His directness was unexpected. “What?”
“The bracelet.”
“Oh.” She had been so entranced with his silken voice and striking, finely defined Native American features she had forgotten everything else, even her own internal warnings to not be sucked into the looks-to-kill-for vortex. The man projected both tranquility and a restless kind of sexual energy. She was finding it hard not to stare at his tight light-blue worn jeans over which he wore a buckskin poncho with a deep V. Hints of feathery dark chest hair glistened against his skin. A single strand of red shell hung around his neck, along with a jeweler’s loupe. Justine cautiously raised her wrist to him.
Skin brushed skin as he fastened the bracelet around her delicate wrist. His fingers even felt soft, smooth, rich—luxurious. Justine wondered just what else on him felt rich, and then realized her mind was galloping away. She moved her wrist back and forth. “I like the heft of it.”
Turning on a small display lamp, he said, “It looks better when light is on it. See?”
Justine agreed. The bracelet sparkled, casting shades of reds, oranges and blues against the counter and walls. “It’s even prettier than I thought. At first I wanted the turquoise nugget bracelet, but nine hundred dollars kind of threw me for a loop.”
He took that bracelet out, holding it to the light and inspecting its rounder, heftier stones. “This isn’t the right piece for you. It doesn’t bring out your mystique as much as the spiny oyster does. It’s not delicate enough. You need something with elegance and grace, which this piece doesn’t have. The heftier piece is for every day; you know, casual.”
“Can’t the heart bracelet be worn casually as well?”
“Sure, get as fancy or as free as you like with it.” He held her wrist to the light again, appreciating the delicacy of the bracelet against her skin. “This one definitely is the better choice. It looks wonderful against your complexion. The cinnamon of your skin blends well with the oyster. Your long, dark hair is also compatible with these colors.” He paused. “Pardon me for asking, but do you have any Italian in your background?”
“Some. My paternal grandfather was Italian—from Salerno, to be specific.”
“And the other part, again, if you don’t mind the questions. You look very different from a lot of women—but I think that’s a good thing.” Her rich caramel complexion, along with long reddish-brown hair, mesmerized him. He’d seen many a beautiful customer, but this one with her slender frame and charming personality was one he wouldn’t soon forget. His eyes lingered on her as she spoke.
“Of course I don’t mind.” His naturalness began to seem genuine by the second. However, she had been fooled before, the memory of which made her pull her hand free of his. “I’m mostly African American.”
“Feisty cultures. I like feistiness; it makes for good character.”
“Definitely makes for interesting company.”
“African Americans and Indians have a long history, probably dating back to before the seventeenth century.”
“I know. Actually some of my ancestors escaped slavery and were accepted into native tribes.” She tapped her fingers against the countertop. “I’m also a history buff.”
“I see. Considering my heritage and yours, we’d probably get along quite well.” He extended his hand. “By the way, I’m Hopi.”
“I know that’s a tribe, and I seriously hope that’s not your given name as well.”
He smiled seductively. “I like your sense of humor. Yes, I’m a member of the Hopi nation. My given name is Darrius Red Sky. I own this store and a few others.”
“This is amazing! You’re the man?”
“The man?”
“Yes, the man behind the legend.”
“Sorry, but, ah, I haven’t any idea what—”
“What I’m talking about? I know you don’t, but this store and your website are a favorite of mine and of my friends. Probably others, too.”
“Legend, huh? Glad to know I’m so popular—well, at least in certain areas.”
“Very popular. I’ve pulled up your site many times to marvel at your very beautiful merchandise. But I’ve never seen this piece.” She jingled her newly acquired bracelet.
“It’s new, just suddenly came in one day without a purchase order.” Pausing, he added, “Maybe it was destined to be here just for you.”
“That’s a good way to think of it. By the way, why isn’t your picture on your site? I’ve seen the name Darrius, but when I saw you I didn’t associate your name with the face.”
“Why not?”
“I just didn’t is all. You look too much like a male model who should be out on a photo shoot instead of selling jewelry to strange young women with loads of questions.”
“That’s a great compliment, but as far as being in a photo shoot—it’ll never happen. I’m camera shy.”
“Why? I think you’d be doing the camera a favor—not to mention the women I know who log on all the time.”
“Really? That’s awfully kind, and I do get in a lot of Internet orders. Tell your friends thanks.”
Their eyes lingered on one another in the silence of the moment. They definitely liked each other, but that was exactly what she didn’t want to happen again. Men were on the back burner, even this handsome one. Somehow, he was different from any man she had known; not only heritage-wise, but he had a way of making her seem special from the way he looked at her. Feeling special wasn’t on her agenda. She was there to take pictures of great dancers and to capture the color and interactions and mysticism of a powwow. His voice drew her back to the present.
“My brother Derrick scours the entire Southwest and beyond for fabulous one-of-a-kind pieces that would make a customer remember her experiences in Gallup for many moons to come.”
“No wife to help you with the stores?”
“Nope! No wife.” As if not to dwell on his single status, he tapped her wrist. “How about the bracelet? Do you like it?”
“I love it, but can I wear it a little longer? You know, to get used to it before you wrap it and bag it.”
“Of course. Is there anything else I can show you?”
“I’d love to walk through the rest of your store and see your collections.”
