Gotta Get Next To You Page 2

  “Yeah, man. Them dudes crazy. I—Whoa, looka that.” A male voice went from conversational to provocative.

  Three men wearing low-slung jeans strolled toward her. They seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. They were young and lanky, their conversation filled with profanity. Andrea looked around, hoping to see someone else on the street. But what few businesses remained were closed and no one was in sight. She turned around and started back to her car.

  “Evenin’,” a different male voice called out.

  “What’s up?” A tall man wearing a tank top and jeans trotted up beside her. He was soon joined by his buddies.

  Andrea increased her pace to reach the clinic. “Hi,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Hey, baby. How ya doin’?” A young man grinned, revealing three gold teeth.

  “I’m fine,” Andrea said without breaking her stride.

  “That ain’t no lie.” The young man rubbed his chin with one hand.

  Andrea glanced at him briefly. She’d worked in a Chicago clinic that saw a lot of troubled kids and adults, even gang members. This young man was more bluster than real menace, but the two men with him were another matter. One had a scar along his left cheek that he rubbed as though proud of it. The other, shorter and the color of ebony, wore a red kerchief around his neck. His muscle shirt was hiked up on one side.

  They jumped ahead of her on the sidewalk, blocking her progress, forcing Andrea to stop as well.

  The one with the scar spoke first. “My name’s Javon an’ I got what you need,” he said with a smack of his lips.

  Andrea’s throat tightened with fear. “Excuse me, but I’m going to my car.”

  “You outta your league. Classy lady ain’t got time for kiddy stuff. I’m Bo, baby.” He let his gaze trail over her body suggestively.

  “Hi,” Andrea said. She tried once more to continue on, but Bo did not move to let her pass.

  “You must be new in town, ’cause I know all the pretty ladies. And they know me.” His buddies guffawed and his grin widened.

  Andrea decided to make this her first community outreach effort. She allowed the snickering and sassy comments to die down.

  “I’m from here, just been gone a long time. I’m Andrea Noble, the new health clinic director.” She pointed toward the Bayou Blue Health Clinic.

  “I’m in good health. Strong as can be, baby. Wanna feel?” Bo slapped his chest.

  “No, thanks. But we’ll have information on good nutrition and exercise, like weight lifting.” Andrea made a stab at what might interest them.

  “I see something I wanna pick up right here.” Bo wet his lips; his eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at her breasts. He took a step closer to her. “Yes indeed.”

  Andrea frowned in distaste, realizing suddenly that this was a bad idea. “Excuse me.” She made another attempt to go around him. When he didn’t move, she tried to push her way through.

  Bo stopped smiling, his expression turning hard. He glared at his laughing friends and they grew quiet. When he turned back to Andrea, she felt a trickle of fear at the look in his eyes, but she was determined not to let it show. She stared back at him, chin raised.

  “Why you in such a hurry? Be friendly.” Bo moved closer, until he towered over her. He made a grab for her arm.

  Andrea jerked back, avoiding his grasp. “Leave me alone.”

  Bo grabbed for her again. “That ain’t the way to—”

  Andrea knocked his hand aside and kicked his shin hard. Bo yelped at the glancing blow, and then lunged for her. In a panic, she turned to run and collided with a man’s hard chest.

  “We got a problem out here?” a deep voice asked.

  Shaking with fear at the realization that she was surrounded, Andrea looked up and up. He was at least six feet four, with smooth skin like fine chocolate milk. His eyes were a deep brown, like strong Louisiana dark-roast coffee, as he gazed at them calmly. He wore a light blue cotton Henley shirt and blue jeans that hugged narrow hips. He looked powerful even standing still. Andrea was caught between the aura of masculine strength, as palpable as the musky scent of cologne he wore, and the feeling of fear that made her pulse race. Or was it fear? She stared at the strong line of his jaw. This man inspired something more: exhilaration. He surveyed the group of men calmly, and Andrea felt as though the cavalry had just galloped across the horizon.

  “Nah, we just gettin’ introduced,” Bo said. He glared at Andrea. “Awright?”

  “Funny. Looks like the lady is trying to get away. What about it, ma’am?” He glanced at Andrea.

  Bo’s whole body was tensed for battle. “Stay outta my business.”

  “I know y’all can’t read, so I’ll help you out.” Wearing a mild expression, the handsome newcomer pointed to a rectangular sign attached to the stone wall of the clinic. “ ‘No loitering near entrance,’ ” he read.

  Javon’s mouth flapped open as he decided to join in. “You can’t tell us nothin’—”

  “Come on, ma’am. Let’s go inside. The air is cooler and better smelling,” he said with derision. The man put a hand under her elbow and guided her inside the clinic.

  Andrea was through the door before she could protest, but for some reason she did not feel alarmed. This man had a solid, reassuring presence. He radiated confidence, with a dash of boldness thrown in. She looked at him and felt a shock of warmth travel up her spine. When he fully turned to look at her, the warmth turned to a full-blown fire. His full brown lips pulled back in a dazzling smile, revealed gleaming white teeth. This man was more than handsome. The knit shirt seemed to strain across his chest. His muscular arms were even more defined when he put both hands on his waist. His gaze went over her head briefly as he checked to make sure the thugs were gone, and then back to her face. He was stunning. A dimple in one cheek made the delectable creature near perfect. He glanced around the waiting room.

  “Looks like the roaches scattered.” He turned around in a half circle.

  Andrea said nothing, still taking him in. His dark brown hair was cut short and the tight curls looked like soft wool loops. She had a crazy urge to reach up and touch them. When he faced her again, Andrea blinked rapidly. She must be losing her mind. She looked away, sure that she was gaping at him like an idiot.

  Andrea recovered. “Thanks,” she said in a restrained tone.

  “You’re welcome, I guess.”

  “I do appreciate your help,” Andrea said, “but I’ve been in tough situations before.”

  “Sure.” Disdain dripped from his voice. He continued to look around.

  “I worked in Chicago and dealt with lots of people.” Andrea’s gratitude was being tested by his know-it-all manner.

  “This may not be Chicago, but you obviously don’t know how much has changed.”

  “Thanks again. But I think I do.”

  “Is that right?” he said.

  “Yes, that’s right.” She decided that what she’d mistaken for charisma was really plain old-fashioned arrogance.

  “Well, I’d advise you to stay out of this part of town.”

  “Decent people should be able to go anywhere they want,” Andrea said. “We can’t let hoodlums dictate what we do.”

  “Look, lady, use common sense. Unless you want something to happen, don’t strut your stuff around here.” He eyed her from head to toe.

  “If being free to walk in town is ‘strutting my stuff,’ as you so crudely put it, then I’ve got a right to strut my stuff where I please, when I please.” Andrea spoke the words in a rapid-fire burst and waved a forefinger at him. “You hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Folks for miles around heard you.” He nodded his head.

  Two patients, apparently the last for the day, stood staring at them in amusement. Several women were nodding. One woman wearing large hoop earrings that touched her shoulders bobbed her head from side to side.

  ‘Tell him ’bout it, baby, that’s right.”

  Andrea lowered her hand quickly. What
was wrong with her? Causing big scenes, especially in public, horrified her. And here she was; the instigator. She’d spent years trying not to be like her emotional mother. Charlene could create high drama over a broken fingernail.

  “Maybe you could have taken care of yourself out there,” he said, dark eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. A twinkle of amusement lit his eyes.

  Something about this man set off strong reactions in her, first attraction, then wrath. Every hair on her body seemed raised. And worse, she felt strangely elated.

  “Just don’t make a simple walk into something it’s not,” she managed to stammer out.

  “I was out of line, okay? I’m sorry.” His baritone voice was soft.

  His apology and the hint of tenderness in his deep voice were like fuel to an already smoldering flame. Andrea gazed up at him. “I owe you an apology, too. Here you help me out and I jump on you with both feet.”

  He smiled at her warmly. “Now that we’ve said our pardons, maybe you could tell me your name.”

  The tingle of desire was pleasurable, and terrifying. She stuck out her hand in a businesslike gesture in an attempt to keep their meeting from becoming too personal.

  “Andrea Noble. I’m the new director here.”

  He shook her hand. “Glad to meet you. I hear they’ve got plans to fix the place up.”

  Andrea liked the firm pressure of his handshake. She pulled her hand away quickly, but the warmth of his hand lingered on the soft skin of her palm. She took a deep breath and steadied herself.

  “Ahem. Yes, we certainly do,” she said.

  “Think it could use the improvement.”

  “The clinic and downtown, too.” Andrea nodded. “Lots of shady characters hanging around.”

  “Hmm.”

  The man’s gaze drifted around again, scanning every inch of the place. He sauntered off and looked down the hall toward the back of the clinic. Andrea’s wariness kicked in. Her reaction to his good looks had temporarily blinded her. Something that had led her to ruin before, she thought sourly. Now she really looked at this man. He seemed to be sizing up his surroundings. Andrea thought about the drugs stored in the small clinic pharmacy. She noted every detail of his appearance, in case she had to pick him out of a lineup.

  “I didn’t get your name,” she said.

  “Jamal Turner.” He spun around and strode to her. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Andrea fought off the sudden spike of desire when that tall, fine frame loomed over her again. “Mr. Turner.”

  “Call me Jamal. And I’ll call you—”

  “Ms. Noble,” Andrea cut in. She moved farther from him to avoid more tingling than she needed. “Well, Mr. Turner, what brings you downtown at this hour?”

  He smiled at her formality. “Went to pick up my dry cleaning and got there five minutes too late,” he said smoothly.

  Too smoothly, Andrea thought. “Mr. Peters has closed his store at four on Fridays for twenty years. You must not be from around here.”

  “Actually I am new to the area. But I’m learning fast.” His dazzling smile came back, all charm and sex appeal.

  This time Andrea was ready for him and his dimple. His explanation had holes in it, smooth or not. “What were you doing on this street? Clotier’s is two blocks around the comer.”

  “I was at the bank and decided to just walk over. Wouldn’t make sense to drive such a short distance. Good legs.” Jamal slapped his thighs.

  Andrea’s gaze settled on the well-developed limbs in question. Her gaze drifted a little higher, and then she blushed and turned away. Her knees felt shaky. So this was what the phrase “temporary insanity” meant. She had to get control of herself.

  “Thighs—I mean, thanks for helping me.” Andrea wanted to sink into the floor. She prayed he hadn’t heard the slip. Good God, she was behaving like a sex-starved idiot!

  “No problem,” he said in a cheerful voice. “Next time you decide to stroll in a high-crime area, I’m your man.”

  Andrea whirled around to set him straight with a sour reply. “Very funny Mr.” Her voice trailed off and she couldn’t think of what to say. Instead of being annoyed, he was amused; she noticed the delicious curve of his top lip.

  “Cease fire,” he quipped. “Just be careful, okay?” He tilted his handsome head to one side.

  “Okay,” was all she could manage to murmur.

  “See ya, ma’am.” Jamal flipped a wave at her and pushed through the glass door of the clinic.

  Andrea stared after him, hypnotized by the graceful, loping stride of impossibly long legs covered by dark blue denim. Despite his size, his body flowed like liquid.

  “We lockin’ up.” Shonda’s voice broke into her rather rampant fantasies. Shonda popped her gum three times as though to emphasize her statement.

  Andrea snapped out of her daze and back to reality. “Right. I, uh, I’m leaving now. My first full day is a week from Monday, but I’ll drop in again for a few hours tomorrow to check on your progress.”

  “Great,” was Shonda’s sarcastic response. She clumped over and stood at the front door, jingling the large ring of keys impatiently.

  “I look forward to it as much as you,” Andrea replied with a tight smile. “Goodbye.”

  She left and heard the click of door locks behind her. Andrea walked the short distance to her car, keys in her hand. When she turned for one last look at the clinic, Shonda and Thelma Cresson stood staring at her with rancorous expressions. She looked forward to setting those two straight.

  She sighed. It was obvious she had a lot of work ahead of her. She was living with Gran until she could find an apartment of her own. Between clearing up the problems at the clinic and apartment hunting, she had no time to fantasize about a handsome player like Jamal Turner. She’d had her fill of that kind of trouble.

  Andrea needed to feel success, if only professionally. Her marriage had ended with a bang and work in the inner-city clinic had overwhelmed her. Here she could make a difference. She would put her focus on the clinic, and no smiling tower of testosterone would distract her.

  Chapter 2

  Andrea and Gran walked into the municipal building, where both the city aldermen and the school board met. Rows of stadium-style seats faced the raised dais where city leaders sat. One long curved table faced the audience. Atop the table were microphones. Tonight the aldermen, along with the health clinic’s board of directors, would hear progress reports. Introducing her as the new director of the clinic would be part of a report. Andrea took a deep breath to steady her nerves. More than anything, she wanted to make a good first impression. Community cooperation was vital, and the local leaders could help the clinic or hurt it. She glanced at the agenda she’d been handed as they walked in.

  “At least I’m not first,” Andrea said.

  “You gonna do fine, cher.” Gran pinched her cheek. She glanced around and waved at friends. “Good turnout.”

  “Then again, it would be nice to get this over with,” Andrea said with a grimace.

  “Stop worrying your nerves, girl. All those years of school, you’re used to getting up in front of folks. Just look at it like that.”

  “This is ten times harder than grad school,” Andrea said as she gazed around the room.

  Small-town judgments could be harsh. Already, talk of how she felt about changes needed at the clinic had caused a stir. Andrea now remembered the part of small-town life she’d never missed, lightning-quick word of mouth. Some on the board had not been pleased with her candid assessment. They would be only too happy to sabotage her efforts to bring in more funding and expand the clinic. Bob Billings, the director leaving, worked part-time in a transitional capacity until Andrea could come aboard. The board had instructed him to make whatever changes he saw fit to make her first few weeks easier. Andrea was relieved and encouraged by this show of support. Yet dealing with the board was far less stressful than facing what looked to be one third of Bayou Blue.

  Andrea sca
nned the audience, her gaze stopping at Shonda. From the venom in her eyes, Andrea could guess what she’d heard. Thelma Cresson sat four rows behind Shonda. She cast hostile glances at Andrea and whispered to a group of heavyset women surrounding her. They took turns scowling at Andrea. It was then that Andrea remembered that two of the aldermen were Thelma’s cousins and three members of the board were friends of hers.

  “I guess I shouldn’t expect a round of applause when I stand up,” Andrea muttered quietly.

  “What, baby?” Gran paused in the act of exchanging a new recipe with a lady who lived down the road from her.

  “Nothing, nothing.” Andrea took another deep breath.

  Gran gave her arm a nudge. “Look, Cousin Esme. Al-ways bragging ’bout her son the chiropractor. Boy ain’t even a real doctor.”

  “Gran, be nice,” Andrea mumbled close to her ear. She smiled at the approaching woman. “Hi, Cousin Esme.”

  “Hello, Esme,” Gran said. She wore a restrained smile. “Nice crowd. Guess everybody wants to hear what’s going on.”

  Esme held her head high. Her hair was pulled back in a bun. “Guess so. My Charles and his family said they would be here. Of course, being in his position, he’s interested in these things.”

  “What position?” Gran raised one eyebrow.

  “He’s givin’ consultation to the Health Clinic Board, of course. He is a medical professional,” Esme said. Gran pursed her lips. “Crackin’ bones ain’t—” “That’s wonderful, Cousin Esme,” Andrea said loudly, drowning out Gran. “So Charles is doing good?” “Yes. His little girl is a straight-A student and Charles Jr. is a whiz on the xylophone.” Esme glared at Andrea spitefully. “You got any children yet?”

  “No.” Andrea shot a sideways glance at Gran, who was having the human equivalent of a nuclear meltdown.

  “Andrea is on the agenda. She’s head of the clinic, you know.” Gran’s voice was tight with suppressed ire.

  “That’s nice, sweetie.” Esme gave them both a con-descending smile. “Here’s Charles.”