Blindsided (Indigo Love Spectrum) (22 page)

“What does Norris Converse know about courting a
woman?”

“Nothing. But I want to learn with you.”

N
orris seemed sincere, and Dahlia believed he loved
her, but she also knew Jonah had loved her once, too.
She’d thought Jonah was true, but he’d cheated with her
sister. Norris had an affinity for the ladies, which was a
big part of the reason she was drawn to him. She liked
that he found her attractive, and she enjoyed the idea of
being with him without the situation being clouded by
feelings. He couldn’t hurt her because she wanted what
he wanted—no ties. Norris used to be safe, and now he
wasn’t.

He was a lifelong playboy. Sure, he loved her now, but
how long would his love last? Her wounded heart didn’t
buy into longevity. And as much as she loved Norris, she
didn’t think she could trust her heart to him, and
doubted she ever would.

“I’m sorry, Norris, but I don’t want to be the guinea pig in your dating experiment. I suggest we forget our
previous arrangement and this dating idea and keep
things all business. You’ll handle my audit and I’ll be
guardian to Reese. You’ll still have complete access to her,
but not to me. That’s the way it has to be.”

Norris stood and shrugged. “Okay.”

Okay? That was it? No protestations?
“I’m not going to
change my mind,” Dahlia said, waiting for more from him.

“All right,” he said, heading for the door. “I’d like to have lunch with Reese tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

She nodded without saying a word. Of all the
responses she’s gotten from Norris when they talked
about this relationship he wanted, this was the strangest
of all. Had he really given up on her? Dahlia followed
him to the door.

He pulled the door open and turned around.
“Dahlia?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly, certain he was about to
offer his last ditch effort.

“I’ve been reviewing your paperwork, and I should
have a report for you in a couple of days.”

“Th-thank you.”

“No problem. Take care.”

“Yeah, you, too.”

Dahlia closed the door behind him, needing those
chips more than ever.

* * *

Norris returned to his condo, feeling particularly
happy considering Dahlia had shot him down yet again.
But this brush-off gave him hope. He’d changed his game
plan, and it appeared to be working.
Be accommodating.
He would give Dahlia what she thought she wanted, and
in the long run he’d get what he wanted, a long and
happy future with her.

He tossed his suit coat to the couch and clicked on
the television. Norris Converse at home alone on a
Saturday night. He dropped to the couch and flipped
through the channels. He’d thought last week was a fluke,
but two weeks in a row presented an unlikely pattern.
He’d worked late last Friday, had dinner with Ryan and
Lara last night, but another Saturday night found him
w
atching cable news. He groaned. Dahlia had to get past
her issues soon.

Thirty minutes into a special on the economy, Norris
heard a knock on his door. He smiled, feeling a strong
sense of validation. Dahlia had come to her senses
quicker than he’d expected. He moved to the door and
pulled it open. “I knew you would . . .” He stopped
abruptly. “Mom.”

“You remember me,” she said, walking past him and
into the living room. “You might want to close the door,
son. Those horrible bugs that fly around the light fixtures
might find their way inside.”

Norris closed the door and gazed at his mother, who
was getting way too comfortable on his couch. Genevieve
Converse was a woman who liked things her way, and
when she didn’t get it, she wasn’t happy. From an old-
money Greek family, the sixty-three-year-old socialite
was a curt, overbearing snob. And that was on her good
days. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t you check your messages?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know I said I was coming for a visit.”
Genevieve sniffled, probably from the painful-looking
extra-tight bun she had her dark hair pulled into. “Your
father and I are having problems,” she said, dabbing at
misty gray eyes.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mom,” he said with as much
feeling as he could muster, “but you won’t be able to fix
them when you’re here and he’s . . . Where is Dad?”

“
The Riviera, the last I heard. Probably lying on the
beach with some naked tart at his side.” She shook her
head, as if clearing the image from her mind. “We are offi
cially separated, and times like these I need my children.”

“You have two other children,” Norris reminded her,
none too pleased with being the chosen child on this occasion.

“Yes, but Lane is out of the country on business and
your sister is . . . I don’t know where your sister is. I
always know where you are. It’s the one good thing about
you living among commoners in South Carolina.”

“Commoners. Weren’t you and Dad the ones who
insisted Lane, Julia, and I live amongst the ‘commoners’
as we grew up?”

“No, no, no, that was not my idea, it was your
father’s. Had I my druthers, you and your siblings would
have stayed in Greece with my family and the power and
position you deserve.”

“You had no say in it, huh?”

“I was raised to respect my husband’s wishes.”

“So, this separation is Dad’s idea and you’re just going
along with it?”

Genevieve sighed. “Norris, really, I don’t need this
from you right now.”

A horn sounded outside.

“That’s the taxi driver,” Genevieve explained. “I don’t
have any cash, so could you take care of that for me and
bring in the luggage?”

“Honestly, Mom, I think you’d be more comfortable at a hotel. The Inn is very nice.”

“
I’ve stayed there before, Norris, and it’s nice for what
it is, but I want to stay with you. Darling, really, the
meter is running,” she said, shooing him on his way.
Norris bit back the testy words resting on his tongue as he made his way to the waiting cabbie. Why would she
care about a few dollars when she wasn’t paying the bill
anyway? And ordering him around in his house . . . this
could not last.

With the promise of a ten-dollar tip, Norris got the
impatient driver to help him lug in what looked to be
several months’ worth of luggage. Roughly five minutes
later, after he brought in the last suitcase, Norris imme
diately noticed his mother wasn’t in the living room and his art pieces had been removed from the walls.

His face grew hot. “Mother!” Norris shouted.
“Mother!”

Genevieve strolled into the living room. “Norris,
must you shout? What is the problem?”

“Where is my art?”

“Art? Oh, you mean the hideous masks you keep on the walls. I removed them. They’re scary, and just not appropriate for a man of your means. The leather furniture isn’t so bad, but those masks . . .”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re a wealthy man, and you have a lovely home,
but your taste in art? Son, what is it with the jungle
motif?”

“It is not a jungle motif. I happen to like and appre
ciate African art, and it is very expensive. And consid
ering this is
my
house, I want
my
art back on
my
walls. I
d
on’t want you touching anything in here. As a matter of
fact, I don’t want you staying here.”

“I’m going through so much right now. Why are you
being hostile towards me?”

Norris covered his eyes. His temples pounded with
the threat of a monster headache. “Mom, I’m not being
hostile, I’m just tired and I don’t like my things being
disturbed.”

“Fine, I’ll put the masks back up.”

“You do that.” Norris sat on the couch and closed his
eyes, wanting to block out the fact his mother was
standing in his living room. She needed a place to stay.
“Mom, I don’t mind having you a few days, but just until
you find your own place. Your luggage suggests you’ll be
in town for a while.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but I wanted to
be prepared for whatever I might decide. Thank you for
allowing me to stay. I’ll try to be out of your hair as soon
as possible.” Genevieve pointed towards the hallway. “Why did you change your spare bedroom? It seems a
little feminine for you, but it’s very nice. I should be very
comfortable in there.”

Norris sat up. “Oh, no. You can’t stay in that room.”

“It’s your guest bedroom.”

“It was, but it’s no longer for a guest. I’ll crash on the
couch while you’re here and you can take my room, but the other room is off limits.”

“I understand you don’t want me here, but the dresser
drawers in that room are empty, so unless your guest is
invisible, that explanation doesn’t work.”

“Mom, I don’t have to give you an explanation of
what goes on in my house, and, again, I don’t want you
going through my things.” Norris sighed heavily. His
mother would not stop snooping and the sooner he told
her about Reese, the sooner he could prepare Reese for
meeting her. “Since you will not leave this alone and
you’re going to find out anyway, I guess now is a good time for me to tell you something.”

“What?”

“That room belongs to my daughter.”

Genevieve’s eyes widened. “Your daughter?”

“Yes. Her name is Reese and she’s sixteen years old.”
Norris paused. “And there’s more.”

“More than that?”

“I guess in addition to is more appropriate.”

“I don’t think you can surprise me more than you
have.”

“Guess again. My beautiful daughter, your grand
daughter, is biracial. Her mother is African-American.”

Early the next morning, Dahlia left her bed and
dragged down to the kitchen. She wanted to feel happy
that Norris had finally given in and realized a relationship
wasn’t in the cards for them, but disgust led the field in
the emotions department. Disgust with herself for
keeping him at arm’s length, and disgust with Norris for
allowing her to do it. Why did he have to have all or
nothing? Why couldn’t he just let things stay the way
they were?

Dahlia forced herself to eat her breakfast of three scrambled egg whites, dry toast, half a grapefruit, and
skim milk. She wanted to work out before going to
church and needed fuel to make it happen. Plus, she’d eaten two of the single bags of chips she’d bought last
night, making two workouts today essential. Determined
not to succumb to her salty, crispy weakness, Dahlia
emptied the remaining four bags into the trash disposal.
If push came to shove she knew she would buy more, but
at least the temptation was not in her house.

Two hours later, Dahlia sat at the bar in her home
gym drinking water and wiping the sweat leaking from
every pore of her body. Her clothes stuck to her skin, and
a quick glance in the mirrored wall behind the bar
showed her hair matted to her head, but she felt good.