If Only

If Only - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Mombasa, Kenya

Julian

I chewed slowly on a piece of mango from the breakfast buffet while I perused the resort guests. They were a mixture of Europeans, Africans, families, singles and the international newsgroup. This Sunday morning seemed particularly slow and I was the only one up already, except for her.

Everyone from our group had partied hard and late last night. As usual, I couldn't sleep in and interestingly enough, I wasn't the only one. It was about time I disclosed my identity and let my new assignment know I was here for her. I'd been paired with the famous journalist, Cora Green, who - after a three month break - was back to reporting from Africa. She was well-known for her no-nonsense mannerisms and her fearless approach to getting the best stories first. She was a first moving news-reporter and I would have been a fool to turn down the opportunity to work with her. As a freelance photographer I was my own boss, and usually the frontline also attracted me. Now I'd been granted this opportunity to work with her and get to know her. She was one of the few people who intrigued me already before I'd met her.

"Coffee, tea or anything else?" I sat down at her table, where she was utterly engrossed in reading the news on her iPad. "Don't you ever stop working?" I leaned back in the chair and folded my arms across my chest.

She looked up from the screen and stopped when her eyes landed on mine. "You!"

"Me?" I wanted her to acknowledge that she had, in fact, ogled me shamelessly last night when she arrived at the resort.

"I saw you last night." She placed her iPad to the side.

"Yup... saw you too. Welcome back to Mombasa," I said. She lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Do I know you? I'm pretty good with names and faces. Yours I can't place..." She looked thoughtful.

"My apologies. Julian Dexter at your service ma’am." I smiled, knowing that my dimples would pop.

"At my service..." she stuttered.

In your dreams baby, I thought, and did my best to contain my laughter.

"I'm your new assistant."

“Assistant? I haven't requested an assistant." She smiled sweetly at me.

"No, but you will probably be needing a photographer and cameraman.” I knew my smile was smug, but I couldn't help myself. I knew she needed me and knowing that made me feel better than it should.

"Oh!" She looked startled for a moment, but composed herself immediately. "Great, I have a job for us."

"As I said before, don't you ever take time off?"

"That would probably be a big fat no, and I assume that you're already on the clock, so..." Now she was the one to lean back in her chair and fold her arms over her chest. The shift pushed her breasts together, and as any red-blooded man would, I looked at the creamy white skin. She was stunning with her light brown blondish hair, ample cleavage in her summer dress and brilliant amber eyes. Under the flowing white dress, she wore a tantalizing red bikini.

"Okay princess, I'm all yours. Tell me, what and where?"

"First of all, I'm not your princess or anyone's. I loathe nicknames, especially male chauvinistic, demeaning, belittling, endearing, probably well-meaning names for women. I'm Cora to you, and that's it."

"You can withdraw the claws. I won't ever call you princess again, but chill for a minute. You are way too uptight for Kenya. Pole, pole." I told her to take it easy in Swahili, which I knew she understood. "I'm here for you, so let's get on with the adventure."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to come across as a raging b***h, but throughout my career I've heard so many degrading names for female reporters in this industry and it makes me sick. It's not you. I'm sure you're the perfect gentleman."

"Famous last words. Now I need a cup of coffee. How about you?"

"Yes please; that would be nice. Did you stay up late last night?" she teased me. It made me happy to know she wasn't all work and no pleasure.

It was Saturday in Mombasa. She was thawing. I felt it before I went in search of coffee for us. I needed carbohydrates and sugar after last night's one-too-many drinks.

I placed a large plate with pancakes drizzled in syrup between us as well as our coffee cups. "To share.” I nodded at the plate. "Cora, tell me, what's our first assignment? I can't wait to hear what your mastermind has come up with.”

"Unless there's a crisis somewhere on the African continent tomorrow, I've wanted to investigate this story for some time now." She forked a piece of pancake. "There's this global organization allegedly developing schools here in the area, but in the past I’ve visited the schools on several occasions and I haven't seen any progress."

"So either the organization is not posting money in local projects, or the money is disappearing?"

"You've got that right. I've gotten as far as checking the mother organization's annual report, but I haven't been able to follow the money trail. It's just a hunch." She polished off two pancakes and pushed the plate towards me.

"I'm hooked and at your disposal. What do you need?" I knew I was flirting with her and I didn't care, because I wanted to conquer the beautiful Cora's body and mind.

"Today not so much. Maybe we can spend some time putting together a list of schools to start visiting unannounced tomorrow and secure a driver? I want to begin with the schools I know, and I would like you to document as discreetly as possible the state of the schools: from classrooms to materials, books, toilets, anything you can think of."

"I'll talk to the driver I've used for the past month. He knows everyone, the backroads, and is a true pathfinder." I was already engaged in her mission. It was different compared to the wildlife and travel stories I'd been covering for a variety of magazines for some time now. "I can already feel this is the start of a fantastic collaboration."

"Meet me by the pool in 10, and then we can plan tomorrow." She was a fresh breath of air in a world of indifference, and I wanted her to be mine.