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  “I know. I— You seemed so certain that I would waste my life. I wanted to—”

  “I wasn’t certain of any such thing. I was waiting for you to...just take things a little more seriously, not ditch all the casual clothes you own.” She’d been rifling in his closet, then his drawers. “Here. Let’s have you try these on.”

  She handed him a pair of unworn jeans that still had the tags on them and a similarly new Janet Jackson T-shirt. He laughed at the tee but started stripping anyway.

  “See, I do have casual clothes.”

  “Yes, but you’ve never worn them. How come?”

  “I thought I needed to get rid of my old life.” He shook his head, remembering the days he refused to wear anything that didn’t look gangsta. “I needed to change my life around—finish school, make it in the world, prove that I could be what you needed. I guess I went to the other extreme, but it got me here. It got me to change, and I haven’t looked back.”

  “It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

  “At that time, for me, it did. Now, maybe not.”

  When he was finished, she sized him up and apparently approved.

  “Okay, let’s get to it.”

  The first stop turned out to be a huge hardware store out in Maryland. This was Regina’s element, and he followed her around while she handed him things to put in their cart—dusty ceramic tiles, powdery grout bags, tubs of mastic, cylinders of sealant, cans of paint, tubes of epoxy. Now he knew why casual clothes were needed.

  “I miss teaching my classes,” she mused.

  “Were they adults or children?”

  “Adults or teens mostly for the found-object mosaics. I can do clay work with littler ones, but the other stuff is too sharp and dangerous for them.”

  “You’ll have a classroom back again soon.”

  “I know. And I’m looking for other places I can teach in the meantime.”

  She spent a while in the molding aisle and then pointed at a bunch of eight-foot-long molding pieces and at the cart with the handsaw.

  “Make yourself useful,” she said, then smiled.

  “You want me to?”

  “Cut them in half so they’ll fit in the car. Here, I’ll start them for you.” She brought him over to the cart, laughing. He pulled a few pieces of the molding from the shelf and joined her.

  He never knew the sight of a woman with a handsaw could be so sexy. She laid two of the pieces on the cart and measured to find the center. He didn’t need to, but he got behind her to see what she was doing, fitting his thumbs into the belt loops of her jeans. He couldn’t resist pulling her against him and running his cheek over her hair.

  She laughed and tried to wiggle away.

  “You’re not looking at what I’m doing,” she said, but as she turned toward him, he caught her lips with his.

  They parted for him, and he turned her body toward him, pulling her into his embrace. He had to tear himself from her before he got lost in the moment.

  “Okay, I got distracted. Show me again,” he said.

  She pursed her lips at him, turned back to the cart and started a notch in the molding. He finished them up in no time but not without a naughty picture in his mind.

  A question occurred to him as they continued shopping. These supplies were going to cost a bit.

  “Do you have enough coming in from Eastern Market and the art dealer?”

  “That’s a very private question. Actually, you’ve seen all my financials. You know I have a morning job, right?”

  “Oh, yeah. Does it help you out enough?”

  “It pays okay. I don’t do a lot of hours, though. For now it gives me rent and health insurance.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s just office work with an architectural firm in downtown DC. Nothing special. But it helps with the bills.”

  Next was the plywood section. This time she had the store cut down sections of large boards for her, the sawdust flying from the circular saw.

  “What about you? Do you like your work?”

  He was surprised by the question.

  “Yes, I do. I think I started it just for the money. But I really love what I do. Some things are a little tedious—crunching numbers sometimes—but most of it I love.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like helping people get a business going. You and Amelie, for example. Or seeing it grow. Being able to teach people more about business rather than just adding up numbers for them. Being able to guide people through the process rather than just handing them balance sheets. Helping people figure out how to save and grow money.”

  He stopped. It seemed to him that he’d started rambling.

  “Don’t stop. I like to hear you get passionate.”

  He hoped she did, because he wanted to get passionate with her. He dragged his mind from the gutter.

  After the hardware store, they went to a tile shop. After that it was an art supply store, where Regina needed clay and slip.

  “I tried the non-firing clay. It wasn’t strong enough.”

  “Where’s your kiln now?”

  “It’s in the workroom in my apartment. Didn’t you notice it when you were in there?”

  “No, I was looking at your art and at you.” He dipped his head down and kissed her. Then he wrapped his arm around her as they continued through the store. The clay and slip were both incredibly heavy.

  “How do you get this by yourself?”

  “I’m not by myself.”

  “But when you are?”

  “One case at a time.”

  Since they were in the area, they stopped at the pet store. He was thinking of a dog. They played with the puppies, looked at the fish and petted the hamsters. It was a riot.

  In fact, Nigel found himself laughing on and off all day, something he didn’t do a lot of anymore. As they unloaded her hatchback later that afternoon, Nigel paused and looked at her for a long moment.

  “I haven’t had this much fun in years.”

  “And you’re not in a business suit. See? Success doesn’t mean being all business all the time.”

  “And it doesn’t mean that you have to do everything on your own all the time either.”

  Regina stopped for a minute and put her hand up to disagree but then seemed to think the better of it.

  “Okay. Maybe. In fact, here.”

  She handed him two boxes of clay, and he started laughing.

  “I don’t just mean the heavy stuff. You know, I might be able to help you as well, help fund your art...”

  She had already started shaking her head.

  “...or help you find a new place or help you get the down payment. You don’t have to be all business all the time either.”

  “I don’t need that kind of help, but thank you.”

  They got everything up the stairs to her apartment and had to sit down for a minute.

  “You know,” he said, “you’re probably exceeding the weight limit for that room.”

  “Hopefully it’s a sturdy house. I took this place because it had the two large rooms, and that one can handle the wattage of the kiln. I have to pay for it, but I can still do my work. Luckily, I have another big installation I’m working on.”

  He could see how much it mattered to her.

  “Come to me,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Come here.”

  “Why?” she asked, but she came to him anyway.

  Nigel pulled Regina onto his lap and settled back onto the sofa, massaging her back.

  “That’s nice.”

  Moments later, she started to giggle and squirm, making him laugh. This woman lit up his world.

  “Not there,” she squealed.
<
br />   “Oh, you’re ticklish here. What if...”

  He did it again and she tried to get away, but he held her. He had to kiss that spot, and he lifted her tank top before toppling her forward on the couch. He kissed her back until he found the spot again. He could tell when she squirmed. Only this time when her body arched, she also murmured.

  Regina’s response to the touch of his lips set Nigel’s body on fire. He could finally touch her without worrying that he might drive her away. She was finally his to have, to please. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue along the spot he’d found, and he was rewarded by the heavy shudder of her body and a soft moan. He lowered his torso on her thighs and continued the pressure, reaching underneath her to find a full, firm breast. Regina’s breathing quickened, and her hips swirled beneath him.

  It was early in the evening, but he was going to make it a long night.

  Chapter 13

  Regina pulled her eyelet camisole over her head, stepped into her leggings, brushed her hair into a ponytail and slipped into her sandals. She didn’t have time for anything else.

  The times she’d been with Nigel were all impromptu—him stopping by to see her. She’d helped to make it that way—keeping things casual so that he wouldn’t get the wrong idea, keeping the pressure off so that things between them wouldn’t escalate. This was a little different. They had spoken by phone in advance. They were going to look at possible new locations for the studio. Since he was closer to the first stop, she would meet him at his place. Yes, this was different.

  She was implying that it was okay for them to hang out together. Maybe it was, as long as things were clear between them. The times they’d been together had felt good. And she had to admit that it felt great having some attention to her...well, womanly needs. As long as that was all it was; as long as they both knew that it was what it was.

  She rang his buzzer, and he let her into his building.

  The door to his apartment was open, and he called to her from the bedroom.

  “Sorry I’m a bit late. Damn, it’s early in the morning.”

  “I have seven places to see and one day to do it.”

  “I know. I’ll be right there.”

  Nigel came out of his room wearing only his boxers. She could see the muscular ridges of his chest and the rugged curves of his arms. He looked like a chocolate statue—good enough to eat. He put a cup of coffee in the kitchen and came back to kiss her, a light peck on the lips. She pulled him back and ran her fingers over his chest, kissing him again. Definitely good enough to eat.

  As long as everything was clear between them.

  He stayed beneath her touch and looked at her.

  “You know, we could see places another day. And if you keep touching me this way, we might have to.”

  She slipped her arms around him. “I’m just a bit randy today.”

  “Oh, hell.”

  She laughed when he picked her up and strode into his bedroom.

  “No, no. We don’t have time for this. I have to see the places.”

  He gave her a crestfallen look, placed her on the bed and pulled his shirt off the hanger.

  What had gotten into her? She took a breath and tried to focus on the property search.

  The first location was in DC but too far from downtown to be inviting and more broken-down than their old place was. There was no place for a classroom setting, and there was peeling woodwork, rodent droppings and little visibility from the street. They could afford the rent, but it would drive them into bankruptcy.

  “Let’s go. We can’t attract clients from here. It would take more than we can get to fix it up.”

  “They’ll get better, Reggie. Don’t worry.”

  The next location was actually in the art district. It had recently been vacated by a silversmith and still had the jewelry display cases. It didn’t have a separate class space, but it was big enough to improvise, with large storefront windows and the jeweler’s shelving. It was clean and white and looked new. It was also out of their price range—way out. The jeweler had probably gone out of business trying to make the rent.

  “I couldn’t price my work high enough to keep this place.”

  They went on to the next two locations, then the next three. It was the same story. They were either crap that was affordable or nice but too expensive to keep up. The whole day was wasted.

  “We’ll keep looking, Reggie. There’ll be something soon.”

  Regina looked through her papers at the listings she’d found and all the leads the real estate agent had given her to try to find something else they might go see. Nothing. She threw them all into a garbage can on the way back to the car. What next? They were looking in DC, Maryland and Virginia. Maybe they were in the wrong states. She could widen her search. Damn it. How did other businesses make it?

  “What are you thinking?” Nigel asked as they sat together in the car.

  It shook her out of her reverie. “I’m just wondering what to do next.”

  “You’re letting it get you down. It could take a while to find the right place. Give it time.”

  “Right now, time is income. I’ve—”

  She had started to say that she’d asked for more hours at her morning job, and she’d gotten them, but it meant less time to work on her art. It meant she was losing her dream. But she didn’t want to say this out loud, and not to Nigel, sitting there staring at her in his designer suit. It was some reversal, wasn’t it? Tears moistened her eyes, but she didn’t want to cry.

  “I’ll keep looking,” she said. “If it’s meant to be, we’ll find something fairly soon. If it’s not, I’ll take a break and start some other path.”

  “Reggie, trust me, please. It will be okay. And if you need anything in the meantime, I’m here.”

  “I know,” she said. But she would never turn to him for that kind of assistance. “You know, this is why I was so serious in school.”

  “What?” Nigel turned to her.

  “I knew it would be this hard. Or at least that it was likely to be.”

  “You couldn’t have known that we’d have a major economic recession.”

  “No, but even without that, I knew that trying to live as an artist would be hard. I knew it, so I should be ready for it. Let’s hope I am.”

  Regina started the car and headed back to his place, still down.

  “Can you come in for a while?” he asked. “I’ll make us something to eat.”

  “No, you go ahead. I have to get ready for my housewarming party tonight. You still coming?”

  “I’ll be there, tot in tow.”

  She started to pull off.

  “Reggie,” he called out. She slowed down and turned back to look at him. “I promise you that things will be okay. Don’t let it get you down.”

  “I know. I won’t.”

  But it seemed like a promise that he couldn’t make.

  When she got home, Regina didn’t go into the kitchen to start getting ready for the evening. She got on the computer. She had to find other options, or she wouldn’t be able to make it through the evening. In an hour, she had the information for another commercial real estate brokerage company in the DC area and two more sites on which to do searches. She picked an afternoon to drive around and look for open locations near the Torpedo Factory; if she’d learned anything today, it was that location was indeed everything.

  She also had the name of a photographer who could take pictures of a few of her mosaics—the ones she made the tiles for herself and had soldered templates for. Those she could reproduce. Maybe she could get a Black catalogue company to advertise them or could put ads in a magazine herself. It was all worth trying.

  That would have to be it for now. She was having a housewarming party that night, and she did have to get r
eady.

  * * *

  Regina had changed into an African-print summer dress and had finished preparing the food.

  Jason and Ellison, along with little Kyle, were the first to arrive and brought a platter of home-broiled chicken. Nigel was the next to arrive, and as soon as he entered, he bent down and gave her a warm hello kiss.

  Nigel had a little boy in one arm and a bag in the other.

  She took the bag from him. She didn’t know he had planned to, but he’d brought homemade pasta salad. The bag also had a wrapped present for her that turned out be a sweetgrass basket from South Carolina. “It’s beautiful. And expensive. You didn’t have to.”

  “I wanted to. I thought you’d like it.”

  “Oh, I love it.”

  Regina knew that Jason was all eyes and would want more information later. So be it. She drew Nigel into the living room and introduced him around.

  “Nigel, this is Jason.”

  They shook hands. “I remember you from the studio. Hey,” Nigel said.

  “This is his partner, Ellison, and their son, Kyle.”

  Regina watched his response to her gay friends, but he didn’t seem surprised and didn’t miss a beat.

  “I remember you from the studio, too,” he said to Kyle, then shook Ellison’s hand. He turned to the little one in his arm.

  “You remember Andre from my office.”

  “Hello, Andre,” Regina said.

  Surrounded mainly by adults who were peering at him, Andre twisted on Nigel’s shoulder and hid his face against it.

  “He’s a little shy sometimes,” said Nigel. “I’m babysitting for my cousin Michelle. Say hello.” Andre continued to hide his face and shook his head no. “Okay. Maybe later. Here, meet Kyle. He’s little like you.” Andre turned around and looked over at Kyle, held on Ellison’s hip. “Maybe he wants to watch your movie with you. You want to ask him? Yeah, let’s ask him.”

  Nigel pulled the movie out of his blazer.

  “Can I put on a movie for them? I promised Andre he could see it.”

  He handed the DVD to Jason.

  “Looks good.”