Her Kind of Man. Pamela Yaye

and less time hitting on me.”

      Kenyon smirked. “My wife?”

      “Yes, your wife.”

      “You don’t understand,” he said, the humor heavy in his voice.

      “No, you don’t understand.” Makayla threw down her napkin. “Your son is acting out because of problems at home and you’d rather play the field than attend to his needs. That’s despicable!”

      “But Veronika and I—”

      “Save it.” Makayla pushed back her chair, tossed down enough money to cover her share of the bill and grabbed her coat.

      “Wait! It’s not what you think.”

      “Womanizing jerk,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

      “Veronika and I aren’t married!”

      “Whatever.” Makayla turned and marched through the restaurant without breaking her stride.

      Chapter 3

      “Class, don’t forget to bring your permission slips on Monday. The field trip to the Philadelphia Zoo is only a few weeks away.” Walking the length of the room, Makayla cleaned the chalk residue from her hands. She crouched down and helped Kiska tie her sneakers, then separated two boys who were using the rulers as swords.

      After reminding the students to do their homework, she opened the door and took a fleeting look down the hall. Weaving his way through the throng of elementary students was Kenyon Blake.

      What did he want now?

      The bell rang and students swarmed around Makayla for hugs. Kids waved frantically as they scurried out the door and down the congested hallway. Returning to the safety of her desk, she yanked a random book off the shelf, sat down and started reading.

      Terrance’s high-pitched laugh rippled outside the classroom door.

      “All right, li’l man. I’m going to talk to Ms. Stevens while you play outside. I’ll be out in five minutes, so don’t drive off without me.”

      “But I can’t drive!”

      “Aren’t you eighteen?”

      Terrance giggled. “No, I’m five!”

      Burying her head in the science curriculum guide, she picked up a ballpoint pen and pretended to be making notes in the margins. Makayla could hear Terrance running down the hall and resisted the urge to call him back into the classroom. She had told him countless times that hallways were for walking, not running, but like everything else she said, the message obviously wasn’t hitting home.

      “By the way you took off, I can only assume you’re not happy to see me.” Kenyon chuckled lightly. “Now is that any way to treat a concerned parent?”

      Makayla kept her eyes on the book. She wanted to ask the two-timing snake what was so funny, but she bit her tongue. His cocksure attitude made her sick to her stomach. “What do you want, Mr. Blake?” Her tone was brisk and professional.

      “I came to see you.”

      “Is there a problem?”

      “I’d say so. You think I’m an asshole, don’t you?”

      “Yes.” The word slipped from her mouth with ease. Feeling contrite, she dropped her pen and looked up at him. He was even more attractive today, if that was at all possible. In a black leather jacket, turtleneck sweater and jeans, he reminded her of her favorite detective from the hit series New York Undercover. There was a gravity about him, a raw, sexual energy that was so intense, if she wasn’t careful she’d lose the good sense God gave her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

      “By the way, I like your dress. It hugs your body in all the right places.”

      Makayla folded her hands. It was a good thing there was a desk between them or he would have her hand impression on his right cheek. If there was one thing she hated, it was conceited men who thought they owned the world. And Kenyon Blake was arrogance personified. “I don’t think your wife would appreciate you hitting on me.”

      “I’d better stop teasing you before things get ugly.” Kenyon pulled a chair up to her desk and straddled it. “Veronika and I aren’t married.”

      “Common-law unions are now recognized by the courts.”

      “We don’t live together.”

      She eyed him warily. “Don’t insult my intelligence, Mr. Blake.”

      “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

      “Then what are you saying?”

      “Veronika’s my sister-in-law, not my wife.”

      Makayla searched his face for the truth. His smile was sincere and he sounded convincing. “But last night you said you were having problems at home. I took that to mean you were separated.”

      “My brother was—he was murdered a year and a half ago.” His voice filled with emotion. “Felix loved his family. Terrance and Veronika were his whole world. They’re still having a really hard time dealing with his death. We all are.”

      Makayla grappled with what to say. It had been almost fifteen years since she lost her mother to breast cancer, but the pain never went away. Overcome with sympathy, she said the only thing that came to mind, “I lost my mom years ago and I still miss her. I am so sorry for your loss.”

      Kenyon nodded absently. “I tried to explain, but you blew out of the restaurant so fast, I didn’t get a chance.”

      Makayla wanted to crawl into a hole so deep archaeologists wouldn’t be able to find her. “I had no idea.”

      “I thought you knew. Terrance never mentioned it?”

      Makayla didn’t want to tell Kenyon that every other word out of his nephew’s mouth was a lie, so she said, “Kids talk a lot. Sometimes it’s hard to separate fact from fiction.”

      “You’re right. Terrance and his friends come up with the craziest things.”

      They shared a smile.

      “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?”

      “Felix was on the Criminal Apprehension Unit. He was shot while trying to arrest a gang member out on parole. It’s still hard to believe he’s gone.”

      Kenyon glanced out the window. Seconds passed before he returned his gaze to Makayla’s face. His eyes were narrowed slightly, and his face was pinched in determination. “I’m going to help Veronika and Terrance get through this. That’s why I want you to call me the next time there’s a problem. Veronika has a lot on her plate right now and she doesn’t need any more added stress. You understand, don’t you?”

      “I do. And I’m sorry I blew up at you. I didn’t mean what I said.”

      Kenyon’s smile resurfaced. “You called me a womanizing jerk.” Clutching a hand to his chest, he used the other to wipe away an imaginary tear. “That hurt. I may be a womanizer, but I’m not a jerk.”

      Makayla laughed. The delicious warmth of his smile alleviated the tension in the room. “Again, I’m deeply sorry.”

      “Apology accepted.” He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes alight with mischief. “What are you going to do to make it up to me?”

      “Excuse me?”

      “I think restitution is in order.”

      “What do you expect me to do? Cook you a five-course meal?”

      His face lit up like the Rockefeller Christmas tree. “Sounds great!”

      “You can’t be serious.”

      “I am.”

      “I