Opening wide his arms, Banjo embraced his mum. Although Tinu was quite tall at five feet ten, at six three, he still towered over her. “Hello, Mum. It’s great to be here in Monaco.”
“Welcome home!” she beamed staring at the dark ink writing on his neck. “That tattoo is new. How long has it been since you’ve been home? I was beginning to think you hated Monaco. The minute you bought the house, you ran off!”
Grinning at his mum’s usual over-the-top welcome party, Banjo nodded. “Yes, the writing on my neck is new. And I don’t hate Monaco. It’s been impossible to come this way when work takes me everywhere else.”
Taking his hand, Tinu led him inside to the open plan kitchen. “Sit down. I’m sure you’re famished.”
Passing by the polished hardwood dining table for six, Banjo moved towards the fridge. “I’m always hungry,” he agreed.
“Not in my house.” Straight-on, his mum opened one of the lower cupboards and brought out a sealed bag of yam flour with a printed label, Poundo Yam.
Banjo smiled and got out a can of beer “I’m thirsty. A lemonade for you?”
“Yes, please.” Tinu filled the red electric kettle with tap water, switched it on and got out a plastic bowl and a wooden spoon. “I’m going to quickly prepare poundo yam. There’s already Egusi Soup in the fridge.”
Instantly, his stomach rumbled so loud, he could hear the vicious sounds. “I’ve not had poundo yam in a long time. Here’s your drink.”
Accepting her drink with a huge smile, Tinu nodded and took a sip. “Thank you. Now you’re back home, I’m going to enjoy feeding your muscles as if they were not already huge enough.”
Pulling back the top of the can, Banjo took a long swig to cool his gut. The moment he arrived in Fontvieille, someone seemed to have stripped off the protective layer from the sky. Heat blasted his skin so much he stripped off his shirt. After working through the winter in the UK and Paris, he was not quite adjusted to the harsh sunrays.
Leaning against the black granite worktop, Banjo said as casually as he could. “You look great, Mum. I see you got yourself a housekeeper. Good idea if you ask me.” There was no need to spill his dissenting private thoughts.
Taking a break from stirring yam flour into boiling water, his mum swung her head in his direction. “Housekeeper? Who?”
“I met a feisty woman at the door. Rachael by name. Does her name ring a bell?” he quipped, arching an eyebrow.
Tinu burst out laughing. “Oh! Rachael’s up to her mischievous self again,” his mum explained when she eventually stopped laughing.
Pricked by his mum’s reply, Banjo grimaced. “Isn’t she your housekeeper? That’s what she told me. I heard her clearly.”
Stirring the now stretchy mixture in the bowl, Tinu nodded. “Yes, you heard her right. But Rachael isn’t my housekeeper, she’s my lovely god-daughter and a great woman. Didn’t I mention her to you previously?”
Now the frown lines on Banjo’s forehead deepened as he tried to figure out why Rachael would deliberately mislead him. “Then why did she lie to me? It doesn’t make sense. Besides, you never told me your god-daughter was a grown woman, pregnant even. I’m sure I would have remembered if you had.”
Satisfied with the texture of the pounded yam she had just spun, Tinu placed the plastic bowl inside the microwave and turned on the heat. “Rachael gets up to her tricks if she perceives you have an attitude. Did you put on your Italian drawl for effect?”
Shaking his head at being fooled, Banjo seethed. “I may have, but it was not to charm her at all. You could at least have warned me she was married, pregnant and lippy.”
Busy with serving Egusi Soup into a soup bowl, Tinu grinned. “Okay, so she’s a little older than you, but I didn’t think I needed to give you a rundown of her dating history. And who said anything about Rachael being married?”
The woman he saw at the door did not look older than him. But his mum would know. At twenty-eight, he thought he could guess any woman’s age. He would have pegged Rachael’s age at twenty-six or twenty-seven. Clearly, he was wrong. “Not her dating history, but a bit more details would have been helpful. When you said god-daughter, I thought she was a little older than Olivia.” Whether in age or attitude, his five-year-old daughter, Olivia, was an angel compared to Rachael, thank God.
“Did you get off on the wrong foot with Rachael?” Tinu had a funny grin around the corner of her lips as if the whole thing was a joke.
Drinking out of the beer can, Banjo made no comments. Who was he fooling? Within a few minutes, the dark-eyed woman with a flirty smile and long, dark hair styled to frame her face had left quite an impression on him. To think Rachael had the audacity to trick him at their first meeting galled him. She did not make an effort to get on with him at all. To start with, although Rachael was his mother’s lodger, she was his guest by extension.
“Ah! I see she has got under your skin already,” his mum chuckled, setting two dishes in front of him, on top of a red table runner.
Pulling out a chair for himself, Banjo sat down at the table and nodded. “Of course not. I don’t have time for people who make it their life’s mission to be infuriating.”
Tinu got out a bottle of chilled water and poured her son a full glass. “When you get to know Rachael, you’ll find her funny. She’s my companion and I love having her here.”
Nodding again, Banjo bowed his head and said a silent prayer before he tasted the food. “Delicious! Thank you, Mum. This is a lifesaving meal. I don’t doubt Rachael’s good company, but I think she needs to work on her manners.”
Sitting beside him, Tinu smiled. “Eat. Later, I want to hear all about your boat building experiences across many cities.”
Shrugging away the irritation still nagging his senses, Banjo swallowed a mouthful of poundo yam coated with Egusi Soup. “Would you believe I didn’t miss eating poundo yam until today? Honestly, I must find a place that sells this meal in whichever city I work.” The Nigerian staple dish was truly a hunger-busting meal.
“Sometimes, you never know what you’re missing until you find it.” His mum’s eyes twinkled, implying there was a second meaning to her comments.
Lifting his head, Banjo arched one eyebrow. “Maybe you should tell me how much more I need to pay to secure this house. I’m tired of encountering the word, mortgage.” There was no point side-stepping the reason he had to drop everything to rush down to Fontvieille.
When he bought the five-bedroom holiday house on mortgage two and a half years ago, he’d paid fifty percent upfront. His mum had insisted she wanted to make monthly contributions from the sale of her science fiction books so she could live there after his dad walked out of their lives.
Two weeks ago, he’d received a call from his mum. Tinu explained that due to the dwindling sales of her books, she had defaulted in the mortgage payments and the bank was threatening to foreclose the house.
Sighing, Tinu shook her head. “Not now. We have enough time to talk about finances. I’m hoping you intend to stay for a while.”
Devouring the large chunk of yellow croaker fish, sauced to his taste, Banjo picked out the bones with his fingers. “I intend to stay for a month. After that, I’ve got work to do.”
Clapping her hands, Tinu beamed. “Great. One month is more than enough for you to get to know Rachael. It has been a blessing to have her with me.”
“So, she’s not going back to Georgia soon?” he asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Oh, not at all. Rachael’s happy here. In fact, her mum is shocked at how well she’s adapted to Europe.”
What could he say? Obviously, the Amazonian woman had his mum twisted around her troublesome fingers. Thank God his stay was a short one.
Two
Two Weeks Later
Out of control and without a care for who overhead their conversation, Banjo repeated his question. “Why is there so much secrecy about the bump Rachael carries around with pride?”
Glancin
g at the doorway that opened from the conservatory into the kitchen, Tinu placed one finger to her lips to hush Banjo’s tirade. “The main thing you’ve succeeded in doing since you arrived in Fontvieille is to be at logger-heads with Rachael over every little thing.”
Clasping his wrists in front of him, Banjo rolled his shoulders to stretch his muscles. “Oh, not at all. I’ve done a lot more in case you haven’t noticed, Mum. But that’s not what I’m asking. I don’t see any man taking care of her pregnancy needs or coming around to find out if she wants to go for scans. The only reason I’m asking is because I don’t want you stressed in any way.”
Before Tinu replied, she took a few steps to the kitchen. Satisfied they were alone, she rushed back to the conservatory and countered. “If you were bothered about my stress level, you would have made an effort to get to know Rachael instead of jumping down her throat every chance you get. In the past two years since Rachael moved in here, she has been helpful, a great company and a wonderful woman.”
“Mum, save the compliments for her boyfriend,” Banjo chuckled. “If I didn’t know you well, I would have thought you were throwing Rachael at me. How can I get to know a woman who comes at me with daggers in her eyes and a maddening attitude?”
“You get what you give, Banjo,” came his mum’s snippy reply.
“All I see is a growing bump on a woman with no man around to take care of their unborn child. Isn’t it normal for me to ask questions?”
As his mum opened her mouth to reply, Rachael popped inside the conservatory from the door that led to the garden.
Instantly, Banjo’s stomach muscles tightened and he almost ground his teeth into fine powder. It had been this way since he set eyes on this Amazonian beauty two weeks ago. If he was lucky, his teeth would still be intact when he found his way out of here in a couple of weeks.
“And how’s my growing bump any of your business, Adebanjo Bettino Ricci?” Her tone was al dente. “Stop barging your mom for no reason. If you have questions for me, ask me.”
Jerking his head to face her, Banjo raised both eyebrows. With her hands folded beneath her full-on boobies, her darkening eyes sparkled with irritation. Every time her full lips engaged him in a verbal duel, her pointed nose flared and her oval face appeared narrower.
Suddenly, his heart started to overwork. He swallowed as warmth pumped from his chest to his toes in a hurry. Within him, heat surged. Much as he tried to explain why his body responded this way each time he saw Rachael, he had no answer.
Inhaling her lovely floral scent, he gestured with his right hand. “And if I asked you the same questions what would your answer be, Rachael Louise Johnson? You told me you were a housekeeper. That was a lie. I see you taking selfies of your bump all over the house. Share your story. Where’s the dad? And when do I get to meet him?” For two weeks, he had waited to extract his pound of flesh for the way she treated him on day one. But, she had avoided him.
Stretching the tight, printed V neck sheath dress over her bulging abdomen and rubbing her fingers around her thick waistline, Rachael exposed milky-white teeth. “Give me three good reasons why I owe you an explanation, Adebanjo, when you find every excuse to antagonize me? Besides, I’m a housekeeper of some sort.”
With both hands up in the air, Banjo shook his head. “Coming from a woman who has barely spoken civil words to me from our very first meeting, I’m convinced you’re mistaken about my attitude.” Besides, when Rachael spoke to his mum, her voice was usually soft and gentle. The moment he appeared on the scene, her voice took on a hard edge that grated on his nerves.
“You’ve not answered my question,” Rachael snapped, her chin defiant.
“One, you’re not a saint, so don’t expect me to be,” he counted. “Two, you’re my mum’s god-daughter. Three, you live with my mum. So spill. If there’s a wedding coming up shortly, I need to know so I can make plans to attend.” Expecting a direct answer to his question, Banjo folded his arms over his bare chest. It was too hot on this island to keep a shirt on his back for more than three seconds.
To his displeasure, Rachael broke out into a loud giggle and he had to cover his ears with his palms. “What’s funny?” he snarled when she was done. For some obscure reason, Rachael got under his skin real good and he wanted to find out why.
Moving past the plants on the shelves, Rachael stood in front of him. He was a good eight inches taller. Yet, she did not seem bothered by his dominating stance. “I’m going to give you three reasons you don’t deserve to know anything about my condition. One, you don’t give a damn about me being your mom’s god-daughter. Two, you’re too selfish to care whether I’ve a dad for my growing bump or not and three, get on with your ever-busy life and stop shoving your mouth in my business!”
The woman had the boldness to speak to him as if he was beneath her. “Wait there, Rachael!” he fired back, irked by her offhanded comments. “To be honest, I find your attitude tiresome. For once, why don’t you climb down from your high horse and start acting your age?”
Shaking her head with her eyes wide with anger, she turned around and pinned him with her fiery glare. “Maybe when you stop behaving as if this place revolves around your shirtless abs and tight butt, I’ll change my attitude.”
Losing her patience entirely, Tinu marched to stand in between the feuding duo, her lips pressed into a thin line. She glared at Banjo and then at Rachael. “Why are both of you acting like irrational teenagers seeking for my attention? If your constant fights have anything to do with me, please stop! I assure you, I’ve got enough love to go around everyone in Monaco. Stop having a go at each other! You’re both doing my head in.”
Arguing at every turn was not something he had time for, but Rachael had a way of making him lose his cool at the snap of her manicured fingers. “Go sort out your issues!” growled Banjo in Rachael’s face, his shoulders brushing hers slightly as he stormed out of the outdoor area.
Mad at himself for failing to keep his temper in check, Banjo grabbed the paint brush leaning against the side of the wall and hurled it further into the garden. It snapped in two when it hit the ground. He had never experienced difficulty in holding a civil discussion with anyone in the past. Rachael misinterpreted every word he spoke and twisted every question he asked. Good grief! Infuriating woman! Argumentative too.
From behind, Banjo heard footsteps. But he was not ready for another encounter. So he hurried along in long strides to the front of the house and went straight to the room he occupied downstairs. It was best to avoid Rachael before he said something nasty he would regret.
Throwing on a ripped, olive t-shirt and brown shorts, Banjo strapped on a pair of Nike Air Foamposite One Trainers. The striking, ghostly pair of ParaNorman gave him the bounce he needed to sprint out of the house.
Feeling contented with his rough appearance, he yanked the closet door open with so much force, the hinges almost worked loose. He pushed back the door, hoping it stayed upright until he could tighten the screws later. Because there was no way he could find out what he needed to know from the two tight-lipped women around him, Banjo raced out of the house with one of his surfboards in his arms.
Moments after Banjo stormed off, Rachael sagged into a cushioned cane chair in the conservatory. She stared out of the glass doors, her lips curled into a sneer.
“Candice called you earlier, saying she needed to discuss something important with you,” Auntie Tinu told Rachael, intruding on her moping.
Rachael turned her head to face her god-mother. “Thank you, Auntie. I’ll give Candice a call back immediately.”
An impatient look passed through Tinu’s face. “When are you going to stop having a go at him?”
Standing up, Rachael planted a contrite look on her face. “I’m so sorry to be such a pain where Banjo’s concerned,” she apologized. “I’ve no intention to hurt you.” But she held her tongue from adding the fact that Banjo made it difficult for her to be civil to him. The man knew how to wind her up
.
“Please make a bit more effort to get along with him. I want peace. Can you do it for me?”
Nodding as if she agreed with her auntie, Rachael made her way inside. “I want to go and return Candice’s call.”
Candice Stockton, her best friend from Savannah, Georgia came from the US to visit her in Fontvieille a month ago. During Candice’s visit, they’d chatted about many things, including sharing updates on all their mutual friends and neighbours on Tybee Island.
Dialling Candice’s number, Rachael went into her bedroom and shut the door. “Hey Candice, what’s going on, girl?” she hailed when her friend answered the call.
“Rachael!” her friend screeched. “I’ve got big news for you.”
Quickly dismissing her tiff with Banjo, she caught the excitement bug from her friend. “Are you kidding? Shoot!”
“Tannon King’s back on Tybee Island!”
At the news, a rusty nail abruptly punctured Rachael’s happy balloon. “And what’s that got to do with me?” she asked glibly.
“Girl, don’t tell me a small part of your heart isn’t knocking about your chest right now,” teased Candice.
“Not an inch, girl. The guy dumped me for a size six model. I’ve moved on. Why are you bothering me with his dirty dealings or has he bought the entire island for a dollar?”
“Tannon’s been to my house several times since I got back home and he’s asking after you. What do I tell him?”
Without a second thought, Rachael ranted. “Tell Tannon to go take a hike in the sea and never return to Tybee Island.”
Candice laughed for a while. “I’ll relay your message. He sounds so serious about getting back with you. Any second thoughts?”
Rolling on the bed to stare at the glittering chandelier in the ceiling, Rachael mused. “For one, I’m hundreds of miles away from Georgia. Two, I’m not interested in his sorry tale. Besides, he said so many horrible things to me I don’t want to recall. Tell him to jump off a cliff.”
You're Mine ~ A Sweet & Steamy Romance Page 2
