Measure of a Man Read online

  Peyton’s thoughts returned to the present and her gaze slid over to her sister. “What?”

  “What am I, talking to myself?” Joey stood, shaking her head. “Keep your little secrets. I do have a life, you know.”

  Peyton heard her, but she didn’t comprehend a single word. Her brain was too busy reworking the “Lincoln incident.”

  Peyton jumped to her feet. “Why did I agree to this? I must be out of my mind.”

  “I’m feeling a little crazy myself.” Joey turned for the door. “I’m out of here. I’ll come back when you’re finished talking to yourself.”

  “You know what I hate about men?” Peyton ranted, ignoring whatever her sister was talking about.

  “No, I don’t care to hear what you hate about men—this time. I’m sure I’ve heard it before. If not, I’m sure I’ll hear about it tomorrow.” Joey huffed and settled her hands on her hips. “If men are such a thorn in your side, then maybe you should consider changing up.”

  “Ha-ha-ha.”

  “Can we go shopping now—or am I supposed to stay cooped up in this room all weekend?”

  Peyton drew a deep breath, counted to ten and then grabbed her purse. “Shopping it is.”

  Joey perked up and grabbed her purse. “Great. We better make sure we pick out something hot for your date with whoever he is.”

  “Let’s not make it too hot. I don’t want to get into something I can’t get out of.”

  * * *

  “You mean that hot chick from the club last night?” Tyrone thundered. “She’s going to be your new agent?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Lincoln leaned forward and rubbed his ankle. “I had no business on that dance floor last night.”

  “It looked to me like you knew what you were doing.”

  “Well, it’s killing me now,” he said, hating having to complain. “I better take it easy if I don’t want to end up back in the hospital.”

  “Where are your pain pills?” Tyrone stood. “Maybe you should take a few of them.”

  “Nah, those things always knock me flat on my butt and I have a date.”

  “Since when? Wait. Don’t tell me you’re going out with the agent.”

  Lincoln looked up and winked at his buddy. “All right, I won’t tell you.”

  “You sly dog. Is it business or pleasure?”

  “The jury is still out,” he joked, and thought back to his meeting that morning. “But if it comes down to a choice, I’d rather have the latter.”

  “You think your luck with women has changed?” Tyrone asked.

  Moaning, Lincoln eased down in his chair. “That’s a tough call, but this P.J.—I wonder what that stands for.”

  “Now look who has trouble focusing.”

  “Like I was saying, Ms. Garner is going to be a handful. I can already tell that she’s some type of control freak, not to mention high maintenance.”

  “In that case, I only have one piece of advice for you, my friend—run.”

  “There’s a fire in her eyes, though—a challenge. She’s been burned before, I’m willing to bet my life on it.”

  “There’s a word that describes women like that— bitter.”

  Lincoln shook his head. “Nah, she’s harmless. Probably just needs to be taken down a peg or two.”

  “Now, that’s just being arrogant,” Tyrone said, standing up. “I’m heading out. I want to take one of those tour buses up to Harlem. You want to join me?”

  “No, I’m going to call room service and rest my leg for a while. Maybe we can go out this afternoon before my date?”

  “You got it,” Tyrone agreed, and then left the room.

  Lincoln waited until the door clicked closed before he reached over and snatched up the phone. In his excitement, he fumbled the number a few times before he was able to get Flex on his cell phone.

  “Hello.”

  “You are brilliant,” Lincoln raved.

  “Well…I don’t like to brag.” Flex chuckled. “Where are you and what was I so brilliant about?”

  “Tyrone and I are up in New York. I came up to meet this art agent—”

  “All right, man. You decided to go for it. Good for you. You know Peyton is a…uh, well, she knows a lot of people in the art world. Maybe when you do a portfolio I can ask her about some referrals.”

  “I might have to take you up on that because the agent I met today, I’m more interested in a personal relationship than a professional.”

  “Plunging back into the dating arena?”

  “What can I say? Women may be a complication, but they are also my weakness. And that stuff you said about Type-A women personalities was dead on the money.” Lincoln laughed. “You really do know about the woman’s psyche.”

  “Five sisters will do that.”

  “You’re officially my relationship guru. I had this woman so turned around she didn’t know what hit her. It’s all thanks to you, man.”

  “It went that well?”

  “We’re going out tonight. I have to tell you, this one is a real ball buster, too. She has a chip so big on her shoulder it’ll probably take a bulldozer to knock it off.”

  The line vibrated with Flex’s laughter. “Sounds like you really know how to pick them.”

  Lincoln’s thoughts drifted to the carefree and uninhibited dancer from last night to the straitlaced business professional he’d met this morning. “This one is different.”

  “They all are.”

  “I’m not going to be able to win her without your help.”

  “I am at your service.”

  * * *

  Peyton couldn’t remember ever being so nervous about a date. It was also the first time she felt as if she had a point to prove. She wasn’t high maintenance or judgmental. Men were the ones with preconceived notions of the opposite sex. They didn’t know how to handle a woman with more than half a brain or one who was comfortable with her own sexuality.

  “How much longer are you going to be in the bathroom?” Joey shouted through the door.

  “Just a few more minutes.” Peyton glanced at herself in the mirror and hated how her shoulder-length locks weren’t cooperating. She tossed down the curling iron and cursed under her breath.

  On cue, the bathroom door swung open.

  “Are you all right? What’s going on in here?” Joey’s gaze swept over her sister. “Are you going out like that?”

  Peyton drew a deep breath and counted to ten. However, even that didn’t help eliminate her anxiety. “I’m just under a lot of stress,” she offered as an excuse.

  “Looks like nerves to me.” Joey smirked and folded her arms. “I never would’ve believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. This guy has gotten under your skin.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Peyton grabbed a brush and attacked her hair. “This guy is just an arrogant jerk.”

  “Whom you happen to be going out with.” Joey cringed, watching her sister, and then snatched the brush out of her hand. “You’re making my head hurt. Sit down.”

  Peyton opened her mouth to protest, but one look into Joey’s “take no lip” expression and she popped a squat on top of the toilet bowl and allowed her sister to take over.

  “So tell me what you’re so worried about.”

  “Who said I was worried?”

  Joey yanked Peyton’s hair.

  “Ouch.”

  “Oops. The brush must have slipped. What were you saying?”r />
  Peyton reached to rub her sore scalp, but received a whack on the hand. “Ouch. What’s with you?”

  “Nothing. I just hate it when you lie to me.” Joey forced her chin up so their eyes would meet. “I’m older and know when you’re lying.”

  Peyton wanted to protest again, but thought it wouldn’t exactly be a great idea to show up bald for her date.

  “I’m still waiting for an answer,” Joey added. “You’re not getting out of here until you fess up.”

  Drawing a deep breath, Peyton once again tried to relax. She hated this—telephone, telegraph, tell-a-Joey. Peyton felt a tug on her hair and understood the warning. “I’m just worried…I won’t make a good…impression on this guy.”

  When Joey remained quiet, Peyton continued, “He’s…different. I initially thought I had him pegged and then in the next moment I found myself…challenged by him.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  Peyton shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’m, sort of, used to being in control.”

  “How do you explain that brain fart you had with Ricky?”

  “Ricky was harmless,” she said, waving off the question. “According to my therapist, I married him for the sake of being married. Yes, he was a bum, but he was a controllable bum.”

  “Since when did you start seeing a therapist?”

  Peyton hesitated. It was too late to turn back now. “Since Mom passed away.”

  Joey’s hands stilled. “I had no idea.”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  Joey took the curling iron to Peyton’s hair. “So, you have control issues—and this recent fixation on finding a ‘manly man’ is because you’re finally looking for someone to take control?”

  Peyton frowned. “I didn’t say all of that.”

  “You didn’t have to. You’re not the only one with a therapist.”

  The sisters’ gazes met for a brief moment before they burst out laughing.

  All this time, Peyton thought her sisters left no stone unturned when it came to snooping into each other’s lives, and now it was actually refreshing to learn that she wasn’t the only one who kept a few secrets.

  “C’mon, take a look.” Joey pulled her up and turned her to face the mirror.

  A wide smile covered Peyton’s face. “I’m going to knock his socks off.”

  Chapter 10

  Lincoln succumbed to the pain and popped two painkillers seconds before he headed out for his date. Within minutes, the merciless throb in his ankle subsided and he was able to review all the information Flex had downloaded into his brain.

  “Men are from Mars and women are from Venus.”

  In the past, Lincoln never had trouble meeting or dating women. Invariably, the differences between the sexes were what cost him the relationship.

  Really, what was wrong with watching a lot of football or wanting to have a night out with the guys? Did a relationship mean that you had to spend every waking moment with the woman? And what was with them calling so much during the day? If you weren’t with them, then you had to be on the phone with them.

  The Palace Hotel came into view and Lincoln couldn’t believe how badly his stomach twisted into knots. That couldn’t be a good sign, could it? He glanced at his watch. He was ten minutes early.

  Once he was in the lobby of the grand hotel, he again felt out of place. The life of a public servant didn’t normally afford him the opportunity to stroll such opulent halls. Hell, the only way he would even be in a place like this was if the building was on fire.

  He took a seat in a beautiful ornate chair that was apparently purchased more for decoration than comfort, but regardless, he dozed off.

  “Mr. Carver?”

  Lincoln woke with a jolt. “Huh, what?”

  “Are you all right?” P.J. asked, frowning.

  Lincoln cleared his throat and smiled at the beauty dressed in a sapphire shoulderless number that hugged her every curve. This was the classy P. J. Garner—another dimension of her diamond personality. Just as he remembered from the club, she had curves in all the right places. “I’m better now that an angel has arrived.”

  Her eyebrows rose at the honey-coated praise. “Poetry isn’t your strong suit.”

  “Everyone’s a critic.” He pushed himself up with his cane. “My point is that you look ravishing.”

  “Thank you,” she said, as her gaze skittered away. “You clean up well yourself.”

  Lincoln glanced down at his one and only black Armani suit. “Oh, this old thing?” He offered her his arm. “It’s just something that I threw together.”

  P.J. smiled and looped her arm through his. “I hope you don’t mind, but I absolutely have to make an appearance at the Museum of African Art. One of my artists has a show tonight.”

  “By all means,” he said, escorting her out of the door. “I made our reservations at the Citarella for nine-thirty. Will that be enough time?”

  “That should be perfect,” she said, smiling.

  The doorman hailed a taxi and within minutes they were off. The silence inside the cab, Lincoln noted, was strained and more than uncomfortable. Flex said that women loved good listeners, but wouldn’t the woman have to talk in order for him to listen?

  “About this morning,” he began with no clue as to how to end.

  “Yes?” She glanced at him.

  “I probably shouldn’t have kissed you like that,” he settled on saying.

  “Oh,” she said, and played with her hands on her lap.

  “I’m not saying I’m sorry,” he added. “I just hope I didn’t scare you.”

  “Oh, no. You didn’t,” she assured him, and straightened in her seat. “I rather…kind of enjoyed it.”

  It was all he needed to hear before a smile curved his lips and his arms slid behind her head on the seat. “So tell me about yourself, Ms. Garner. Why are you such a mixed bag of contradictions?”

  “I’m not sure I understand you.”

  As he met her twinkling gaze, Lincoln felt a tightening in his chest. His eyes lowered to her full lips and he experienced another overwhelming urge to kiss her.

  “I’m talking about the different signals. One minute I feel you’re really into me, and then in the next it seems like you can’t stand me.”

  Her gaze lowered.

  “So which is it?” he asked. “Do you really want to be with me tonight or are you still trying to prove a point?” He forced himself to wait through the long silence, and just when he thought he had his answer she responded.

  “Yes.” She looked at him again. “I want to be here with you tonight.”

  He smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

  “Here we are,” the cabdriver announced.

  Lincoln reached for his wallet. “Keep the change.” He handed over a few bills, climbed out of the cab and rushed to the other side to open the door for his date. All the while, he wore a grin on his face the size of Texas.

  “Thank you,” she said, as she accepted his hand and eased out of the cab.

  Lincoln thought she looked like a celebrity ready for the red carpet and smelled like a field of fresh flowers. This time he didn’t dare ask about the name of her perfume, just in case it ended up being another brand of soap.

  They walked arm in arm into the museum, and once inside he wasn’t ready to relinquish his hold on her. However, no sooner had they waltzed through the doors than the night’s showcased artist,
Yosa, whisked her from his side.

  “I’ll be right back,” she mouthed over her shoulder.

  Lincoln nodded his understanding and was left to peruse the museum solo.

  “Champagne?”

  He turned to see a tray thrust in front of him. He reached for a flute and dug into his pockets.

  “There’s no charge, sir,” a pretty waitress informed him with a bright smile. “All drinks are complimentary.”

  “Ah” was all he could manage to say. Though he hung on to his smile, he suppressed his fish-out-of-water feelings and enjoyed the display of eclectic paintings.

  He lost all sense of time as he walked, talked and sipped his champagne. Somewhere around the middle of the exhibit, a woman joined him and started asking his opinion about the collection.

  “By the way, my name is Valeri,” she said, extending her hand.

  “Lincoln.”

  “Nice to meet you.” She smiled. “I just hate showing up to these things alone, but I’m glad to see that I’m not the only one going it alone.”

  “I hope I’m not interrupting,” a voice came from behind them.

  Lincoln and Valeri turned.

  P.J. glided next to Lincoln and he looped an arm around her. “Welcome back.” He grinned.

  “I’m sorry. My mistake,” Valeri mumbled, and then disappeared into the crowd.

  “Looks like I can’t leave you alone for a minute.”

  He wiggled his brows. “Does that mean you’re now mine for the rest of the night?”

  “I’m afraid so.” When P.J. laughed, he realized it was the first time he’d heard those soft lyrical notes. It was as infectious as it was memorable.

  “We better head out of here it we want to keep our reservations,” she whispered close to his ear.

  “Let’s go.” Lincoln turned and set his second flute of champagne on a passing tray. Stifling a yawn, Lincoln suddenly worried about his decision to mix alcohol with his pain medication. When they slipped out of the door he yawned, and then again as he held open a cab door for her.

  Peyton sighed as she waited for Lincoln to join her inside the taxi. So far the night was going better than she had anticipated.