A Merry Little Christmas (9 page)

His desire to see less of Angelique was complicated by the fact that she had a studio in the Cochran building. Cochran Communications, under Donnie’s leadership, had moved from its original home on Jefferson Avenue to a new location in downtown Detroit that was closer to the heart of the city. Detroit was enjoying a resurgence of vitality and energy and Cochran Communications was right in the middle of it all. The new building was one that had been renovated by Adam and Alicia and preserved the elegant architecture of the auto-baron age combined with a sleek modem interior. Located near the Greektown Casinos, the new Ford Field indoor arena where the Detroit Lions played football and the beautiful Comerica Park, home to the Detroit Tigers, the Cochran building was home not only to Cochran Communications, but several other businesses.
 
Angelique had leased office space there and it hadn’t fazed Donnie one way or another, but that was before the kiss. Now it was pretty much a moot point since Donnie was in and out of the office so much that he’d never see her. At least that was the plan until his first day back at work.

There on his desk was a huge, obnoxious SpongeBob
SquarePants
gift bag. Donnie hung up his coat while eying the bag with suspicion. His secretary thought Angelique was sweet and would have delivered the package to his office without hesitation. He approached the parcel warily, and found a more conventional bag with a gift tag that indicated it was from Benita. He smiled and rea
ched for the inside bag eagerly and
then remembered why it was necessary for him to get the gift in this way. He was supposed to get the package at Angelique’s open house and he hadn’t gone. And now he had the package and no need to encounter that evil little woman again for a good long time. Life just couldn’t get any better.

***

Angelique was so bus
y after the end of the holidays
she barely had time to remember there was an Adonis Cochran in the world, which was just fine with her. At that moment she was in her studio in the Cochran building, matting the photographs she would bring to her presentation at the African-American museum. The bright winter sun streamed through the windows and her precise, careful movements occupied all her attention, keeping her thoughts at bay. To think about him meant that she remembered that kiss and that was something she really didn’t want to do.

That kiss... it was so sweet, so sensual that the mere memory of it took her breath away and put her right back into a place where she could still taste his lips, still feel his strong arms locked around her, still feel the wild and unfamiliar longing that only he could assuage. The tender memory was always followed by the recollection of his behavior the very next day, when he had ignored her completely. That was also something she’d like to forget. Suddenly, despite her efforts to concentrate on her work, her mind drifted. With a sound of disgust, she stopped what she was doing and propped her head in one hand, the past few days coming back to her with unerring clarity.

She, Paris, and A. J. had all gone over to Alan’s house and she’d even brought a huge bowl of shrimp salad to contribute to the meal. It was her mother’s recipe and Lillian’s shrimp sal
ad was welcome wherever it went,
it was that spectacular. The real reason she’d brought the salad, however, was because Donnie loved it. He’d had it on several occasions when he was visiting Bennie and Clay in Atlanta and always raved about it, so she’d taken the shrimp salad out of the refrigerator without hesitation, even though it was for her party the next day.
 
After A.J. and Paris convinced her to go to the party, she decided to cast caution to the wind and see if there was something more to the spontaneous kiss than either she or Donnie realized. Dressed i
n the beautiful lapis-blue cash
mere sweater Paris had given her for Christmas, Angelique really thought she was l
ooking her best. She had on mid
night-navy velvet jeans and sleek ankle boots, and a sheer misting of her favorite fragrance, Youth Dew by Estee Lauder.
It was considered to be an old-fashioned fragrance, but she loved it and it smelled fantastic on her skin. 
She was ready to face Donnie, whatever the outcome. Yes, she’d made herself vulnerable to him and even a target for his ridicule by giving him that kiss, but now she was ready for the consequences.

Angelique suddenly sat up straight with fire in her eyes. She picked up a matting tool and stared at it, then put it back down. She couldn’t trust herself to cut anything in her present mood. There was no point in trying to avoid it—the memory was too galling to go away.
 
After greeting all the Cochrans and introducing A.J. to anyone who didn’t know him, Angelique had really begun enjoying herself despite the little thrills chasing around in her stomach in anticipation of seeing Donnie. Tina, Alan Cochran’s wife, had just said something to Angelique about the possibility of her showing at the museum and Angelique had confirmed the information. A.J. had put a brotherly arm around her and was praising her work when Donnie finally walked in and everything went wrong.

Donnie looked as handsome as ever in another gorgeous sweater, this one a soft blue gray that warmed his already rich skin tone and made it more appealing. He was wearing jeans and some good-looking black shoes that laced up and looked very Italian, although they were probably Doc
Martens. His smooth face was fr
eshly shaved and he smelled wonderful. Angelique’s mouth had become dry and her
hands had gotten damp and itchy.  S
he couldn’t have said anything if she’d wanted to. As it turned out, she didn’t have to say a word; Donnie had ignored her completely. He didn’t look at her, he didn’t greet her in any way and he had acted as though she didn’t exist. A hard, cold weight formed in her stomach and the rest of the time went by in a blur. Luckily, A.J. was serious about shooting some film and they left rather quickly. They drove to Metro Beach and took some shots of the setting sun over the bleak winter shore.

Angelique jerked out of her reverie, suddenly reminded that
her
film
would be ready that day. They’d been shooting in color and she didn’t like to do her own color processing. She’d developed a good relationship with a small lab that wasn’t too far from the building, and they were always willing to expedite her orders. She glanced at her watch and saw it was almost time for lunch, so she decided to go pick up the order, reasoning that a brisk walk in the cold air would do her some good anyway. Abandoning all pretense of work, she quickly put everything away and went down to the main lobby. As she waved at the concierge and turned quickly to the big brass doors that led to the street, she ran smack into what seemed to be a wall made of wool.

The wall was actually a tall, good-looking man who seemed rather pleased at the collision. “I guess I was in the right place at the right time,” he said. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Angelique looked up into a broad, smiling face and had to smile herself: the man was adorable. It was a strange adjective to use about a big, handsome, obviously well-off man, but there was no other word that fit him so well. He was about six-two and a big teddy bear of a man, with that Gerald
Levert
kind of sex appeal. His skin was a rich, warm brown and his full, chiseled lips were surrounded by an impeccably groomed mustache and beard. His eyes were kind and merry with thick eyebrows and long, straight lashes.

“I’m fine, thank you. I think I should be apologizing to you,” she said nicely.

“I wouldn’t hear of it. Here, let me help you with your coat,” he said gallantly, holding out his hands for the garment.

Angelique promptly gave it to him and allowed him to assist her. He waited while she shifted her purse and gloves from one hand to the other,
and
then made sure the coat was on her shoulders properly. “No hat today?” he asked.

Still s
mil
ing, Angelique shook her head no.

“Now,
th
at’s not good. You lose most of your body heat through your head and your feet,” he chided gently.

“You’re not wearing one either,” Angelique said with a raised eyebrow.

“Aww, baby, just
look at me.
 
I’m a walking furnace,” he said with a chuckle. “Besides, I don’t want to mess up my hair.” He gave his hair a pat with an exaggerated flutter of his amazi
n
g eyelashes.

He did have a pretty head of hair, thick and black and perfectly trimmed. Angelique thanked him again for his chivalry and promised she would get a hat.

“I have to run now. Take care of
yourself
,” she said as they each gave a brief wave good-bye. Sudde
nly the cold winter day was warm
er and more cheerful, all because of a chance encounter.

***

“Mr. Cochran, Dr. Alexander is here.”

“Thanks, Margaret, I’ll be right there.” Donnie smiled broadly as he went to the door of his office. It was his habit to personally receive all visi
tors; Benita had taught him that
courtesy when she was head of Cochran Communications. This time he was combining business with pleasure, as Dr. Warren Alexander was one of his oldest friends. The doctor had been interviewed on the talk-radio station owned by Cochran and the two men had arranged to have
lunch afterward. Donnie met his friend in the reception area of the executive floor and took him back to his spacious private office, where the two men began chatting.

“So how’re you doing, man?” There was real concern in Warren’s voice, as he knew the story of Donnie’s proposal and the less than stellar results.

Donnie shrugged and spread out his hands in a gesture of acceptance. He and Warren were both seated on the long Ultrasuede sofa that graced his window-lined work space. “I’m doing okay.
Better than okay, actually.
I had a long talk with Aneesah and she made a lot of sense. I think I was more in love with the idea of a partnership than I was with her,” he admitted. “Although, I don’t agree with her that I’m an intellectual snob.”

“An intellectual
what?"
Warren asked with a raised brow.

Donnie related the entire conversation to Warren, who took advantage of his old-friend status to laugh in Donnie’s face. “Yeah, well, she’s right, my brother. You do have some fairly rigid standards when it comes to dating. If a woman isn’t superlative in all ways, from size to height to intellect to credentials, you aren’t interested. You do make up a list and go shopping in the woman store, Cochran.”

“Okay, maybe I do. But I like what I like, how can you fault me for that? I grew up with amazing women all around me, Warre
n. Benita practically raised me. 
I really
don’t remember my mother at all.  Think about my sister
: she’s an incredible woman, probably the most incredible woman I’ve ever known.
She’s b
eautiful, brilliant, kind, compassionate and talented. There’s nothing she can’t do, Warren,” Donnie said. “She ran this company from the time she was about fifteen, practically, as well as kept everything running at home and raised us after Mom died. My aunt Ruth, she resigned her commission in the army to help raise us; she’s another outstanding woman. M
y sisters-in-law, Tina and Faye,
check them out. Tina is a circuit court judge and Faye is a college president. Adam’s partner, Alicia, is considered to be one of the leading architects in the country, Wa
rren. Not the city or the state,
she gets national recognition, man. So why shouldn’t I have high expectations for the woman in my life? I’ve had nothing but brilliant examples of womanhood around me all my life.”

Warren nodded his head in agreement. 
“Okay, you make
some excellent
good point
s
. But can we continue this over lunch? You can’t maintain a physique like this one unless you feed it regularly,” he remarked, giving his barrel chest a rub. “I can shoot holes in your argument quite nicely over a big Greek salad and a gyro.”

Donnie agreed that lunch was in order. While he was getting his topcoat out of the closet, Warren stood up and stretched. “I gotta ask you, though, how do you manage to get all these fine women in one place? Every time I come in this building I see one beautiful face after another. One of them ran smack into me when
I was walking across the lobby,
now
she
was a knockout!”

Donnie put on his coat and picked up his leather gloves in anticipation of the harsh
cold. “Nothing changes with you, Warren. Y
ou were on your way to this serious interview about
neurolinguistics
and the latest advances in the field, and you’re trying to pick up women in the lobby.”

“Not true, Cochran. I was so busy thinking about the interview that I didn’t try to pick her up, but I wish I’d gotten her name or number or something. She was gorgeous, friendly, smelled like a million bucks and had dimples you could swim in.
Just beautiful.”
He sighed.

“Warren, I think you need to start getting out more, you’re sounding desperate, man. She couldn’t have looked all that good.”