A Time To Love Page 3

  But the sound of a deep, mellow voice and Lainie giggling like she was thirteen again tweaked her interest. Despite Lainie’s command that she stay there until she’d learned one simple procedure, Neva gave up. Besides, she needed a break. She stood and stretched then headed into the store.

  “Lainie, I give up....” Neva came to a halt. There before her was the black prince. She was sure it was him. His skin was a creamy chocolate. His profile showed a strong jaw and one dark eyebrow. Beneath the denim shirt, broad shoulders seemed to stretch the fabric to the limit. Neva could tell he was at least six feet four inches in his socks. He wore cowboy boots. He was lean but muscular, like a football player. Maybe a linebacker moving over the field like quicksilver, all grace and speed. No, not football. Track. She could see him hurling a javelin through the air or arching up to pole vault his way into records books. Neva had a strong urge to do something to make him turn towards her so she could see his full face.

  Lainie stood behind the man as he examined a row of lures and fish hooks. “I’m doing just fine out here. You don’t have to worry,” she said.

  “I’m looking for a good lure for sac-au-lait,” he said in a deep baritone.

  “Hmm, let’s see.” Lainie searched the row.

  “Here they are. Of course live bait works well, too.” Neva stepped close to him. She took a sharp breath when he looked at her. Ebony eyes stared out beneath the heavy brows. He was magnificent.

  “What would you recommend?” he said. “I’m kinda new to the area.” His full lips lifted in a heart-stopping smile.

  “Minnows are good. My, uh, grandfather swore by them,” Neva murmured. She knew she was staring but could not help it.

  “Then I’ll try it. Oh and I need some other things.” He picked up a reel and several items.

  “Neva, why don’t you help Mr....” Lainie looked at him with raised eyebrows.

  “Macklin, Chandler Macklin. Nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Elaine Jenkins. Call me Lainie, everybody does,” Lainie chirped gaily. “And this is my cousin Neva Ross.”

  “Miss Ross.” He nodded to Neva.

  “Call her Neva, Chandler. We don’t stand on formality round here,” Lainie insisted. She was determined to put them all on a first name basis quickly. “I’m going into the office to– get something.” She left.

  “I’ll get the minnows.” Neva started toward the side screen porch where they kept the live bait.

  “Can I see?” Chandler put his purchases down on the counter.

  “Sure, this way.” Neva fought to control her breathing.

  “Got a great all purpose establishment here. You started it?” Chandler watched her with interest.

  Neva set a plastic bag in a wire frame on the shelf beside the tank, then used a large ladle to fill it with darting minnows from the tank. “My grandfather. He died twelve years ago and my grandmother ran it until she became too ill.”

  “Sorry to hear it. Sounds like extraordinary folks, your grandparents.”

  “Mama worked until she was seventy-eight years old. And Papa Dub was just as tough.” Neva tied a knot in the plastic bag and handed it to him. “Here you go.”

  She felt a prickle along her arm when his hand touched hers. They walked back to the counter. So much for keeping my feet on the ground. Neva kept thinking of him as the black prince. Seeing his lithe movements only added to her fanciful thoughts.

  “Looks like I’m all set.” Chandler looked down to his wallet and counted out several bills. “Thanks for the guidance. You fish?”

  “You kidding? The woman’s a fishing maniac,” Lainie broke in. “Loves the outdoors.”

  Neva looked around to find her standing in the open entrance leading to the back. Lainie wore a knowing grin. “Cut it out,” she mouthed silently. Lainie pretended not to see.

  “Really? My friends back in Detroit tease me about turning into a country boy since I moved here.” Chandler chuckled.

  “Neva knows all the best fishing spots. Don’t you?” Lainie gave her a signal to speak up.

  “Uh, yes,” was all Neva could manage. The scent of him, like leather and sandal wood, drifted to her. She shook her head slightly to clear the fog he’d created.

  “Her late husband was a fishing fool. She doesn’t go much now that she’s single,” Lainie put forth boldly. In one deft move, she made sure the man knew Neva was available.

  “I see,” Chandler said as his dark gaze came up to Neva. He stood holding the money in his hand. “Maybe you could tell me about a few of them. The ones that aren’t a closely guarded secret, I mean.” His dark eyes had a teasing glint.

  “Sure I–”

  “Better yet, show him. With all the back roads twisting and turning, probably be simpler,” Lainie piped up.

  Neva threw her a dark look. Such blatant matchmaking would make the man think she was desperate. “I’ll be busy with the store for months. Leisure time is something I simply don’t have,” she snapped.

  “A map would be fine,” Chandler said.

  Neva was mortified to see he was trying hard not to laugh. “Yes. It would.” She stomped to the office and snatched a sheet of blank paper from her desk. When she turned around, she collided with Lainie.

  Lainie shut the office door. “I had you all fixed up. The man was looking for an opening.” She stood with both hands on her hips.

  “Don’t do me any favors. I still have nightmares about some of those blind dates you arranged.” Neva squinted at her.

  “When was the last time you had a date?”

  “I was seeing people in New Orleans.

  Jeffrey was–”

  “A bore. Try again,” Lainie cut her off with the sharp wave of her hand.

  Neva lifted her chin in defiance. “Reginald and I had some good times.”

  “Was that before or after you found out he had six kids scattered all over the city?” Lainie retorted.

  “The point is I don’t need help in that department.”

  Neva tried not to dwell on the truth about her forlorn love life. No man had ever sent shivers up her spine like Chandler Macklin with just a lift of that gorgeous mouth. He made her think of all those old Barry White love songs her mother used to play when Neva was a little girl.

  “You’re attracted to the man. Reel him in.” Lainie cut into her thoughts. “What’s more, he wants to be caught.”

  “Go on.” Neva felt a rush of pleasure despite her words.

  “He was checking you out. Oh he was subtle with it, but the man likes you.” Lainie winked at her. “Girl, if I wasn’t a married woman....”

  “Lainie!” Neva pretended shocked disapproval then giggled. “But he is so-oo fine.”

  “Did you so those thighs? Like iron. Umm-hump!” Lainie shook her shoulders.

  Neva felt a heat wave start in her toes and move up to her hips. No, she did not have time for this. In fact, Lainie was right. She’d been burned several times in the last three years. Chandler Macklin was probably too good to be true.

  “I’m going to draw him a map to Lake Rosemond and that’s all. I’ve got too much going on with me right now.” Neva swept out past Lainie before she could dissuade her. She went to the counter.

  “I don’t want to interrupt your busy day. I could come back.” Chandler stood waiting patiently.

  Neva’s resolved to be cordial yet distance weakened instantly. “Oh it’s no problem,” she hastened to reassure him. “Here we go.”

  To her dismay, he bent his handsome head close to hers as she drew a simple map leading to the lake and several smaller ponds within the parish. Between concentrating on controlling her reaction to him and keeping her mind on the map, Neva felt spent after only a few minutes.

  “You did that well. Are you an artist?” Chandler still leaned close to her.

  “I mostly do design sketches. I make jewelry, costume pieces with semi-precious stones. Nothing fancy like real gold,” Neva said. “I have done some watercolors of the landscape
around here and New Orleans.”

  “Sounds fascinating.” Chandler studied her face. “Maybe you can show me your sketches sometime.”

  “Of course,” Neva replied in a cool voice. But inside she was jumping up and down at the prospect of seeing him again.

  “I’ll see you later. I’m going to need more supplies soon.” Chandler smiled at her. He looked past her to Lainie. “Bye, Lainie.”

  “Bye.” Neva watched the way his whole solid body moved like a well oiled machine as he walked out of the store and to his Toyota truck.

  “The Lord put all he had into making that man!” Lainie burst out when the door shut behind him.

  “Wow,” Neva mumbled.

  “Supplies nothing. You’re the reason he’s coming back.” Lainie clapped her on the shoulder. “Go girl.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions.” Neva picked up the ringing telephone on the wall behind her. “Hello. Oh Hi, Desiree. No. Look, let’s not get into this again. I–” She put the receiver back.

  “Hung up again? Witch!” Lainie frowned at the phone as though wishing Desiree would appear through it. “I wish she’d bring her butt here and pull some stuff.”

  “I’ve got my hands full, Lainie.” Neva shook her head causing her long hair to bounce. The abrupt exchange with Desiree had wiped out the pleasant glow Chandler Macklin had left. “Look what happened before. I can’t afford to float in a romantic daze just thinking of myself. Time to get down to business.”

  “Come on. You’re trying too hard,” Lainie said.

  “All my attention has to be the family business and property Mama Jo entrusted to me. I won’t let them down.”

  “You can do that and have fun, too,” Lainie insisted.

  “We’ve both seen the books. It took us a week just to clean out that filthy store room. You think I’ve got time for a social life?” Neva grabbed her hand and pulled her back to the office.

  “That bum of a manager. We oughta press charges.” Lainie sat down in front of the computer, or rather Neva pushed her down into the chair.

  “Now let’s get to work. We’ve got a long evening ahead. Might as well call your hubby and have him bring over pizza on his way home. Show me what I’m doing wrong on this thing.”

  Neva pushed thoughts of the sexy man from her head. Between Mama Jo’s health problems and Desiree, she’d be plenty busy. I’ve got serious business to take of all right, and sorting out the store may be the easiest part.

  ***

  Chandler walked up the ladder of the tower to check the valves. He did not take the elevator, preferring the exertion after hours of sitting in the control room. The early October evening was crisp. The moon shown like a perfect silvery disk in the sky. This was what he enjoyed most, using his hands to work. He adjusted the flow of crude oil going through the distillation process. Seeing all was fine, he took a few moments to gaze up at the sky. Once again he congratulated himself on breaking out and taking this transfer when he had the chance. He took a deep breath enjoying the night air. Stars twinkled in the ink blue sky. Peaceful. Something he’d seldom experienced for the past five years between the divorce and custody battle. A pang went through him at the thought of Tariq. He felt so guilty at the effect it all had on the eleven year old. Still, at least he and Alise had come to an uneasy truce in the last ten months. I’ll make it up to him somehow. No more putting work ahead of the rest of my life. The walkie-talkie on his hip crackled.

  “Say man, you ever comin’ back?”

  Chandler turned it on to reply. “You scared to be all alone in that big old room, Vernon?”

  “Ha-ha. Taylor wants to meet with us. Something about new specs. Might need to adjust our settings,” Vernon said. “So get your rear in gear. Over and out.”

  “You just love playing with this thing, don’t ya?” Chandler laughed. “See you in a sec.”

  Chandler checked the valves one last time before starting the long descent down the side of tower. He enjoyed the motion of climbing, the way it flexed his muscles. Yes, this beat sitting behind a desk hands down. He strode across the grounds back to the building that housed the control room. When he entered, Vernon was again using the walkie-talkie to reach another operator somewhere in the plant.

  Vernon turned to Chandler. “So Spider-man, you got in your daily walk up the wall.”

  “I did that. What’s up with Taylor?” Chandler scanned the computer monitors.

  “We got a new order from a medical supply company. Need a different kinda alcohol. It’s always something.”

  “Yeah.” Chandler made notations in the official journal of his shift.

  “Got tickets to see the Kingfish play the Ice Gators Saturday night. You interested?” Vernon switched from work to play.

  “A little rough and tumble hockey sounds good to me. We still on for Thursday night football?” Chandler continued to work.

  “Uh-huh. Shawn swears he’s going to make a touchdown this week against the Buffaloes. Cocky kid shooting his mouth off.” Vernon stuck his chest out proudly. Despite his words, he was always bragging on his favorite nephew, the high school football standout.

  “Like you don’t,” Chandler said with a smirk.

  “You can talk? What about me suffering through all those Tariq the whiz kid stories, huh?”

  “Shut up! I am not one of those boring people rattling on about their kids.” Chandler lobbed a wadded up piece of paper at him.

  “Think again,” Vernon retorted.

  The two men exchanged good-humored banter. Chandler and Vernon had become fast friends within one week of being introduced to each other. Vernon was married with three little girls. They shared a love of sports, rhythm and blues and home cooking. Vernon’s wife Eve was one fabulous cook. The Peters clan had taken Chandler in, inviting him to several Sunday dinners that left him bloated and happy. If only Alise would stop being so stubborn and agree to let Tariq come down during school breaks. Chandler grew quiet thinking of a way to avoid another nasty battle.

  “Say, you all right?” Vernon clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Yeah.” Chandler shook his head as though to clear away the troubling thoughts.

  “You need a good woman.” Vernon pointed a forefinger at him.

  “Not that again. No blind dates!” Chandler went back to work reviewing specifications for the various chemical products they distilled from crude oil.

  “Look, I know how you feel. But–”

  Chandler held up one palm. “I can find my own woman.” He stared at the computer monitor but his mind was back at the Fish Shack. He thought of the lovely lady with luscious lips and amber eyes.

  “You seeing somebody?” Vernon cut into his thoughts.

  “Nah, not exactly.”

  Chandler remembered the sway of her hips, the way the long full skirt moved as she walked ahead of him. But I hope to. The idea popped into his head again they way it had for the past week since he’d met Neva.

  “All I can say is, she gotta be one sweet thing. Brother in a daze.” Vernon gazed at him, head to one side.

  “I’m not in a daze,” Chandler burst out. He went back to checking figures on rate of flow.

  “Yeah, sure. Mama is going to be disappointed. She was counting on you and Zenia getting together.” Vernon let out a guffaw at Chandler’s pained expression.

  “Man, your sister is a nice person but....” Chandler shrugged.

  “You don’t have to diplomatic, bro.”

  “Well, I–”

  “There is a reason Zenia is alone again. She likes having her way and her mouth is always running.” Vernon shook his head.

  “Since you said it first, that’s it exactly. After our second date, she starting telling me how to re-arrange my furniture.” Chandler gave a shudder. “I’ve been through one of those, Vernon. No more.”

  Alise had ordered their lives for almost the entire twelve years they were together. First in college, then after they were married. She was intent on guiding them
to the upscale lifestyle of her wealthy parents. Chandler was determined not to repeat his mistake. Giving in to demands, even those cloaked in velvet, was no way to live. Not the way he wanted to at this stage anyway.

  “I hear you. Guess I was lucky to find my lady.” Vernon took his turn gazing off with thoughts of a woman.

  “Got that right.” Chandler thought of the sweet woman four years older than Vernon and so down to earth.

  “Don’t try to change the subject. Tell me who she is.” Vernon would not be put off now that he was on the scent.

  “I just met her. The lady that owns that little store on Sterling Lane. Neva Ross.” Chandler blinked at the slow heat that began to build in his belly. What’s this about, brother?

  “Whoa, Neva Sterling Ross is one good-looking sister. But....” Vernon’s voice trailed off. A sure sign he wanted to say more but only would with prompting.

  Chandler glanced at him sharply. “What?”

  “Word is she’s a witch.”

  “She seemed pleasant, real helpful.” Chandler wondered if this was another case of pretty packaging hiding a bad temper.

  “No, I mean a spell casting type witch. Actually more like a voodoo woman, I guess.” Vernon grinned at the look of skepticism Chandler gave him. “I know. But my sisters say–”

  “Hold up, your three sisters are the source of this information?”

  “Point taken. Sharla, Irene and Zenia do strain credibility,” Vernon agreed. “But it is true that at least three men have come to a bad end after falling hard for her. That’s fact now.” He held up a hand.

  “Come on,” Chandler said with a snort.

  “This guy was nuts for her in high school, right? Frankie was always wild. Ended up in prison after she married this older guy.”

  “Vernon, will you listen to yourself?”

  “Then Nathan started drinking heavy after they were married. The talk was he wrecked his car on purpose cause she was leaving him. Dead at forty-seven.” Vernon lifted a shoulder.

  “That’s two. What about the third one. Did she sacrifice him at midnight under a full moon?” Chandler dropped his voice low and rubbed his hands together.