by Zuri Day
Jackson slowly raised his head and blazed a trail of kisses from her mouth to her neck and back to her temple. “I said I’d be a gentleman,” he whispered, even as he nipped her earlobe with tiny love bites, “so I should have asked to kiss you. But an apology at this point would be insincere. You taste way too good for me to feel sorry for what just happened.” Jackson ran a firm finger down Diamond’s arm. “May I kiss you again?” he asked. His voice was as soft as the kisses he’d rained down on her face. Her nod was almost imperceptible, but her acquiescence was all Jackson needed to raise the stakes. He pulled them deeper into the shadows, backed her against the ivy-covered brick wall and once again plundered her mouth with his tongue. His hips mirrored the movement of his tongue: slow, rhythmic circles as he thrust up against her.
Diamond wasn’t even aware that she was joining in the dance of this slow grind until she felt Jackson harden beneath her. Then she felt his hand on the silk of her dress, grasping her hip, easing along her waist and up to her breast. He tweaked her nipple, and Diamond felt as if she would explode. In this love-induced insanity, it didn’t matter that she was in a public place, mere yards from where her protective brothers sat. All she wanted was this man’s arms around her, with his body pressed tight against hers.
And then the audience applauded.
“Stop!” Diamond used the last ounce of her will and pushed against Jackson’s massive chest. “We…can’t do this.”
“I know,” Jackson readily agreed. “You’re much more than a quick romp in the hay or, in this instance, the garden. Here,” he said as he reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. “My cell number is on the back. Call me. Let’s meet up and…finish what we’ve started.” In the next instant, he was gone.
Diamond stayed behind in the shadows, willing her heartbeat to return to normal. She touched a hand to her lips and felt them swollen from the passion of his kisses. She felt that one look at her brothers and the message of what had transpired would be sent faster than a cell phone text. She’d been ravished by Jackson Wright, and she wanted it to happen again and again. Diamond knew it would raise eyebrows and questions, but she had no choice. She couldn’t get Donovan’s drink, return to her seat, hear the rest of the concert or say thanks to the host. If she was going to save any dignity at all, she had to run out of here as if the devil were chasing her. And that is exactly what she did.
Chapter 8
Diamond stood in her bedroom, ready to greet the day. This had always been one of her favorite rooms in the house, with its separate sitting area and massive bath. On her eighteenth birthday, she’d changed the color scheme from girly pinks and purples to a dramatic black-and-white theme. Just last year she’d changed it again. Now rich tan-colored walls and plush ivory bedding, both of which complemented the dark walnut floors, gave the room a sophisticated yet understated elegance. Splashes of color came courtesy of recently purchased Charles Bibbs artwork and freshly cut flowers that always occupied the coffee table and fireplace mantel. At times she thought about venturing out and purchasing a condo or house of her own. But then she’d come to this, her retreat, and forget every thought she had about leaving.
Diamond took one last look in the mirror. She looked calm and refreshed, thanks to a two-hour early-morning workout. This fresh look covered the roiling emotions she felt from her encounter with Jackson two days ago. For this she was thankful, since she was getting ready to walk downstairs and join her family for their traditional Sunday dinner. Everyone would be there, and she was sure all eyes would be on her. Why did she know this? Because she knew how her family operated, and there was very little that happened with one Drake that the others didn’t know about sooner or later. Donovan was very close to their father, Donald, so Diamond was sure he’d mentioned her encounter with Jackson and her refusal to discuss it when asked. Dexter was the baby of the family and a mama’s boy. Additionally, he couldn’t hold water if he carried it in a bucket—an old-time saying that meant he couldn’t keep a shred of anybody else’s business to himself. Knowing this, Diamond had basically avoided her parents for two days, which—even though she and Dexter still lived at home—wasn’t hard to do. The estate included a main house and three fully equipped guest rooms totaling ten thousand square feet. Each child had their own wing, as did their parents. More often than not, Donovan could be found there, too, even though he’d purchased a home near San Diego a few years ago. Diamond’s grandparents, David and Mary Drake, lived in one of the guest homes. Their ninety-eight-year-old great-grandfather still lived on the property, as well. These were the people Diamond saw as she rounded the corner and entered the dining room.
“Well, the princess finally decided to grace us with her presence. How are you, baby girl?” Donald Drake came around the table and hugged his daughter. A commanding presence at six foot two and two hundred pounds, Donald had taken the business from a successful company to a dynasty when he’d expanded Drake Wines into most of the fifty states and then internationally. He’d also been on the cutting edge of the health-conscious craze. Their vineyard had gone organic many years ago.
“Good afternoon, Dad.” Diamond gave Donald a hug. “Hello, Mom. I love it when you cook for us. Dinner smells great!”
“Ha! It’s your grandparents who have the chef, dear. I’ve cooked dinner almost every Sunday since you were born. But thank you.”
After hugging her mom, Genevieve, Diamond greeted everyone else in the room. “Sorry I’m just now coming down. I didn’t know y’all were waiting on me.”
“Your timing is perfect, dear,” Genevieve replied, looking as gracious as ever with her long silver hair swept up in a loose bun. A little dynamo, who at all of five foot five ruled the roost, she was also one of the most loving people on the planet. “Your father’s just giving you a hard time.”
The family shared small talk as they dished up the succulent feast: roasted duck with fresh vegetables—corn, greens, squash, carrots and onions—from Grandma Mary’s large and flourishing garden, juicy heirloom tomatoes, garlic mashed potatoes seasoned with Genevieve’s fresh grown herbs, Mary’s spicy corn bread and, of course, a fruity pinot noir from the Drake vineyards. After the patriarch, Great-grandfather David Drake Sr.—affectionately referred to as Papa Dee—blessed the food, everyone dug in.
“Dang, Mama,” Donovan said after enjoying a mouthful of dark meat and licking his fingers. “You know I don’t like fowl.”
“What was that?” Genevieve drily replied. “I couldn’t hear what you said around all that smacking on that bird you don’t like!”
Everyone at the table laughed.
“You and Granny are the only ones who can make us eat food we abhor,” Diamond commented as she enjoyed a forkful of squash. “Remember how I thought I hated parsnips and I’d been eating them for years?”
“How can I forget?” Mary replied, with a laugh. “I’m the one who kept telling you they were spicy potatoes!”
“Well, I’ve never met a food I don’t like,” Dexter piped in, after following a heaping forkful of greens with a bite of corn bread. “That’s why no matter how fine my woman is…she’s got to be able to cook!”
Diamond raised her eyebrow. “Oh, really? Well, considering the skinny, silicone-injected Barbie dolls you prefer, who don’t look like they even eat…good luck with that.”
“My women aren’t skinny. They’re just in shape.”
“That chick he was with on Friday had quite a figure,” Donovan said. “What was her name, Dex?”
“Maria. Maria Sanchez.”
“She’s a beautiful woman.”
Dexter nodded. “I agree, brother.”
Genevieve eyed her son curiously. “Boy, you have a new girlfriend every week. Are we crossing the border this time around?”
“You know me, Ma. I’m an equal-opportunity lover.”
&
nbsp; “Watch yourself there, boy,” Grandfather David warned. “You’ve got respectable women around this table.” After a pause, he continued. “That’s a cigar-and-brandy conversation for men alone.”
Mary looked at the husband she’d loved for almost sixty years. “Oh, so you’re not saying, don’t talk like that? You’re saying, don’t talk like that around the womenfolk? Is that it?”
David’s eyes twinkled. “That’s it exactly.”
“Ooh, no, he didn’t,” Genevieve said with a laugh. “He’s keeping secrets from you, Ma.” It was just like her father-in-law to stir things up. There was never a dull moment when a group of Drake men sat around a table.
Mary looked at Genevieve. “Child, I’m not worried. Anything he doesn’t share at the table he’ll spill in the bedroom.”
“Watch yourself, now, Granny,” Diamond said, mimicking her grandfather. “That sounds like a kitchen conversation for women only!”
“It is, baby. And I’ll give you the full 411 so you can know how to handle your man.”
“Wait!” Dexter’s laughter filled the room. “Did my eighty-year-old grandmother just say 411, as in information?”
“I’m seventy-eight,” Mary responded, eyes twinkling. “Don’t push me, now.”
Diamond leaned over and hugged Mary. “My granny is in the know!”
“Speaking of in the know,” Donovan said cryptically. “Why don’t you tell us about your new man?”
Seven sets of eyes looked at Diamond.
Oh, Lord. Here we go. “I do not have a new man,” Diamond corrected. “That’s what you get for trying to be all up in my business.”
“You’d better tell him that,” Donovan replied. “Because on Friday night, Jackson was looking at you like a piece of prime real estate that he’d like to own!”
“Please, Donovan,” Diamond replied, deadpan. “Stop with the histrionics. First of all, Jackson wasn’t looking at me in any particular way, and second, nobody owns me!”
“Hmm,” Papa Dee said, speaking up for the first time since picking up his fork and beginning to eat. “Me thinks the lady doth protest too much!”
Diamond got ready to argue and then thought better of it. Who could ever win an argument against someone who’d been on the planet for almost a century?
Donald wiped his mouth with a napkin, then reared back with his glass of wine. “Are we talking about Boss Wright, as in the owner of Boss Construction?”
Donovan nodded. “He was at the benefit Friday night, sniffing behind Diamond like a rottweiler.”
“Just make sure his bark is worth his bite,” Mary said.
Diamond frowned. Huh?
Genevieve explained. “While he talks the talk, make sure he can walk the walk. You could do worse than a successful, wealthy man,” she continued. “You’re over twenty-nine. It’s time you settled down. It’s time that all of you get cured of singleitis,” she continued, pointedly looking at all three of her children. “Yes, even you,” she said to Dexter, when he would have argued. “I had all of you by the time I turned thirty. At the rate you three are going, I’ll be Papa’s age before I see grandchildren.”
Papa Dee chuckled. “Lord, I hope not. You wouldn’t be able to bounce them on creaking knees like mine!”
“Do you think this could get serious?” Genevieve asked Diamond.
“There is nothing happening to get serious! Seeing Jackson, Boss, whatever he calls himself, at the benefit was purely coincidental. Donovan is reading way too much into the fact that he and I were conversing. Now can we please change the subject? You guys are starting to get on my nerves.”
Donald obliged his daughter and shifted the focus from weddings and babies to wines and spreadsheets. But that didn’t stop Donovan from cornering her just before he left the house.
“I’ve got a question, sis.”
Diamond stifled a sigh. When it came to older brothers, sometimes there was a thin line between love and hate. “What?”
“If nothing is happening between you and Jackson, why did you not bring the beer you offered to get, text me about some jive pop-up headache, and then seconds later I watch homeboy return to his seat with a smug look on his face?”
“I don’t know, brother. Why don’t you ask Jackson?”
“Because I’m asking you.”
“I’m a grown woman, Donovan. Which is why you really need to mind your own business.”
“You heard what Mama said about wanting us to get married, and I know that’s what you want, as well.” Donovan stepped closer to his sister and further lowered his voice. “For the record, I don’t think your boy Jackson is the marrying kind.”
Chapter 9
The next day, Diamond was more than ready to jump into work. Between what little sleep she’d gotten and her mother’s interrogation after the brothers had left, it was a miracle that she’d survived the weekend at all—that and the fact that she’d actually dreamed of Jackson. Diamond blushed at the thought.
“Good morning, darlin’!”
“Morning, Kat.” Diamond walked up to Kathleen’s desk and reached for the typed agenda that sat on her desk. “Looks like somebody had a happy weekend.”
“It was amazing. The old codger gave me an early Christmas present. We’re going to Ireland!”
“Wow, Kathleen, that is amazing. Bernie must have gotten a raise. When are you going?”
“That’s why he had to surprise me early. We need to lock in the dates and are hoping to go around the holidays.”
Diamond looked up. “As long as it’s not Thanksgiving, our new opening weekend, I think we’ll be fine.”
“You’re a diamond, Diamond.”
Diamond rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
“Oh, shoot. I was so excited about the Ireland trip that I almost forgot. There was a message on the phone when I arrived. It might be important.”
Diamond’s stomach flip-flopped. Jackson? “Who from?”
“O Magazine. The message is in your Microsoft Outlook, along with the others.”
“Thanks, Kat.” Diamond walked into her office. Before she could sit down, Kat buzzed her on the intercom. “Line one for you, Diamond.”
“Who is it?”
“Jackson Wright.”
Kathleen hurriedly disconnected the call. Diamond knew why—she would have insisted that Kathleen take a message. Kathleen hanging up was her way of saying, put on your big-girl britches and take the call.
Today, Diamond’s “britches” were an ivory-colored Chanel suit, its sleek, formfitting lines subtly accenting her curves. Her ivory pumps and three-strand pearls were classic, while her spiky do lessened the conservativeness of the total look.
Diamond took a breath and put on the last piece of attire needed before answering the phone: a professional demeanor. She punched the speaker button and spoke in a cool, crisp tone. “Diamond Drake.”
Jackson laughed, and Diamond was at once irritated. It was the same sound she’d heard Friday night when commenting that their relationship was strictly business. In Diamond’s mind, it was the sound of confidence and cockiness, as if Jackson just knew he was the cat’s meow. Then she remembered Friday night: music, full moon, smooth jazz, skilled kisses and how her cat had meowed. She clamped her legs together and continued in a huff. “What is so humorous about my name?”
“Not your name, baby,” Jackson said, a smile in his voice even though his heart beat at a million miles per hour. “Your attitude. I know you’re a consummate professional, baby. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“If you know that, then one, why are you calling me during office hours, and two, why are you calling me baby when you should address me as either Diamond or Ms. Drake?”
“Very
well,” Jackson conceded, his voice taking on a businesslike tone. “Ms. Drake.”
Diamond closed her eyes and fought the wave of desire that swept over her. How is it that he can say my name so professionally yet squeeze sexuality between each consonant and vowel? With each interaction of the Jackson Wright kind, Diamond was becoming more disconcerted. She’d never before reacted this strongly to a man, never felt such a magnetic pull to another human being. And with all that was presently on her plate, now was not the time! “Yes, Mr. Wright,” she said when control once again returned. She stopped short of asking, What can I do for you? But she believed she already knew his answer to that question.
“I just got off the phone with Taylor Stevens. She’s requested a meeting tomorrow night, to go over the proposed changes to the restaurant’s design that we discussed after the walk-through. I think it would be a good idea for you to join us.”
“Thanks, Jackson, but I’ve already approved those changes. There’s no reason for me to be there.”
“It may be a time-saver in the long run,” Jackson responded. “The change to the roof is extensive. Since I know you’re running this project, yours will be valuable input to our meeting.”
“Yes, I’m in charge of it now, but Donovan handled the first phase and Dexter has been kept in the loop, as well. Perhaps one of them is available.”
There was a brief pause before Jackson responded. “I understand.” He gave Diamond the meeting location information and ended the call.
Diamond immediately dialed Donovan. “Hey, Don.”
“Diamond, what’s up?”
“Remember the addition Taylor suggested, the one about incorporating a glass ceiling to the lounge area that extends into the garden?”
“Right.”
Diamond could hear Donovan shuffling papers in the background, as well as the hurriedness in his voice. She got right to the point. “Taylor and Jackson are having a meeting tomorrow night. They want one of us to be there.”
