Samara, Reese, Taylor and Lexi sat in a plush leather booth tucked into a private corner of the packed restaurant. They had finished eating and were lingering over cocktails while talking and laughing and enjoying one another’s company.
“I can’t wait to get to Burgundy,” Lexi declared with a contented sigh. “The exquisite food and wine are calling my name.”
Samara smiled. “I’m so glad you guys will be coming.”
“Are you kidding? Quentin and I jump at every chance to go back to Burgundy. That’s where we got married and had our dream honeymoon, so you know we’ve got nothing but love for that place. We haven’t been back in two summers, so we’re definitely looking forward to returning. And Ma’s coming this time so I’m happy about that.”
“So am I,” Samara said, sipping her virgin cranberry margarita. “It’s good to see our mothers getting along. There was a time your mom wouldn’t have stepped foot on the same plane as Asha, much less agreed to spend two whole weeks at her château.”
“I know,” Lexi said with a laugh. “Ma still thinks Asha is bougie as hell, but she’s grown to appreciate her, and she really admires Asha’s accomplishments. And to think it all started when I dragged Ma to our monthly Sunday brunch two years ago. I shoulda done that a lot sooner.”
“Better late than never,” the others said.
“So true.” Lexi smiled. “I’m glad Quentin’s mom and her husband will be coming, too. And not just because they promised to watch the kids for us when we need to sneak away for some sexy time.”
Everyone laughed.
Last spring, Georgina Reddick had married her neighbor Henry Duncan in an elegant ceremony at her family’s estate in Savannah. Both Quentin and Georgina’s father had walked the widowed bride down the aisle while the guests looked on with tearful smiles. In the two years since Georgina had reconciled with her estranged family, she’d resumed summering with them on Martha’s Vineyard and had spent every holiday in Savannah. Quentin and Lexi divided their holidays between the Harringtons, the Reddicks and the Wolf Pack.
“Too bad Colby and Ava won’t be able to join us for Christmas,” Taylor remarked, referring to Lexi’s brother and sister-in-law.
“I know,” Lexi lamented with a deep sigh. “I really wish they could come, but they’re spending the holidays with Ava’s family. I miss them, and I still haven’t quite forgiven Marcus and Quentin for shipping them off to the D.C. firm.”
Samara laughed. “Don’t blame our hubbies. Colby and Ava volunteered to go to the other firm. They wanted a change of scenery, and they love living in D.C. So let them be happy.”
“I suppose.” Lexi pretended to sulk. “First Summer deserted me, then Colby.”
“Aww,” Reese consoled, patting Lexi’s shoulder. “There, there, big sis. You still have us.”
“I know.” Lexi sniffed and put her head on Reese’s shoulder, causing everyone to laugh.
Taylor sipped her martini. “My mom and stepdad are coming for Asha’s New Year’s Eve ball. So are Tru and Simona. Gabby promised to come, too.” Gabrielle Henri was her best friend, a pastry chef who ran her family’s pâtisserie in Paris. “I can’t wait to see her again. It’s been more than two years.”
Samara grinned. “I know Montana will be glad to see her. I still remember all the sparks that were flying between them at your wedding.”
“I know.” Taylor was grinning. “Gabby still asks about him every time we talk on the phone. Casually, of course, like she’s just making polite conversation. But I know better. I told you guys she was seriously considering moving to the States after my wedding. But then her father got sick, and she didn’t want to leave her family. Now that her dad’s cancer has been in remission for several years, maybe she’ll revisit the idea of coming here and starting over.”
“That would be awesome,” Lexi enthused. “She can open a Pâtisserie Henri right here in Atlanta.”
Taylor grinned. “I am so here for it.”
“Hells yeah,” the others agreed.
Reese struck a thoughtful pose, tapping a finger against her lips. “I just realized something. If Gabby and Montana end up together, she’ll be the first member of our wives’ club who can pass the brown paper bag test.”
The others traded amused glances. “What’s your point?”
Reese motioned around the table. “Look at us. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re all brown to dark skinned. With Gabby being biracial, she would totally mess up the whole ‘Chocolate Wives Club’ we’ve got going on.”
Taylor laughed. “So what’re you saying? That Gabby can’t join our club because she’s Team Light Skin?”
“Hmm.” Reese pretended to ponder the question. “Don’t get me wrong. I do like her. She’s your best friend, for starters. And she’s smart, beautiful, devoted to her family—”
“Not to mention a kickass pastry chef,” Samara added.
Reese sighed. “True.”
“So what’s the verdict, Madam President?” Lexi asked, lips twitching with amusement. “Are we shunning the mixed chick or nah?”
Reese sniffed, put her nose up in the air and decreed in an imperious tone, “I suppose we could welcome her into the fold.”
The others loudly guffawed and started clowning Reese, making her laugh and hold up her hands in surrender.
“By the way,” Samara pointed out, “I was the first wife to join this little club of ours. So if anyone should be called Madam President, it should be me.”
Laughing, Reese and Lexi made a show of bowing to her.
“Not so fast,” Taylor interjected, holding up a finger. “You may have been the first wife, but I’ve known the Wolf boys and Quentin since I was fourteen years old—long before any of you chicks entered the picture. So I think I should be Madam President.”
This set off more laughter and good-natured bickering between Samara and Taylor.
A sudden burst of feminine squeals across the room announced to everyone that Michael Wolf had just encountered another group of adoring fans. Heads turned to watch as a tableful of fawning women surrounded the celebrity chef, gushing excitedly as he signed autographs and graciously posed for selfies. He looked movie-star handsome in his crisp white chef’s jacket and black pants. His female admirers couldn’t get enough of him.
Taylor grinned at Reese. “How do you deal with women going crazy over your husband like that?”
Reese chuckled. “The same way we all deal with women lusting after our husbands. I remind myself that I have a good man who loves me and cherishes me and respects our marriage vows. So I can trust him not to stray, no matter how many women throw themselves at him. Other chicks can look but they can’t touch.”
Lexi grinned wryly. “Well, don’t look now, but one of those chicks apparently didn’t get the ‘no touching’ memo.”
Everyone’s gazes returned to the crowd of sycophants clustered around Michael. A helpful waiter had appeared to take a group picture. The women crowded in for the shot, giggling breathlessly and tossing their hair as they jockeyed for position, trying to get next to Michael. The young knockout standing closest to him had placed her hand on his back. Before the picture was snapped, her hand was on the move, creeping down toward his ass.
Suddenly Michael shifted away from her and shot her a stern look.
She had the grace to look embarrassed before Michael turned away to flash his trademark killer grin at the camera.
A coolly amused smile slid over Reese’s lips. “She tried it, didn’t she?”
The others grinned. “She sure did. And got shut down.”
Reese lifted her glass to her mouth, dark eyes glimmering with satisfaction. “Hussy.”
The whole table exploded in laughter.
When the humorous moment passed, Samara looked around at her friends’ faces and grinned. “All right, chicas. There’s another reason I wanted us to meet for lunch today.”
Everyone leaned toward her expectantly. “What?”
“
I have some wonderful news to share.” She lowered her voice, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m pregnant.”
Squeals of delight erupted around the table, making her laugh.
“Shhh,” she warned as her friends boisterously congratulated her, drawing several curious glances. “Not so loud. I haven’t told Marcus yet.”
“What! Why not?”
“I want to surprise him for Christmas,” Samara explained.
“Really? That’s awesome!”
“He’s gonna be so thrilled!”
“How are you going to tell him?” Reese asked excitedly.
Samara grinned. “I have something special in mind, but I’m going to need everyone’s help.”
“Absolutely,” her friends said enthusiastically. “Just say the word and we got you.”
Samara beamed. God, she loved these women!
They were still gushing over her baby news when Michael made his way over to their table.
“Ladies,” he drawled charmingly. “How were your meals?”
“Gooood,” they cooed appreciatively.
He grinned. “Glad to hear it.”
“My compliments to the chef,” Reese purred with a suggestive wink.
Michael’s grin turned downright wicked.
As everyone watched, he sank to a crouch beside his wife and leaned close to whisper something in her ear. She started smiling, her eyes sparkling with naughty mischief.
When Michael stood and sauntered away whistling, Reese daintily wiped her mouth with her linen napkin, dropped it onto the table and rose to her feet.
“Excuse me, ladies. I’ll be right back.”
They gave her knowing looks. “Where are you going?”
“To taste test my husband’s new recipe,” she said innocently.
The others exchanged lascivious grins. “Taste test, huh? Is that what you guys are calling it now?”
Reese tsk-tsked, wagging her finger at them. “Shame on you girls. My husband runs a perfectly respectable establishment. Do you honestly believe we would risk compromising his reputation by having some tawdry quickie in his restaurant?”
The others were grinning. “We do. And you have.”
Reese pressed her lips together, holding back her laughter. “You heffas need to get your minds out of the gutter and repent.” Ignoring their snickers, she tossed her hair back and thrust her nose in the air. “Now if y’all would excuse me, I’m off to do some taste testing.”
As she sashayed off toward the kitchen, the others burst out laughing.
10
Later that afternoon, Samara joined her mother in the executive conference room for a Skype interview with Reid Holden and his fiancée, Nadia Warner.
Just days after the couple’s televised engagement went viral, Mason had approached Asha about designing Nadia’s wedding gown as a favor to his good friend. Asha had graciously agreed to do the honors. The next day, after rewatching the romantic engagement video, she’d requested a meeting with Reid and Nadia via Skype.
When Samara entered the conference room, Asha was already seated at the long glass table. She was on the phone, her head tipped back in laughter.
The conference room was large and plush with an executive décor and two flat-panel televisions mounted on the wall at the front. One entire side of the room was a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking downtown Atlanta. The high-backed chairs arranged around the table were upholstered in Italian leather, and the richly gleaming floors were made of Brazilian walnut.
Samara rounded the conference table and sat down next to her mother, who winked at her. She winked back and helped herself to a chocolate éclair from a plate of French pastries. She took a bite and sighed as pure bliss exploded on her tongue. The éclair tasted almost as heavenly as the ones made by Pâtisserie Henri in Paris. If Gabby ever decided to move here and open another bakery, Samara’s waistline would be in serious trouble.
After a few minutes, Asha ended her phone call and smiled warmly at Samara. “Mrs. Obama sends her love.”
Samara beamed. “Is that who you were talking to? The First Lady?”
“Oui. She called to thank me for making her look fabulous for the Italian state dinner. I told her she doesn’t need my help to look fabulous, but it’s always an honor to dress a woman of such distinction and grace.”
Samara grinned. “I saw the photos in People magazine. She looked absolutely stunning.”
“She did indeed.” Asha sighed. “I’m truly going to miss the Obamas’ presence in the White House. They are the personification of elegance and refinement. We won’t see the likes of them again for a very long time.”
“Probably not,” Samara agreed, taking another bite of her éclair. “But at least we would have had them for eight years.”
Asha sighed again. “C’est vrai.”
“Is Pierre coming to your New Year’s Eve ball?” Samara asked, referring to her mother’s former personal assistant. Several years ago, Pierre Jacques had been promoted to director of international sales at House of Dubois’s headquarters in Paris. Every time Samara traveled there on business, Pierre took her out to dinner and then whisked her around the city like it was her very first visit. She could never keep up with him.
Asha chuckled. “Of course he’ll be at the ball. You know Pierre loves a good party, and he wouldn’t dream of missing one of my masquerade galas. He lives for them.” She smiled indulgently, watching Samara devour the éclair. “I knew you’d appreciate some decadence this afternoon. Having any cravings yet?”
“I’m craving everything,” Samara mumbled around a mouthful of vanilla cream. “If it’s edible, I’m wolfing it down.”
Asha laughed and reached for a croissant amande. She pulled the sugared, flaky pastry apart and handed one half to Samara. They grinned at each other and quietly munched away while Asha’s senior assistant, Charvi, set up the Skype call by connecting a computer to the large digital projector suspended above the conference table.
“All set,” she announced, grinning at Asha and Samara. “Ready?”
“Just a second.” Asha and Samara quickly dabbed powdered sugar from each other’s mouths and giggled before nodding to Charvi. “Ready.”
A few seconds later, Reid Holden and Nadia Warner appeared on the massive projection screen. The young couple sat close together in what appeared to be a gorgeously furnished living room. In the background, a glowing fire crackled in the fireplace and swirling flakes of snow were falling outside the huge picture window. It looked very cozy and very romantic.
“Bonjour, lovebirds,” Asha greeted them.
“Hello, Ms. Dubois and Mrs. Wolf,” Reid and Nadia chorused. “It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.”
“The pleasure’s ours,” mother and daughter said sincerely.
While Nadia seemed a little shy and nervous, Reid was the picture of lazy contentment, leaning back in his seat with one arm draped along the back of Nadia’s chair. He was ridiculously good-looking. Thick dark hair, ruggedly masculine features, square jaw covered with stubble. His eyes were an electrifying shade of blue, and he oozed so much testosterone it was palpable through the screen.
Wowsa, Samara mused, smiling at the young couple. “Congratulations on your engagement.”
“Thank you,” they chorused, exchanging happy grins.
“That was quite a proposal,” Asha said appreciatively. “Very romantic and memorable.”
“Yes, it was.” Nadia gave Reid a glowing smile. “He took my breath away.”
“Just returning the favor,” Reid murmured, lifting her hand to his mouth for a tender kiss that practically sent her into a dreamy swoon.
Asha was smiling from ear to ear. Love and marriage had turned her into a serious romantic. But then, she was the descendant of an Afro-French composer and had been born in Paris, the City of Love. So romance was in her blood.
“Our Mason speaks very highly of you, Reid.”
“Yeah?” he said, prying his gaze from Nadia to smile at A
sha. “Mason’s good people.”
“He says the same thing about you. He really values your friendship.”
Reid’s smile warmed. “The feeling’s mutual.”
Asha looked pleased. “Where are you and Nadia? Is that your house?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Reid answered.
“You have a very lovely home.”
“Thank you, Ms. Dubois.”
Asha smiled. “I understand you and Nadia will be spending the holidays in Canada. What part?”
“We’re staying at a cabin near Toronto.”
“Oh, how romantic,” Asha said, delighted. “Your first Christmas together.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Reid said, grinning broadly. “We’re looking forward to it.”
“Definitely.” Nadia was staring at Asha with awestruck eyes. “It just hit me that I’m talking to the Asha Dubois. I can’t believe it. I’m a huge fan of your work, Ms. Dubois. You’ve been such an inspiration to so many black women and girls. Thank you so much for agreeing to design my wedding dress. It’s such an honor and a privilege.”
Asha smiled softly. Though no stranger to flattery and fawning attention, she seemed genuinely touched by Nadia’s heartfelt words.
“Merci beaucoup, chére. Thank you for entrusting me to create the most important gown you will ever wear in your life. It’s going to be absolutely fabulous, I promise.”
Nadia beamed with pleasure and excitement, all but floating out of her chair. “Thank you so much,” she gushed. “I can’t wait to see it.”
Reid grinned. “Neither can I.”
“Ah, but not until your wedding day,” Asha admonished him, a warm glint in her eyes. “There’s nothing like that moment when you see your beautiful bride wafting down the aisle in her wedding gown. It’s priceless, darling, and so worth the wait.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Reid said softly, giving Nadia one of those adoring smiles that would melt the heart of the most hardened cynic.
Samara felt herself grinning again. She could easily see these two as an old married couple, finishing each other’s sentences and sharing funny anecdotes between swapping tender glances.
Oh Baby: A Holiday Novella (Wolf Pack Book 9) Page 8
