Printable version for those missing pages from Perfect Passion (grrrr).
Chapter 1
"Don't stand there looking silly. Come up here, girl. Let me take a look at you." Carmel stifled a sigh and approached the old man.
He scrutinized her, then snorted. "Nice hair, even though you got it all pinned back. Wear it down tomorrow. Fine skin, I always liked that smooth coffee and cream color. Eyes are good, large and clear, long-lashed. Mouth well-shaped. From what I can tell of your bone structure, it seems all right."
He took a breath, and Carmel opened her mouth to tell him she wasn't interested in his assessment of her physical attributes.
"You've got such a pretty face," he said shaking his head. "What a shame you've let yourself go."
Anger rushed through Carmel, but she took a moment before she spoke. Her nursing agency needed this case badly.
"Girl, you need to do something about that body," he continued, gesturing with his cane. "Food must get up off the table and run when it sees you coming after it. What you need to do is to push--"
"Dr. Reynolds. Please don't get personal," Carmel said in her calmest, most professional voice. "I'm not getting paid enough to be insulted."
Her face was bland, pleasant even. The only external sign of her inner agitation was the tightening of her fingers on the clipboard that held the paperwork she needed to complete for Dr. Marvin Reynolds admission to the nursing agency.
Why did some people feel free to lecture strangers on eating habits? And have the nerve to tell her she's big, like she didn't know already? This old man must be senile, but he was working her last nerve.
"I'm Carmel Matthews, your case manager." She held out a hand. He ignored it and stared at her.
"I was supposed to get a nurse. My son made special arrangements that I was supposed to have a RN. I don't need a manager."
"I'm a RN, and I'm in charge of your private duty care. I'll be responsible for any problems that may arise, and all the other nurses will report to me. I'll be also doing the scheduling."
"So, when you going to be working? That's what I'm paying you for, isn't it?"
"I am working for you. I'll usually be on duty day shifts during the week."
"Well, go get me a cup of coffee and be quick about it. Then I want my breakfast."
Carmel opened her mouth and closed it again. She laid her pen down on the clipboard. The man was testing her. If the agency she partly owned didn't desperately need this high paying private duty patient, she'd gladly refer him elsewhere.
"Your kitchen is that way?" she asked pointing, her voice a little too sweet.
"I hope you got enough sense to find the kitchen, girl. Get yourself some food too and join me. I don't like to eat alone. Get yourself some grapefruit, one hard-boiled egg, and black coffee. I know we're supposed to provide meals for the nurses, but don't think you can eat us out of house and home. You're going on a diet when you work for me."
"My name is Ms. Carmel Matthews."
"I know what your name is."
"I'd thought you'd forgotten. You keep calling me girl. My name is not girl, it's Ms. Carmel Matthews. And my diet is my own business."
At least he had the grace to look slightly shamefaced. "I was trying to help."
"I don't need any help, Dr. Reynolds."
He eyed her up and down. "Looks to me like you could use a hand."
She'd have to disregard him. The man had obviously lost his mind some time ago, even though there was no history of dementia. Jasmine, her best friend and business partner had told her that old Dr. Reynolds was a MD of the old school, arrogant, high-handed, and probably impossible to get along with. Jasmine had been right on the money.
"No, I really don't need any help. I can find my way around your kitchen just fine," Carmel said as she strolled away. When she glanced back over her shoulder the outspoken Dr. Reynolds stared after her with a disappointed look on his face. She suppressed a grin. The old man was frustrated because she hadn't given him the battle he'd been itching for. Yet. If he kept on needling her, she'd put a check on him, all right.
She drew in a quick breath as she walked into the kitchen. Gleaming stainless steel appliances, dark green granite counters and floors, rich wood cabinetry graced the room. Copper pots and pans hung ever a center island with built in appliances. Her dream kitchen. Dr. Reynolds was right about her knowing how to cook some food, and if she had something like this, she didn't know if she'd ever want to come out of the kitchen.
But something about this kitchen seemed new and untouched. No life, no love, no one bustling around cooking good down home meals. This lovely home belonged to Dr. Reynolds' son. He was also a doctor and divorced for several years. The son's ex-wife had left no stamp of warmth or personality on the elegant surroundings. Not that it surprised her. Jasmine, her best friend and business partner had filled her in on the juicy details of the younger Dr. Steve Reynolds recent divorce from Sienna Lake. Sienna was a poster child for today's black superwoman. She looked like she had had it all--beauty, money, and a successful corporate career, even though the rich, professional, handsome husband was history.
From the photos Carmel had seen of Sienna, she didn't look like she'd ever lifted a perfectly manicured finger to cook a meal. Shoot, it didn't even look like the woman ever ate. She must have taken all the household help went with her when she left, because phone Jasmine had told her that the only domestic help was a lone housekeeper.
From what she had seen so far, the home was spotlessly clean and flawlessly decorated, in spite of the lifelessness that pervaded it. It was a home obviously bought with a large family in mind. It seemed deserted, far too large for the two men who inhabited it.
Carmel shook her head to clear it from her musing. She'd have the same thing she put on his plate, fried eggs with a thick slice of ham, a couple of pieces of buttered toast on the side, coffee with cream and sugar. A hard-boiled egg and grapefruit indeed, the older Dr. Reynolds had to be tripping when he'd suggested that menu.
His eyes widened when he saw the breakfast that Carmel had made for herself. She sat it down across from him. "Would you like some more coffee before I sit down and eat?" she asked pleasantly.
He scrutinized the plate Carmel had set in front of him. She slid into a chair facing him and picked up her fork. His eyes narrowed as he took in the food on her plate again. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her finger before he got the words out.
"You look like an intelligent man, Dr. Reynolds. I know I don't have to remind you that what I eat is my own business, and this meal is well within the contracted terms of meals that you're required to provide for your nurses." She took a bite of eggs, chewed slowly and regarded him with a look of long suffering patience.
"Uh, uh, uh, it's a damned shame," he said, frowning.
Carmel raised an eyebrow. "No, I think the breakfast turned out just fine."
"You know that's not what I meant."
Carmel shrugged and cut a piece of ham.
"I expect to be called by name," he said suddenly.
"Of course, Dr. Reynolds."
"My name is Marvin."
Now Carmel lifted an eyebrow. Was the old man calling a truce? "You can call me Carmel," she said.
He snorted. "I was going to call you that anyway. What do these high and mighty nurses expect to be called anyway, nowadays? Some title like Great Big Giant Nurse Matthews? Though in your case it would be true." He chuckled at his wit.
Carmel restrained herself from rolling her eyes. No truce, the man was incorrigible.
When breakfast was finished, the kitchen cleaned and dishes put away, she sat down to finish the admission paper work. A key rattled in the front door and she heard it swing open.
"That's my son. You've heard of him, haven't you? Dr. Steven Reynolds," the older Dr. Reynolds announced, pride glowing in his face.
Of course, she'd heard of him. One of Atlanta's top plastic surgeons. Successful, moneyed, divorced, and--
"You must be the nurse taking care of Dad," he said, his voice husky.
And drop-dead fine, Carmel finished her thought. He'd entered the room as quickly and quietly as a panther.
"Yes, Carmel Matthews." She thrust the papers aside and stood, offering her hand.
"Don't let the old man scare you away. He likes to test out the ladies." Steve Reynolds smiled down at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling in his handsome deep brown face.
"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," his father said, grumbling under his breath. Then, he shot a glance at Carmel. "Isn't she a fine looking girl, if only . . ."
"Dad."
"Okay, okay."
Carmel, embarrassed, barely held herself in check.
Steve glanced apologetically at her. "Pay Dad no mind, since he has retired he's practiced being outrageous until it's an art form, and he's not about to give it up now."
"I told you not to talk about me like I'm not here."
"Sorry, Dad, but you do it all the time."
The old man snorted. "Privilege of age. Have respect for you elders. I don't care how old you are. I'll . . ." He shook his cane.
"All right, Dad," Steve said. Then he winked at Carmel.
"I told her she can call me Marvin, as long as she stays respectful," the older man said. "Too many Dr. Reynolds in this house."
Steve grinned at Carmel. "I see you've got Dad under control," he said.
"You think?"
"He's a veritable lamb compared to his usual."
Carmel shuddered delicately.
"Are you the one I talked to at the office when I arranged for private duty nurses? You are one of the owners, right?"
"Yes, that's me. Jasmine Flynn and I started the agency about four years ago."
"It's got one of the best reputations in town."
"Thanks." Carmel felt breathless. Chill, girl, she thought to yourself, don't go off the deep end, you know there's no way--
He eyed her ringless left hand. "I see you're not married?"
"Nooo, I'm not."
"No children either?"
"I have two children." She wondered what that had to do with anything. "I'm on call 24 hours a day if there are any problems."
He smiled down at her. "I'll be seeing you often. We'll have to go out and have a bite soon, talk about Dad away from his big ears."
"You got nothing to say about me," a mutter came from behind them.
"I've got to get back to the office, I just wanted to drop by and meet you." He smiled and turned away.
Carmel stared after him for a moment. He was a very nice man. That wasn't a glimmer of interest for her she saw in his eyes? No. It couldn't possibly be.
Chapter Two
Carmel collapsed on her living room sofa to recover from her first day with Marvin. Her daughter Melanie strolled in the living room with a handful of cookies in one hand and an apple in the other. "I'm going to basketball practice," she said.
Carmel nodded, slipping off her nursing shoe and massaging her foot. "Call me if you're going to be late for dinner." Melanie had turned thirteen a few months ago. Carmel kept waiting with a sense of apprehension for the terrible teenage angst and rebellion she'd experienced herself to emerge in her daughter.
So far there was no sign of it. Melanie remained her well-adjusted, cheerful, busy self. Carmel crossed her fingers almost unconsciously, praying that Melanie wouldn't do as she had and have to learn hard lessons the hard way. She made pains to keep communication lines wide open, wanting to be the one her daughter came to with her hopes, fears and problems. So far, so good.
She wanted to be the type of mother for Melanie that her own mother hadn't been able to be for her. At thirteen, hormones had hit Carmel full force. She was the only child of a single parent, but at that time Mama had been preoccupied with a problematic boyfriend. Besides, Mama had never been an easy person to confide in. She saw everything as black or white, right or wrong, and children were to be seen and not heard.
Carmel had started running with a fast group of friends and experimenting with all sorts of new and forbidden things, including sex. She'd had Melanie when she was fifteen. Two years later her son Trey came along. Time passed, and she and her mother were tighter now. Not that Mama still wasn't opinionated and outspoken, but she'd been there for her lately. Despite everything, she'd never let Carmel forget her own power to do what she needed to do. "You can do anything, girl. So, you've made a mistake or two, we all have. Just keep on going on and don't let nothing stop you."
And that's what she did. Her energies had gone where they belonged, to her children and the new business she started with her friend a mere year out of nursing school. She'd told herself she had no interest in fooling with men, especially the caliber of the few she'd started to let get close to her. Maybe it was simply her poor luck, but finding a man who had drive, ambition and who wasn't allergic to hard work seemed nearly impossible. It seemed the men she'd met were simply out for what they could get from her.
She'd soon had enough of relationships based primarily on satisfying some man's needs, be it for food, sex or companionship. Lady, you should be grateful I'm here was the message she'd gotten from them. Forget that. No, she'd decided early on that that wasn't what she needed or wanted, and she'd gotten her priorities in order. It had worked out. Her kids were healthy and happy and she was doing fine. She felt she'd accomplished something in life.
She rubbed her feet one more time and stood, stretching. Her son was holed up in his bedroom supposedly doing his homework. She'd bet money he was playing computer games rather than working on the sixth-grade American history he was having trouble with. She needed to go up and check on him. She picked her shoes up and walked softly up the carpeted stairs to his room. Her lips tightened as she approached his room and heard the telltale sounds of the computer game.
Then Carmel's heart softened as she watched him staring intently at the computer screen, his hand tight on the joystick. He was a handsome boy, passionate about things that interested him, and brilliant in math and science. He hated English and social studies, subjects that she loved.
"Trey?" His head jerked up, and from his guilty look, Carmel could tell he hadn't finished his history homework. She waited to see what he would say.
"Uh, Mom. I was just taking a break." He closed the game and picked up his book, moving to the desk he used for studying.
Carmel gave him a long look. "I want to see that homework before you sit down to dinner tonight."
"Okay, Mom." He grinned at her and flipped open his book.
Her son thought he could charm his way out of anything, and the worrisome thing was that he usually could. But he was a good kid, like Melanie. Putting them first and foremost in her life was paying off.
Carmel went into her room to change her clothes. She neatly hung her nurse's uniform in the closet, a size twenty. It had never particularly worried her before. It was a fact of life that she was big like all the women in her family. She'd thought about cutting down and changing some of her dietary habits for health reasons, but it had always taken a back seat to whatever else that was going on in her life. No matter. She was perfectly healthy even though those size twenties were growing a bit tight lately. Her cholesterol, blood pressure and triglyceride levels were just fine.
So what was she worried about? Surely not men. She had good friends, the nursing career she always wanted, her own business, a loving family and a home. There was no time or reason in the world to worry about men. She had no place for them in her busy life.
Carmel glanced out of the corner of her eyes at that nurse's uniform hanging in the closet door while she pulled on a comfortable pair of sweats. Steve Reynolds was the reason that size twenty bothered her all of the sudden. Steve Reynolds and that look in his eye when he touched her hand. That look she didn't dare speculate what it meant. Or to dream about what it could mean.
Carmel had a flash of memory of how it felt to have masculine arms around her. She closed her eyes in momentary pain. She didn't cotton to the idea that there was a part missing in her life that she was afraid to face, or even had any idea how to begin to deal with. It had been four long years since she'd been with a man. She shook her head as if to clear it, resolutely ignoring the empty, dissatisfied feeling that filled her. Forget about it. She had things to do, she reminded herself on the way down to the kitchen to put dinner on.
Busily shaking pieces of chicken in seasoned flour, she couldn't shake the memory of Dr. Steve Reynolds. Her heart skipped a beat. Lord, the man was fine, although there was nothing pretty or boyish about him. He oozed masculinity with his nut-brown skin and rugged African features and eyes so dark they were almost black. He'd towered over her, a big man, although without an ounce of spare fat on his muscular frame.
She looked down at her own body and sighed as she turned to the stove and pulled out the frying pan. Steve Reynolds' ex-wife was as gorgeous and slim as were the other women she'd heard he dated. Carmel had best face the fact that the man was out of her league.
Carmel was setting the fried chicken on the table as Melanie bounded in.
"Smells great, Mom, I'm starving."
"How was practice?"
"Good." She reached out toward a drumstick.
"You know better," Carmel said.
Melanie withdrew her hand.
"We'll sit down and eat in a minute. Go see if your brother is ready to bring his homework to me."
Going into the kitchen, she pulled open the oven door and was reaching for the rolls when the doorbell rang, startling her. Her thumb touched the hot metal and she exclaimed, hurriedly pulling out the pan and setting it on top of the stove as the bell rang again. She sucked on the side of her thumb as she pulled open the door to confront whoever was lying on the bell.
Jasmine stood in the doorway, hand on her hip. "It's about time," she said.
"Don't make me curse you out, woman. It's been a rough day."
"I'd say. Looks like you've regressed to babyhood comforts."
Carmel pulled her thumb out of her mouth. "Please. I burned my thumb on the stove because of some impatient person leaning on my doorbell."
"That's a relief. I knew that case was going to be rough, but I'd hate to have my business partner crack up over it."
"That man drove me-" Carmel started to say, when Trey ran into the room and thrust papers in her hand.
"Okay, here's my homework. Hi, Jasmine. I'm starving, Mom." She gave a cursory glance at Trey's homework. He always did a good job. Getting him to finish it was the difficult task.
"Let's sit down to eat." She glanced at her friend. "Jasmine, you're eating with us, right?"
"Do you need to ask? My timing is perfect as usual."
The kids had finished eating and asked to be excused. Carmel and Jasmine sat at the dining room table, sipping coffee.
"That was good, but then again your cooking always is. If you ever get sick of nursing, you should consider opening a restaurant," Jasmine said.
"I almost thought I had one already."
"Touché. You know I'd starve if you didn't feed me. Do you have anything sweet?" Jasmine asked.
"I don't know where you put it," Carmel murmured. "I have a cherry pie on the counter."
"Mmmmm. You want a piece?" Jasmine asked, heading for the kitchen.
"Please. Heat it in the microwave and put a scoop of ice cream on top, will you?" Carmel sipped her coffee. She was feeling a little edgy. Jasmine showed up regularly for dinner. Carmel had meant what she said when she remarked she didn't know where Jasmine put it. Jasmine was her height, but she likely outweighed her by over a hundred pounds.
Carmel marveled at the unfairness of it. She'd swear Jasmine ate more than she did, never exercised and never gained an ounce. Jasmine, golden skinned and birdlike had a deceptively fragile exterior. All of Jasmine's appetites were large and her girlfriend was outspoken and tough as they come. She intimidated most women, men too, and had few close friends except Carmel. They went way back, and she knew the soft heart and tragic losses Jasmine's rocky facade hid.
Jasmine set the pie in front of her and refilled her coffee cup.
"Thanks." Carmel took a bite of the pie and chewed slowly.
"And?" Jasmine asked.
"And what?"
"You are going to tell me about Steve Reynolds' home? Get any calls from throaty-voiced women? Silky lingerie lying around?"
"And to think I thought you were interested in the patient."
"I want to hear about him too, but tell me the good stuff first. I've had a crush on that man ever since I saw his picture in Atlanta Magazine. Now that is what a real man is supposed to look like. He got it going on."
"I can attest that he's as fine in person as his photograph."
"You met him already? Lord, girl, why didn't you say so? Was he as nice as he looks?"
"Very much so. He said we'd be spending a lot of time together." Carmel hid her smile in her cup of coffee.
Jasmine sat back in her chair, "No, he didn't say that. Damn, I wish I could have taken that case."
"And if there was any way you could have, you would. Although your accounting degree qualifies you to fetch and carry as much as my RN does. The patient definitely doesn't need skilled nursing care."
"But the family wants it and, most important, is willing to pay for it," Jasmine said.
Carmel drummed her fingers on the table. "I wonder if there's any way I can convince the man an LPN or nursing aide would do?"
Jasmine frowned. "The agency could use the money, and the RNs we have could use the work. Skilled nursing cases are scarce now. Besides, Steve Reynolds said his father specifically requested round-the-clock RNs. And Steve Reynolds specifically requested you. He's paying top dollar."
"That case calls for top dollar. The elder Dr. Reynolds was unbelievably rude and obnoxious. I thought he'd get tired after a while, but he didn't let up on my weight for a second." Jasmine gave Carmel a sympathetic look. "He probably was testing you. Exercising his old coot privileges."
"He exercised them so hard today, I wanted to take that cane of his and knock him upside the head."
"I don't believe you said that, Ms. Florence Nightingale."
"We're going to have to pay the special care differential or we're going to have hell keeping nurses on that case. I'm going to have to tell Marvin Reynolds' son that we are going to have to bill the higher rate tomorrow."
"I hope he doesn't take his business to another agency."
Carmel shrugged. "To be perfectly honest, Jas, after today I don't really care that much."
"That bad, huh?"
"That bad. And without the excuse of being either crazy or senile, he's got every marble in place. The man simply lives to torture nurses. He actually told me a nurse's place is on her hands and knees on the floor with the mop water."
"He said that?" Jasmine shook her head, a look of worry crossing her face. "Elaine called in and I replaced her with Lenore on night shift."
"Oh, no," Carmel whispered. "Lenore will cuss that man out so bad he might call 911."
"Thank God, it's your turn to be on call," Jasmine said.
"Thanks for your support and sympathy," Carmel said dryly.
"Any time." Jasmine took a large bit of cherry pie. "This is really good. The store-bought pie crusts are never this light and flaky."
"I can show you how to make them."
"Surely you jest." "You ever set foot in a kitchen, Jasmine?"
"Sure. To open the microwave and put something in."
Carmel chuckled, then sobered, thinking about Marvin Reynolds. "I'm worried that he might fire us and get another agency after a shift with Lenore. We do need this case. Maybe I should go in tonight."
"We don't need it that bad. If things don't turn around soon, one case isn't going to make a lot of difference."
"I thought you said the cash flow was getting better."
Jasmine shook her head, her eyes on her plate. "I got the news about our last appeal on the Levitz case."
Carmel laid down her fork. "I can't believe you didn't tell me as soon as you walked in the door . . . Oh, no, you're saying we lost, aren't you?"
Jasmine nodded miserably.
"I can't believe it. I made sure all the i's were dotted and t's were crossed. Those bastards. Are you sure?"
"It's in black and white, Carmel."
"So, it's true that we may go under because the granddaughter took our patient to a bingo game."
"Medicare's last word is, 'documentation refutes homebound status.' Case denied. Finis. The End."
There was nothing more to say, Carmel thought. They had exhausted every avenue of appeal. They weren't going to get paid, and that was that. The agency would have to eat thousands upon thousands of dollars of salaries and equipment. It would break them. The beginning of the end. Jasmine looked bleakly in the distance, and silent gloom enveloped them as heavy as a blanket. Carmel got up for another piece of pie.
Winner of the Romantic Times Reviewer's Choice Award for best Multicultural Romance of 1999! Chosen for my second Black Entertainment Television cable movie, coming spring 2001! A ROMANTIC TIMES 4 1/2 GOLD medal TOP PICK: I join the stellar company of Donna Hill, Frances Ray and Eva Rutledge as the only AA authors selected for a 4 1/2 gold medal rating from RT.
"THE LOOK OF LOVE is a creative masterpiece that brings the issues many single, working mothers' face. The characterization is excellent as the reader share their thoughts, actions and emotions. Ms. Jackson deftly flushes out her plot with sensitivity and style. She blends a sensual provocative love story around mother-daughter relationships and the cost to be true to oneself. Then to add to this wonderful tale she gives us a remarkable secondary romance with older protagonists who will charm and delight. This is an author who is not afraid to give readers a not-so- perfect heroine who grapples with weight, romance and two kids going through puberty. I loved it." "THE LOOK OF LOVE is a witty, hilarious and poignant literary journey that debunks the stereotypes, perceptions and realities of the "perfect" woman." "Original, unique, refreshing.definitely not to be missed!" " . . . a believable story that challenges the notion that only a svelte heroine can have a steamy, romantic romp and find everlasting love." "This is a most enjoyable, socially responsible love story of down-to-earth people with whom practically all women can identify. It gives hope to every woman who has ever worried about her weight. Great story!"
|
