When I’m With You (Indigo) (13 page)

“Child, thinking about Ron only gives me a headache. Working with teenagers would give me a stroke.”

Caitlyn laughed. “I really need your help. Pleasssse? Besides, sharing your experience as a nurse would really help Chanta.”

Vic’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s Chanta?”

Caitlyn smiled. “A teenage version of you.”

“Oh, hell no! I can’t stand me sometimes, and you want me to work with someone like me with raging hormones?” Vic shook her head again. “Uh-uh. No way.”

“Victoria Louise Bennett…”

Vic grinned. “You know I can’t stand it when you beg. So before I say yes, what day?”

“Saturdays.”

“Saturdays?”

“Yes.”

“What time?”

“Nine.”

Vic grimaced. “In the morning, nine?”

Caitlyn sighed. “Yes, Vic.”

Vic cut her light brown eyes at Caitlyn. “All right. Just be sure to have my Tylenol handy. Extra strength at that.”

* * *

“Come on,
petit frère
, I need your help on this one,” Marcel pleaded for the umpteenth time.

A.J. shook his head the entire time Marcel begged, his shoulder-length ponytail swishing along the top of his broad shoulders. The easygoing pediatrician had resigned a coveted position as chief of pediatrics at Children’s Hospital two years ago and was in the process of opening a family health center in East Oakland. The change allowed him more time raising his adopted twin daughters, Taylor and Tyler.

Marcel frowned. “No?”

“That’s right. No. You never call me little brother, especially in French, unless you want something.”

“Why won’t you help out?”

“Who’s going to watch the girls on Saturday mornings?”

“If I told you I’d take care of it, would you say yes?”

A.J. smiled. “Day and time?”

“Saturday mornings at nine.”

“You’re interfering with my Friday nights.”

“No, I’m not. Now if you were Ray, then I’d have to say you were right. Besides, you haven’t been out on a date in two years.”

Raphael, their youngest brother who answered to Ray, was a world-renowned jazz musician who made Casanova seem like a monk.

A.J.’s double dimples peeked through when he smiled. “Keeping up with my love life?”

Marcel smiled back. “Hell, it’s been three years since I’ve dated, so I’ve got you beat by a year.”

Sprawled across the couch with a pillow over her head and a blanket tucked to her chin, Caitlyn was tempted to remain there, but the insistent banging at her door and the question, “Kitten, you in there?” from the other side made her abandon the thought.

“Hi, baby. What’s wrong?” Marcel didn’t try to conceal the anxiety in his voice when she finally opened the door.

Clutching her stomach, she winced and waved him in. “Bad cramps.”

Marcel closed the door with concern etched on his face. “I was worried about you. I didn’t know if something happened or what. I called the center, and they said you’d phoned in sick. I’ve been trying to reach you here all morning and didn’t get an answer.”

Caitlyn slowly moved toward the couch. “I turned the ringer down. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.” She clutched her stomach with one hand and rubbed at her lower back with the other.

He sat beside her. “Is it like this every month?”

“No. I’m really irregular. But when it does decide to show up,” she rolled her eyes, “it comes with a vengeance.” She lowered her lashes. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?”

“I look like crap.” She tried to straighten her Capri pants and T-shirt. “Plus, I’m embarrassed.”

He shrugged. “You look fine to me. But why are you embarrassed?” Then the answer dawned on him. “Not because you’re having bad cramps?”

She nodded.

“Kitten, it’s the most natural thing in the world. There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about. Do you have anything to take for them?”

She bobbed her head. “But it makes me sleepy and I don’t like being by myself half conscious.”

Marcel took off his suit coat, tossed it on the back of the sofa and held out his hand. “Come on.”

She placed her hand in his and looked up with a puzzled stare. “Come where?”

“Trust me.”

He led her into the bedroom, then pointed to the bed. “Off your feet, lady, until I get things ready.”

He took off his onyx cufflinks, rolled back his sleeves and put his watch inside his pocket. Once inside the bathroom, he began to fill the tub. A few seconds later, he peeked his head out the door. “Do you use any kind of bubble bath?”

She turned in bed until she could see him. “Yes. Right side of the vanity cabinet.”

A couple of minutes later, Marcel was at the foot of the bed. “Where’s your robe, kitten.”

She looked to her right. “In the closet.”

He glanced around the room. “Okay. Baby oil? Towels?”

“Baby oil, on top of the dresser, and towels are in the linen closet in the hallway. But—”

“No buts.” He helped her to her feet. “The water’s a little hot, but that’s good for you.” When she hesitated, he gave her shoulder a gentle push. “Go on before it cools off.”

Walking toward the bathroom, she stopped and spoke over her shoulder. “Where did you—”

“I grew up around three sisters, remember?” Once Caitlyn began to peel off her clothes, Marcel made a half turn to the door, then stopped. “Let me know when you’re finished, all right?”

“Marcel?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Thank you.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome. All right, now lean your head back on that towel.” He turned and quietly closed the door behind him.

Marcel searched every cabinet in the kitchen until he found several bags of herbal tea. He’d placed a cup of water in the microwave and was waiting for it to heat when he heard Caitlyn call out to him.

After her bath, Caitlyn slipped on a pair of shorts and another T-shirt and sat on the edge of the bed.

Marcel walked in with a steaming cup of tea. “I think this will help.” He placed the cup on the nightstand. “Feeling better?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now stretch out for me. I’ll be right back.”

A few moments later he returned with two large towels. He grabbed the baby oil off the dresser, then pointed toward the bathroom. “Do you keep your medicine in there?”

“Yes. Second shelf inside the cabinet.”

He grabbed the bottle, read the directions and took out two tablets. Back at the side of the bed, he held out his hand. “Come on. Take these. There’s no sense in suffering with pain if you have something that will knock it out.”

Lying on her stomach, she rolled to her side. “But it’ll make me sleepy.”

He shrugged. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She popped the white tablets in her mouth and washed them down with the tea.

“What hurts most?”

She groaned. “My back.”

“Okay. We’ll start there first.” He spread one of the towels on the bed. “On your stomach for me.”

With long, tapered fingers, he gently kneaded her shoulders, and in a steady motion, worked his way down her spine.

“Umm, feels good.”

“Is the pain starting to ease?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He continued to gently massage the muscles that felt like knots. “Now close your eyes and relax for me.”

“Thank you.” She fought back a yawn. “I don’t want to keep you from anything. Go on. I’ll be okay.”

Bending down, he placed a soft kiss at the center of her back. “Go to sleep, kitten. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

* * *

After a Saturday mentoring session at the youth center, Marcel accepted a challenge from Jamal, the young boy he’d met on his first day at the center, to a game of one-on-one at the gym a couple of blocks away. Caitlyn decided to work on a couple of reports while she waited for them to return.

Two hours later, Marcel staggered into her office breathing heavily. Bent at the waist, he clutched his thighs and sweat dripped down his face. Finally, he slumped into a nearby chair.

“Whew.” Marcel sounded winded.

“Poor baby.” Caitlyn bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud, but a snicker still managed to escape.

Opening one eye, Marcel looked at her. “What’s so funny?”

“You thinking you’re the twenty-year-old version of the NBA’s next superstar.”

He closed his eye. “I‘ll have you know I can hang with the best of them.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So, who won?”

“It was close.”

“In other words, you got your butt kicked, right?”

He leaned his head against the back of the chair and stretched out his long legs as a hard sigh escaped. “Hell yeah.”

“Let me see if I can make it better.” Caitlyn took a seat on his lap and sniffed. She leaned back and wrinkled her nose. “Oh, baby, you stink.”

Marcel chuckled. “Jamal smells just as bad.”

She started to get up but a pair of strong arms held her still.

“In some countries, women like their men musty, you know.”

“Sorry to bust your bubble here, but this is the U.S. of A., brother, and this woman likes a good-smelling man.”

He pulled her closer and rubbed his sweaty face against the side of hers. “You mean good smelling with deodorant, aftershave, cologne—”

“Right now, I’d settle for soap and water.”

They both laughed.

Marcel caressed each corner of her mouth before his tongue slipped inside. He sighed with contentment. “Listen, if we’re going to keep our date, I’d better get going. It’ll take me at least thirty minutes to drive home, shower, change, and drive back over to pick you up.”

“Do you have a change of clothes with you?”

“Yeah,” he answered with a hesitant drawl.

“Deodorant and cologne?”

He chuckled. “Yes. Why?”

“Want to shower and change at my place?”

“You sure?”

She got up, grabbed her purse and took a single key off the ring. She held it out to him. “I’m sure. I need about thirty more minutes to finish this report anyway. ”

Accepting the key, he stood and pulled her close and murmured his thanks against her mouth. “
Merci.
”

She parted her lips and his tongue slipped inside. When they finally pulled away, she started to say to him “you’re welcome” in English. But her French lessons had improved tremendously. “
De rien
.”

“Marcel, you’re putting the wrong fork by the knife.” Brie chastened her twin brother as she watched him arrange the antique sterling-silver flatware. She looked closely at the fork again. “Yep, I was right. Boy, that’s a salad fork.”

“Look, Brie, right now a fork’s a fork, all right?” With a little less than an hour before Caitlyn’s arrival for dinner with his family, Marcel nervously scurried around the dining room table to make sure everything was perfect. His grandmother, Mama Z, had gladly taken charge of dinner and prepared several of her delicious Creole dishes. Earlier that morning, Marcel had ordered his personal housekeeping service to come in and clean his father’s house from top to bottom, even though Alcee told him his cleaning service had performed the weekly task the day before.

Marcel couldn’t remember how many bottles of wine he’d flown in from his favorite winery in Italy until they had arrived at his house two days earlier. He had spent a small fortune ordering a new set of Waterford crystal because he thought he saw a chip on one of the wineglasses he’d inspected the week before. When the clerk told him she couldn’t guarantee his order would arrive in time, he’d explained to her in no uncertain terms he expected his order by the close of business the next day. The store manager personally delivered it before noon.

His constant appearances in and out of the kitchen forced Mama Z to issue a temporary restraining order against him for the remainder of the evening. She reassured him she had the evening’s meal under control and pleaded with him to go find someone else’s nerves to rattle. With less than an hour before dinner, he found his partner in crime, his ace, Brie.

His fraternal twin was older by two minutes, and Brie had absolutely no trouble reminding him he was her little brother. He’d shared her pain when she lost the love of her life, her husband of only two years, in a head-on collision. Since then, she’d channeled all of her energies into establishing a successful beauty salon and spa, Taste of Heaven.

From the opposite side of the table, Brie stiffened her six-foot frame and braced her hands on her narrow hips. She grinned. “Little brother, there’re different types of forks. What if Caitlyn has more sophistication than you appear to have right now and knows the difference?”