Look Both Ways Read Free Page A

leading ministers and community activists,” Price said. “He does a lot of moralizing and makes a lot of waves. He said he’s here about our lending practices, and since you’re head of lending, I had Ann direct him to your office. Is that a problem?”
    When she didn’t answer, he made an openly patronizing offer.
    “I’ll be happy to sit in on the meeting if you don’t feel you can handle it.”
    Resisting the urge to scream, she spoke calmly. “Just remain available until they leave, please.” She hung up. “Show them in, Ann.”
    Susan took a deep breath and stood as the five people were ushered in. She stopped in mid-exhalation. The man in front was larger than life—not just in size, which was considerable, but also in sheer magnetism. Standing tall and proud, his broad shoulders were squared with military erectness. His eyes were large and dark, almost black, she thought. His features were in perfect symmetry: a wide, unlined forehead, prominent nose, and strong, square chin.
    Susan thought of old Western movies in which tribal warriors stood on hilltops watching their people. This man reminded her of such a warrior. His expression and his stance spoke clearly; he was chief of his tribe. His companions faded into the background, overshadowed by his prominence and the most intriguing smile Susan had ever seen. Impeccably dressed in a gray suit, white shirt, and red print tie, his broad shoulders and smooth black skin were enough to make him stand out, but the thundering baritone of his “good afternoon” was as electrifying as an echo in a canyon.
    She anchored her right hand on the edge of the desk and spoke above the pounding of her heart. “Good afternoon. I’m Susan Cross. How may I help you?”
    “I’m Rev. Willard Cartwright, and I certainly hope you can help us, Miss Cross,” he said, gesturing to his companions. “This is Mrs. Whitehead, Deacon Roosevelt Jones, and Mr. and Mrs. Jessie Carter.”
    Susan acknowledged each with a nod and a smile, ending with Deacon Jones, who was touring her body with his eyes. She refocused on Rev. Cartwright. His looks. His presence. His calm effervescence. His generous mouth remained in a crooked smile as if he sensed her uneasiness.
    “Please have a seat,” she said, pointing to the six chairs around the mahogany conference table.
    Rev. Cartwright held a chair for Mrs. Whitehead and waited until everyone was seated before unbuttoning his jacket and taking the chair across from Susan, who sat facing the window. She watched his every move. Something new was happening to her heart.
    “We came here to discuss a serious problem, but before we get into that, may I first ask why we were directed to you?”
    His deep voice was insistent but had a hint of sweetness. Susan was insulted and angry, and she was sure it showed as she looked from one to the other. Ashamed of her intensely sexual response to a stranger, and a minister at that, she chose her words carefully.
    “The receptionist said you asked to see the person in charge. In the absence of the company president, that would be me. If you’d like to speak to someone else, I’ll be more than happy to redirect you, although I must advise you, we rarely see visitors without appointments.”
    She spoke with measured clarity, hoping her voice did not convey her inward irritation. “We do have a customer service department on the nineteenth floor, but since you described your problem as serious, I doubt customer service would be of much help.”
    The ire she had hoped to mask brought stern looks from his associates and a big smile from the reverend. She shivered, but her face was scalding hot.
    “I apologize to you, Miss Cross.” His smile widened and his dark eyes danced merrily. “Is it Miss or Mrs.?”
    “Miss is just fine.”
    “Miss Cross, I apologize, first for barging in without an appointment and then for questioning your authority. I assure you, it was not intended as an insult.” His eyebrows