Under the table, I slide my hand across her lap and find her hand, a courtship between our fingers. I chuckle and kiss her temple. She shifts to catch my lips, opening to briefly brush my tongue with hers. My unoccupied hand knots into a fist, and I fight the urge to haul her onto my lap.
“Ahem.” Kimba clears her throat and then stretches into an elaborate yawn. “I’m beat. Aren’t you beat, Viv?”
“Huh?” Vivienne looks up, her jaws stuffed with rice and beef. “No, I actually wanted to order another beer. Do we have this stuff back in the States?”
“But aren’t you ready to go?” Kimba widens her eyes and ticks her head subtly in our direction.
“Go?” Vivienne shoves an errant grain of rice back into her mouth. “I haven’t even tried the goat yet.”
“Well I’m beat,” I say, letting Kimba off the hook and deciding we’ll be the ones to leave. “And stuffed and ready to go. My treat, ladies. You two stay as long as you like and I’ll take care of the bill on my way out.”
I brush the hair back from Lennix’s face and whisper in her ear, “You still staying with me tonight?”
She turns her head, and the need and desire in her eyes matches everything I’ve wanted since she left my house this morning.
“Hey, guys.” She drags her gaze back to her friends. “I’m going with Maxim, okay?”
Their knowing grins and nods answer. I fully embraced the idea of eating dinner with Vivienne and Kimba. It gave me time with Lennix, but also assuaged her guilt for spending less time with her friends on holiday.
“We’ll see you in the morning,” Kimba says. “Thanks for tonight, Maxim. It’s been great.”
“And I don’t think you’ve checked your phone once to see if Stephen called, Viv,” Lennix teases.
Vivienne instantly digs into her purse and retrieves her phone.
“He did!” She holds the screen for us to see, her face triumphant. “Two missed calls. God, that man loves me.”
They continue chatting while I settle the bill. Vivienne and Kimba are still nibbling from half-empty dishes and sipping their beer when Lennix and I slip out the door, rich aromas following us into the street.
“That was really sweet of you.” Lennix grabs my hand and pulls me closer until she’s pressed into my side. “Dinner for them, I mean.”
“Small price to pay for time with you. I was more than willing. Besides they’re great.”
“They’re the best. Kimba and I met at a voter registration drive on campus.” She chuckles against my shoulder. “We registered Viv to vote. We’re both public policy majors. Vivienne is journalism.”
“Nice. She and her boyfriend seem really serious.”
“Fiancé, and I can’t believe he let her out of the country. He’s as bad as my father. Stephen and Viv are joined at the hip.”
“That’s great, that they’ve found each other so young.”
“I guess. I do worry sometimes that it’s a lot. I mean, he’s out of school already. Living in New York. He’s in finance. She’ll move there when she graduates for sure.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“She’s turning down the LA Times to be with him.”
“And you don’t think that’s wise?”
“I wouldn’t do it. I mean, it’s New York, so she’ll probably find something else, but there’s no guarantee. Would I set aside my ambitions and goals to follow some man?” Her scoffing breath clouds in the cool air. “No way.”
“Good for you. You already know how I feel.”
“Yep.” She turns her head from my shoulder to consider the glimmering canal bordering the street. “No attachments.”
“Right.” I thread our fingers together and pull her closer. “No attachments.”
The silence deepens between us while we walk, and I wonder if I said the wrong thing somewhere along the way—if I’ve been too honest about how things need to be between us.
“So what about you?” I ask after a few moments. “Thought any more about which of the three opportunities you’ll take?”
“There’s actually a fourth on the table now. My godmother called today. Her friend is running for Congress, and she thinks I should be on his team. He’s Native and smart and has been doing great work for the Cherokee Nation in Oklahoma.”
“Wow. That sounds like it could be amazing. You gonna do it?”
Her shrug is quick. “Mena, my godmother, is sending some stuff for me to look at so I can see what he’s all about. This could be it, though.”
“It?”
“I feel like a missile ready to go, but waiting for launch codes and a destination. Poised, powerful, but not sure where to aim. Today when Mena was telling me about this campaign, I wondered if this is my target. Something seemed to . . . I don’t know, make sense. You ever thought about going into politics?”
“Hell, no.” I fake a shudder. “Dirty business, politics. You can’t have a soul and be a politician. Believe me, I have a family full of them.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, my uncle was a mayor. We’ve got a few congressmen in our illustrious family tree. And my older brother’s a senator. He’s gonna be your president in about ten years, by the way.”
“You say it like it’s only a matter of time.”
“You haven’t met my brother,” I say dryly. “When he sets out to do something, it’s a foregone conclusion.”
“Sounds like it runs in the family.”
I pause, considering. I’m a Cade. Ambition, achieving was never a choice for me. It was just a question of if my ambitions would take me down a path that satisfied my father. But I’ve removed that factor. I may have shunned the Cade name, but the Cade nature is not so easily shed.
“You didn’t want to get into the family business, so to speak?” she follows up.
“Let’s just say the family business is not for me.” Neither of them, I add to myself.
“Besides, it’s the dreamers, the inventors and entrepreneurs who change the world the most. Gutenberg, Edison, Stephenson, Jobs—something about the present wasn’t good enough, so they made the future.” I almost choke on a jaded chuckle. “What do politicians make? They make war. They make profit off the misfortune of others. They make mistakes they won’t take responsibility for and decisions they never have to feel the impact of. No, thank you. Not for me.”
“Well, when you put it like that, I guess you think I should turn down the campaign job.”
“Not at all. If anyone can make that rotten system work, it’s you.”
A fat raindrop plops on my nose, sliding down the bridge, followed by another and then a wet succession.
“Aw, hell.” I pull my jacket up on my elbows to provide some shelter for the two of us, but the rain trebles, more coming down and faster.
“We still have four blocks before my place,” I say. “Sorry, but the weather is unpredictable this time of year.”
Rain has already started molding the thin dress to her body, faithfully hugging every swell and curve. A hard shiver runs through her and her teeth chatter.