by Pamela Yaye
A redheaded nurse jotting notes down on a metal chart glanced up at him. “Patients are categorized into three general categories—immediate, life-threatening, urgent, but not immediately life threatening and less urgent. As usual, we’re short on beds so we have to attend to life-threatening conditions first.”
“Does she have to die before a doctor will see her?” Xavier didn’t realize he had spoken out loud until the nurse said, “Your wife won’t die from food poisoning, sir, and there really isn’t much Dr. Bellman can do. She’ll advise you to buy some over-the-counter medication, and tell you to monitor your wife’s condition for the next twenty-four hours.”
“Why didn’t you tell us that before we filled out those stupid insurance forms and wasted two hours of our time?”
The nurse continued writing. “Because I’m not a physician.”
Xavier didn’t want to disrupt Ebony’s sleep, but he didn’t want to spend another two hours in the waiting room just to hear the on-duty doctor say, “There’s nothing I can do.” He wanted to take her home, but he didn’t know where home was. As they exited the restaurant parking lot, she said she lived in the Linden Hills area, but she hadn’t supplied a street or house number. Xavier could always check her driver’s license, but he didn’t feel right digging through her personal belongings. That would be intrusive. And besides, the nurse said her condition needed to be monitored for the next twenty-four hours. As far as he knew, Ebony lived alone.
It didn’t take Xavier long to realize there was only one thing he could do.
When Ebony woke up, her face felt swollen, and her throat was sore. Swallowing was painful and she could feel a headache coming on. She stretched like a cougar in the wild, yawning loud enough for her neighbors on either side of her to hear. The windows were closed, and the blinds turned up. The room was dark, protecting her from intrusions from the outside world.
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she eased out of bed and then shuffled into the bathroom. Only she didn’t end up in the bathroom. She ended up in a walk-in closet. Ebony blinked. Am I still dreaming? Flipping on the lights, she took in the unfamiliar surroundings. Books and fitness magazines crowded the nightstand, shoes spilled out of the closet, and a flat screen TV that took up a quarter of the room was positioned directly in front of the bed.
Ebony hopped like a jackrabbit when there was a knock on the door. “Yes?” Her voice was timid and weak. She suddenly felt like she was living out a scene in one of those creepy horror movies she loved to watch.
The door creaked open, and when she saw who was on the other side, both relief and trepidation filled her heart. Ebony was glad it was Xavier at the door and not some masked man brandishing a butcher knife, but his presence left her feeling nervous.
“How is the patient doing this morning?” he asked brightly, walking into the room.
Praying he wouldn’t come any closer, she took a step back. One whiff of her morning breath could slay a band of dragons. If she so much as opened her mouth, his eyes would roll in the back of his head and he’d keel over onto the carpet. Ebony gave her head a shake. She was being silly. Her breath didn’t smell that bad. “I’m okay. I have a slight headache but my stomach doesn’t hurt anymore. Why am I here?”
Xavier told her about their trip to the emergency room. “Since I didn’t know where you lived, I decided to bring you here.” When she lowered her head, and her eyebrows knitted together, he added, “I cleaned you up the best I could. You complained of being cold, so I put some extra clothes on you. Sorry they don’t match.”
Ebony’s shoulders sagged in frustration. She wasn’t sulking because her clothes didn’t match or because her hair was a mess. It bothered her that he had been forced to take care of her. Ebony started to apologize for seeming unthankful, but his voice drowned her out. “Hungry? I was about to start breakfast.” He motioned with his head to the clock hanging behind her. “I guess I’ll be making brunch. It’s almost eleven-thirty. What would you like to eat, Ebony?”
She waved her hand frantically. “I can’t even think about food until I take a shower. I stink! I smell so bad I don’t even want to be around me!”
Xavier chuckled. She was right. She did smell bad. He showed Ebony to the full-size bathroom. “There’s body wash and soap and extra toothbrushes underneath the sink. Feel free to use whatever you want.”
“Looks like you’ve entertained women here before,” she teased, holding up a bottle of sensual body oil. She took a whiff. “Smells good.”
Xavier shoved his hands into the pocket of his jeans. “Those things belong to my sister. She moved in with me when she found out her ex-husband was cheating.”
“Sure, sure. That’s what they all say.”
“Seriously, it’s been months since I had a woman in my house. I don’t let just anybody in here.”
Ebony recognized the edge in his voice, and wiped the smirk off her face. The man who had chatted freely with her last night was not the same man standing in front of her now. Xavier had done a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde switch. But Ebony didn’t hold his present temperament against him. If she were in his shoes, she would be sour, too. He was an incredibly private person, and she didn’t doubt for a second the truth of what he had just revealed. His house was his castle, and in his mind, she was an intruder. “I’m going to take a quick shower, get dressed and be on my way,” she told him, as she closed the door.
Chapter 7
The aroma of freshly squeezed lemons wafted under the bathroom door, and a thunderous rumble ripped from Ebony’s stomach. Rubbing a hand across her midsection, she examined herself in the mirror. She might look pale and sickly, but she felt like a new woman. The hot shower—though short—had revived her mind and body. When Ebony emerged from the bathroom, the only thing on her mind was feeding her empty stomach. But not at Xavier’s house. She didn’t want him to do anything else for her, except drop her back at Dakota’s Bar and Grill so she could pick up her car.
“Ready to eat?” Xavier asked, when he saw Ebony. He had found some of his sister’s old clothes in the storage room and had left some outside the bathroom door. The blue sleeveless cotton dress had never looked so good. “I didn’t know what you were in the mood for so I made a bit of everything. We have eggs, toast, grits, pancakes and I thought you might like to start with something light like oatmeal.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”
Ebony saw the pained expression in his eyes, and turned away. To cover the silence, she pretended to be looking around the kitchen. Maple cupboards, a generous island, stainless steel appliances, hardwood flooring and thick granite cupboards fixed with decorative accents made his kitchen both cozy and modern. A sliding glass door led to a wide patio area that overlooked a small pond. Ebony wanted to ask for a tour of the rest of the house, but she didn’t want to wear out her welcome.
“Ebony, don’t tell me you’re not hungry. You must be starving.”
She was poised to repeat herself, but he pressed her further. “You have to eat something. You lost a lot of fluid last night.”
Don’t remind me, she thought, her cheeks flushing with humiliation. Everything on the table looked appetizing and smelled delicious. The banana pancakes were thick and fluffy, just like she liked them; the bacon was light and crispy and the omelets were seasoned with green and red peppers. But Ebony didn’t want to have breakfast with him. It wasn’t Xavier’s job to take care of her, and if she was honest with herself, she didn’t feel comfortable being around him anymore. He had seen her at her worst, and that bothered her. Her parents had hammered it into her from the time she could crawl that the only person she could depend on during times of crises was herself. “You want it, go out there and get it,” she remembered her father saying regularly. It took a lot for Ebony to trust someone, especially members of the opposite sex.
“Is there something you wanted to eat that I didn’t make?”
“No. I just don’t have much of an appetite,” she lied, averting
her eyes. Ebony wondered if he could see her nose growing.
Xavier didn’t believe her, but if she didn’t want to eat, there was nothing he could do. She was pregnant, and on top of drinking alcohol and doing God knows what else, she was starving the baby. He was trying not to pass judgment, but it was hard to do. “It’s a shame to see good food go to waste, especially when there are homeless people scrounging through garbage right now to find something to eat.” He shook his head sadly. “Sometimes we don’t know how good we have it.”
Ebony checked her temper. She knew what Xavier was doing, and she didn’t like it one bit. That reverse psychology trick might work on his students, but it wasn’t going to work on her.
Xavier tried to lighten the mood. “Ebony, if your bottom lip gets any lower, it will be sitting on your chest.”
“Can we go? I’ve been gone all night and my friends and family are probably worried sick.”
The silence was loud. Xavier studied her for several seconds. Ebony Garrett was something else. Ungrateful. Ill-mannered. Self-absorbed. Me, me, me must be her favorite expression. He snatched up his keys from the counter. His words came out like a direct order, “Get your stuff and let’s go.”
Somber, slate-gray clouds blanketed the afternoon sky. Ebony peered outside the window, watching houses, cars and people whiz by. The silence that had started in the house had followed them into the car and engulfed the tight space. Apologizing for her behavior back at the house would be the proper thing to do, but Ebony couldn’t find the words. And the way Xavier was carrying on only made it more difficult to seek his forgiveness. He was ignoring her. He hummed along with the radio, and when there was a break in the music, he fiddled with the dial. Ebony was surprised the radio even worked. His car was a shack on wheels. She couldn’t believe a man with Xavier’s looks would drive around in a rusted ’81 Chevy Lumina that had ripped seats, broken door handles and a cracked windshield. But he did.
Ebony gasped when Xavier swerved into the far right lane, narrowly missing the guardrail. The car driving behind him honked, but instead of slowing down, Xavier sped up and switched lanes.
Shifting in her seat, she gripped the door handle with all her might. Ebony couldn’t believe what she was seeing. This respectable, churchgoing man had a serious case of road rage. He ranted about every slow-moving grandma on the road and smacked his horn every few seconds. He tailgated, switched lanes without signaling and drove twenty miles an hour over the speed limit. Ebony opened her mouth to tell Xavier to take it easy, but remembered that they weren’t talking to each other.
When he pulled into the parking lot of the Dakota Bar and Grill, Ebony sighed in relief. She had driven with speed demons before, but Xavier was the worst of the worst. He might be soft-spoken and gentlemanly, but when he got behind the wheel, all his admirable characteristics flew out the window.
“Thanks,” she said, when he pulled up beside her car.
Her gaze brushed across his face, and Xavier’s anger abated under their warmth.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
She nodded. Ebony felt awful about the way she had acted back at his house, but for the first time in a long time, she didn’t know how to articulate what she was feeling inside. She was a confident, ambitious woman who took great pride in her appearance. Weekly manicures and pedicures, deep tissue massages and yoga helped keep her mind and body in top shape. Alcohol was limited to social events and special occasions, and since the smell of cigarettes and cigars made her head spin, she avoided smoke-filled areas at all costs. Her look could be summed up in three words: fashionable, sexy and unique. She shopped at the best stores, wore designer clothes and spared no expense when it came to achieving the perfect look.
But today, she looked less like a woman who shopped at high-end boutiques and more like a woman who bought clothes from Goodwill. Vacillating between sharing her feelings with Xavier and keeping them to herself, she considered his response. Will he understand where I’m coming from or will he think I’m shallow? Fidgeting with the zipper on her purse, she explored her heart for the right words. Nothing. But Ebony knew she had to explain her bizarre and confusing behavior. “Thanks, Xavier. I appreciate everything you did last night. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t there.”
Xavier smiled softly. “I’m surprised you don’t hate me.” His tone was equally gentle. “And I definitely don’t deserve your thanks. You wouldn’t have gotten sick if you hadn’t ordered the snapper entrée.”
“It’s not your fault. You weren’t the idiot who cooked it.”
He thought about what she said. She was right, but her estimation didn’t lessen his guilt. Examining her face, he noticed the light freckles on the bump of her nose. Ebony wasn’t wearing any makeup and her hair wasn’t curled, but she looked prettier than when she was all dolled up. “You shouldn’t wear all that gunk on your face. It takes away from your natural beauty.”
Ebony didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing at all. An awkward silence followed. When it became too much for her to stand, she secured her purse over her shoulder and grabbed the plastic bag holding her dirty clothes. When she turned to say goodbye, his lips grazed her cheek.
She touched the spot where his mouth had been. “What was that for?”
“Just seemed like the right thing to do.”
The heat of his kiss warmed her cheeks, and a southern region, as well. If she didn’t feel like a bum sitting in used clothes, she would have pursued the kiss further. “Thanks again.” She exited the car, but turned back when he captured her arm.
“See you on Wednesday?” Xavier hoped she didn’t pick up on the excitement in his voice. It was weird but he was kind of disappointed to see her go. The thought of returning to an empty house to eat breakfast alone was depressing. Ebony hadn’t been at his house long, but he had liked her being there.
Ebony had no intention of going to the program ever again, but instead of telling him the truth, she said, “Of course,” and hurried to her car. When she got behind the wheel, she gave Xavier an obligatory wave.
Ebony strode through the receptionist area of Discreet Boutique headquarters at six o’clock on Monday morning. She flicked on lights, rearranged chairs and turned on the fax machine. Since Ebony arrived to the office first every day, she saw to it that the coffee was made and the phone messages checked. The earlier Ebony started the day, the better. Unlike her partner, she did her best work first thing in the morning. Kendall’s workday didn’t start until nine-thirty and whenever Ebony suggested an early morning meeting, Kendall would protest that leaving the house before sunrise was unhealthy. Her partner strolled into the office at nine o’clock, sometimes later, and refused to work past three o’clock.
Ebony didn’t let her partner’s work habits bother her. Discreet Boutique was her baby. Her brainchild. She’d shared her dream with Kendall, and over time her best friend had bought into it. In the beginning, they had toiled day and night, shoulder to shoulder trying to get the business off the ground. But now that Discreet Boutiques had achieved financial success, Kendall didn’t feel the need to put in as many hours. She had a husband to take care of, and he was priority number one now.
“We’ve done it, Ebony! Every year our sales surpass our projected revenue figures and our customers are more than satisfied with our merchandise. We shouldn’t be working more, we should be working less!” she proclaimed.
Ebony begged to differ. She wasn’t going to let anyone prevent her from achieving her goals. And as for “slowing down,” she’d slow down when they had boutiques in all fifty states. Rest and relaxation would come when she was a multimillionaire. Then she would have the luxury of choosing her workdays or working from home. Until then, she had a plethora of work to do and no time to waste.
Generally Kendall’s lackadaisical attitude didn’t ruffle her, but when her partner ambled into the conference room a few minutes past ten o’clock, chattering into her cell phone, Ebony couldn’t hold
back her tongue. “How nice of you to join us, Kendall.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied casually. She ended her call, placed her cell phone on the table and checked her watch. Smiling ruefully at Ebony, she undid the lone button on her tangerine-colored blazer and took a seat. Her teakwood-brown complexion shimmered against the sun streaking through the conference room window. Kendall’s soft and movable hair was flipped at the ends in a sassy style, and grazed the back of her neck. After opening her leather briefcase, she did a quick sweep of the agenda. “What have I missed?”
“Everything,” Ebony mumbled. Disregarding the contrite expression on Kendall’s face, she took a drink of her vanilla-flavored coffee. “I faxed a revised version of our existing contract to Mr. Rutherford for him to review. I am expecting to hear back from him today. If he doesn’t agree to the specified terms, we’ll have to shop around for a new trucking company.” Ebony motioned with her hands. “Sabrina was about to fill us in on her new marketing proposal when you joined us. Go ahead, Sabrina. We’re listening.” She helped herself to another low-fat bran muffin and chased it down with coffee.
Sabrina clasped her hands in front of her. The bronze-skinned woman, who was all of five feet, might have resembled a sixth-grader but when she opened her mouth, people listened. She was feisty and outspoken and what she lacked in stature, she more than made up for in personality. “The Women of Sensuality products should elicit confidence, glamour and a sense of magic in our clients.” The more animated Sabrina became, the more visible her accent was. After receiving a full academic scholarship from the University of Minneapolis, the Brazilian-raised woman had traveled to the United States to pursue a degree in business and marketing.
Sabrina picked up the red perfume bottle on the table and sprayed the scent around the room. She closed her eyes as if she was meditating. “When I smell Seduction perfume, I’m transported to another time and place. I see glorious sunsets, sandy beaches and can feel a gentle breeze whipping my hair around my face.” Her eyes fluttered open. “To sum up all in one word, Women of Sensuality products should make our clients feel irresistible.”
