see himself doing forever with, she would be a woman like Bridget. Bridget reminded him of his mother, and what man didn’t want a woman like the one who’d given birth to him and had loved him more than life itself? Frances Tolliver had a strength and fortitude that was uncompromising. She wore her emotions over her heart, loving deeply and standing on the power of her convictions. His mother was one tough cookie, with a chocolate heart of pure gold, the ability to laugh in the face of unfathomable challenges and a warm, gentle touch that instantly eased away any hurt. His father had been blessed beyond reason to have a woman like that at his side. Darwin could only begin to wish for half that in a companion of his own, and Bridget was a woman who came with an equally impressive list of attributes. Plus, the woman had the body of a goddess.
As Darwin’s thoughts lingered over each dip and curve he could remember, he was reminded of his impotence, the yearning in his mind not even igniting a flicker of warmth through his groin. Reaching for the radio a second time he found a station blasting Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama.” As the music vibrated out of the speakers, flooding the closed vehicle with a heavy bass, he thought about what a sweet home could possibly entail. Darwin suddenly found himself imagining the possibilities.
Bridget wasn’t at all prepared when her doorbell rang. Darwin Tolliver had called her out of the blue the day before, asking for her assistance with some business contracts he didn’t understand. She’d been surprised by his call, the sound of his voice reviving the more sensual thoughts she’d been having about him earlier that week, and the moment had unnerved her. There was something to be said for his timing, she mused, wondering if things really did happen for a reason.
She took one last glance in the foyer mirror to check her reflection, then reached for the door handle. As she pulled it open to find him standing confidently on the other side, she suddenly felt as if her knees would never stop quivering, threatening to send her straight to the floor. She was grateful for the linen slacks that shielded her shaking limbs from view.
Darwin Tolliver was one good-looking black man. Tall, like his brother Mecan, with the same blue-black complexion, brilliant white smile and dimpled cheeks, Darwin had a majestic presence. What woman could resist a man who carried himself like the emperor of his own private kingdom?
His Royal Highness greeted her warmly. “Bridget, I can’t tell you how much this means to me,” he said as he stepped over the threshold. He wrapped his arms around her torso and hugged her tightly as he kissed her cheek. “Are you sure it’s not a problem?”
Bridget could feel herself melting beneath his touch. “It’s not a problem at all,” she answered. “And it’s good to see you again.”
Darwin nodded. “When was the last time we saw each other? Christmas?”
She shook her head. “Thanksgiving, I think. At Mac and Jeneva’s. If I remember correctly, you were in Louisiana for Christmas.”
“That’s right. My sister did Christmas dinner.” He screwed up his face as though the memory had brought back a bad taste.
Bridget chuckled. “Was it that awful?”
He laughed. “No, not really. But cooking isn’t one of Paris’s stronger attributes and she wouldn’t let me help. We have to be nice, though, when she tries or Mama gets mad at us.”
“How is Mama Frances?” Bridget asked, inquiring about his mother.
“She’s doing very well. Still trying to keep Uncle Jake on the straight and narrow.”
It suddenly dawned on Bridget that they were still standing in the foyer of her home. She shook her head. “How rude of me. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you.” Darwin smiled as she gestured toward the living room sofa. He took a seat, settling his large body against the cushioned perch. An awkward silence suddenly filled the space between them as Bridget dropped down against the wing chair across from him. Darwin stared down to the hardwood floor, searching his thoughts for something clever to say but words were fleeting. He suddenly felt silly, the moment reminiscent of grade school and after-school antics between the boys and the girls.
The rising uneasiness felt thick and heavy and both of them suddenly felt self-conscious. Bridget brushed her palms against her thighs, wiping at the dampness that had risen to her palms. This was the first time she and Darwin had ever been in a room alone together. She’d fantasized about this moment more times than she was willing to admit, but never had her dreams been as embarrassing and as uncomfortable as she was now feeling.
“So…” she started, her gaze skipping around the room as if she were afraid to rest her eyes on him.
Darwin smiled. “So…how have you been?”
Bridget smiled again, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. “As well as can be expected, I guess.”
Quiet filled the space for a second time. Bridget was suddenly aware of his breathing, the slow inhale and exhale of his breath blending with the louder click of the grandfather clock in the hallway and the CD player that was playing softly in the other room. He sat with a large manila envelope between his palms, spinning the package over and over in his hands. She watched him as he looked around the room, slowly noting each detail of her decor. His gaze lingered ever so briefly on the large acrylic painting that hung just above her baby grand piano. His lips pulled up into the slightest smile and the gesture sent a shiver through the pit of her stomach and up her spine.
“That’s beautiful,” he said, his head bobbing up and down. “Is it an original or a reproduction?”
“An original. It was done by an artist named Joseph Holston.”
“Very nice.”
Bridget stared where he stared, reflecting on the abstract painting’s cubist style. The image was of a couple embracing, and it had been one of her favorites from the moment she’d first laid eyes on it. She turned to stare back at him.
“Are those your contracts?” she asked, gesturing with her head to the mailer in his hands.
“Oh…yeah. These are them.” He extended the envelope toward her. “I really appreciate this, Bridget. In the past I’ve used my agent’s attorney, but these needed to be reviewed in a hurry and I really wanted someone I trust to look them over for me. But if it’s a bother or if I’m keeping you from anything, I’ll understand.”
She shook her head. “It’s not a problem, really. I was just going to throw a chicken breast under the broiler and call it a night.”
“You haven’t eaten yet?”
“Not yet.”
Darwin beamed, shifting forward in his seat. “I’ll tell you what. Let me loose in your kitchen and I’ll cook your dinner while you look at my contracts.”
“That’s not necessary—” she started.
“Really,” he said, rising to his feet and heading boldly toward the back of her home. “I want to.”
Bridget followed behind him. “Well, only if you promise to stay and eat with me.”
The man smiled, winking an eye as he glanced back over his shoulder. “It’s a deal.”
“Now, I really don’t have a whole lot to work with,” she said. “I usually eat out.”
Darwin chuckled as he took in the expanse of her immaculate kitchen. “It doesn’t take much to eat well.”
Taking a seat at the dining table, Bridget watched as he took command of her kitchen. Pulling open her cupboards, he gathered a row of spices onto the counter, then moved to lean into her refrigerator. The view of his backside and the tight pair of Levi’s jeans he wore caused her body to heat with sudden wanting. Shaking the emotion, Bridget laid the documents onto the tabletop and began to read.
Darwin was grateful for the distraction. He’d not anticipated feeling this unnerved in Bridget’s presence. He’d forgotten just