Right now, her main focus was on getting another job so she could return to living a normal life. Her father was quick to remind her that he was willing to invest in her venture, if she decided to go into business for herself.
“May I join you?”
She recalled that deep, masculine voice from this morning and glanced up into Haddison B. Wolf’s eyes. Her stomach clenched and potent desire sliced right through her. She forced oxygen into her lungs. Being this attracted to a man she’d just met mere hours ago was crazy. Totally. Absolutely. Utterly crazy. Yet, here she was, doing the same thing she’d done that morning—staring dumbly into the face of what had to be the most gorgeous man she’d seen in a long time. Possibly ever.
“Absolutely,” she finally found her voice to say. “I just got here a few minutes ago.” The waitress had taken her drink order, and she’d been checking out the menu. “I see you’re having a late lunch, as well.”
He nodded as he sat down. “Yes. I got caught in an unscheduled meeting.”
She smiled. “That happens, unfortunately.” And why was she staring at his hands as he grabbed the menu out of the table rack? She’d noticed them this morning when he’d handed the folder back to her. He had nice hands — strong and sturdy-looking. She’d once read that a woman could tell a lot about a man from his hands, and it hadn’t had anything to do with his genitalia. The article had claimed that the length of his fingers could tell you if he would treat his woman well, or even whether or not he was the marrying kind.
Her roommate from college, Cheryl Hansberry, had believed in those sort of things, much as Kennedy believed in her daily horoscope readings. Since Cheryl had snagged a man with perfect hands, and the two had been happily married five years now, maybe there was some truth in that.
“Thanks for sharing your table.”
She moved her focus from his hands back to his face, and then wished she hadn’t. A smile curved his lips and that smile, combined with those mesmerizing eyes, nearly rendered her speechless. She forced her mouth to move and said, “You’re welcome.”
He studied the menu, and while sipping her tea, she studied him. All she’d gotten this morning was a quick glimpse of him. Now, she had the opportunity to take a less-hurried assessment and she was enjoying every moment of it. He had bedroom brown eyes, a pair of sculpted cheekbones, a bearded, chiseled jaw, and lips that had a sensuous curve to them. Some men had it in the looks department and some didn’t. Those who didn’t could sometimes make up for it in other places — like a nice body, nice hands, sexy voice… But Haddison B. Wolf? He had it all. Every base covered.
“So, what do you suggest?”
She blinked. He had lowered his menu and probably caught her checking him out. Maybe she should feel embarrassed, but she wasn’t. He was a man. She was a woman. And there was that annoying thing known as the ‘law of attraction’. “Their turkey sandwiches are good,” she finally said, hoping he thought the reason for her delay in answering was because she’d been thinking about his question.
He nodded and the smile curving his lips widened a fraction more. “I think I’ll try one. I like turkey.”
Kennedy was tempted to ask him just what else he liked. Returning the smile, she said, “Then that’s something we have in common. I like turkey, too, Mr. Wolf.”
“Please, call me Haddison.”
Kennedy had no problem doing that — most people around the office preferred being called by their first name. Except for Larry, who’d miraculously become Mr. Matthews after his promotion. “And I’m Kennedy.”
“Kennedy…umm. That’s unique. I like it.”
And she liked the way he pronounced her name. It lacked the southern twang she was used to from her family, but had an ultra-sexy tone to it. “Thanks. And you can thank my great-grandfather, Papa Henry, for my name. There’s a story behind it.”
“And what’s the story?”
She took another sip of her tea, before saying, “Papa Henry is from the deep South, and he asked my parents to let him name me after the Kennedys. At the time, they were a prominent Democratic family whose name, at least, in a lot of elderly black folks’ minds, was synonymous with fairness and justice for all. Especially those blacks from the South who’d struggled through the civil rights movement like Papa Henry had.”
“I’m glad your parents agreed to let him name you.”
“Me, too. When I was younger, I was always the only Kennedy around. Now, the name has become pretty popular, but I still think of myself as one of the first.”
He chuckled. “That’s an honor you should be proud of.”
She smiled. “And I am.” After taking another sip of her tea, she asked, “Where are you from, Haddison?”
“Los Angeles. What about you?”
“I was born here in St. Paul and lived here until I was thirteen. Then my father, who is a commercial airline pilot, changed companies and went to work for a private company. We had to relocate to Atlanta.”
Kennedy figured there was no reason to add that her dad changing companies was not the only reason they’d relocated. The main reason he’d taken the job in the first place had been because of her — and her wild ways. He’d seen the job change and relocation as a way to give her a fresh start by separating her from the bad crowd she’d hung around with in St. Paul, as well as introduce her to family she hadn’t been close to.
“I like Atlanta.”
His words drew her attention, not that it had ever wavered off of him. Even with her thoughts elsewhere, he had definitely remained within the scope of her vision. “I like Atlanta, too. I have a lot of family there, and in Macon,” she said.
“I envy you. I was an only child and longed to be a part of a large family.”
She heard genuine regret in his voice. “A large family has its positives and its negatives, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love my family because I know that no matter what, they have my back. We might fight amongst ourselves, but I feel sorry for the person who tries to come between the Bennetts.”
At that moment the waitress came to take their order.
Just like the first time Haddison laid eyes on Kennedy Bennett during the bank robbery, she was getting to him. He wasn’t sure what there was about her that turned him on, practically arousing the male element within him, but it was happening and he couldn’t stop it.
When he’d walked into the café and saw her sitting alone, he’d been tempted to walk back out and find another place to eat. But something had propelled him forward, as if they were two magnets that had to be connected. The next thing he knew, he was standing at her table, asking to join her.
She not only had a pleasant voice, but she was also a great conversationalist. He liked that about her. And the boldness he’d admired in her that first time they’d met now lurked beneath professionalism. However, there was no doubt in his mind that if something rubbed her the wrong way, her true nature would reveal itself.
He just couldn’t buy into Matthews’s and Whitworth’s suspicions about her. Especially since, unless she was doing something underhandedly, no laws were being broken. When she’d been hired, she had signed a non-compete agreement, which stated if an employee left the company, they could not establish business with any of Rivers’ clients for a period of twenty-four months. Unless she broke that contract, she was free to do as she pleased. He wanted to believe she wouldn’t jeopardize her professional reputation by breaking the law.