Her Kind of Man. Pamela Yaye

her. She wanted to know if he had lived out his dream of playing in the NFL, if he still jogged five miles a day, but most important, she wanted to know how in the world he had ended up married to a woman like Veronika Blake.

      Chapter 2

      Kenyon glanced up from his menu, just in time to see Ms. Stevens exit the ladies’ room. He couldn’t believe this dainty woman with the pretty eyes and sensuous mouth was his nephew’s teacher. Her sun-kissed complexion paid tribute to her Caribbean roots, her cute, gumdrop nose gave her a youthful look and her curvaceous figure only added to her appeal. Everything about her from her shy smile to her tiny waist came together perfectly in a petite, compact package.

      Hot damn! he thought, as he settled back into his chair. Kenyon must have spoken out loud because the plump-faced waitress strolling by stopped abruptly.

      “Welcome to the Barbecue Kitchen. I’m Christine, but my friends call me Sunny.” She tapped her pencil on her notepad, her smile growing wider by the second. “Can I interest you in something to drink?”

      “I’ll have a beer.”

      “Great. I’ll be right back.”

      Kenyon returned his attention to Ms. Stevens. He had never had a teacher that fine. Despite her low-key appearance and the air of timidity surrounding her, she was stunning. Her hair was pulled back, her makeup simple and her jewelry tasteful. The navy, slim-fitted cardigan, straight black skirt and sensible, round-toe shoes fit the bill for a first-grade teacher, but Kenyon had a feeling beneath all those stuffy clothes was one very sexy woman.

      It wasn’t just her beauty he was drawn to. There was an innocence about her that appealed to him. “Here, let me.” Kenyon stood, pulled out her chair and waited until she was comfortable before returning to his seat.

      “Thank you.” Makayla picked up the menu.

      “See anything you like?”

      “The spinach salad looks good.”

      “Salad? You’ve got to be hungrier than that.” Kenyon helped himself to a roll from the wicker basket. “Don’t be shy. Order anything you’d like. It’s on me.”

      Makayla downed her water in two quick gulps. “I’m not that hungry. I, uh, had a big lunch.”

      An amused expression clouded Kenyon’s face. A big lunch? It was eight-thirty. Unless she’d eaten a buffet with all the trimmings, she was probably starving. Beckoning the happy-go-lucky waitress back over to their table, he said, “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

      While Kenyon placed their orders, Makayla secretly watched him. This was all too much to take in. She was having dinner with her first crush. The only guy she ever loved. Or, thought she loved. At thirty-three, Kenyon was a husband and a father. How had that happened? Back in high school, Makayla had never pictured him the marrying type. Passing him in the congested halls of Lincoln High, surrounded by a bevy of perky cheerleaders, she had been convinced the all-star athlete would end up a life-long bachelor with children sprinkled all across the east coast.

      “How is Terrance doing?” Kenyon asked once the waitress departed.

      “Mr. Blake—”

      “Call me Kenyon. The only person who goes by Mr. Blake is my pops.”

      “Okay.” It took Makayla several seconds to organize her words. Labeling Terrance a nuisance would undoubtedly get their conversation off on the wrong foot and she needed Kenyon’s support to turn things around. “Terrance is a strong student. He excels in math and science, he’s reading at grade level and he has a vivid imagination. However, his behavior has been—” After searching for the right word and coming up empty, she said, “—less than desirable.”

      His shoulders rocked with laughter.

      “Did I say something funny?”

      “Instead of trying to be tactful, why don’t you come right out and say he’s acting like one of Bebe’s kids?” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m not Veronika, Ms. Stevens. You don’t have to sugarcoat things for me. Be straight up.”

      “All right. Terrance is doing well academically but his actions give me cause for concern.”

      Kenyon suspected he would have any easier time extracting her wallet from her purse than getting a straight answer. “Which means?”

      “He’s aggressive, defiant, disrespectful and—”

      His face showed disapproval, but he didn’t interrupt.

      “Yesterday I had to sit him out of gym because he kicked one of his female classmates. When I asked him to apologize he said he didn’t have to because I wasn’t his mother. There have even been a few occasions when he has thrown things in class. Sure, they’re small items, like crayons or marbles, but that doesn’t excuse his behavior.”

      The expression on Kenyon’s face was serious. “He’s been having the same problems at home, but Veronika insists it’s normal kid stuff. The last couple years have been tough on all of us, but I think Terrance has been hit the hardest.”

      “I asked Mrs. Blake if there was anything wrong at home but she said everything was fine.”

      “Veronika doesn’t like to talk about it.”

      The waitress arrived with their orders and hung around the table until Kenyon told her they didn’t need anything else.

      Alone with their thoughts, they ate in silence for several minutes.

      “Do you want me to order some more?” Kenyon asked, noting the depleted plate of nacho chips and Buffalo wings.

      Flushed, Makayla wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “No, thanks. I guess I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

      “Tell me about yourself, Ms. Stevens.”

      “But we’re here to discuss Terrance.”

      Kenyon grinned. “When I get home, I’ll get a switch from off a tree and give his butt the lashing it deserves. Problem solved.”

      Makayla laughed, low and soft, her shoulders shaking lightly.

      “I’ll have a talk with Terrance first thing in the morning. We have a great relationship and more times than not, he’ll listen to me rather than his mother. Veronika spoils him and he knows how to win her over.”

      “Thank you. I think things will get better if we’re all on the same page.”

      Kenyon pulled out his wallet and handed her a business card. “Feel free to call me anytime. I travel a lot but I’m reachable on my cell no matter where I am.”

      “Hopefully I won’t have to call.” Makayla took the card and slipped it into her purse.

      “I don’t even know your name,” Kenyon said. His eyes lingered on her lips. Like the rest of her, they were soft, moist and incredibly sensuous.

      “My name?”

      “You do have a first name, don’t you?”

      The question triggered the memory of the first time they spoke. More than fifteen years had passed, but their conversation was still fresh in her mind. It was a balmy spring afternoon in senior year. Makayla was lounging under a tree, listening to Salt-N-Pepa, munching on a bag of potato chips. She felt a shadow fall across her face and opened her eyes. Lucas Shaw was towering over her, his thin, chapped lips moving at a rapid pace. Makayla couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the sinister expression on his face told her it wasn’t good. She slowly pulled off her headset. “Yes?”

      Lucas kicked the side of her leg. “Beat it, moo-moo. We need to use this tree for an end zone and your fat ass is in the way.”

      Hot tears burned her eyes as she gathered her things. Ever since Makayla wiped out in the cafeteria, Lucas had made it his personal mission to make her life a living hell.