by Naima Simone
“The girls?”
“Lauren, Ryan and Dee, my sisters-in-law, or in-love, as Mom always corrects me.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Their marriages were the wedding bells heard round the world. Surely you read about them.”
Sam gave a slight shake of the head. “I’d heard about Christian’s wedding but only learned that two more brothers had tied the knot upon returning to the States. How many brothers besides you does that leave standing single?”
“I stand alone,” Nick dramatically intoned. “We have several business partners on the continent who said their nuptials made a big splash even there.”
“While in Africa, I lived in a rather insular world.”
“Since word on the street is you married a prince, a luxurious one, no doubt.”
“Yes.”
A physical wall couldn’t have made Sam’s intentions clearer. Whatever had happened while abroad, she didn’t want to talk about it. But Nick couldn’t resist.
“Yet you’re back here and working. What does your husband think about that?”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re no longer together.”
“Separated?”
“Divorced.”
The tone beneath that one word closed the door on the subject of Sam’s personal life better than King Tut’s sealed tomb. It only made Nick even more curious, about both her failed marriage and her current love life. Now was obviously not the time to talk about it, but one day... Patience was not a virtue Nick knew well, but one he could employ when necessary. Now was definitely one of those times.
His body language remained relaxed but he adopted a businesslike tone. “Whatever brings you back to Las Vegas, your timing couldn’t be better. I need the best and fastest-working designer that money can buy. Before running off to become an African princess, that was you.”
A grin accompanied Sam’s twinkling eyes. “I’d like to think it still is. What’s going on?”
“A project that has to stay on schedule and a designer who isn’t delivering on the promises she made.”
“How many rooms are we talking about?”
“Not rooms...homes.” Nick noted Sam’s surprised expression. “This isn’t a hotel design. It’s a series of private island homes being advertised for vacation rental among the world’s most elite.”
“Wow. I had no idea you guys had expanded beyond the original hotel framework. Considering how the hospitality industry is changing, though, it sounds like a smart move.”
“It’s proven to be right on time with industry trends.”
“Does that smirk confirm the obvious, that this was your idea?”
“Still a smart-ass, I see.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Ha!”
“So I’m right.”
“All of the brothers are involved but yes, it’s more or less my baby. Which means failure is not an option. You feel me?”
“Tell me more.”
Sam leaned forward, unconsciously revealing the slightest peek of a creamy quarter-moon of her breast. When his attention returned to her face, Sam was frowning. Damn. To her professional credit, however, she didn’t comment on eyes determined to rove on their own. She simply adjusted her blouse and sat back, waiting, to learn why Nick had brought her here.
Nick leaned back as well, determined to take control of a meeting he’d called, ensconced in the comfort of discussing an industry he knew better than he knew himself. Business now, pleasure later, he thought as he began discussing his baby, CANN Isles. There was no way around it, even pushed to the back of his mind. The attraction for one Ms. Samantha “Sam” Price was real, intense and not going away.
* * *
Before it was mere speculation. Now she was sure. It shouldn’t have mattered how much she wanted to see her old lover. Not only should Sam have not returned Anita’s phone call, she shouldn’t have made this appointment. She shouldn’t be here with Nick. Her body was clear about it even if her mind wasn’t sure. Every cell of her body had lit up, awakened by the irrefutable attraction that hadn’t dimmed in all this time away. An attraction that given the sticky situation that even thinking of working with Nick presented, and the increasingly troublesome email and text exchanges with her ex, had no chance of being acted upon.
Being this close to him in proximity was TROUBLE, all caps. Just seeing him relax made her heart skip. She watched the lines on his forehead fade away as he broke into a spiel he’d probably recited a hundred times. Clearly, speaking about the company was his forte, his stomping grounds, his zone. But that brief look of desire she’d glimpsed before Nick realized he’d been caught staring at her cleavage suggested something impossible. That he still felt the attraction, too. Surely after all this time it was something she must have imagined. While the night she shared with Nick was seared into her conscience, and intimacy with her husband had been fleeting at best, she imagined there’d been a constant stream of women in and out of Nick’s bedroom to make him forget all about it.
She wasn’t quite sure when her attention went from what Nick was saying to the lips forming the words that came out of his mouth. But somewhere within his glib delivery about CANN International’s latest expansion beyond casino hotels and spas into the lucrative and growing industry of offering private rental vacation homes, she was struck by the perfectly formed Cupid lips enunciating goals and intentions and reminding her of how skillfully they’d brought her to and over the orgasmic edge and changed her life forever. If her body was a violin, Nick’s tongue was the bow that had played a melody etched in her soul, stamped into her mind and burned inside her heart. That night just over four years and nine short months ago when her world was rocked and shifted on its axis, was one she had no idea would be the catalyst for an adventure that took her from America to Africa and from fairy tale to nightmare, in less than five years.
“...Djibouti. Have you been there?”
Uh-oh. The uptick of his voice suggested to Sam that she’d just been asked a question. She had no idea what about.
“Um, not sure.”
Wrong answer. Nick’s frown told it all.
“Djibouti isn’t the most popular of tourist destinations, but it is certainly memorable. Yet you’re not sure?”
“No, I’m sure. I’ve never been there. Sorry, I got distracted. I silenced my phone but it’s still vibrating.” Sam reached into her purse. “I’ll shut it off.”
“Back less than a month and already in demand?”
“Something like that.”
She quickly checked her text messages. It wasn’t a slew of potential clients trying to reach her, but the very reason why she shouldn’t be sitting there. Why as much as she wanted to, needed to, was desperate to, even, she couldn’t take this job. No matter the pay, which she knew would be top-shelf.
Shooting off a quick reply, she then turned off the vibrating notifier and dropped the phone in the tote on the floor. “Sorry.”
“No worries.”
“You mentioned Djibouti. One of the islands CANN International owns is located there?”
Nick nodded. “Just off the coast on the Gulf of Aden. The first property built there is one of our smaller hotels, only eighty-nine rooms. All suites, though, with living and dining spaces, and spectacular ocean or mountain views. The casino is the building’s jewel, of course, boasting a Michelin-star restaurant and world-class spa.”
“I believe you guys are onto something. From all I’ve seen and understand, Africa’s the next great economic frontier.”
“That’s what we believe, with Djibouti becoming the next Dubai. It’s why we’re building more hotels all over the continent and have either purchased or designed a number of islands to house our luxury home rentals.”
“So...you contacted me because you need someone based in Africa?”
�
�No. The projects needing immediate attention are mostly here in the US, along the eastern seaboard. But there are a couple in Hawaii and one in the Bahamas as well.”
“All of this sounds amazing, Nick, but I don’t yet understand the urgency or why I’m here.”
“Because the designer we hired walked out. Last week. Couldn’t keep pace with CANN’s lofty vision, or take the pressures of a somewhat demanding boss—” Nick paused, Sam smiled “—and an increasingly tight deadline.”
“What’s happened to shrink the timeline?”
“Demand. The PR and marketing have been minimal but extremely targeted. Christian’s wife, Lauren, designed the brochures and the job she did was outstanding. We knew they’d attract interest, but the response was far beyond what we’d planned. Instead of a slow rollout with an expected thirty to forty-five percent vacancy, almost eighty percent of the properties have already been booked. Including the ones that are not yet finished.”
“That’s impressive.”
“And with the abrupt departure of our designer, problematic as well.”
“So what you’re saying is...the work she started on these homes needs to be finished?”
“Her work wasn’t entirely up to our standards. You may be able to work your magic and salvage a few of the properties. Others will most likely need to be stripped and totally redone. Still more you’ll have the pleasure of designing from the ground up. The homes were completed to the point of being an interior designer’s blank canvas.”
“Sounds major. How many homes are we talking?”
“Counting the properties in Hawaii and the Bahamas, twenty-three total.”
Sam took a deep breath. That was a lot of designing, even for her. “And what’s the desired completion date?”
Nick looked at his watch. “As of this morning...less than twelve weeks.”
“Whoa!”
“Exactly. That’s the urgency and why I called you.”
“And why you didn’t want your assistant to get into it.”
“I didn’t want you to get scared off before the entire scenario could be laid out. Because we know what a massive undertaking this is, and the immense pressure that will come from pulling it off, we’re willing to compensate the designer who can handle the impossible with an equally unique offer.”
Nick then laid out the compensation package, one so lucrative that not to accept would be stupid, insane, not even an option.
Still, she hesitated. “Can I think about it?”
“The employment package I’ve designed has never been offered to anyone,” Nick responded. “Anywhere. Ever.” Barely veiled frustration crept into his voice.
“No question the opportunity is amazing, but...”
A raised brow was Nick’s only response.
“There are personal matters I’d need to consider, logistics that would have to be thought out.”
“It’s a phenomenal offer,” Nick said, a slight frown marring his handsome face as he eyed her intently. “What’s there to think about?”
“I have a son.”
Crap! Did I say that out loud?
Nick’s expression, subdued as it was, suggested that she had. The one thing she hadn’t planned to share with Nick had just tumbled out before she could stop it.
“You have a child yet divorced the father? It’s none of my business, but that had to be tough.”
Sam nodded. It’s all she could do.
“How old is he?”
“He’s four,” Sam replied, wishing the floor beneath her would turn to quicksand and swallow her whole.
“A boy, huh? I had no idea. Given all of the travel that’s required, that adds a bit of a wrinkle that I didn’t expect.”
His eyes narrowed as he thoughtfully rubbed his chin. Sam could almost see his mind turning.
“We can add a childcare allowance to the package, work out an acceptable live-in arrangement so that your son’s life isn’t disrupted.”
“That’s an expensive suggestion and only a partial solution. Trey’s life has already been upended with the move from Africa to America. I’m not sure how comfortable I’d be either leaving him with a virtual stranger or dragging him all over the States. I’d planned to put him in preschool for a bit of routine, stability. I don’t know, Nick...”
“Given what I’ve just learned, I agree, Sam. It’s a big ask. But I can’t think of anyone who can do what needs to be done in the time that’s required. Someone I trust. An award-winning, formerly sought-after designer whose skills I’ve seen firsthand.
“Listen, a large part of the charity my mom runs is geared toward helping children. Her network is filled with the best au pairs, teachers, tutors, childcare professionals, you name it. If you’d like, I can give you her number or have her call you. She can help you work something out, something beneficial for both you and... Trey, is it?” Sam nodded. “She can help with an arrangement in the best interest of both you and Trey. Don’t let single motherhood be the reason you don’t take the job.”
Sam asked for a day to think about it, then left—translated, “escaped”—Nick’s office. Accepting this meeting was a very bad idea, even worse than she imagined. Nick thought her having a child was the biggest challenge to working with him? No, the gargantuan one was that Nick was Trey’s father...and didn’t know it.
Copyright © 2021 by Zuri Day
ISBN-13: 9781488077883
The Road to Rose Bend
Copyright © 2021 by Naima Simone
Slow Dance at Rose Bend
Copyright © 2021 by Naima Simone
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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