Legacy of Love (8 page)

J
ackson stirred the pot of chili. He sprinkled more cayenne pepper and lowered the flame. Since he would be eating out, he'd prepared his favorite recipe for his sister and niece. He was really worried about Michelle. Travis's betrayal was hitting her hard. One minute she seemed like she was holding it together and the next she was in a daze. Other times he would walk into a room and find her crying.

He couldn't begin to imagine the kind of pain that she felt. Even though he and Carla had broken up a while back, he was devastated and sickened by what she'd done to his sister—his sister of all people. Michelle had befriended her. They'd hung out together, traveled in some of the same circles.
It was unthinkable. Yet he couldn't decide who was worst, Travis or Carla. How long had it been going on? Were they seeing each other when he was still seeing Carla? What kind of people had he and his sister fallen for?

He put a pot of water on to boil, added a dash of salt and some olive oil for the rice.

When he and Michelle were growing up, their parents used to fix chili and rice on Saturdays. It was always a treat. They were each assigned a task in preparing the meal: adding the ingredients, grating the cheese, steaming the beans, browning the meat or fixing the rice. He still carried on the tradition. And at least one Saturday a month he fixed chili just the way his family had when he was a kid. He hoped it would stir up some pleasant memories for Michelle, at least for a little while.

“Is that the famous Treme chili I smell?” Michelle yawned as she walked into the kitchen. She came up behind Jackson and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“The nose knows.” He poured in two cup of rice and covered the pot.

“Remember those Saturdays?”

“Absolutely. I figured it would be like the old times, a pleasant memory.” He turned around.

Michelle looked up into his eyes that were identical to her own. “I could use that right now.” She backed away and lowered her head.

Jackson lifted her chin with the tip of his finger.
“I don't like tears in my chili,” he teased. “And I was thinking that maybe it's time we carried on the tradition. Share the famous family recipe with Shay.”

Michelle wiped away a sniffle and a slow smile gently blossomed. “I think she'd like that.”

“Great. You remember all the ingredients, right?”

“Of course!” she said.

He wiped his hands on a dishtowel. “Good. I got the basics started and you can finish up with Shay while I get ready for a date.”

“A date! With…with Zoe?”

He grinned like he'd won the lottery. “Yep. I'm picking her up at six.”

Michelle leaped up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I am sooo crazy happy for you.” She kissed him all over his face. “How did all this happen?”

“If you let go of my neck I swear I'll tell you,” he said, chuckling.

She settled down and sat in a chair. She crossed her legs and waited. Jackson leaned against the fridge and told her about going to the museum and asking for her.

“So you just asked her out to dinner and she said yes? You could be a serial killer,” she said with a grin.

“Thanks, sis.”

“You know what I mean. You don't know each other.”

“Last time I checked that's how people
got
to know each other. Dinner, lunch, talking.” He winked.

“I guess it's been a while,” she said softly and lowered her gaze.

Jackson came over to her. He took her hand. “Hey, sorry.”

“It's all right.” She stroked his cheek. “I'm happy for you. I really am.”

“Thanks.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “So I'm going to leave Shay and the Treme family recipe in your very capable hands. I don't want to be late.” He started out of the kitchen.

“She's a lucky lady, Jack.”

Jackson glanced back over his shoulder. “I have a feeling that I'm the lucky one.”

 

Zoe was a bundle of nerves as six o'clock approached. She'd changed clothes an hour earlier and spent the rest of the time pacing back and forth in her office. She'd called Sharlene at least three different times just to be reminded that she was going to have a wonderful time.

She'd been so consumed with her impending date that she'd totally forgotten about seeing Mike and Linda together earlier in the afternoon until Linda knocked on her office door.

“Come in.”

Linda eased the door open and stuck her head
in. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Zoe all dressed up.

“Wow. Is it okay if I come in?”

Zoe's face heated. “Sure.”

Linda came in and closed the door behind her. “Great dress.”

“Thanks.” She quickly sat down and tried to look busy as she began flipping through papers on her desk. “What can I do for you?”

“You already did it.”

Zoe looked up. “What do you mean?”

“I talked to Mike today, like you said.”

Zoe folded her nervous fingers together. The scene she'd witnessed earlier played in her mind's eye. “What happened?”

“He listened. I told him that I realized that I was making his life miserable, but it wasn't my intention. I told him that sometimes I have an unorthodox way of letting someone know that I'm…interested in them.”

Zoe smiled. “And?”

“He said he thought I hated his guts. That's why he never asked me out before.”

“What?” Her expression brightened with delight. “So did he ask you out?”

Linda bobbed her head. “We're going to Gladys Knight's place tonight. Can you believe it?”

Zoe laughed. “Yes, I think I do.”
Amazing things just kept happening
. “I'm glad for you, Linda. I really am.”

“Thanks. And, uh, I really appreciate the advice. I was making a mess of things.” She paused. “You look like you have a date yourself.”

Zoe cleared her throat. “I do. Well, not exactly. Yes, I do.”

“Well, whichever it is, have a good time.” She backed up toward the door.

“You, too.”

“Thanks. Good night.” She opened the door and walked out.

Must be the weather
. She took a quick look at her watch. It was five minutes to six. Her heart started racing. She tapped her fingers on the desk. She didn't want to keep him waiting, but she didn't want to appear overeager and be downstairs waiting before he arrived. Maybe he was going to be late. But if he was going to be late, he would have called. Then again maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he was the kind of guy who didn't care about making others wait for them. Maybe he… She jumped at the sound of her phone ringing. She looked at the flashing extension number. It was security.

She snatched up the phone. “Ms. Beaumont.”

“Yes, there's a Mr. Treme here to see you. I told him we were closed.”

“I'll be right there, Frank. Thank you.” She hung up the phone. “Oh, my goodness.”
He was really here
.

She pushed back from her seat and all of a sudden her mind went blank. Where was her purse? Her
keys? Should she take the shawl that Sharlene insisted she buy? What if she was overdressed? He never said where they were going. “Get a grip,” she said out loud. She drew in a deep breath, opened the bottom drawer of her desk and took out her purse where she always kept it. She opened it and her keys were inside as they always were. She took the shawl that was draped across the back of the chair and put it over her arm. She took one last look around her office, turned off the light and walked out.

 

Jackson wasn't sure what to expect, but the vision that was coming toward him was more than he could have ever imagined. She was stunning. The blue against her bronze skin was mouth watering. She'd styled her hair in an updo. The combination of the hairstyle and the deep neckline of her dress nearly did him in. He was staring so hard that it took him a moment to realize that she'd stopped walking and was standing right in front of him.

“Sorry if I kept you waiting,” she said.

Jackson swallowed the tightness in his throat that matched the one in his groin. “I'd wait all night if that's what it would take to see you. You look incredible.”

She started to say something silly like “this old thing,” but good sense intervened. “Thank you.”

“Ready?”

She didn't trust her voice when he was looking
at her like that, as if he could see into her soul. She nodded her head instead.

“I'm parked right out front.”

“Good night, Frank,” she managed.

“You two have a nice time.”

Jackson looked back. “Thanks.”

“I hope you like soul food,” Jackson said as he opened the car door and helped her in.

She turned to look at him and their gazes collided. Heat stirred her body. “What self-respecting Southern girl doesn't like soul food?” she said with laughter in her voice.

“A woman after my own heart.” He shut the door and hurried around to the driver's side. He stuck the key in the ignition and Marvin Gaye's classic, “Let's Get it On,” filled the interior. They both burst out laughing and the tension evaporated like morning mist.

“I swear I didn't plan that,” he said as he slowly pulled off.

“That's what they all say,” she said.

He gave her a quick look. “I would think that would be something you wouldn't know anything about.”

“Really. And why would you think that?”

“Because I think that you are the kind of woman who can sense a line a mile away. And the poor fool who tried to hand you one would never get the chance.”

“Is that right?” She relaxed against the soft
leather interior and angled her body in his direction. “And what else have you surmised about me in the less than twenty-four hours that we've known each other?”

“That you think about things before you do them. You look at all the possibilities. You don't like mistakes or having regrets.”

Her brows rose. “And you know all of this how?”

He came to a stop at a red light and turned fully toward her. He looked directly into her eyes. “I don't know. I just do.”

Zoe felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs. As illogical as all this was, it made perfect sense.

T
he streets of Atlanta were teeming with Saturday night diners and partygoers. Rather than spend half of their evening hunting for a parking space, Jackson parked in a nearby municipal garage and they walked the two blocks back to the restaurant.

“I love Mary Mac's Tea Room,” Zoe cried when she realized where they were going. “I haven't been here since I first moved to Atlanta.”

“This will be my first time. I heard it was great.” He opened the door for her. “I made reservations for the Skyline Room. They have a piano player tonight.”

“Can't wait.”

“Good evening and welcome to Mary Mac's.
Do you have reservations?” the hostess asked from behind the podium.

“Yes, two for Treme.” He placed his hand at the small of Zoe's back.

Zoe felt her insides quiver. The heat of his hand scorched her skin. She drew in a sharp breath and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as they were led to their table.

After the waitress seated them she ran through the house specials then took their drink orders. Zoe ordered an apple martini. Jackson opted for Rob Roy on the rocks.

“When we walked up, you said you came here when you first moved to Atlanta.” He tilted his head to the side. “Where did you live before you moved here?”

“New Orleans. Born and raised.”

Jackson's skin tingled. “New Orleans?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She opened the menu.

“So was I.”

Zoe's gaze lifted. “What?”

“I grew up in New Orleans. I only moved to Atlanta a little more than a year ago.”

Zoe blinked back her surprise. “And we had to move all the way to Atlanta to meet each other. How crazy is that?”

“No crazier than anything else that's happened since we met.” He leaned forward. “I don't know if you feel it, but ever since that day of the fire when
I saw you for the first time, it felt like it wasn't the first time. I mean…”

“I know exactly what you mean,” she said, with a lilt of surprise in her voice.

His eyes creased at the corners, studying her face seeing if he could discover the truth there. Was she simply humoring him or did she really believe what she'd said?

“It's been like that for me, too.” She swallowed. “I can't explain it.” After the words were out of her mouth she couldn't believe she'd said them to a man she barely knew.
But you do know him. He's always been there. Waiting for you
. It was her grand mother's voice in her head as clear as if she were sitting right beside her.

Jackson's mouth lifted in a slow smile. His eyes moved leisurely over her face before reaching across the table to take her hand. He ran his thumb over the smooth surface of her knuckles sending tremors scurrying up her arm.

The waitress returned with their drinks, but the connection between them wasn't broken. They barely noticed her and absentmindedly ordered the house special.

“Where did you grow up?” Jackson asked.

“On Montiere,” she said, her Creole accent creeping in. “The big white house on the corner.”

He tossed his head back and laughed. “I used to ride by there on my bike as a kid. Always wondered who lived in that big old house.”

“That was us. The Beaumonts. House was handed down from one generation to the next.”

“Who lives there now?”

“My mother, and her sisters and my grandmother. All women all the time,” she said with a light laugh.

He rested his arms on the table. “Tell me about your family.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me.”

“Why don't you go first?” she challenged.

He reached for his glass and took a short swallow. “Okay. Let's see. I have a twin sister. Her name is Michelle and I have an older brother, Franklin. We lost our parents about eight years ago…one after the other.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You met my niece, Shay. Basically, we're your average family. My parents worked hard. My dad worked for the railroad. My mother was a teacher.”

“You took after her.”

“Yeah, I think I did.”

“Did you always like art?”

“For as long as I can remember. I thought I would be an artist, but I'm really not that good. Michelle was the one who convinced me to get my degree and teach.”

“Why did you leave New Orleans?”

He glanced away for a minute. So far the conversation had been pretty normal, the kind most couples have on first dates. If he told her the real
reason why he'd broken up with his fiancé, left all his friends and family behind because of a feeling he had and dreams he'd dreamed, she just might get up and walk out.

“Let's just say that I didn't think I could find what I was searching for back home.” He roamed her face with his eyes.

“What
are
you looking for?” she asked, holding her breath in anticipation. “My future.”

The moment gently held them.

“Do you think you'll find your future here?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“It's beginning to look that way. What about you? Why did you leave the Big Easy?”

She chuckled a little. “To get away from the burden of family expectations.”

“Hmm. Family is usually the hardest on you.” He slowly turned his glass on the table. “What did they want you to do that you were dead set against?”

Fulfill their lives, fix the past, be responsible for things that she wasn't a part of.
But saying that would make her sound selfish. She wasn't. She loved her family. But what they wanted from her, what they expected from her frightened her.

“Oh, the usual,” she said, blowing it off. “Settle down, marry and have a bunch of kids.”

“I would think you could manage that with your eyes closed and your hands tied behind you.”

She shrugged slightly. “I wanted my own life,
to live my own dreams. Not someone else's,” she added, the passion of her conviction strengthening her voice. “Have you?”

“I'm still working on it,” she conceded. “But I believe I'm moving in the right direction.”

The waitress returned with their dinner and they spent the next half hour savoring the delicious food in between sharing some of their favorite recipes.

“No one can make peach cobbler like my Nana Zora.”

Jackson wagged his fork at her. “Hands down I make the best chili this side of the Mississippi bar none.”

“Really?” She cocked her head to the side. “I'd take bets on that one, mister.”

“Say what. You?”

“Yes. You better believe it.”

“Sounds like a showdown to me.”

“Whenever you get up the nerve.”

“Ohhh.” He slapped his palm against his chest, and chuckled hard. “It's like that?”

“All week including Sundays,” she tossed back loving the banter.

He leaned forward. “I'm ready when you are. You name the time and place and I'm there.”

She curved her mouth to the side and narrowed her gaze. “Hmm. Two weeks from Sunday. My place. Noon.”

“Don't be late.”

Zoe cracked up.

The waitress came and cleared away the plates and offered a dessert menu.

“I'm fine, thanks,” Zoe said and handed the menu back.

“Nothing for me, either. You can bring the bill, thanks.” He leaned back in his seat totally relaxed, totally captivated by Zoe and he didn't want the night to end. “It's still early. You want to do something? Maybe go listen to some jazz? Take a walk, see a movie?”

“Hmm. It is early. I wouldn't mind taking a walk.”

“A walk it is.”

The waitress returned with the bill and Jackson handed over his credit card.

“I'm going to the restroom,” Zoe said, getting up from her seat.

Jackson jumped up and pulled out her chair. As he reached around her she turned and found herself in his arms, the swell of her breasts pressed against the wall of his chest.

Zoe's breath caught and she fell into the depths of his eyes, which seemed to engulf her. She inhaled the totally male scent of him that went straight to her head, jumbling her thoughts and for a moment she'd forgotten why she'd gotten up or where she was going.

“I'll wait for you up front,” he said, his voice thick and low.

She wet her lips with a slow dance of her tongue. “Be right back,” she managed. She stepped around him and her thigh brushed against the rise of his erection. A tremor shot through her and piqued the tiny bud between her thighs. She heard the almost imperceptible groan rumble deep in his throat as he sucked in air through his teeth. Or maybe it was her moan that she heard and silently prayed that she wouldn't do something silly—like trip over her feet before she could get behind closed doors and pull herself together.

Once inside the ladies room she dared to breathe. Her heart pounded and she felt flushed. “God.” Her eyelids fluttered as she relived the feel of him against her. Just for an instant and her entire mind was in a knot. She stared at herself in the mirror, certain that she was going to see a new face, a new person. But she didn't. Yet it was her and not her at the same time. She looked the same on the outside but inside she felt different, as if a switch had been turned on and her body was charged with electricity.

Her hand shook as she took her lipstick out of her purse and reapplied the soft coral color. “I hope you're right, Nana,” she said to her reflection. “Because I think I might be willing to open my heart this time.” She dropped her lipstick into her purse and headed back out.