Page 11 of Tempt Me

“Will you send me her info, please?”

“Absolutely. Good luck.”

I was going to need it.

4

Sundayat 11:00 a.m. sharp, I opened the door of my parents’ Presidio Heights mansion to find Jamila Jallow holding a plastic container.

“Wh—” was my brainy response.

“Morning.” Her smile dazzled me. Then the corners of her mouth drooped. “Mind if I come in?”

“Sorry.” Stepping aside, I took in her wide-leg jeans and butter-yellow blazer. I wished I’d worn something understated and elegant too. My bubblegum-pink Alexander McQueen flared minidress was too reminiscent of the ruffled dresses I wore when she used to tower over me. Wishing I could melt into the floor, I said, “Mother didn’t mention you were coming today.”

“Probably because she didn’t invite me. Charles did.”

“Jamila darling, you’re always welcome.” Mother brushed past me to kiss Jamila’s cheek. “You never need an invitation.”

“Thanks, Mrs. H. I brought lemon squares.”

“How lovely.”

Jamila might have missed Mother’s eye twitch, but I didn’t. My mother loved Jamila but not her Southern ways. Hostess gifts of food disrupted her carefully planned meals.

Taking the container, Mother linked her arm with Jamila’s. “Come chat with Charles. Natalie, Jackson is coming up the walk. Let them in, would you? And stop slouching.”

I shot my shoulders back and turned away from the view of Jamila’s butt in those jeans to open the door for my noisy brother and his family.

After I’d hugged my brother and sister-in-law and bumped my teenage nephew’s fist, I rested sleepy baby Valentine on my hip—though I should stop thinking of her as a baby now that she was a walking, talking toddler—and followed her family into the dining room. Needing a minute to compose my face, I kissed Valentine’s soft cheek, breathing in the scent of baby shampoo.

She grabbed my hand and smiled at my ruby ring like she always did. “Pitty.”

“Pretty,” I murmured. “That was your great-great-grandmother’s ring. Someday, it’ll be yours.”

I sneaked a glance at Jamila. Why had my teenage crush roared back like this? Jamila joined us for brunch several times a year, and I’d been able to act like a normal person around her since I’d learned to mask my emotions in high school.

Maybe the fluttering in my stomach wasn’t a crush after all but guilt over how I’d acted at that awful Christmas party. I’d feel better if I apologized. But how could I do that with Charles leaning close to talk to Jamila and my brother and his wife bounding over to hug her?

Maybe not right now but soon, I’d make it right. I led the kids into the powder room to wash our hands.

Fifteen minutes later,I was shoving pancakes around my plate, and Jamila was the center of attention as my stepfather grilled her. How many times had she sat at our table for brunch, soaking up wisdom from one of the few Black executives in the Bay Area? Now she was one herself, and Charles’s mentoring sessions had grown into conversations between equals.

“Not one word.” She mimed zipping her lips. “The launch is a secret.”

“I hear it has something to do with financial services.”

She frowned, then lifted her cup of coffee to her lips. A smudge of her purple lipstick marked the rim. “We added financial advising as a beta earlier this year.”

“AI financial advising,” Charles said. “I heard you’re adding human advising.”

“Huh. I guess it’s not a secret, then.” She speared a strawberry with her fork and closed her lush mouth around it, setting off an eruption of flutters in my stomach. Quietly, I laid down my fork.

“The question is,” he mused, “who? I doubt you’ll let your amateur coaches advise their peers about money.”

“The peer-coaching model has been very popular for our life coaching service,” Jamila said. “And the AI has gotten great feedback.”

“Don’t try to change the subject on me.” Charles wagged his finger. “Why didn’t you come to me? I run a bank. I know a thing or two about financial advising. Andrew’s bank could help you too.”

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