And acting as if he truly was a prince and she a lowly seamstress Keeden sat behind his desk, turned on the laptop and studied his image reflected on the screen. He gave one curt nod, a sign he was pleased, then dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

  She pulled a face.

  He ignored her.

  But he still managed to make her smile.

  24

  He had to find her.

  After his videoconference Keeden immediately went to his studio to see if Maya was there.

  He didn’t want to see her to tell her that the conference went well. That more than one person complimented him on his shirt or that he’d barely remembered what he’d said because all he could think about was the mango tinged scent of her lotion. The brush of her hair under his chin.

  He didn’t want to see her to say anything or even do anything, he just wanted to see her because seeing her made him happy.

  But Maya wasn’t in the studio.

  Keeden pushed down his disappointment and checked the clock. Oh, that’s right, he’d forgotten. Maya should be in the kitchen taking a break with Bryant right now.

  He was only partially right. Bryant was in the kitchen.

  His friend gave him the once over then produced a low whistle of appreciation.

  “Shut up.” Keeden looked around. “Where’s Maya?”

  “Said she had to run an errand but she’d be right back.”

  He tamped down another wave of disappointment.

  “You look good. I’ve never seen that style before. Where did you get that?”

  “Maya made it up.”

  Bryant furrowed his brows. “Made it up?”

  “Took a piece of cloth and fashioned it this way.”

  Bryant circled him, impressed. “This is from one piece of cloth?”

  “Yes, so don’t tug at it.”

  Bryant snatched his hand back. “Amazing.”

  His chef, Louisa Nyugen, a woman in her sixties with purple highlights in her short black hair, could chop with such speed a knife seemed to become invisible. She walked into the kitchen with her typical confident stride then halted and whistled at him.

  Keeden frowned. “Stop with the whistling.”

  “You look good.”

  “It’s Maya’s doing,” Bryant told her.

  “No surprise,” she said.

  Bryant nodded. “She should help you more often.”

  “It’s only because of the cast,” Keeden said. “I know how to dress.”

  They shared a look.

  “What?”

  “You tell him,” Louisa said, pulling out a skillet. “Job security is important to me.”

  “You don’t like how I dress?” Keeden said.

  Bryant folded his arms. “For a guy who’s an artist you dress with the flair of a funeral director.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Is there any color in your wardrobe?” He pointed at him. “Besides white, black and grey.”

  “White, black and grey are colors,” he mumbled.

  “You put all your focus on your work and go around looking scary instead of stylish.”

  “Scary?”

  “You look like the kind of guy who’d keep a vile of blood in your coat pocket,” Louisa said, adding chopped vegetables to the now heated skillet and a spice that scented the air with black pepper.

  “Are you comparing me to a vampire?”

  “Without the fangs.”

  “What was that comment about job security,” Keeden said in a dry voice.

  Louisa moved the vegetables around in the skillet and shrugged. “I realized no one else would be willing to put up with you.”

  “I do not dress like a vampire.”

  “Not that the vampire look isn’t sexy,” Bryant said before Louisa could argue, “it’s just intimidating and you could consider softening your appearance. It’s just a suggestion.”

  “Oh, there you are,” his housekeeper, Mathilde Faron said before he could reply. She’d only been working for him for the past five years but it felt longer. She managed to accept his eccentric habits—visitors were only allowed in three locations; he liked staff kept out of his way (preferably he didn’t like to see them at all); and never bother him when he’s in his studio unless there’s a fire. She was as commanding as a general with a broad build and circular glasses that seemed to permanently sit on the edge of her nose.

  She stopped in the entryway when he turned. She pushed her glasses to the bridge of her nose and looked him up and down.

  He pointed at her. “Whistle and you’re fired.”

  She bit her lip.

  “Why were you looking for me?”

  “You’d better get in the bath before it gets cold,” she said.

  “Bath?”

  “Yes, I just saw Maya and she said she has one ready for you. She timed it so that it’d be ready by the end of your meeting.”

  “How did she know when my meeting would end?”

  “The same way we all know your schedule,” Mathilde said pulling out her cell phone. “Your VA.”

  His virtual assistant helped to keep him organized but it was a little unsettling to have so many people know his business. What was more annoying was he was seeing everyone else but the one person he’d wanted to.

  Then another thought struck him. If she’d prepared a bath for him that meant... “She’s been in my room?”

  “No, she prepared the second bath not the one for the master bedroom. She told me to mention that.”

  Keeden felt his mild panic ebb, slightly. She’d said she wouldn’t go into his bedroom and she’d kept her word. “I don’t want or need a bath.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “It’ll be relaxing,” Louisa said, covering the vegetables before heading for the fridge.

  “That’s why she’s not here,” Bryant said. “She bought bath salts to aid in healing your bruises.”

  “Just do it,” Mathilde said.

  “No.”

  Bryant reached forward to tug on the makeshift shirt. “If you need help—”

  Keeden jumped away from him. “I’m fine. Where is she?”

  “Instead of searching for her, just take the bath. You’ll see her later.”

  Bryant started to grin. A dangerous grin that Keeden hated. A grin that meant his friend saw something Keeden didn’t want him to. “Unless you’re missing her so much—”

  “I’ll take the damn bath,” he lied because it was easier than admitting Bryant was right or taking a plate and throwing it at him.

  Keeden left the kitchen. He wasn’t taking a bath. He hadn’t indulged in one since he was... what? Nine? Who had the time? Or inclination? And why would Maya think he needed one? He’d taken a shower that morning so he knew he didn’t smell, and he felt his bruises were healing nicely, even if he was still a little sore when he did certain movements.

  Keeden marched to the bath ready to empty it out. Then stopped at the lavender scented air, the soft tendrils of steam touching his skin, the lit candles. He didn’t need candles or the pillow or the damn... Did she actually leave him a note?

  He picked it up and read, “I know your videoconference went well because I made you look so good. Now you can relax.”

  Her arrogance made him smile. He set the note down. Seeing her would have been better than a note, but...

  He’d hate to waste all this water and it was warm and his body still did ache. What the hell?

  He stripped down, swept his hair up then sank into the warm water with a contended sigh. Heaven.

  He lifted the note, studied the loops of her letters, the little smiley face she’d drawn in the corner and felt another smile form and then...

  Then...

  He came to his senses.

  They hit him like an anvil.

  He crumpled the note in his fist as anger mingled with longing. Why was she doing this to him? Why was she taking care of him? Making him feel this way? Was she getting him out of the way so she could be with Bryant? That didn’t make sense. She didn’t need a reason.

  Why had he gone searching for her in the first place? Unless you’re missing her so much... Bryant had teased him. This time his friend’s harmless teasing hadn’t annoyed him. It had stung.

  He was chasing shadows.

  And now no matter how much he knew—he knew!!—he still had a stupid, irrational desire to see her, now...no, it was worse. Now he didn’t only want to see her.

  He wanted her to join him.

  He wanted her to walk through the bathroom door, strip down until every blessed inch of her luscious brown body was visible and sink into the water with him. He wanted to feel her body wrap around him as the single piece of cloth had.

  Keeden briefly rested his head back on the pillow and swore. That wasn’t like him. He didn’t usually have thoughts like that. She was making a fool of him again.

  Why did she constantly have to surprise him?

  He had looked better in the newly fashioned garment she’d made for him. Even more, he felt better. The material worked. He usually stayed away from too many patterns (or any patterns at all), he didn’t want to overemphasize his cultural and ethnic background as a number of other artists did, cleverly making their origin part of their brand identity.

  He wasn’t a showy artist. He liked being invisible behind his work. But maybe he didn’t need to be so invisible. Perhaps a little color would be good for his image. He’d also found himself thinking in new interesting ways, feeling like a different person as if he didn’t have to be stuck as the artist he’d been for years. His future didn’t have to mirror his past. He felt a new Keeden emerging.

  His stepmother and sister were always telling him about the tailor they worked with but Keeden didn’t like the man’s designs. But maybe Maya could help.

  Maya.

  He liked her. How that had happened he didn’t want to think about, but it was a fact he couldn’t deny.

  He also found her attractive.

  Very attractive.

  That was fine too. Bryant had casually mentioned Maya’s looks on numerous occasions but Keeden refused to believe it was true. But now he could see the appeal of her soft round figure, her temptingly full lips, her sharp brown eyes. But his wayward thoughts were simple flights of fancy nothing more—they couldn’t be more. It was only because he’d never known her like this and the bath and the success of his videoconference had lifted his mood.

  That was all. Nothing else.

  Keeden left the bathroom feeling more in control. He changed into a T-shirt before he headed downstairs.

  He met Bryant on his way to the studio. “I’d like to talk to you Friday about—”

  “Sorry, can we make it next week?” Bryant said. “I’m taking Maya to a concert.”

  Keeden could only nod, feeling as if he’d been punched in the gut.

  25

  “If you want to come along—”

  “No,” Keeden said quickly, trying his best not to feel sick. Why did he feel sick? There was no reason to. “That’s okay. You need a break. Enjoy yourselves.”

  He turned before Bryant could say anything else and headed for his studio as if on autopilot.

  His body moved but he wasn’t in complete control of it. All the relaxed tension and ease he’d felt only moments before slowly drained away with each step, like the water in the now empty tub.

  Bryant had a date with Maya.

  Maya was going out with Bryant.

  She’d achieved her goal.

  She was in his house because of Bryant.

  Not him.

  Maya hadn’t agreed to the elders’ plan because she’d wanted to help him but because she wanted a chance to get closer to his best friend.

  He couldn’t forget that.

  That silly string bean? Isn’t he funny?

  Maya’s taunting words from all those years ago, swirled in his mind, twisting his heart. Funny indeed.

  Keeden mindlessly walked into the studio and saw Maya cleaning up. That was a good thing. She’d clean up and leave.

  Then he’d be alone.

  He needed to be alone.

  She looked over at him and smiled.

  And that’s when Keeden knew he was doomed. He couldn’t hate her anymore. He couldn’t stay away either.

  He couldn’t seem to control his growing feelings for her. Even though he knew she could hurt him. He knew he should keep his distance. In spite of all that, he didn’t want her to go. He wanted her to stay until his cast came off.

  After that there’d be nothing holding her there, but he’d come up with something. Make up another project. Hire her. He’d figure something out.

  He didn’t want to lose her to Bryant.

  He respected his friend but really knew that Maya wasn’t his type. Or was that wishful thinking?

  Even if Bryant’s type had changed and Maya truly got Bryant to fall for her.

  Keeden didn’t want to lose her.

  He wanted her in his life. He wanted her as a friend.

  Not a nemesis.

  That silly string bean? Isn’t he funny?

  Keeden felt a soft hand on his arm and the sweetened scent of mangoes briefly embraced him, as a tender hand touched his neck.

  “You’re not warm,” Maya mumbled, pulling his arm. “Come on sit down.”

  He blinked and glanced down at her. “What?”

  She led him to the small couch behind the coffee table where he and Bryant sat when they were coming up with ideas or when he wanted to take a nap. She gently pushed him down. “I asked did you enjoy your bath and you stood there like a statue. Are you feeling okay?”

  “Hmm.” He glanced up at the sculpture hanging from the ceiling, his heart beating too fast at the sight of her smile.

  Maya folded her arms and clicked her tongue. “Is that the thanks I get?”

  “You didn’t have to do it.”

  She playfully patted his cheek. “There you go again stating the obvious.”

  If she was anybody else he would have been annoyed but instead he was just glad she noticed him.

  He had to keep his distance, he had to keep his cool. It was the only way to protect himself. He stiffened. “Hmm.”

  “I went too far, didn’t I?” she said, her voice holding a note of regret. “I overstepped my bounds and made you angry.”

  Keeden looked at her sad eyes and quickly said, “No,” with a ferocity that surprised them both. But he wouldn’t make her cry again. He sighed and attempted to soften his tone. “No. I’m just not used to—”

  “Me being nice?” Maya guessed with a laugh. “Me neither. But after seeing...” She rubbed her hands together, sent a pointed look at his chest then his cast. “I’m truly sorry about what happened to you.”

  He shook his head. “We’ve gotten past that.”

  “I still needed to say it. And the funeral flowers really were a mistake.”

  “I know.” He still remembered the shocked look on her face from that day. But he’d done nothing to help her. He’d let her take the blame.

  And yet here she was apologizing to him. As if she cared. “You don’t have to pretend,” he said in a cold voice.

  “Pretend?”

  “To care about me.”

  “I’m not pretending,” she shot back. “I do care. Don’t ask me why because I don’t know. Especially when you turn on me like this and treat me like...” She gripped her hands into fists. “I’m so beneath you you can barely look at me.”

  Keeden jumped to his feet, alarmed by the tears in her voice. “I’m embarrassed.” He nodded at her surprised expression. “Really.” He bit his lip. “I’m...glad you care.” Even though it hurts. Even though seeing your eyes soften and a gentle look of relief spread over your face tugs at my heart. He cleared his throat desperate to change the subject. “I...heard you have a date.”

  Maya frowned. “A date?”

  Keeden swallowed. Did she really need him to spell it out? “With Bryant.”

  She laughed. “A date? No, it’s nothing like that. Bryant and I are going to an outdoor concert this Friday that’s all.”

  “Sounds like a date to me.”

  “Thanks, but it’s not really. He got tickets from a friend he didn’t want to go to waste.”

  Keeden silently swore. He couldn’t believe his friend was still using that lie. It was a handy one he used when he didn’t want to officially ask someone out. One thing was certain, his friend was curious about her. He didn’t spring that story on anyone he wasn’t interested in. “Hmm.” Keeden gestured to the door. “You should go. I didn’t mean to keep you.”

  “You’re not.”

  She should be leaving. Why wasn’t she leaving? Why was she looking at him as if she planned to stay?

  He sat back down and stared down at the table. “What you did today, think you could do it again?”

  “You want another bath?” Maya said confused.

  Keeden sent her a sideward glance. “No…I mean the uh shirt.”

  “Your stepmother’s tailor could—”

  “No,” he said with a little too much force. He softened his voice, he didn’t want to scare her. “I don’t want the typical. It doesn’t work.”

  She nodded and studied him for a long moment. “You’re right. You usually end up looking as skinny as a flagpole.”

  “Can you help or not?”

  “I’ve got some ideas and you can use my tailor. Like you, there are certain outfits I can’t just take off the rack, especially dresses. I know I’m short and stocky and can look ridiculous in gowns. I once tried one on with a V-neck so deep it literally plunged to my belly button. Fortunately, my tailor’s very skilled and with a couple well-placed stitches, made me look beautiful.”

  “So, basically he’s a miracle worker.”

  “Yes,” Maya said recognizing the insult. “He might actually make you look tall.”

  Keeden nodded impressed by her biting retort. “Good. I just need two or three items. I’ll pay you.”

  “Okay.”

  “You can use the extra cloth that’s left over for yourself.”

  Maya laughed. “There wouldn’t be enough cloth to fit me.”

 

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