal. The
certainty that they were meant to be together, emotionally and
physically, flashed into her consciousness like a blinding bolt of
lightning.

“Jade, baby,” Damon moaned. “You taste so
good.” He kissed her face and neck.

She wrapped both arms around him. “We
shouldn’t...” Yet even as she spoke, she pressed her body to
his.

Damon nuzzled her cleavage. “Take it slow,
you mean?” he said in a soft voice.

“Oh, my—I mean yes,” Jade said. She shook
her head in an attempt to clear it. When he kissed the base of her
throat, she melted into him again.

“Don’t make me wait too long,” Damon
whispered in her ear before leaning back against the cushions. A
sheen of perspiration made his face glisten. He took out a
handkerchief.

“Mercy, mercy me.” Jade got up from the sofa
on legs like soft putty. She had to move away from the force of
him. It was more than she could resist for much longer. Walking to
the fireplace, she sought to steady herself by holding on to the
cool marble of the mantel. Her back was to him.

“Please don’t be angry with me. I know I got
carried away,” Damon said in a voice laden with anxiety after
several long minutes of silence.

“Damon, it’s so fast.” Jade wanted to laugh
and cry at the same time.

“I’m sorry, I went too far. But please don’t
turn away from me.” Damon stood beside her but was careful not to
touch her.

“What?” Jade blinked with confusion. The
haze of desire still clouded her mind.

“How can I explain it?” Damon paced in front
of the sofa. “I feel like a man stumbling out of the desert to find
a cool stream of spring water. A little sip only makes me that much
more thirsty for you.”

“Damon—”

“I know. Getting heavy is not on your agenda
right now.”

“Damon...” Jade was so full of emotion that
all she wanted to say crowded her mouth until she could not say
anything. The old fear that she was not worthy of him slammed back
with a vengeance. This was too good to be true, which meant it
could not, would not last. She backed away from him. “Maybe I’d
better go now.”

Misery painted his features with a grim
frown of resignation. “Have I lost you?” he asked.

Jade could not bear to be the cause of that
look. She came back to stand before him, a hand on his arm. “No,
no! It’s just that I need some time to sort through all I’m
feeling.” She gave him a smile of reassurance and touched his
cheek. It was hard not to pour out her heart to him.

Damon placed his hand over hers. “I don’t
want to do anything to make you go away.” He smiled at her with a
gleam of amusement in his eyes. “Besides, I need a little time to
recuperate from you, too. Now I truly understand the expression
‘You rock my world.’ ”

Jade laughed. “I can testify myself,
brother-man.” She planted a chaste kiss on his chin then moved away
fast before the spark ignited between them again. She picked up her
purse and coat on her way out. “I’ll see you soon.”

He was beside her in a few long strides and
stood close. Damon brushed her face once more then opened the front
door. “Count on it.”

Chapter 5

Thanks for meeting with me on such short
notice.” Lang shook hands with Damon.

They were in Damon’s suite of offices in the
Knight-Cormier Building. An office complex built with financing
from both of his grandfathers in 1960, not long after his parents
were married, it was three stories high. Titus Knight wanted his
son to make a big impression on the business community. Aubin
Cormier wanted his new son-in-law to continue to provide for his
much treasured youngest daughter in the style she was accustomed to
and deserved.

Located in the heart of what was known from
the early thirties as the heart of the black upper-crust business
district, it was made of gray brick with large windows facing the
street. A large sculpture by Frank Hayden, a leading black artist,
greeted visitors as they entered the lobby. Prints of famous
paintings by Henry Ossawa Tanner, Clementine Hunter and others
lined the halls leading to offices. Tenants included attorneys, an
insurance company and even a black dentist. Damon’s offices were on
the top floor with a nice view of tree-lined Harding Boulevard.

“No problem, Bill. Have a seat. Now what can
I do for you?” Damon sat opposite Lang in a dark red leather chair
that matched three others arranged around a cherry wood table set
in an alcove of his spacious office. A window let in late winter
sunshine that brightened the room.

Lang accepted a cup of coffee from Damon’s
secretary, Marius. “Thank you, son. I think it’s great the way
you’ve given jobs to the young brothers in need.”

“Marius has done well for himself. He’s got
more of a focus than ever before.”

“Marius is from Easy Town, right? Gangs have
really gotten to be a problem in that area.”

Damon gave a solemn nod. “One of his
brothers is on death row at Angola State Prison. I think Marius has
made up his mind to live a different kind of life.”

“Good for him. Good for him.” Lang took a
sip of coffee. “This place never goes out of style.” He gazed
around the office building.

Damon wondered about the purpose of this
visit. Just what was Lang leading up to now? He’d known him since
they were teenagers, and disliked him for just as long. “Bill, you
didn’t come here to talk about gangs or admire my office building.”
He sat back and waited.

Lang smiled. “Still the same serious,
get-to-the-point Damon Knight. How long have we known each other?
Sixteen, seventeen years?”

“Longer. We met when we were juniors in high
school. Then again at Morehouse.” Damon remembered how the
fresh-faced young man could charm his way into any woman’s bed or
gain the trust of other men.

“Yes, those were some good times.”

“Mostly,” Damon replied. He also remembered
how he learned that Lang was willing to do whatever was necessary
to get what he wanted. Lang would not break laws, if he could help
it. But bending rules or changing them to suit his needs came easy
to William Jefferson Lang.

“You’re still not holding a grudge about
that incident with the vice chancellor are you? Man, we’re
grown-ups now. Besides, I talked you out of trouble.” Lang put his
cup down.

“I didn’t have anything to do with faking
those lab results in the first place. And Thomas St. George was
expelled, while you were only suspended for two semesters.” Damon
wore an expression of displeasure. Thomas had gone home in
disgrace. He’d later completed his education at a small college in
Virginia.

“Wonder how old Thomas is doing?” Lang
seemed curious but not the least bit regretful that the
impressionable young man had suffered because he’d been led into
trouble by him.

“Quite well,” Damon said. No thanks to you.
“He’s running his uncle’s hardware store chain in West
Virginia.”

“Splendid.”

‘Bill, I’m still wondering why you’re here.”
Damon now wanted him out of his office.

“There have been several meetings with Mike
and Steve Franklin about the grant that you haven’t attended.
Why?”

“I didn’t think it was appropriate to meet
with them just yet. I thought we were going to set up a steering
committee to include community members.” Damon had explained all
this to Mike Testor when he’d called him a month ago.

“We’re working on it.”

“Apparently key decisions will be made and
then handed to them to be rubber-stamped.”

“Certainly not. But as a businessman you
know that not everything can be done by committee. We’d never get
this project rolling if some groundwork was not done to help them
get a solid start.” Lang was all reason.

“What kind of groundwork?” Damon wore a
skeptical expression.

“Starting with a policy and procedures
manual for their review; but first putting together an orientation
for them. This committee could become a permanent advisory board.
These are just a few of the details we need to discuss,” Lang said.
He sat forward with an earnest look to his suave features. “Let’s
get down to the real deal, Damon.”

“Which is?”

“You don’t trust me.” Lang held up a hand to
forestall a reply. “With good reason, I admit. But like I said,
I’ve grown up a lot since college.”

“Look, I’m not accusing you of anything.”
Damon was still wary. He’d seen Lang in action too many times over
the years.

“You don’t have to, brother. All I’m asking
is that you look over my career for the last twelve years.”

Damon could not dispute him. He’d watched
Lang rise in state government with a solid reputation for getting
things done. “You’ve done some good things,” he said finally.

Lang sat back. “I’ve been active in the
community. I want to change some of the things that have gone wrong
for all poor people, though of course the plight of black people
touches me at a deeper level.”

This time Damon sat forward. “Which is why
we can’t afford to lose any opportunity to reach out. Conservatives
have been more successful than most folks realize in cutting back
on programs. But so-called liberals have gone along with a lot of
their agenda as well.”

“We’re in total agreement. So you’re afraid
I’ll do something to squander a chance to make an impact?” Lang
raised an eyebrow at him.

“Steve Franklin has a reputation for putting
profit before quality services. With his interests in nursing homes
and psychiatric hospitals, he’s made millions.” Damon stopped short
of mentioning recent revelations about overbilling Medicaid funds.
Four psychiatric hospitals run by Franklin’s health care company
were responsible for much of it.

“Steve can be an aggressive business hound,
sure. But his facilities have come through audits and survey
reviews with only a few minor citations.”

Damon knew this was true since it had been
reported in the newspapers. Even with a lot of digging,
investigative reporters had not turned up any wrongdoing that
involved Franklin. Maybe he was being too paranoid. Lang was right,
they were almost twenty years older now.

“I’m sorry, but it’s just that those folks
are so used to having their hopes crushed,” Damon said. “Too many
grants end up providing high-paying jobs for a few of the
already-haves.”

“I’m going to be straight up, Damon. We need
you because the people around Gracie Street, Easy Town and Banks
trust you. For our efforts to really be effective, we need that
credibility factor. If you ever have any questions about something
we’ve done, don’t hesitate to ask. You’ll be kept fully informed.”
Lang’s tone was decisive and meant to inspire confidence.

Damon still hesitated. “Eddie should be more
of a player than I.”

“Of course Eddie can represent you. I know
how busy you are running one of the most successful black
businesses in the state. I don’t expect you to make every meeting,”
Lang put in quickly.

“It’s not so much that...” Damon thought of
Jade. Lang was right about his time being at a premium with the
stores and Gracie Street Center activities. But Jade was now an
important factor. She worked long hours and so did he, but Damon
had no intention of missing out on such a fabulous woman. Meeting
with Lang and the others would take precious hours away from his
already scarce private life.

“Besides, the best way you can know we’re
doing the right thing is to be present. Right? And we’ll meet at my
office, which is just a ten-minute drive from here.”

The prospect of seeing more of Jade turned
Damon’s hesitation into decision. “When is the next time you get
together?”

Lang smiled broadly. “Next Thursday at
ten-thirty. We should be through by lunchtime at least.” He stood
up and pumped Damon’s hand. “I’m glad we had this talk. We’re going
to make a great team, Damon.”

* * *

Steve Franklin swiped at his mouth with a
linen napkin. “That guy bothers me, Mike. He’s always pulling on
Bill’s chain about something.” He sat across from Mike Testor in
the dining room of the exclusive City Club restaurant.

“Let him. He doesn’t know squat.” Testor
chewed on the portion of prime rib.

“But he could get Lang to thinking about
those certificates too much.” Franklin suppressed a burp then dove
back into his pasta dish.

“Look, Bill knows the deal. He’s more than
willing to see this thing through. Now what have you heard from
your people?”

Franklin put down his fork and leaned
forward. “Medicaid funding guidelines are definitely going to
change within the next nine months. Disproportionate share is
history.” He wore a sour look.

“Damn! Couldn’t our man in Congress do
anything about this?” Mike Testor drummed his fingers on the
table.