by Pamela Yaye
When she didn’t answer, he grabbed her. “If you keep wearing that long, sad face, I’m going to tickle you,” he threatened.
His goofy facial expression made her giggle. “All right, all right! You win. I’ll put my little black book on ice.”
“Good.” He lowered his mouth and planted the sweetest, softest kiss on her lips. “Now I can seduce you without worrying about the competition throwing salt in my—”
The doorbell rang, and they both glanced down the hall.
“Who’s that?” Marcel asked, pulling back the sleeve of his sports coat and checking his watch. “It’s almost midnight.”
Reluctantly, she moved out of his warm embrace and went into the foyer. Dominique opened the front door and almost fell over when Taryn and Jenna threw their arms around her.
“You’re pregnant! I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!”
Dominique heard the excitement in her sisters’ voices and smiled. The outpouring of love overwhelmed her, and she feared she’d burst into tears if they didn’t let go of her soon. “I didn’t want to say anything until I broke the news to Mom, but now I wished I’d told you guys first.”
Releasing her, Taryn dropped her purse on the ground and tugged off her boots. “You’ve always been Mom’s favorite, so when she called ranting and raving about how irresponsible you are, I knew something big must have happened.” She lowered her eyes to Dominique’s stomach. “And, boy, was I right!”
“Sis, you need to sit down and talk to Mom,” Jenna said in a voice Dominique had never heard her use before. Her kid sister was counseling her, and in that moment, she realized just how grown up the nineteen-year-old sophomore was.
“I can’t. Not now. You guys don’t know the things she said, and I don’t want to get into it tonight.” It took great effort, but she smiled and invited them to join her in the kitchen for a slice of pie. “I think I might have some hot chocolate, too. Interested?”
Dominique felt a hand on her lower back and glanced over her shoulder at Marcel.
“I’m going to take off,” he said. “It’s obvious you and your sisters need to talk.”
“Not so fast.” Wearing a no-nonsense look on her face, Taryn slid in front of the door, blocking his path. “Marcel, you have a lot of explaining to do, and after you’ve answered all my questions, I want to hear what your plans are for my sister and the baby. Got it?”
Chapter 17
All of the patrons seated in the waiting area at the Chef’s Quarter stopped, looked and stared when Dominique swept into the restaurant. She spotted her date and waved in greeting. You’d think after seeing each other every day for the past three weeks that I wouldn’t be so nervous, she thought, worried her legs wouldn’t carry her across the room to the table he was standing beside.
Since Thanksgiving, Marcel had taken her to shows, movies and concerts, and seeing him was always the highlight of her day. Outside, the cold winter wind had sliced through her skin, but when he was with her, Dominique felt warm all over. They hadn’t made love since she’d told him about the baby, and seeing how good he looked in his white turtleneck sweater made her want to grab his hands and duck into the nearest coatroom.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” He lowered his head and tasted her lips. Instinctively, she placed her hands around his neck. Everything about this man—from the scent of his skin and the taste of his kiss—sent her mind spiraling out of control. As she broke off the kiss, she ran a finger along the rim of his ear. Now Marcel would know exactly how she wanted their date to end.
Marcel pulled out her chair. “Have a seat, and put your feet up if you need to.”
“Careful, you’re spoiling me. I could easily get used to all this attention.”
“Good, I want you to.”
Their eyes met for a long, intense moment. To keep from diving into his lap, she opened her menu and perused the list of appetizers. Have the prices always been this high? she wondered, trying to remember the last time she’d been at the restaurant. “I got a huge tip last night from one of my clients, so I’m paying for lunch today.”
“I can’t let you do that. Where I come from—”
“I know, I know. Where you come from, men would never allow a woman to pay because it would be seen as an insult. Did I miss anything?”
To her surprise, he didn’t argue. He laughed.
“Marcel, you’re not in Mauritius anymore. Couples do things differently here in the States, and if you want our relationship to work, you’re going to have to bend on some things.”
“Okay,” he said with a nod. “I’ll try my best.”
“Does that mean you’ll let me pay for lunch?”
“No!”
They laughed together. Over cups of espresso and delectable appetizers, they chatted about their friends, their family and his certification exam.
“I’m worried about you,” she confessed, lowering her mug. “How are you supposed to ace your final when you don’t make time to study?”
“The exam is just a formality. I have the highest GPA in my department, and I’ll pass with flying colors.” Marcel wore a careful expression. “The truth is I’m not thinking about school. I’m thinking about you and the baby. You’re almost three months pregnant and you still haven’t put on any weight. That worries me, Dominique.”
“Would it make you happy if I got big and fat with swollen ankles?”
“Yeah. Actually it would.”
“Marcel, you heard what Dr. Copeland said. Every patient is different. Taryn only put on ten pounds during her last pregnancy, and she was out jogging when her water broke!”
“I don’t doubt it. You’re sister is one tough cookie. How are she and the kids doing?”
“Good with all things considered. I spoke to her on the way over here. She wanted to invite you over for New Year’s Eve, but since I won’t be here, she figured—”
“Are you still going away for the holidays?”
“I haven’t booked my ticket yet, but I’m hoping to.”
“Dominique, I don’t like the idea of you going off to a singles resort for a week.”
“Why? Are you scared someone might steal me away?”
He leaned across the table. “Should I be?”
“I’ve told you a hundred times. You have nothing to worry about.” Dominique popped the last piece of cheese into her mouth. “Speaking of Christmas, you still haven’t told me what you’d like. I hate last-minute shopping, and you’re the last person on my list.”
“I have everything that a man could want. A promising future, a wonderful girlfriend and a baby on the way. There’s nothing you could buy me to top that.”
“Well, why don’t we skip lunch and finish this discussion back at my place?” she suggested, caressing his arm with her fingertips. “I think I know how to coax the truth out of you.”
Marcel was helping Dominique put on her coat when she groaned. “Is it the baby?”
“No, worse. I think I see my mother. Why don’t you, um, wait for me in the lobby?”
“I’d love to meet your mom.”
“Be careful what you wish for.”
As he straightened his shirt, he remembered something his dad once told him about the opposite sex. The older a woman is, the better she is at detecting B.S. Don’t try to charm a woman’s mother. Earn her respect instead. With that thought in mind, he prepared to meet his future mother-in-law.
“Dominique.”
“Mother.”
The tension was thicker than smoke, and the restaurant grew eerily quiet.
“You must be Marcel Benoit.”
“Mrs. King, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He knew she wouldn’t shake his hand, but he offered it anyway. “You’re every bit as beautiful as your three daughters are.”
“I must admit that I’m surprised. You appear to be a smart, articulate young man, so I don’t understand how you could allow something like this to happen.”
“Mother, please. People are s
taring.”
A scowl twisted her lips. “That didn’t bother you five minutes ago when the two of you were practically fondling each other at your table,” Mrs. King continued. “Tell me something, Mr. Benoit. What kind of man gets a woman pregnant and doesn’t offer to support her?”
Marcel felt Dominique tug at his coat sleeve, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t going to run out of there with his tail between his legs. Mrs. King deserved an answer, and he planned to put her fears to rest. “I am going to support Dominique and the baby every way I can.”
Her snort spoke of her contempt. “That remains to be seen.”
“It’s the truth, ma’am. I respect your daughter and think very highly of her.”
“If that’s so, then why haven’t you done the honorable thing and asked for her hand in marriage? That’s what any decent, respectable young man would do.”
Marcel shot a look at Dominique. She shook her head, pleading at him with her eyes to remain silent. To keep the peace, he did. Before he could even say anything at all, Mrs. King spoke again.
“I can’t say it’s been a pleasure speaking to you, because it hasn’t.” Turning, she marched off, leaving Marcel feeling smaller than he’d ever felt before.
“You’ll never guess what just happened,” Dominique said, storming into Taryn’s house and chucking her purse and shopping bags onto the couch. After running into her mom, she’d needed a pick-me-up. Something new and expensive and shiny, but the clothes she’d purchased at Neiman Marcus didn’t improve her mood. “I’ve never been more humiliated in all my life.”
“Oh, no, don’t tell me Mom made a scene at the Chef’s Quarter.”
Dominique folded her arms. “How did you know I ran into Mom?”
“I don’t know. Lucky guess?”
“Good try. Spill it.”
Taryn’s gaze wandered around the living room. “Start talking—fast.”
“Mom called earlier, and I sort of mentioned that you were going out for lunch.”
Dominique cursed. “Why did you tell Mom where I’d be? You had to know she’d show up and cause a scene!”
“I didn’t mean to tell her. It just slipped out.” Shrugging, she swept her long, layered bangs out of her face. “Niq, you can’t put this all on me. None of this would have happened if you had sat down and talked things out. The way I see it, you drove her to it.”
“How did I do that?”
“By not taking her calls. You know, the holidays have always been difficult for Mom, and shutting her out makes her feel even lonelier.”
To keep from responding, Dominique glanced around the room. Items were missing from the shelves, the coffee table was bare and the walls were empty. “Are you redecorating?”
“No, Andre moved into a hotel yesterday.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“What you need to worry about is patching things up with Mom, not my marital situation. And while you’re at it, start planning your wedding to Marcel because—”
“My wedding?” Her laugh was short and joyless. “It’s not going to happen, Taryn.”
“I know you’re scared of being played again, but you have nothing to worry about. Marcel’s going to take good care of you and the baby.”
“But what if he doesn’t? What if he doesn’t find a job after graduation? I took care of Earl for years, and all I have to show for it is thousands of dollars worth of debt.”
“Marcel isn’t Earl. He isn’t going to ride his motorcycle all over your heart or parade around the town with other women.” To underscore her point, Taryn reminded her sister of the two-hour conversation they’d had Thanksgiving evening. “We’re talking about a man who sends every penny he earns as a research assistant home to his mother, a man who is completely and utterly smitten with you. I don’t know much about Marcel, but I know he has too much pride to allow you to take care of him. Quit stressing. He’ll carry his weight.”
Her sister had given her something to think about. Marcel was one of a kind, a true gentleman, a man who never failed to impress her. Her mom had tried to embarrass him back at the restaurant, but he’d carried himself with class. The truth was that her feelings for him were growing by the second.
“Are you going to reach out to Mom?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“We’ve all been on the receiving end of her temper, but you know better than anyone how bad she’s hurting. Beneath the silk scarves and wigs is a woman who’s still grieving the loss of her husband. I know Mom hurt you when she suggested you terminate your pregnancy, but you have to forgive her. She’s upset, and she’s acting out on you.”
Annoyed that her sister was right—and had the nerve to look smug about it, too—Dominique emphatically rolled her eyes. “Can you bring me a glass of orange juice?” she asked, easing down onto the couch. “And order an Italian classic pizza from Mama Bella’s while you’re at it.”
“But I made dinner.”
Dominique hid a smile. “I know. That’s why I want to order in!”
Chapter 18
Inside First Centennial Trust, Christmas music played and mingled with the sounds of laughter and holiday chatter. Aztec-gold garland was everywhere: swathed around columns, hanging from the ceiling, stuck to the doors and windows.
“Is Dominique King available?” Marcel asked as he reached the front desk.
“Ms. King is in a staff meeting, but you’re more than welcome to wait in her office.”
Smiling his thanks, he followed the petite redhead down the hall. The carpet in Dominique’s office was plush, and the air was filled with the scent of fresh flowers. Files were strewn across her L-shaped desk, and Starbucks coffee cups were stuffed inside the decorative trash can. Marcel had never seen his girlfriend’s office in such disarray, and as he studied the framed paintings displayed on the far wall, he wondered how she was feeling today.
Minutes later, Dominique pushed open her door and slammed it behind her. She was halfway toward her desk when she noticed Marcel sitting on the couch. “Hey, baby! What are you doing here? Did we have plans that I forgot about?”
“Shouldn’t I get a hug and a kiss before you start quizzing me?”
Dominique obliged. She gave him a peck on the lips, but when she tried to break free, Marcel backed her up against the door. His kisses made her weak, and his touch thrilled her. “Later, I promise,” she said, smoothing a hand over his shirt.
He grinned. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“I hope you do.”
Marcel stole another kiss. “You smell good.”
“I do?” This was not what Dominique expected when she had walked into her office a few moments ago. It wasn’t every day that she saw Marcel there, and fooling around in her place of business made her feel alive. To regain control, she stopped stroking his chest. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here. You’re supposed to be playing pool with the guys.”
“I canceled. You haven’t been feeling good all day, and I wanted to see you.”
“But I told you I was fine.”
She started to say more, but Marcel put a finger to her lips. “Grab your purse. We have a plane to catch, and if we don’t leave now, we won’t make our flight.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m kidnapping you.”
Her eyes widened. “Kidnapping me?”
“That’s what I said.”
“B-but Christmas is on Friday.”
“I know, and for the rest of the week you belong to me.”
Dominique couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Marcel, I can’t go away with you.”
“Of course you can.” His smile grew. “That’s what American couples do over the holidays. They travel together, stay in fabulous hotels and make love for hours on end.”
“I have to work at the spa this weekend. That’s why I canceled my vacation.”
“So, if you didn’t have to work, you’d come away with me?”
“Great, that’s just what I wanted to hear.” Marcel strode over to the coat rack, retrieved her jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “I know how committed you are to your job, so I called your boss, told her about my plan and asked if one of your coworkers could fill in for you.”
Dominique’s mouth dropped open, but she didn’t speak.
“As of right now, you’re officially off the clock,” he continued, lifting her purse off the desk and handing it to her. “We better hurry though. We’re really pressed for time.”
Excitement coursed through her veins. After the week she’d had, she badly needed to de-stress, and five days away with Marcel was just what the doctor ordered. So, why was she resisting him? “Where are we going?”
His grin returned. “You’ll see soon enough, but if we don’t leave now, we’ll miss the flight.”
“B-but I can’t go like this. I have to go home and pack—”
“I have your suitcase, packed with everything you need, in the trunk of my car.”
“You went to my house? How did you get in?” A frown creased her lips. “Jenna let you in, didn’t she? I knew I shouldn’t have given her a spare key. She better not even think of throwing any parties while I’m away, or I’ll kick her little narrow behind.”
“Does that mean you’re coming with me?”
Dominique felt a rush of adrenaline. For five days, she wouldn’t have to wake up at the crack of dawn, attend any budget meetings or deal with snide customers. And the best part was she’d be alone with Marcel. “Are you sure you packed everything I need?”
“Don’t worry, ma belle reine. I got it covered.”
“Did you pack my flat iron?”
He nodded. “Yup.”
“My satin bathrobe?”
“Check.”
“What about my electric toothbrush?”
Marcel smacked his forehead. “I knew I was forgetting something!” Dominique laughed.
“Okay, so I forgot your toothbrush. Minor glitch in the plans. We’ll grab one at the airport.” He pecked her lips. “Can we go, now? I’m anxious to start our romantic vacation.”
