Seduced by Moonlight (9 page)

“…over Harry Payne,” Danielle finished with relish. She bounced on the sofa, ending with her legs under her. “You kissed him, didn't you?” She watched her mother expectantly, her dark brown eyes sparkling. “Oh, tell me that you at least kissed him. You've known him long enough to kiss him, a whole week. It's not as if you just met him tonight!”

Cherisse was pulling off her shoes and getting comfortable on the couch. She met her daughter's eyes. “Danielle, a mother does not discuss her love life with her daughter, no matter how chummy they are. And a lady doesn't kiss and tell.”

Danielle regarded her with consternation, which was hilarious to Cherisse. Laughing, she said, “Don't give me that look. The subject is closed.”

Sighing loudly, Danielle rose. “I'd just as well go to bed if you're not going to tell me whether or not you and Mr. Payne kissed.”

“You're not going anywhere,” Cherisse told her. “Not until you tell me how your date with Dante was.”

“Oh, I'm supposed to spill my guts, but you don't have to? That's not fair!”

“Life is not fair,” said Cherisse with a smile. She patted the couch. “Sit.”

After Danielle had sat down, Cherisse cleared her throat. “I take it Dante was a gentleman.”

“He tried to kiss me good-night and I told him I never kiss on the first date,” said Danielle. “So he kissed my hand instead, which I thought was sweet. We're going to stay in touch.” She sat back on the couch, loosening up. “He said I was hot, Ma.” She laughed shortly. “I don't know how to take that. I never thought of myself as hot. I'm an athlete. Sometimes I don't wear a dress for months at a time.”

Cherisse smiled knowingly. Her daughter was beginning to recognize her sex appeal to the opposite sex. To be honest, she had thanked God for Danielle's interest in sports and her disinterest in dressing provocatively in order to attract boys. Kids these days had so much sexual content fed to them on a daily basis through TV, music videos, video games, magazines and books, that it was a minor miracle that Danielle wasn't more affected by it. Not that she naively thought Danielle wasn't aware of the bombardment. She was a smart girl. But, so far, she had chosen not to be an active participant.

“There're all kinds of ‘hot,'” she told Danielle. “Dante is the type of boy who appreciates you just the way you are. You're a natural beauty who's confident enough not to buy into the video vixen brand of sexuality.”

Danielle wrinkled her nose in distaste. “If I have to show my butt and my boobs to get a guy to talk to me I'll die a virgin.”

Cherisse spontaneously grabbed her daughter and kissed her loudly on the cheek. “Bless you!”

Danielle grinned as she pulled away from her mother. “For what, probably dying a virgin?”

“No, for being more levelheaded than I was at your age,” she said, her voice quivering a bit because she was close to tears. “I've told you that because I got pregnant with you when I was eighteen I'm sometimes harder on you than I should be. Having me as a mother can't be easy.”

“Having you for a mother is a blessing,” Danielle told her frankly. “I know I don't tell you often enough, but you're my greatest role model. No one in my life has influenced me more. You don't have to worry about me, Ma. I've got my head on straight.”

Then she kissed her mother's cheek and told her good-night.

Cherisse sat on the couch a few minutes longer, reflecting on the night. She flushed just thinking about those passionate kisses she'd shared with Harry.

“Hold on tight,” she said to herself. “This is going to be an interesting ride.”

Going against her better judgment, she was looking forward to seeing where this attraction to Harry Payne, a man she would never think would be interested in her, would take her.

 

“Harry, you're making this too easy for me,” Davis Winters said the next morning as he tapped the golf ball into the hole and finished their final round with a lower score than Harry's. “Your head simply wasn't in the game today.” He laughed shortly and he walked beside Harry to the waiting golf cart. “Do I have to ask where your mind was?”

Harry was barely listening. He was consulting his watch. It was after eleven. Cherisse and Danielle would be on the road by now. God, how he had wanted to walk off the course any number of times this morning and rush back to the hotel in time to kiss Cherisse goodbye. But Davis had taken his sweet time, calculating each swing, talking through them, gossiping about mutual friends while Harry ground his teeth in frustration.

As Harry started the golf cart and Davis got in, he said, “Cherisse Washington.”

“A beautiful woman,” Davis said. “Danielle's a cute kid, too. Dante's smitten, but boys his age are smitten with some girl every few weeks.”

The day was cold and the sky a clear Colorado blue.

Harry remained in a reflective mood as he drove. Davis, more gregarious, continued to chat in spite of his friend's silence. “You, on the other hand, are not easily smitten. You didn't look at that reporter the way you look at Ms. Washington. Why is that, Harry? Dante told me she's a nurse. An honorable profession for certain, but will she make a suitable mate for you? I think not. You're a very successful businessman, Harry. You need someone more glamorous, a woman who is well-traveled and well-educated.”

Harry looked at Davis sharply. “Davis, you and I have been friends for nearly twenty years but if you say anything else negative about Cherisse Washington I'm going to pop you one right in the mouth.”

Davis laughed so hard tears came to his eyes. “I knew it! Put your fist away, I was just testing you. Man, Harry. You really like Ms. Washington. Could this be the one? Dating a mother is new for you, though, isn't it? Mothers are different, Harry. Their first priority is to their children. So Ms. Washington will probably not be able to traipse all over creation with you at the drop of a hat. You're going to have to give her a break on that. And no spending the night together, either. A mother doesn't want her child, especially if it's a girl, to know she's sleeping with anyone. Touchy subject, but I'm sure when the time comes you'll handle it.”

Referring to the fact that Davis held a position in the White House, Harry said, “I'm amazed they let you have security clearance. You never shut up.”

Davis laughed. “I'm simply giving you the benefit of my experience.”

Harry laughed this time. “What experience? You and Eva have been married since you were a senior in college. Twenty years now, right? You've never dated a single mother that I know of.”

“Yes,” Davis said, “but Eva has plenty of friends who're single mothers and they always bend my ear when they have ‘man' problems. For some reason they look at me as if I'm one of their girlfriends.”

“A fact that probably irritates you,” Harry said, knowing Davis had considered himself quite a stud a few years ago.

“It's embarrassing,” Davis admitted. “Now they want me to join their book club. I am not joining a book club that consists of forty-five women and a gay guy. Eva nearly busted a gut laughing when I told her. Talk about emasculating!”

Laughing, Harry said, “Davis, you lead a charmed life. You have a wonderful wife, a son who loves you and hasn't given you a lot of trouble, and now forty-five women and a gay guy want you to join their book club. Go ahead and do it, man.”

Davis looked perplexed. “You think?”

“Why not,” said Harry. “These days a guy's masculinity is not compromised by reading a book or two.”

Davis relaxed. “I have a confession to make. Sometimes I'll read Eva's romance novels. Some of them are addictive. Good stories. The first time Eva caught me reading one she got so turned on, she jumped my bones. This from a woman who has always made me ask for it. Even beg for it. Now we'll read together in bed. I tell you, Harry, women melt when you read to them in bed.”

“Oh, yeah?” asked Harry, curiosity piqued. “How do you think they respond to love letters?”

“Oh, man,” said Davis, “even better than romance novels. Eva has every letter I ever wrote her.” He grinned. “Hey, Harry, that reminds me. I haven't written her a love letter in years. I think it's time I composed a few for her. That ought to get me some interesting sack time.”

“You're shameless, Davis. Romance novels and love letters in exchange for hot sex. What will you try next?”

Davis thought for a moment. “Don't tell anybody, but Eva loves it when I suck her toes.”

“That's too much information,” Harry said, laughing. “I'm not about to suck Cherisse's toes, no matter how pretty her feet are.”

“She has pretty feet?” Davis asked, a bit more interested in Cherisse's feet than Harry thought he ought to be.

“You're sick, man,” Harry told him, shaking his head in pity. “Eva didn't know what she was getting into when she married you.”

Davis laughed. “I'm just trying to school you in the ways of women. One day you can be a happily married man who lusts after his wife, too!”

 

Later that day after she and Danielle got back home, Cherisse kept her promise and went to visit Mary Thomas. Since Cherisse had put her on temporary leave with pay, Mary had joined Alcoholics Anonymous and gone to meetings every day. That had been the recommendation of her counselor, who said going every day would help keep her on track. Her counselor was a short, tough black woman in her fifties who was celebrating ten years of sobriety. On her first visit to see Mary, only two days after putting her on leave, Mary had told her about Wilma, her counselor. Cherisse was glad Mary had someone like Wilma looking out for her.

Today when Cherisse arrived at Mary's house, which was no more than half a mile from her own, she found a strange car parked behind Mary's white Chevrolet.

She walked onto the porch of the single-story brick home and rang the bell. She was carrying a fruit basket that she'd picked up at the supermarket on the way over. Mary loved fresh fruit.

After a minute or so, the door was yanked open and Mary's daughter, Eve, glared at her with open hostility. “Well if it isn't the bitch who laid my mom off and told her it was for her own good. What do
you
want?”

Cherisse steeled herself for a confrontation. Eve thrived on drama. She looked as if she were itching for a fight right now. Her tall, too-thin body was fairly quivering with anticipation. Cherisse looked into her eyes. They were dilated. She was obviously on something. What, Cherisse couldn't be sure, but she would bet it was drugs she'd scored once she'd hit town. Eve had even dealt drugs at one time.

“I'm here to see Mary,” Cherisse said calmly.

“She doesn't want to see you,” Eve said, getting in Cherisse's face. Her lips were drawn back in a feral snarl. Her teeth were yellow and her breath smelled like an ashtray.

Cherisse tried her best not to turn up her nose. That would only make Eve more belligerent.

“You're wrong,” she told Eve. “I spoke with her earlier today and she told me to come over. If I had known she had company I would have come another time. But since I'm already here, I'd just as well see her now.” She hadn't really spoken with Mary today.

She pushed past Eve and went inside the dimly lit foyer. Mary usually kept a clean house but there was a foul smell in the air, a combination of stale booze, cigarettes and something else Cherisse couldn't place, probably what Eve had been smoking.

“Mary!” Cherisse called. “It's Cheri!”

She faced Eve, afraid to keep her back to her for too long out of fear that she might turn violent. “Where is she, Eve?”

Eve stood there with an angry, obstinate expression on her face. With eyes narrowed at Cherisse, she yelled, “She doesn't want to see you, bitch! What do I have to do to get you out of here, call the cops?”

“I think that's probably the last thing you want to do,” Cherisse said. She walked up to Eve and shoved the fruit basket at her. “Here, why don't you go sell this and get a few bucks for your next hit.”

Eve threw the basket to the floor. Apples, bananas, pears and oranges spread out on the foyer floor. “I always hated you,” she said. “Mom told me how she used to go to you and talk to you whenever I got into trouble. She said you gave her a shoulder to cry on. Well, now I'm her shoulder. She doesn't need you.”

Suddenly, Mary came stumbling out of the back of the house. She was wearing a ratty old white bathrobe and hadn't had the foresight to close it before she came to see who had rung the doorbell.

She wore only a pair of dingy white panties and a faded white bra underneath. Cherisse wanted to look away. She was sure if Mary were sober she wouldn't want her to see her in this state of undress.

But Mary didn't let her look away. She walked up to her and threw herself into her arms, hugging her tightly. “Cheri, thank God. You've got to make her go away. Make her go away, Cheri.” Mary's words were slurred, but due to intoxication she had little control over her voice's volume, and was loud enough to be heard outside.