Dreams and Desires

By Louise Make

Thirty-year-old features editor Moyomhle Duma knows a few things for certain: she excels at her job because she’s reliable; her drive and focus proves that she’s mature; and love outside of romantic books and movies is far too risky. Moya has grown to wary of reckless love and shies away from unwanted attention.Zakhele Nkosi is anything but safe. He strides into Moya's world, overwhelms her with his charm and confidence, and immediately breaks all her rules. He challenges her to welcome life's adventures – and couldn't care less about being two years younger than she is. Zakhele offers her his heart and is determined to have hers in return. But is Moya ready for the most magical adventure love has to offer?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kwela
• Release date: Jun 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9780795704338

Book preview

1

It is your heart I long for.

It is you I must know.

Fire emanates from your core,

A fierce passion lights your soul.

This is the love I must own.

Only your heart and no more.

Moyomhle hugged her pillow a little closer as she slowly came out of her dream.

It was a dream she knew well because it visited her frequently. At first she’d tried to decipher its significance, but after a few years she no longer felt that need. She thought of it as an enchanted visitation and chose to cherish the feeling of fulfilment it always brought her.

Each time the dream came, the scenes were different. Only the feelings were the same – the sense of being with . . . someone very special. Though she’d never seen his face, she felt his strength and warmth.

Her alarm clock’s radio started singing some inane pop song. She rolled over with a grim sigh and switched it off. Thankfully, it was a Friday.

No more movie watching until the early hours of the morning during the week, she pledged out loud to herself as she trudged past the DVD covers stacked beside her bed, no matter how romantic the story or how handsome the leading actor.

The features editor of a magazine publication as major as Quest was meant to set a disciplined example as an unflappable woman. Not a silly romantic who developed crushes on every hero in every love story or soppy movie. Nor a hopeless dreamer who couldn’t stop fantasising, thanks to a nightly phantom visitor whose face she’d never seen.

No more movies, no more fantasies. Moya was practically singing her new mantra by the time she finished her shower.

She inspected her reflection in the mirror. She used to wish she looked more like the perfect heroines in the novels and movies she devoured, but she’d long since grown out of that phase.

Her eyes were large and dark, giving her a guileless look that was difficult to glamourise – even with the smoky make-up a women’s talk show host had once recommended. Her hair was in neat cornrows that made her facial bone structure more striking.

She’d put on some weight since university and could no longer wear some of her favourite old clothes, but her skin had remained flawless over the years. It was still smooth and chocolate-coloured, the one feature that had her daring to believe she might in fact be beautiful.

An SMS came in as she left the bathroom. Moya smiled when she saw her brother’s name.

Thanks again for offering to throw us a baby shower in Dec. Kay’s very excited. You’re the best sister ever. Lucky for you, I’m the best brother ever. LOL. Love you, Sam

She was about to reply when her phone rang.

Moya lifted a surprised eyebrow when she noted her office number on the display. She wasn’t due at work for another hour and a half. She’d hoped to spend the time in between putting the ready-made waffles she’d bought to a taste test. The late-April mornings in Cape Town were still surprisingly warm and eating waffles while watching the sun rise from beyond the ocean would’ve been just the treat she needed.

Hesitantly she answered the phone. Hello?

You won’t believe what’s just happened!

Moya’s lips twisted in concern. Lindi, what’s up? You do know I was going to come in early today to prepare for the photo shoot, right? Couldn’t this have waited until then?

All in one breath her assistant told her the morning’s horror story.

The male model they had booked for the day’s shoot was in hospital due to dire food poisoning and not likely to recover for days. The other models Moya had shortlisted weren’t available at such short notice and Ella, their female model, was already in make-up. They had to work a miracle – they had to find a male stand-in for the two final scenes and get him there by the time Ella completed her solo shots. If they didn’t, Ella would leave for her next booking, and another costly shoot would have to be scheduled.

Moya exhaled heavily as she pulled out the first thing her hand touched in her closet, a simple white dress. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.

* * *

By eight o’clock Moya was beginning to panic. The shoot was meant to start at nine, but they still had no male model. Ella was dressed and on set. Moya needed to conjure up a partner for her – and fast.

She crossed her fingers and said a quick prayer before dialling the cell number of one of her colleagues. Please pick up . . . she muttered below her breath.

The call was answered after a few seconds. Hello?

Thandi, please don’t slaughter me for calling you during your holiday, but I’m in the middle of an emergency here. Please-please-please send me any contact details you have for male models.

Moya? You aren’t serious . . .? Thandi’s voice was so groggy no one would’ve guessed her to be the no-nonsense fashion editor of Quest magazine. What could possibly have gone wrong this early?

It’s serious and desperate!

There was a sigh and a soft chuckle at the other end.

After a minute of thinking Thandi said, I might be able to help you, depending on the look you want.

Moya perked up. Tall, black and in good shape. Preferably someone in his early thirties, because the article is targeted at women juggling corporate careers and a cosy home life. So I need a man who looks attractive but old enough to be settled down.

Okay . . . After some fumbling, Thandi was back on the line. I can cover your requirements and I also know that the man I have in mind is available today. He has some time off.

Moya jumped up, squealing. You are an absolute angel!

I’m pretty sure I could talk him into doing a shoot.

Why would you need to talk him into it? Every model I know would love doing a large spread like this one.

Well . . . he’s not a model. He’s a friend of mine and the sales manager at a car dealership. But trust me when I tell you the camera will adore him.

Moya paced in front of her large desk. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to go with a novice, Thandi. What if he’s camera-shy?

He won’t be. He’s really comfortable in his own skin – charisma oozes out of this guy, darling.

Moya pinched the bridge of her nose. Fine. And thanks. I owe you one for saving this shoot for me.

Great. I’ll call Zakhele and fill him in. And then I’m going back to bed.

* * *

Moya had just given the nod on the set assembly and lighting grid when he showed up.

Zakhele Nkosi strolled in with his broad shoulders back and his head held high, taller than most of the men in the studio. Thandi certainly hadn’t been lying about the man’s charm. He smiled at everyone as if he’d spent years doing shoots, looking relaxed despite not knowing any of the people around him. Lindi greeted him cheerfully and after a minute of talking pointed towards her boss.

Moya’s grip tightened on the clipboard she was holding. She had dated enough charmers to know this one was going to be trouble. After wasting her time on boyfriends whose looks had engendered in them nothing but arrogance and self-centred childishness, she had vowed never to fall for another playboy. Especially not one as gorgeous as this man.

She took him in as he approached her. Muscular and golden-skinned, dressed in cargo pants and a black golf shirt, Mr Nkosi moved with the grace of a panther that would always have full control over its own strength.

You must be my boss for the day.

Inhaling deeply, Moya held her hand out. As soon as he took it, she found herself caught up in musings about sunlight and soft breezes and . . . something. Why would such thoughts suddenly assail her?

Beautiful spirit.

She cleared her throat. I beg your pardon?

Your name, Moyomhle, it means ‘beautiful spirit’.

Yes.

It’s lovely . . . The friendliness in his eyes deepened, momentarily changing to something she couldn’t quite identify. So, what do you desire of me?

Was he . . .?

Moya shook her head at the illogical idea that he’d passed by her cute colleagues to flirt with her. She knew better than that. She was the quiet, dedicated achiever who kept to herself. The simplicity she favoured was there for all to see, and usually drew the attention of none.

The understated sophistication of her white dress and the functional look of the flat, bronze sandals that encased her feet made it abundantly clear that Moya was not interested in catching the world’s eye. She enjoyed giving others attention, but doubted she’d know what to do with it if it were to be directed at her.

Zakhele stood with his head cocked, his eyes devilishly dark – the picture of a man who would never fit in her world. He was not flirting with her. She needed to get real.

Moya nodded brusquely. I’m the features editor, so I do give the nod on most of what will be happening this morning. But it’s Bonga’s orders you’ll be following. He’s our photographer. So perhaps you’d like to put your question to him?

Zakhele momentarily sized up the tall man fitting a lens to a complicated camera. He turned back to her, his smile unshaken. How about after hours? Do I get to ask you about your desires then?

Moya lowered her eyes. There was no more room for doubt; he was definitely playing with her.

When her gaze lifted again, she had steadied it. You don’t get to flirt with me, Mr Nkosi. Not ever.

Her words had startled him, she could tell. No doubt rejection was a new experience to a man this good-looking, but Moya had no intention of getting caught up in his amorous games.

Why not? he asked, seeming genuinely puzzled.

"Because