sat up and swung his legs out in front of him. Seven years ago he had been an amateur boxer with only a handful of fights under his belt. Winning the Golden Gloves and then placing well at nationals had catapulted him from obscurity into the local spotlight. And after his record improved to thirty-seven wins, his celebrity had grown and offers started rolling in. Better management, more exposure and a professional debut had soon followed. These days he was recognized more often than not, and he was receiving more and more female attention. Except from Yasmin Ohaji.
“Could you autograph something for my son? He’s only seven but he already has dreams of becoming a boxer. Crazy, huh? I’m saving up so I can send Miles to one of those junior boxing camps. He’s good and I’m not just saying that because I’m his mom.”
Rashawn chuckled. “How about I swing by tomorrow and drop off an autographed picture for your boy?”
“That would be awesome!”
Yasmin cleared her throat, which snapped Niobie out of fan mode and into work mode. “Sorry for the interruption, Ms. Ohaji. If you need anything I’ll be at my desk.”
“Thank you, Niobie. That will be all.”
Waving good-bye at Rashawn, she proceeded through the open door and shut it behind her. They could hear Niobie giggling, then the sound and her footsteps faded.
“I apologize for my assistant’s behavior. It was—”
“No problem. I love meeting fans.”
“You’re a boxer? I don’t watch a lot of sports but you must be pretty popular if people recognize you.”
“I do all right.”
“How long have you been boxing?”
“Since I was fifteen. I got decent grades but I was always getting into trouble at school. My phys ed teacher took pity on me and started letting me hang out at his father’s gym. I’ve been hooked on boxing ever since I threw my first punch.”
Boxing was a violent, barbaric sport and Yasmin would never understand why someone would subject himself to such abuse. Shuffling the papers on her desk, she collected her clipboard and sat in the chair across from Rashawn. He could fill out the assessment sheets later. The clock was ticking and Yasmin didn’t want him to feel short-changed. After all, he was paying a hundred and fifty dollars an hour. “What brings you here today, Mr. Bishop?”
“You, Dr. Ohaji. And please, call me Rashawn.”
Chapter 3
Yasmin shifted in her chair, convinced the man sitting across from her liked making her sweat. Rashawn wasn’t her only male client, but he had a way of looking at her that made her feel nauseated, dizzy and nervous all at the same time. The long, steady looks, the way he wet his lips and the naughty gleam in his eyes troubled her.
Shoving aside her trepidation of being alone in her office with a man with whom she shared a sheer, almost magnetic chemistry, Yasmin made notes on her client assessment sheet. “Our relationship is strictly a patient–doctor one, so let’s stick to what brought you here and the issues you’re dealing with in your life right now.”
“Does that mean I can’t ask you out again?”
Yasmin dodged the question. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
“You first.”
“What would you like to know?”
“Tell me about your educational background.”
No one had ever asked her that before. People from all walks of life came into A Better Way Counseling Services for her help, assuming everything they had heard about her was true. Yasmin didn’t know if she should be impressed or offended by his request. “I graduated from the University of Miami with a degree in psychology, then got my master’s degree in marriage and family therapy the following year.”
“I bet you got good grades. You strike me as someone who wouldn’t settle for anything but a perfect GPA.”
Rashawn was right. Proud that she had coasted through her studies and made the dean’s list four consecutive years, but not wanting to sound arrogant, Yasmin stuck to the facts. “After a brief stint working in a public health clinic, I finished graduate school and received my doctoral degree in clinical psychology.”
“A savvy, young sister with a successful practice? Impressive.”
Uneasy with the way he was staring at her, she said, “Thank you, but I’m sure you didn’t come all this way to discuss my credentials. Let’s talk about you.”
“I’m single. Never been married. No children that I’m aware of. I’m a loving, sensitive brother searching for the right woman to spend my life with.” Rashawn saw her eyes soften and chuckled lightly. Extending his arms along the couch, he said, “I’m just playing, Doc. But women love to hear that sensitive crap, don’t they?”
Yasmin refused to be pulled into the conversation. Regardless of what he thought, this was not a two-way discussion. “Why don’t we discuss your family history?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Tell me whatever you feel comfortable sharing.”
“My mom raised me and my brothers by herself. My dad wasn’t around much, so she shouldered most of the responsibility. I have three loudmouth brothers and I’m the oldest of the brood. They have girlfriends and kids and still live in the old neighborhood.”
“What’s your ethnic background?”
“Sounds like a personal question.”
It was and Yasmin felt guilty for asking it. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her and she was blurring the lines between professional and personal interest. “You don’t have to answer—”
“I’m just teasing, Doc.” A humming sound came from inside his jeans pocket, but he ignored it. “I came to see you, so feel free to ask me anything. My mom’s half black, a quarter white and a quarter Mexican, and my dad is Puerto Rican.”
“That’s quite a mix.”
“I know. I’m always teasing her that she should work for the United Nations!”
Laughing, she loosened her grip on the clipboard. “And maybe you should be a comedian instead of a boxer.”
“Then would you go out with me?”
Yasmin shied away from his gaze. If she wasn’t careful, she’d succumb to the boxer’s advances and destroy her credibility as a respectable therapist. “Do you have a relationship with your father?”
For the next half hour, Yasmin asked Rashawn about his up-bringing, background and career. He was engaging, straightforward and humorous. Yasmin tried to remain unaffected by what he told her, but Rashawn was so easy to be with, when he asked her about growing up in South Africa, she spoke freely.
“My family came to the States when I was nine, but I still remember playing in the cornfields
