Page 43 of At Your Service
“It is called the Mawu, named after the African goddess of creativity,” he told her.
Major stood at the other end of the table, watching the exchange, curious as to what she was thinking.
“Yes, I’m aware of who she is. The leather is supple, sustainable.”
He nodded. “From the Karoo region of South Africa.”
She seemed pleased to hear that and left the bag to pick up a necklace from another section of the table.
“And this is an African talisman,” she said.
“Yes, you are familiar. It is the Springbok Horn and it is believed to bring good luck to those who wear it.”
“It’s simple and beautiful, whimsical and magical,” she whispered.
“We’ll take it,” Major said, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet as he stepped up to the display table.
“Oh no,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean for you to buy it. I was just admiring it.”
Major passed his credit card to the man and waited while it was being swiped. “It’s pretty. You like it. You should have it.” He ended with a shrug because he wanted everything with her to be that simple.
She didn’t argue. Instead she handed it to him and turned around, lifting her hair from her neck. Major stepped closer to her, reaching around so that he could fit the necklace at her neck and clasp it. His fingers lingered at her nape, gliding along the soft skin as he inhaled the fresh floral scent she always carried. He stepped back, prepared to leave the table.
“Do you have a business card?” she asked and thanked the man when he handed her one.
“What are you thinking?” Major asked when they stepped away.
“How do you know I’m thinking something?”
“You get all crinkly right here when you’ve got an idea or something on your mind.” He pressed a finger to the center of her forehead and she immediately relaxed until the crinkle was gone.
She smiled. “I do not.”
He laughed. “Liar.”
It wasn’t until two hours later, when they were in the backseat of the car, that she decided to tell him what she was thinking. Even though she wore a seatbelt, she turned sideways, lifting one leg to rest on the seat.
“What would be really great to see is a complete line of African-inspired accessories from an African American fashion house. Let’s uplift and display our heritage. RGF did a collection a few years back where they worked with a Nigerian designer. Maybe it’s time for a new collection, find some new, talented African designers, and this time stretch it beyond the clothes to include accessories. This could be the kickoff to the accessory division and you could probably create an entire show based around these collections.”
Major didn’t miss the excitement in her voice as she talked. He could see where she was going with this.
“It has appeal,” he said. “A lot of appeal.”
“Right! Unique pieces like this one could be included,” she said, reaching up to feel the necklace he’d bought her. “Maybe something inspired by your mother’s grace and beauty and your father’s strength and leadership.”
“And your tenacity,” he said before unhooking his seatbelt and sliding across the seat until he was touching her. One hand went to her leg that was on the seat while the other reached around to cup her face. “Your beauty and your independence. Your intelligence and compassion.”
“No,” she said softly, blinking quickly. “This would be about your family, the Golds, and everything they’ve built. It would be a direct reflection of all that your family has come to mean in the fashion industry.”
“A reflection of love, loyalty, family—all things that are important to you.”
She was shaking her head again and he didn’t want to hear her denial because he knew better now. He could see it so clearly. Everything she really wanted in this world and all she would deny herself so that her family could have it instead. Before she could speak, Major leaned in to touch his lips to hers. The kiss was soft, slow, lingering, and before long she was moaning and leaning in to him.
“It’s my turn to thank you,” he said when he was finally able to pull his mouth from hers.
She looked as dazed and off balance as he felt at this moment. “Thank me for what?”
“For coming into my life and opening a door I thought I’d bolted shut.”
