Under His Cover-nook by Lyric James Page A

pay, to lower the tax rate for construction companies who build cost effective homes for low-income families, and to change the state employees work day from five days to four.”
    “Is that it?”
    He shrugged his shoulders. “Off the top of my head, yes. There’s always more. What? You think some crazed teacher or state employee is gunning for me if I don’t vote their way?” he asked and laughed.
    She joined him in his laughter. “No.” She took a sip of her champagne. The cool liquid didn’t do much to help chill the flame sizzling inside her. With each word, he seemed to move closer. His thigh touched hers under the table.  The silky material of his slacks tickled the bare part of her thigh, causing goose bumps to erupt up and over her legs. His hand was so close to her neck she wanted to lean back against it and allow him to caress her skin. “But you never know.”
    The waiter arrived and took their orders, but she doubted she’d be able to taste a thing. A tremor of sensation rumbled through her and her heartbeat thrummed heavy in her ears. She wanted to be closer to him, skin to skin.  How could this be? She’d just had sex with the man a few hours ago.
    Snap out of it .
    He still wasn’t being totally honest with her, and she’d begun to wonder why he cared so much about those other kids when he wouldn’t even publicly acknowledge his own. But could she really fault him for it? Since she pushed him away, he had no reason to be honest with her. After all, they weren’t in a committed relationship. Plus, she really didn’t know the history behind why no one knew about Maya. Maybe it hadn’t even been his decision. Maybe the mother wanted it that way.
    Whatever the reason, it didn’t seem to bother her body. It still wanted him, desired him. Wanted him inside her a gain and again. She had to get her mind on something else. “Tell me something. Why was getting this funding so important to you?”
    He looked at her, and she saw a moment of indecision slide over his features. “You know Zechariah and I have been friends since we were little? Probably six or seven years old, I think.”
    Jade picked up her glass and nodded her head before she took a sip.
    “Yes, Karyn told me that.”
    “Well, despite what you may think, I didn’t spend my childhood going to boarding schools and country clubs. I spent it at the community center.”
    She released an incredulous gasp. This definitely surprised her. Rhys was born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, and the thought of his parents sending him to a community center to play was unfathomable. What she’d imagined of Rhys’ life was one of privilege, and exactly what he said: boarding schools, country clubs and summers spent on a beach. No way had she expected him to spend time with the common folk. But maybe that was how he met the mother of his child.
    “My parents were really down to earth people. They didn’t believe in all that country club elitist bullshit. My father grew up with working-class parents and had a great childhood. He wanted me to have the same. He didn’t want me to grow up thinking I was better than anyone else just because they had money. So, from the time I was seven till I was a teenager, I spent my summers at the community center. Even worked there a couple of years when I was old enough. And that’s where I met Zechariah.”
    He twirled the stem of his champagne glass between his fingers and didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes.
    “I wasn’t blind. I noticed things. I saw how some of the kids dressed, the shoes they wore, and it wasn’t from the same stores my parents bought my stuff from. Zechariah confided in me. Going to that community center saved him from a life of violence and gangs and all the other mischief some kids got into at that age. I do it in memory of that. There are still children out there who need that community center for the exact same reasons Zechariah needed it when he was young.