9781585710416

Chapter One

Nine years and eleven months later ...

The day started like any other for Starris Gilmore. Her alarm clock shrilled; she pounded it into silence with her fist. Then she pulled the striped comforter over her head, burrowed into her pillow and went back to sleep. Thirty minutes later, one nicely shaped leg swung over the edge of her sleigh bed, followed by a slender arm. Shortly, her head surfaced from her lair of blankets, and Starris squinted at the clock.

When she saw that it was eight-fifteen, she flipped back the covers and climbed from the bed. Taking a moment, she lifted her arms into the air, stretching her five-foot-eight frame, and after releasing a disgruntled groan, padded heavily in the direction of the bathroom. Standing at the mirror, Starris groaned again.

Gray-green eyes that sparkled when she was fully awake were heavy with sleep. Her naturally curly mane was a tangled mass and blanket wrinkles marred her smooth, golden-brown skin. In spite of the gruesome image reflected in the mirror, Starris felt a rash of exhilaration. Today she had an interview and, after three months of trying, what she felt was a real shot at finally getting a job.

Her friend, Shelby Reeves had given her the lead for ROBY, an acronym for Rescuing Our Black Youth. The organization targeted teenage African-American males and provided mentors, job training and counseling on the value of education and goal setting. It hoped to steer some of the boys toward careers in corporate America where the presence of African-American males lacked shamefully.

Starris had already passed the first stage. Her résumé and one-page synopsis stating why she wanted to work for the organization had been good enough to make the first cut. Now, if her luck held, she'd make it through the interview, and by that evening she'd have a job. She stepped into the shower and felt immediately invigorated by the heated water steaming life into her body. Squeezing a generous dollop of scented body wash onto a loofah sponge, she tried for a note she had no hope of reaching when her off-key soprano voice lifted in song. Fifteen minutes later, Starris stepped from the shower and whipped a towel around her hair. She finished her morning toilette, then left the bedroom with a wide smile on her face.

Danielle Carter poured boiling water into a large mug, dropped in a raspberry Tea-Sickle, and stirred the mixture. "Morning, Mama."

"Good morning, angel." Starris kissed Dani's cheek, accepted the steaming cup of tea and took a seat at the breakfast nook.

Dani picked up her bowl of cereal and joined Starris at the table. "Have you decided what to wear?"

"Um-hmmm. The lavender dress."

Dani paused with the spoon in her mouth, then nodding her head in agreement, said, "That's good. You always look pretty in that."

"Thanks, angel. Let's hope someone other than you will be impressed."

"You'll get the job this time, Starris. I just know it."

Starris gave her a loving smile. Dani rarely expressed certainty of any kind and that she sounded so sure meant Starris was making headway with the child. "You know what, angel? I think you're right." She stood and picked up her cup. "But if I'm going to get that job, I need to get ready and get to my interview on time. When you've finished your breakfast, go directly next door. Mrs. Smith is taking you to school this morning, and I will be at your swim meet this afternoon."

Dani stood for a hug. "Okay, Starris. Good luck, but I don't think you'll need it today."

At ten-fifteen, Starris frowned as she watched another member of the competition step from the office where the interviews were being conducted. She observed the dreamy expression on the woman's face--the same expression she'd seen on the faces of those that had emerged before her. Starris lifted a delicately curved brow. She knew of only One thing that could put that type of look on a woman's face--a man.

The woman finally sighed and walked away from the door. Starris watched her go, then turned to stare candidly at the other people sitting in the metal chairs placed around the big empty space. All, including those already interviewed, had dressed in the standard corporate motif: dark suit, white shirt, power des for the men and functional, low-heeled pumps for the women.

Starris looked down at her own attire and a niggle of misgiving slid through her shell of confidence. No one had dressed in a light color. As a graphics artist, Starris was used to working in small offices where dressing casual was the norm. She shrugged a shoulder. Well, it was too late to do anything about it now. If nothing else, she'd stand out from the crowd.

"Ms. Gilmore, you're next."

"Thank you," Starris replied, standing. After smoothing the front of the dress, she held her head high and made her way toward the office. Standing in the open doorway, she quickly surveyed the room. It was a large space with lots of potential, and the floor-to-ceiling windows on the back wall let in plenty of light. Two metal chairs sat facing each other in the middle of a cement floor. On a nearby chair, she saw a stack of manila folders and a stack of folders on the floor, as well.

I was right , Starris thought, bringing her eyes back to the windows. The interviewer was a man. Since his back was to her, she took a moment to measure him with her eyes. He stood well over six feet, had an athletic build, and he definitely knew how to dress. The tailored jacket of the black pinstriped suit stretched over broad shoulders. A white collar peeked above the jacket, meeting a well-shaped head, and the pants covered legs that seemed to go on forever. Stands was so busy giving him the once-over that she was unprepared when he suddenly turned and faced her.

Il est trés beau , she thought immediately. Very handsome? Do you not see those dark curls on that head and that thick fringe of lashes framing those shining black eyes? What about that chestnut-colored face? And that body? Girlfriend, phase! That man is not handsome. He's a god and a truly superb specimen of a man!

Jordon Banks sucked in a sharp breath and quickly suppressed the urge to step closer. The electric jolts that started when his eyes collided with those of the woman standing in the doorway had now centered in one area of his body, and Jordon hoped like hell that Starris Gilmore didn't notice.

He hadn't thought he'd ever see her again. Even if he hadn't, Jordon would remember the oval-shaped face with skin that shone with a natural radiance, the high cheekbones that bespoke a Native American heritage and the luscious-lipped mouth. She had a small mole just to the right of her left eye, and the lavender dress emphasized the perfectly proportioned curves shaping her tall and willowy figure. The entirely feminine package had a billowy cloud of golden auburn curls that fell to her shoulders and light-colored lashes framed the hazel eyes that had haunted Jordon's dreams for months. They were eyes that should have danced with life, and while there was a measure of life in them, they still held a hint of the despair Jordon had witnessed when he'd first seen her, twenty-one months earlier.

Without the slightest inkling of who she was, Jordon had almost placed her application in the reject pile. He didn't consider himself judgmental, but Starris? The name had really thrown him for a minute. Then he'd read the one-page synopsis accompanying her résumé, and her heartfelt words had moved him.

It is not a choice, but a responsibility for the adult minds of today to impart wisdom and knowledge to the young minds that will control tomorrow. To ignore this responsibility is to throw away any chance of a decent future for any of us.

Of all the applicants, Starris was the only one Jordon felt had captured the heart and essence of ROBY. And if he could control the erotic thoughts tunneling through his mind, Jordon might have wondered why he hadn't made the connection earlier.

Almost simultaneously, Jordon cleared his throat, and Starris closed her open mouth. He gave her what he hoped looked like an easygoing smile. "Please, have a seat, Ms. Gilmore."

"Thank you," Starris replied, a flicker of recognition causing her brow to wrinkle. When he smiled, his face reflected chiseled planes, and the slight dimple in his chin became more prominent, too. Starris stared unabashedly, sure she'd seen this man before, but unable to place where. Gathering her thoughts, she made her feet carry her forward and sat in the chair. She had to focus on the interview, not the man, but now completely understood the dreamlike looks she'd seen on the faces of the women who had left his office earlier.

Jordon hastily took his seat and tried to buy some time to calm his racing heart by picking up a folder containing her résumé and scanning the page. Using the employment dates as a mark, he placed her age around thirty-five. That was good, because he would never consider dating anyone still part of the twenty-something crowd. Dating? Where the hell had that thought come from? He was supposed to be assessing Starris' potential as an employee for ROBY, not her potential as a woman for him.

Jordon's lips tightened in a slight grimace. Get your mind back on business , Banks, he chastised himself, glancing up just as Starris crossed her legs. The dress had a slit, and the peek it provided of a shapely thigh had Jordon's throat working convulsively. "Ah ... Ms. Gilmore," he said after shaking his head as if to clear it. "My name is Jordon Banks, and I am the executive director of ROBY."

Starris leaned forward to shake the hand he extended. "Bonjour, Monsieur Banks. Je m'appelle Starris Gilmore."

Jordon released her hand and slouched back in his chair. "Excuse me?"

Mortified, Starris groaned and lowered her head. Speaking French came second nature to Starris who had been born in France. She had lived in the country until the age of thirteen, and occasionally slipped into the language when she was extremely nervous or upset. Starris closed her eyes and made a desperate grab to regain her poise. She took a calming breath, then looked up and into the stunned expression on Jordon's face. "I am truly sorry, Mr. Banks. It's a nervous habit of mine--speaking French, I mean. Oh, never mind about that. My name is Starris Gilmore."

Jordon pressed his lips together and suddenly stood to his feet. He jammed his hands into his pockets and directed a pointed look at Starris. "No, Ms. Gilmore. I'm the one who should apologize. You see, as of this morning, all positions at ROBY have been filled."

Her mouth fell open again and Starris grabbed the edges of her chair. She held her breath to stop the topsy-turvy tumble of her stomach. Then tried to ascertain if the look on his face was a smirk or a scowl, because she was sure that this man, this Jordon Banks couldn't possibly be talking to her. Starris sat up straight and skewered him with a furious green glare. And if he was talking to her, she'd been looking for work for too long to be dismissed with a "howdy do" and a "see ya." In fact, she'd had it with the want ads, the agencies, the unsuccessful interviews, the "it's been a pleasures" and the "thanks for coming in, we'll let you knows." And this obnoxious jerk hadn't even had the courtesy to say that.

Her chin tilted upward, and Starris didn't even try to control the temper that as a child could flare with the slightest provocation. As an adult, she tried to conceal the trait by holding everything inside. Not a good habit, because without the relief of prior venting, when Starris did explode, it was a combining of the moment's situation and a long list of stored-up hurts. Lately, her temper had been threatening to rear its ugly head, and Jordon's rudeness along with every disappointment she'd been dealt during the last three months congested in her chest. Unfortunately for him, Jordon Banks had no way of knowing that or that he was about to become the recipient of the latest explosion to erupt from Starris Latrice Gilmore.

"Mr. Banks. There are fifteen open positions at this center, and I'm only interested in two--the executive assistant and the job acquisitions director. Okay, so I messed up and made a mistake. Mistakes are little slip-ups humans make because we are not perfect. But perhaps sitting on that throne in your isolated tower of power, you've forgotten how nerve-racking it can be to be put in the hot seat during an interview. But let's not make more of this than necessary.

"Now, I've counted the people waltzing in and out of that door, and if the interviews started at eight, like the listing said, you haven't had the time to interview fifteen people. So, I doubt that what you've just told me is the truth. And I know I'm qualified to handle either of the jobs I've applied for with your little organization. I need this job, and I don't feel it's fair for you to reject me solely on the basis of one slip. So, I'll tell you what: why don't I go out and come in again, and we can start this interview over."

A muscle working in his cheek clearly indicated his annoyance, and Jordon drew himself up to every inch of his six-nine height. No one, absolutely no one talked to Jordon Banks that way. He stared down at the woman who'd just chewed him out royally and mentally capped his own temper. "No, Ms. Gilmore," he replied in a voice that sounded as frosty as the desolate plains of the Arctic. "When you go out that door, please continue until you've reached the exit sign. I'm sure you can find your way to the parking lot from there. It's been a pleasure. Thanks for coming in."

Starris stood and grabbed the back of the metal chair. She couldn't stop the waver in her voice as she made her appeal. "Mr. Banks, please. The least you can do is grant me an interview."

Jordon saw the sheen in her hazel eyes. His heart slammed against his chest. He looked away and made a silent entreaty that Starris not resort to tears. He was a sucker for tears. It was his daughter's most effective weapon. But this woman, beautiful though she might be, was not his daughter. Shell not only called him a liar, but had insulted his organization, as well. His baby. "Goodbye, Ms. Gilmore."

Jordon turned his back to Starris and didn't flinch when the door to his office slammed a few moments later.

* * *

"Is she here?"

"Quit pushing me, Jolie. I'm trying to find her." Danielle peered out at the bleachers again. "Okay, there she is."

"Where? Show me, Dani. I can't see her."

Danielle pointed her finger. "See, third row from the top in the blue jeans and pink sweater."

"She's beautiful," Jolie said, sighing dreamily. "You're so lucky, Dani. I wish Starris was going to be my mother, too."

"I know, but at least you have your father. If it weren't for Starris, I wouldn't have anybody," Danielle replied without rebuke. "And your dad's really neat."

"Well, I sure hope he gave Starris a job and that he gets here soon. Otherwise ..."

Jolie didn't finish her comment and the two ten-year-olds, who shared the same birth date, chestnut coloring and curly black hair also shared a secret smile. In girlish glee, large brown eyes, accompanied by a pair of dimpled cheeks, met shining black ones as the two friends linked arms and made their way back to the locker room.

Starris licked dry lips and firmed her shoulders as she went through a mental rite of building herself back up after the awful letdown of that morning. This is a minor set back , she told herself. So, you didn't get a job at ROBY. There will be other opportunities, and soon you'll have your pick of several good jobs . But even as Starris thought the words, her shoulders sagged forward just a bit. Three months had already passed. If she didn't find a job soon, she faced the prospect of starting the adoptive process over again or worse, losing Dani.

Starris emitted a sigh of frustration. In the year since she'd known Danielle Carter, the young girl had blossomed. She still felt a twinge in her heart every time she thought about the week-old baby left on the doorstep of the children's home. However, she could barely recall the

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Subtle Secrets by Wanda Y. Thomas. Copyright © 2001 by Wanda Y. Thomas. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Subtle Secrets

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