“Stop it, Zaki,” she ordered herself, stepping back into the room. In a matter of minutes, she had located the room service menu and ordered a small feast. She had just slipped into her favorite purple terry robe when Malik left the bathroom.
He offered no explanation for his obvious mood and went about changing into his own comfortable attire. Zakira ventured back out to the balcony with a copy of the festival’s program in hand. She had browsed halfway through it, when Malik joined her outside.
“Damn,” he whispered, as blown away by the view as Zakira had been.
She smiled. “I know, right? I could definitely get used to this.”
Malik took a seat on one of the cushiony white armchairs and propped his bare feet against the white iron railing. “Don’t tell me you’d trade East Coast livin’ for this?”
Zakira set the program on the short iron table next to her chair and shrugged. “I think I could live here.”
“California, Zaki?”
“What? It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, this is beautiful, but the rest of the state…”
“Oh, stop, there are some very lovely areas here. Which is why I’ve often suggested that you expand your business here.
Malik’s deep chuckles rose. “Remember what I said about you becoming more involved in my business? Forget it.”
Zakira threw her head back and laughed. “Fair enough,” she conceded, moving out of her chair. “I’m going to put my hair up. Room service should be here soon. I didn’t think you’d be in the mood to go out tonight, so I ordered in.”
Malik caught her hand when she stepped past him. “Thanks,” he said, pulling her to his lap. His big hands cupped her small face as his lips touched hers.
Zakira gasped, allowing him the entrance he sought. She kissed him with equal passion, arching herself against his wide, bare chest. Her nails grazed his flawless dark skin, and her legs trembled when his hand tested the softness of her inner thigh.
The doorbell sounded. Malik’s eyes searched Zakira’s face with an intensity that almost frightened her. Then, as though he were waking from a dream, he shook his head and smiled.
“I better get that,” he whispered.
Zakira eased off his lap. “Um, I’ll just be in the bathroom,” she told him, praying her weak legs would carry her that far.
Zakira found the suite a bit darker when she emerged from the bathroom. The setting sun offered the only illumination. Slowly, she retraced her steps to the balcony.
“Malik…” she sighed, eyeing the seductive transformation.
A cozy round table set for two had been placed in the center of the balcony. Candles offered a golden warmth that seemed to intensify the fiery orange glow from the retreating sun.
“Thought we’d take advantage of a West Coast sunset,” Malik explained, as he finished filling their wineglasses.
Zakira smiled and turned her eyes toward the sun. “I knew you were impressed.”
Malik offered no response and simply walked over to hold her chair. When Zakira took her seat, his fingers brushed the nape of her neck in one fleeting motion.
“I’m glad you talked me into this.”
“So, you’re admitting I had to talk you into it, huh?” Zakira questioned later, as they ate thick slices of chocolate cheesecake in bed. The room was lit by the glow of the huge moon. In the distance, crashing waves provided a sound more romantic than the most heartfelt song.
“We needed to get away. I know I did,” Malik admitted.
Zakira set her cake on the bedside stand and turned to rest her head on Malik’s bare chest. “Is something going on with the business?” she asked.
Malik squeezed her shoulders. “What makes you think that?”
“You seem to be under a lot of stress. I thought maybe it was business-related.”
The room was bathed in darkness, but Malik’s frustration showed. “The business is fine.”
Zakira heard the soft edge to his reply and debated whether to inquire further.
“Damn, this is so relaxing.” Malik sighed, drawing Zakira more tightly against his powerful frame. “I wish we could stay longer than a weekend.”
The quiet, peaceful tone of his voice robbed Zakira of her desire to mention anything that might ruin the moment. She pressed a kiss to one of his bulging pectorals and closed her eyes. The calming roar of the waves several feet below eventually lulled them to sleep.
“This is incredible. What is it?”
“Canapé Ricotta, ma’am.”
“Come on, there has to be more than ricotta cheese in this thing,” Zakira marveled and popped another one of the exquisite pastries into her mouth.
The young dark-haired man behind the red-and-white-painted boot, beamed. “It’s actually a blend of several cheeses along with a butter and herb sauce. The flavor of the ricotta cheese is most pronounced, hence the name.”
“Outstanding,” Zakira complimented once more. “Baby, you should try this,” she told Malik when he arrived at the booth.
“Hit me,” he requested, opening his mouth for one of the canapés. “Not bad,” he said as the pungent blend of herbs and cheeses triggered his taste buds.
“So, where were you?” Zakira asked, once they had moved on from the Italian food booths.
Malik’s grin triggered his dimples. “There’s a Louisiana soul food booth back there,” he announced.
Zakira glanced across her shoulder. “You’re kidding?”
“Mmm-mmm.”
“Why didn’t you come get me? I could go for a bowl of hot gumbo right about now,” she said, pushing her hands inside her quarter-length olive-green sweater jacket.
Malik slipped one arm around her waist. “I thought we could go there for lunch—they’ve got a restaurant here at the resort.”
“Sounds good,” Zakira absently replied, her brown eyes widening as she spotted another interesting booth.
“Do you have room left for anything?” Malik asked his petite wife, watching as she scanned the menu of Louisiana specialties.
“Please,” Zakira drawled without looking away from the menu, “I’ve been thinking about that gumbo since you told me about this place.”
“Did I hear someone say gumbo?”
Zakira looked up and smiled at the cheerful young woman who had arrived at the table. “You sure did. I’d like your biggest bowl,” she said, giggling when Malik uttered a soft mocking sound of shock.
“Great choice,” the perky honey-complexioned waitress replied before turning to Malik. “And will it be the same for you, sir?”
Malik’s slanting gaze narrowed a bit more and he pushed his menu aside. “Nah, I think I’m gonna pass.”
Zakira leaned forward. “Baby, aren’t you gonna eat anything?”
“Just bring me a glass of lemonade, will you?” he asked the waitress, who smiled and nodded before leaving the table.
“You must be hungry? You barely sampled any of the food out there,” Zakira noted, watching Malik shrug. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine, Zaki. Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting, I just—”
“I’m going to the restroom. I’ll be back.” He interjected, leaving Zakira staring after him.
Lunch was a quiet affair. Malik’s silence had unnerved and angered her so that Zakira managed to finish only half of the spicy rich seafood gumbo. She had the remainder of the lunch packed in a to-go container and told her husband she would see him later. She spent the rest of the afternoon visiting more booths, chatting with other restaurant owners and enjoying the vibrant beauty of the seaside resort. She adjourned to the suite much later that afternoon and decided to take a nap before the evening’s scheduled gala.
Subtle tingles of sensation surged up and down Zakira’s spine. She shivered in her sleep and snuggled deeper into the warm queen-sized bed.
“Zaki…”
“Hmm?” she moaned, slowly awakening when the pleasurable sensations grew stronger
as they coursed through her body.
Malik’s perfect teeth fastened to Zakira’s earlobe and he whispered her name again. When her lashes fluttered open and her brown eyes focused on his face, he pressed a kiss to her mouth.
Zakira rolled her eyes in response. When she turned her head away, she could hear his deep chuckle in her ear.
“I’m sorry,” he sang.
Zakira turned onto her back and fixed him with an unimpressed glare. “I know,” she replied pointedly
Again, Malik chuckled. “Forgive me?”
Zakira laced her fingers together atop the crisp blue sheets. “I guess I could, if I knew what happened. We were having a great time, and all of a sudden you flip.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“And that’s it? You’ve been acting strange for a while now, and your only explanation is you’re sorry?”
Malik fixed her with another devastating smile. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he declared, leaning over when she turned her face away.
The soft lingering kisses he dropped to her neck slowly melted the ice wall she had constructed. After a few moments, she turned and pulled him into bed with her. Malik’s hands were everywhere, caressing, squeezing, fondling…. Zakira moaned his name as her fingers entwined in the long dreadlocks. Malik cupped her breasts in his wide palms and savored the taste of one, firm bud. The kisses journeyed upward, landing against Zakira’s collarbone and along the smooth column of her neck.
“Mmm…” she moaned, encircling his neck as she arched into his chest. The fabric of his shirt grazed her bare skin with the most delicious intensity. Suddenly, the full force of his massive frame settled across Zakira’s body and her eyes snapped open.
“Mmm…Malik, wait a minute…Malik…Malik?” she called, nudging his side with her knee.
There was no response and she began to shove against his broad shoulders. “Malik? Son of a…” she sighed, realizing her husband had fallen asleep while making love to her. When the sound of soft snores caught her ear, she braced all her weight against his and managed to push him away.
While Malik slumbered, Zakira stood next to the bed and watched him. Her suspicions were raging, and the strange pill bottle was at the center of her thoughts.
“Forget this,” she whispered. “I have a party to dress for.” She headed for the bathroom while Malik’s snoring gained volume.
“Actually, we’ve been having problems simply finding a venue for the event.”
“Who wouldn’t want to take part in something like that?”
Two women stood talking next to Zakira at the buffet table. The annual Saturday Night Gala had been in full swing when she arrived. The black-and-white affair offered dancing, wine tasting and, of course, an immense dinner buffet.
“You’d be surprised how fast people shy away when they find out something’s for charity. Especially the businesses. All they care about is what type of fee they’ll generate for renting out their establishment.”
“Excuse me?”
The two women silenced their discussion and turned to face Zakira.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said with a smile. “I couldn’t help but overhear. What is your charity, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“No, of course not. It’s the Richmond Children’s Cancer Research Fund.”
“Richmond? Virginia?” Zakira asked.
The woman who had spoken pressed one white-gloved hand to her throat. “Yes, it’s really just a group of doctors’ wives who run the organization. We have no ties with the hospitals or state agencies, but we’ve managed to collect over half a million dollars during our two years in existence.”
“That’s admirable,” Zakira breathed, highly impressed by the group’s success.
Suddenly, the woman shook her head and gave a nervous laugh. “Please forgive me. I don’t know where my manners are. I’m Lydia Cartright.”
“And I’m Jessica Black.”
Zakira set her plate down on the buffet table and shook hands with both women. “Zakira Badu, I’m also from Richmond.”
“Well, it’s certainly nice to meet a home girl.” Lydia noted before gesturing at their surroundings. “So, what brings you all the way to a California food festival? Pigging out like the rest of us?”
Zakira laughed. “Yes and no,” she replied. “My husband owns a restaurant in Richmond. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of Badu’s?”
“Badu’s?” Lydia and Jessica cried, exchanging glances.
“Honey, my husband and I eat there all the time!” Jessica was saying.
“Same here. In fact, Badu’s was the next restaurant on my list,” Lydia softly mentioned.
Zakira’s brown eyes narrowed. “On your list?”
Jessica cleared her throat and fiddled with the folds of her white satin evening gown. “Lydia’s trying to organize the next event for the charity. We were thinking of renting a hall and hiring caterers, but then we thought it might be cheaper to rent a nice restaurant for the evening.”
“Unfortunately, your other colleagues in town are making us want to consider a charity picnic,” Lydia shared. “Bring your own food, of course,” she added.
“Well, it sounds like a great cause. I’d love to help any way I can,” Zakira offered, folding her arms over the square bodice of her black evening gown.
Jessica and Lydia were overcome with gratefulness.
“You can’t know what this means for us,” Lydia whispered as she squeezed Zakira’s hands. “We’re hoping to schedule the event two weeks before Christmas—hopefully folks will be a bit more charitable.”
“We can’t pay a lot,” Jessica warned, “but we promise to come up with a suitable figure.”
Zakira waved her hand. “Let’s not discuss all that now,” she said, searching her black clutch purse. “I’ll need to speak with my husband, but I know he’ll be eager to help. Here, hold on to our card and give me a call when you get back to Richmond.”
Jessica’s almond-brown face softened with gratitude. “This means so much, Zakira. Bless you.”
“My goodness,” Lydia suddenly breathed, her green eyes riveted on the tall, gorgeous man who had just entered the ballroom.
Jessica and Zakira turned in time to see Malik make his appearance. Zakira felt her heart flip at the sight of him in the stylish tux. He wore his long dreads in a ponytail and the style only emphasized his rugged, magnificent features.
“Who is that?” Jessica whispered, her dark eyes feasting on Malik who had stopped to speak with two gentlemen.
Zakira smiled and turned to face her new acquaintances. “Ladies, that’s my husband,” she announced, laughing at the friendly envy they allowed her to see. She glanced across her shoulder, her expression rueful. She had managed to forgive Malik’s unexpected nap, but promised that she would not forget to ask him about it.
“All right, you two, please don’t forget to call. I’ll discuss this with Malik and we should be ready to start planning right away.”
Again, Lydia and Jessica reached out to shake her hand.
“Thank you so much, Zakira!”
“We’ll definitely be calling.”
Zakira waved off the two women, grabbed her plate and went in search of her husband. By the time she reached Malik, he was shaking hands with the two men he had been speaking with.
“Did you have a good nap?” she asked, waiting for him to turn around.
Malik let his head fall back and he closed his eyes for a moment. “Zaki,” he sighed, finally turning to face her. “Baby, I’m sorry about that.”
Zakira nodded and focused her smoky brown eyes on her full plate. “I wish I could remember how many times I’ve heard ‘I’m sorry’ over the last two days.”
“It’s about all I can say,” he whispered, bringing his arms around her waist. “That, and I hope you’ll let me make this up to you.”
Zakira selected a plump pink shrimp from her plate and popped it into her mouth. “Make it up to me
, hmm? You’ll probably fall asleep before you can get halfway through it.”
Malik’s low laughter rumbled forth. “That’s not the only way I know how to make up, Zaki.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“You gonna give me a chance here, or what?”
Zakira decided to let up a little and raised her eyes to his. “So, what do you have in mind?”
Malik took the plate from Zakira’s hands and set it on the tray of a passing server. “I’d rather show you,” he said, pulling her close.
Zakira began to sway to the rhythm of the sultry Latin groove. “This had better be good,” she warned him.
And it was. Malik was true to his word. At 6 a.m. Sunday morning, he was rousing Zakira from her sleep and telling her to hurry and get dressed. They hopped into a rented convertible and began their day.
Zakira thought the view of the ocean from her fifth-floor balcony was exquisite, but it didn’t compare with the view from the passenger seat of their car. When the sun rose, Malik let the top down and Zakira reveled in the feel of the fresh sea air whipping through her long hair.
“This is incredible!” she shouted, acting like a kid on a roller coaster as her wide eyes scanned the natural beauty surrounding them—entrancing blue water, tall cliffs, towering trees that filtered the gorgeous sunlight and the never-ending curved road that grew steeper as it carried them to a higher altitude.
“When did you think of this?” Zakira asked later that afternoon. They were seated on the hood of the black convertible, with a food-filled straw basket between them.
Malik dipped his wheat cracker into a spicy cheese spread and shrugged. “When I woke up and realized I’d fallen asleep while making love to you.”
Zakira tugged her bottom lip between her teeth and studied his gorgeous profile. She ached to question him about his behavior…and the pills. “Malik—”
Pride and Consequence Page 2
