Native Affairs

When Dolores buzzed her at 8:58, she was prepared for more of the same. At least he was on time.

“Mr. Youngson is here,” Dolores said breathlessly into the intercom.

I hope she doesn’t have a heart attack, Je

The door opened, Bradley Youngson entered, and Je

He was tall and broad shouldered, but hadn’t the massive, hulking physique she had come to expect in football players. He appeared to be of average weight for his height, but his narrow waist and hips gave him a deceptive appearance of slimness. His body was perfectly proportioned, elegant, with the pleasing symmetry of Grecian art.

Je

But he had caught her puzzled examination of him. “What’s the matter, Ms. Gardiner?” he asked in a low, resonant voice. “Am I not what you expected?”

“I thought you would be…heavier,” she blurted, and then closed her mouth, amazed at her loss of composure. What on earth was wrong with her? This was just another Saturday hero, another side of prime beef paid to entertain the masses with the bashing of heads. A modem gladiator in a twentieth century arena, a member of an expensive sideshow, no more. She sat up straighter and regarded him levelly, taking a breath.

“I’m a pass receiver, Ms. Gardiner,” he said with a trace of sarcasm. “I run around a lot.”

She could believe that he received a lot of passes. Also that he ran around a lot.

His large, dark eyes studied her with faintly amused detachment. “You must be accustomed to dealing with linemen. They usually resemble Mack trucks.”

He remained standing in front of her desk. Dolores was right Sexy as hell. It wasn’t so much his looks, though he was certainly handsome in a craggy, strong-featured way, but more a presence, a physical confidence and awareness that attracted like a magnet Je

Their eyes locked. His dusky skin had been made even browner by the sun of a hundred football fields and had an underlying coppery tinge that bespoke his heritage. His brows and lashes were jet black, like his hair, which was beautiful, thick and straight and as glossy as a thoroughbred’s coat He stood easily, watching her, his lips slightly parted to reveal a glimpse of very white teeth.

“Please be seated, Mr. Youngson,” she said stiffly.

“Call me Lee,” he said, dropping gracefully into the chair across from her, stretching his long legs in front of him. He was wearing tight jeans with moccasins and a yellow V-necked sweater that clung to the muscles in his arms and shoulders and revealed the clean, supple line of his throat. He knows how to pick his colors, Je

Je

There was a knock at the door. Dolores opened it, simpering at Youngson.

“I just wondered if Mr. Youngson would like some coffee,” she said kittenishly.

His indulgent smile suggested that Youngson was used to such fawning attention. He nodded. “Black No sugar.”

Dolores all but purred as she went out. Je

“Shall we begin?” she said pointedly to Youngson.

He raised his brows. “Please.”

Je

She finished the first page. “Is there anything you would like me to explain again?” she said.

“It is not necessary to speak in words of one syllable, Ms. Gardiner,” he answered quietly. “I understand.”

Somewhat disconcerted, she went on. When they got to a paragraph written in legal jargon, she paused to interpret it.

He gazed at her directly across the cream bond pages in his hand. “I said I get the picture, ma’am,” he said, a little more sharply.

Je

“I apologize if my explanations are boring you, Mr. Youngson,” she said sweetly. “I have found in the past that clearly establishing the facts saves time and effort later. While many of our clients are college graduates, they frequently went to school on athletic scholarships and...”

His jaw tightened and he pitched the papers back onto her desk “Lady” he said, interrupting her, “I resent your attitude. I’m not a dumb jock and I’m not a dumb Indian. Maybe I went to college on a football scholarship, but I went to Cornell, which is no kindergarten. I was premed, in case the football didn’t work out I had a 3.7 average in a biology major, so please don’t treat me like an idiot.”

Dolores chose this inopportune moment to reenter with Youngson’s drink Her smile vanished as she sensed the atmosphere of hostility. Bewildered, she set the cup down and quickly sidled out again.

Je

“I’m sorry you think I was demeaning you,” she said softly. “Perhaps you’d like to read the rest on your own, and let me know if you have any questions.”

He relented and picked up the list again. She sat in silence as he sca

The silence lengthened.

“Nothing to say, Ms. Gardiner?” he said, needling. “You were talkative enough before.”

“You seem to find everything I say irritating,” Je

“Is that what it is?” he responded. “I find it a

Her eyes flashed to his face. It was serene, but there was a tiny hint of amusement in his eyes, a slight upward turn at the corners of his mouth. This was an overture. He would smile, if she would.

Je

He gri

“They generally send someone along to make sure I’m a good boy on these little jaunts,” he said, gesturing to the list “Who is going to accompany me?”

“I am,” she said, meeting his gaze squarely.

He sighed and stood. “Well, in that case, I suggest we forget our slight misunderstanding and begin again.” He walked over to her and extended his hand. “Lee Youngson, how do you do?”

She took it His fingers were strong and warm. “Je

“Je

“Of course.”

“Well, Je

She nodded. “On the eighteenth, for the mall opening. I’ll contact you.”

“goodbye, then.” His smile was touched with irony. “It was nice…wrestling with you.”

He walked soundlessly to the door and left.

Wrestling, Je