by A. C. Arthur
They continued walking through the area crowded with tourists, listening to the vendors barter and advertise their wares. Passing colorful buildings and shops on quaint looking streets, they spotted a woman haggling over the price of a handbag. Amber looked at her with pity. The vendor wasn’t going to back down so the woman needed to either decide to pay the price and thus help the local economy with her sale, or walk away. There was going to be no middle ground.
“You hungry?” Brandon asked pulling her attention away from the sale or non-sale going on.
“Not just yet. I want to look at some real jewelry though. My mom’s birthday is coming up and I’d love to get her something special,” she told him.
“Then let’s get a taxi or something. My cousin says Le West Indies Shopping Mall has great things to buy,” he continued, grabbing her hand once again and leading her across a busy street.
He’d been holding her hand a lot today. If not holding her hand, he would touch her arm, or lean in close to whisper something in her ear. No matter where they were they were close, almost like lovers. It was a startling thought to Amber as she hadn’t walked up and down the street with a lover, in she had no idea how long. It was comfortable too, something that also should have been a bit odd. Amber decided she wasn’t going to let herself worry about the fact that it wasn’t. They were here, together, for now she was just going to go with the flow.
“What type of great things will we see at this mall?” she asked after Brandon had hailed down a vehicle that sounded much louder than it probably should.
He’d opened the back door and let her get in first. When he slid in beside her, he answered, “I don’t know. Regan is always shopping. She produces a fashion show with my other cousin’s wife, Camille. That’s why she was in Houston the week before I left. They were shooting some scenes at the factory where Camille purchases specialty materials.”
“You live in Houston?” she asked.
“Yes. My father was one of the brothers who stayed there.”
“Jenise said you have a large family,” she said.
He nodded. “My grandparents had six sons. They all married and had children,” he replied but continued to look out the window. My great-grandparents, Rowan and Adeline had four children - three sons and a daughter. My great, great-grandparents, Elias and Gertrude Donovan had two sons. Everybody had children, so yeah, we’re a pretty big family.”
“Wow,” was Amber’s response. She only remembered as far back as her grandparents, as her mother was adopted and had been an only child, and her father’s family were from the West Indies so they didn’t visit with them often.
“Yeah, wow,” he said, but didn’t seem like he wanted to elaborate any further.
She decided to change the subject to work instead as they continued on the drive.
“So your company gives great rewards,” she told him. “Is this cruise all work or do you get mostly relax time?”
“I oversee the compliance division of a hedge fund firm, so I’m used to traveling a lot anyway. As for this trip, there are some mandatory workshops and meetings, but mostly it’s meant to give everyone a much needed break. Sometimes people aren’t good at taking one on their own.”
Amber could definitely relate to that. “My father owns a chain of dry cleaners. He hates to take a day off, but my mother insists on two weeks every summer. One week they used to spend with us and the other they would go off somewhere on their own. Now that we’re all grown, they just take those two weeks together.”
“It’s all about being together,” he said and again sounded as if that were a subject he did not want to discuss.
Amber took the hint and remained silent after that. She sat back and enjoyed the sights as they traveled through the island. Every now and then the driver would tell them something about a building they passed, or a monumental structure of some sort. Brandon had perked up when they’d passed the houses that seemed to be tucked into the sides of the grassy hills. He’d asked several questions about land availability, taxes and such. Amber thought it was interesting to hear about another culture. All of the places she’d traveled to in the last year had been a first for her, so she’d counted herself doubly blessed for this opportunity.
Lunch was at La Belle Epoque, a waterfront restaurant with international cuisine. They shared Coq au Vin, a version of margarita pizza, and a delicious apple Marzipan Galette. A bottle of red wine topped off their meal as they sat on the deck staring out to the water.
“Did you always want to model?” he asked her and then added, “I googled you last night.”
Was that weird, she thought? Did men always google women they’d just met? Well, she figured, if that woman was the spokesperson for a national foundation, they might.
“No,” she answered honestly. “I didn’t. But when the opportunity came, I couldn’t turn it down because I completely empathized with the cause.”
He nodded. “They seem to be making great strides, even with FLOTUS’s campaign for healthier lifestyles.”
“We’re not against a healthy lifestyle, we just want to also promote a state of acceptance and happiness for the plus-size individual. Not all obese persons are suffering from diseases related to being overweight, nor are they all obese because of poor health choices. There are some health conditions and medications that cause dramatic weight gain. Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome is one that a very popular reality star suffers from. It caused her to gain over two hundred pounds in the course of two years. A famous R&B singer, Charlene Quinn, suffers from hypothyroidism that also causes her to have sporadic weight gain. So, you see, it’s not all about people sitting around eating whole pizzas and stuffing their face with donuts.”
She clapped her mouth shut after that diatribe, knowing she’d just gone off on a rant and annoyed that she’d done so with him. It wasn’t like he’d insulted her or her job.
“Sorry,” she said afterward and shrugged.
“No. Don’t apologize. I hear what you’re saying and I’d never heard of any of those diseases. I guess they’re not as prominent as cancer and such, so the world tends not to focus on them,” he said.
“Sometimes I think people only want to focus on the negative. As for the world as a whole, it’s definitely the most negative diseases or occurrences, or what they perceive as the most negative appearances that gets the most attention, especially in the media. But they don’t want to see fat people any more than they want to see LGBT people in today’s society. The intolerance is shameful.”
“I agree,” he said and continued to stare out to the sea.
“Let’s go for a walk before we have to return to the ship,” he suggested and then stood after signing the slip to pay the lunch bill with his credit card.
“That sounds good,” she told him and stood to once again take his hand.
A short distance away from the restaurant they walked along the beach.
“Take your shoes off,” she’d said to him as soon as they stepped onto the sand.
“What? Why?”
She couldn’t see his eyes because they’d both put their shades on again after they finished eating. However, she figured he was looking at her like she was crazy.
“Come on, you’re on a Caribbean beach. Take your shoes off and experience every nuance of that,” she continued and removed her shoes, hooking the straps on her finger to carry them.
“I’ve been to a Caribbean beach before and I kept my shoes on,” he told her, still not game for her idea.
“That’s because you didn’t have someone as smart as me with you,” she told him before nudging him. “Take them off. You’ll still look GQ in your Ray Ban sunglasses and Tag Heuer watch.”
He didn’t react immediately to her declaration, but eventually did what she asked, holding his shoes, one in each hand.
“See, doesn’t that feel wonderful. Dig your toes deep down in the warm sand,” she said closing her eyes as she did what she instructed.
“It feels l
ike my feet are in dirt,” he said blandly. “When I was a kid I used to get in big trouble for being outside with no shoes on.”
Making a playful swat at his arm, Amber started walking. “Not when you were at the beach, I bet.”
He chuckled from behind her. “That’s why they make water shoes.”
“You’re so ridiculous,” she said and continued walking.
There was a light breeze, it wasn’t very cooling, but it was still nice to have something to break a little of the humidity.
“But I’m cute,” he said as he’d run up beside her and now circled in front of her, showing off by continuing to move.
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’ll give you that one.”
“And I’m fun to be with,” he continued.
“What? I just had to force you to take your shoes off in the sand. So how are you fun again?”
He shook his head. “Who played water tag with you yesterday? And who tried on every new floppy and colorful hat you considered buying today?”
Again, Amber was smiling. He had tried on all those hats, even posing in the mirror with a few of them. Her hands had itched to pull out her phone and snap a picture. She’d been thoroughly shocked when Brandon did just that, pulling her close so that they could take numerous goofy-faced selfies together. He’d asked for her number so he could send them to her phone and she’d readily obliged. He was fun to be with, she thought begrudgingly.
“Whatever,” was her response. “You’ll do, I guess.”
“You guess?” he asked stopping.
He was standing right in front of her now, so she stopped walking as well.
“I can prove that I’m the best guy to be with on this cruise,” Brandon told her.
She propped one hand on her hip. “How do you propose to prove that?”
When he stepped to her, dropped his shoes to the sand, and cupped her face in his hands, Amber’s breath caught.
“Like this,” he said before lowering his head to hers, taking her lips in a hotter than the temperature outside kiss.
Amber loved every second of it. She moved closer to him, touching her hands to his arms and tilting her head. His tongue moved hungrily over hers and she moaned against his mouth. He felt so good up against her, strong and steady, intoxicating. She kept her eyes closed to this pleasure, refusing to second guess or deny it. She wanted this and so much more with him, no matter how strange it seemed.
“I want you,” he whispered when he finally broke the kiss, but still held her face in his hands.
“I know,” was her breathy response.
“This is definitely going to happen,” Brandon said, his hands slipping down her waist to cup her ample bottom.
Amber trembled at his touch, her center already pulsating with ready desire. All she could say, all she could think was, “I know,” she sighed, resting her forehead against his. “I know.”
#
There were three personal email messages when Brandon returned from his day on the island with Amber. They were meeting at Today’s Italiano, one of the many restaurants the ship offered in lieu of eating in the main dining room each night, at seven thirty.
Brandon had walked Amber to her cabin and then traveled down a floor to where his sleeping quarters were located. They both had suites with private oceanfront balconies, courtesy of their employers. It had been a long but enjoyable day and they were both ready for a shower and a few moments to rest before heading out again. So it was with a slight pep in his step that Brandon returned to his room. The first thing he did was strip off the shirt that had, in the last hour, begun to stick uncomfortably to his skin as the humidity and heat on the island had begun to get to him. He’d headed straight for the shower at that point, standing under the spray of water until it had run cool.
Now, he sat on his balcony wearing only shorts, tablet on and a list of emails on the screen staring back at him expectantly. He’d tackled the work messages first. This morning before he’d left the ship, Brandon sent an email to Ty discussing his concerns about Margaret Whithers. Ty had responded, saying that Brandon should first speak with Courtney about both Margaret and Tim and then they would have another meeting when they all returned from the cruise. They needed to review their termination policy once more and possibly interview some of the previous employees that had complained about Margaret to see if there had been any more issues with her. Coming from an African American family that had scraped their way to the top, in a world that in general did nothing to help black people succeed, Ty was not about to employ a racist. Still, Brandon recognized that they all needed to make sure that when they did fire her, it would be a legally sound act.
As for Tim, there was no official policy against being intoxicated while on a cruise, even if that cruise was fully funded by the employer. Still, there was definitely a moral breach and Ty suggested that Courtney may need to have a discussion with him about his conduct when he was representing the TJB name. Brandon quickly typed his reply, agreeing with Ty’s suggestion on those two matters and addressing a few compliance issues that had also come up in the last month. With that message handled, there were four more work messages that could wait until he returned to the office next week.
That left the personal messages to deal with. Brandon stared at them for a few moments, listening to the sounds of normal going on around him. The ship was still docked at St. Maarten, they would be pulling out at eight o’clock tonight. Although it was early evening now, there was still a bustle of activity as people made their way back to the ship, or for some reason were just getting off. The water was beautiful and calm, the picturesque island with its turquoise waters and lush green covered peaks. There were a few sailboats a distance away and another pier stretching further into the water which looked to be used for commercial docking.
He could live here, Brandon thought absently. He would buy a nice house, probably up on one of those hills, as he’d noticed before, where the breeze would be cooler and the view unfettered. Since his job was requiring him to travel more and more, Brandon felt like it might be beneficial to have a place to come and simply escape from it all. The work itself, crazy co-workers, crazy people with grudges, and yes, family members that kept secrets. He sighed with that final thought as his personal messages were from Brock and Trent.
Brandon squeezed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as that situation settled over him once again. From the moment he’d seen Amber on that dock this morning, thoughts of his father’s infidelity and the possible consequences of that act had dissipated. She’d made it almost impossible to think of anything but her. The way she laughed, shopped, walked, talked and even when she was simply looking at the sights. He’d been totally enamored by everything about her, so much so that he hadn’t thought about his family situation until she’d talked about hers. He hadn’t minded hearing the little she’d shared about her family. In fact, he wanted to know more about who she was and the things that had shaped her into the woman she was. Only in return, he suspected that would mean she’d want to know more about his background too. A year ago, no, make that six months ago, Brandon would have been proud to talk about his heritage as a Donovan. The affluent African American family with ancestors who’d started as slaves and eventually ended up owning one of the largest oil companies in the United States. The Donovan name was synonymous with unprecedented philanthropic work, as well as the various other business ventures that had proved successful for this latest generation. And they were liars, he thought with a sigh as he opened his eyes again and looked down at his computer screen.
Brandon clicked on the message from Brock first.
I pulled everything I could find about the accident. We need to talk as soon as you return.
He typed a quick “ok” reply and went to the first message from Trent.
Brynne doesn’t want to attend a meeting. Keysa’s going to try to talk to her. Haven’t heard from Bailey.
Brandon shook his head and moved to the n
ext message from his cousin.
New financial reports in on Dane. He’s been buying stock in Donovan Oilwell.
Now, Brandon cursed, his teeth clenching so tight he would surely get lockjaw if he didn’t cease. He closed the case on his tablet and placed it on the lounge chair after standing. Quick strides took him to the railing that he gripped tightly with both hands. Stretching his arms out completely, Brandon lowered his head between them and tried to take deep breaths. What the hell was going on? His family seemed to be under siege and he wasn’t sure what, if anything, he could do about it. Especially not since he was currently on a ship thousands of miles away. Lifting his head Brandon looked out to the water once more.
Brock had always questioned their mother’s accident. He’d only been fifteen at the time but he’d never believed the idea of their mother speeding and crashing into a tree. The police seemed to think it could have been suicide but because of the Donovan name and Darla’s father’s ties to the community, the medical examiner had simply ruled her death an accident. It was years later when Brandon had gone to Maryland to visit Brock while he was in college, that his brother shared his concerns with him. Brandon had thought about Brock’s comments and agreed that Darla Donovan would have never killed herself, regardless of the cancer or her eventual prognosis. It just wasn’t part of her personality. The brothers had eventually deemed it a moot issue as neither of them wanted to dredge up old hurts for their father or for Bailey. But now, Brandon shook his head, clearly, all bets were off.
On another note, where was Bailey? She hadn’t answered Trent’s email and that wasn’t like her. His sister was diligent about communication. There were times when Brandon, Brock, his dad or his cousins, may not like what Bailey had to say, but she could always be counted on to give her opinion on any and every subject. He wondered at her silence now.
As for what this Dane character was doing, Brandon had no idea what this guy’s plan was, but he’d rather know it up front, then wait for any more surprises. With that in mind, Brandon went back to his computer and replied to Trent that he would pull Donovan Oilwell’s financial records as soon as he returned home. Al kept all of this information on his home computer and Brandon—the son that was supposed to go into the family business—knew where it was stored.
