by Zuri Day
“Acting conceited.”
“Maybe.”
Faye noted that they’d gotten on the I-15 freeway, heading south. She also noticed the melodic sounds playing softly from the stereo system. “Nice music.”
“You like?” Dexter turned it up a bit. “It’s a band I’m backing called Seven Day Weekend. The lead guitarist is a childhood friend of mine.”
Faye nodded. “Did you grow up on the resort?”
“I grew up on the vineyard. It didn’t become a resort until a couple years ago.” He told her about the expansion project that had been largely headed by his father, Donald, his brother, Donovan, and his sister, Diamond.
“It must be nice to have such a close-knit family.” She turned to him. “At least, that’s how it appears.”
“In this instance, looks are not deceiving. We all dearly love each other...and like each other most of the time.”
Faye laughed. The sound warmed Dexter’s heart.
“I can tell. Yesterday just watching how you guys interacted, the love was evident.”
“Ah. So you’ve been checking me out.”
Arrogant much? Still, Faye blushed. It was true. She’d taken every opportunity that he was in her line of sight to drink in his fineness. But he didn’t need to know that. “I’ve been observing my surroundings.”
“Ha!” For Faye, Dexter’s knowing chuckle warmed several places. “Do you have siblings?”
“A brother, Richard, from my mom’s second marriage. We’re ten years apart and not so close. I was gone and in college by the time he was eight. Then I joined the Peace Corps, spent five years in Africa and left there to go to Haiti and help the earthquake victims. In between, I only went back home a handful of times.”
“What made you want to be a doctor?”
Faye looked out the window and into yesterday. Her smile was bittersweet as she spoke. “I was seven years old. My dad and I were walking in a park and came upon a young bird with a broken wing. It was lying there, a weak chirp coming out every few seconds. I was distraught and refused to walk away and leave it there. My dad found a piece of cardboard, and we made a nest of grass and leaves and took it home. There, we transferred the nest to a shoebox. My dad made a splint with Popsicle sticks and secured the wing to the bird’s body with a strip of gauze. I went to the library to find out what they ate, and I fed it worms, watered-down cat food and water from a dropper. One day about three weeks later we took off the gauze and splint and the wing had healed! It was like a miracle that something had been broken and I had fixed it,” Faye continued, her voice soft, reflective. “I went to school that day happy and skipping and giving everyone the good news. When I returned to see Robin after school—” her smile faded“—she’d flown away.”
“What kind of bird was it?”
Faye looked at Dexter, brows creased. “A robin. Why?”
“Curious.”
“Your care seems genuine. I wouldn’t have guessed it.”
“You’re nothing if not straightforward. Many women aren’t.” They’d reached their destination. Dexter pulled up to the valet. “You’re different.”
“Is that why you asked me out? Because I’m different from the beautiful, sophisticated women you usually date?”
Dexter gave her a look that jiggled her insides. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Doctor.”
Faye became silent, content to listen to the sounds of smooth jazz. She didn’t know what to make of Dexter Drake. She did know that she wanted to make out with him. This realization, on top of everything else that had happened since she’d arrived in California, had her flustered.
They reached the door and were quickly seated as soon as they entered the restaurant. “Mexican food is my favorite. Haven’t had it in awhile.”
“This is some of the best in San Diego,” Dexter offered. “It’s Mexican with a twist.” Faye raised a brow. “Mexican-French,” he explained. “Prepare to be amazed.”
The chef came out and greeted Dexter by name. They chatted for a few moments before he turned to Faye. “Would you allow me the pleasure of ordering for you?”
“Sure.”
Soon after he’d placed their order, the waiter brought over a bottle of wine.
“Compliments of the chef,” he said, before opening it and pouring out a small amount for Dexter to sample.
He did so. “Not bad for Napa,” he said with a smirk.
The waiter shrugged. “What can I say, Mr. Drake?”
“It’s fine.”
The waiter poured their drinks and left. Dexter raised his glass.
“Do you mind if I stick to my lemon water? I’m not much of a drinker.”
“Suit yourself. To what should we toast?”
“To the totally restored health of your great-grandfather?” Faye asked, hoisting her glass.
“That,” Dexter said, giving Faye a look that was part devil, part dare, “and injured birds learning to fly.”
It was not the toast she expected. He wasn’t the man she expected. This wasn’t the night she expected. But rather than let a myriad of thoughts overtake her, or fears defy her, she simply replied, “Cheers.”
Chapter 11
Over mushrooms marinated in lime juice, olive oil, onions, tomatoes, cilantro and serrano chillies, and Mexican tapas, Faye learned that Dexter had been labeled a gifted child by his elementary teachers, had excelled in sports and grades in middle school, and was the sports star, ladies’ man and president of his senior high school class.
During the main course, huachinango al queso y chipotle for Faye and medallion de camarones al chile guajillo for Dexter, Dexter explained how he’d wowed everyone on his college campus with brawn, brains and dancing skill; how he’d been recruited to run track and had almost turned pro; and had helped lead his junior track team to a regional first-place finish. She savored her fresh red snapper with chipotle cream and Oaxaca cheese. He devoured large shrimp wrapped in bacon, served with Oaxaca cheese gratin and a light guajillo sauce. He talked about his years of dodging determined females and leaving broken hearts from Ithaca, NY, to wine country, CA. She laughed. And listened, hearing more of the Dexter that she’d previously expected. Cool. Confident. Charismatic.
The waiter removed their entrée plates. Dexter sat back, obviously satisfied with the meal. “How are you enjoying the meal so far?”
“Absolutely delicious,” Faye said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Some of the best food I’ve ever eaten.”
“Do you have room for dessert?”
“Do you?” Dexter gave her a quizzical look. “I mean, after all, you seem so full of yourself.”
“Whoa!”
A smile softened Faye’s carefully delivered jab.
“That’s really how you feel about me? After I’ve spent the evening baring my soul, letting you know all my secrets?”
“Baring your soul? I think that’s a stretch.”
“It is. But I don’t know,” Dexter continued, eyeing Faye speculatively. “There’s something about you that makes me feel like I can tell you anything. I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”
“I don’t either.”
“Ha!”
The two shared Mexican flan and then left the restaurant stuffed and satisfied.
“I’m going to sleep good tonight,” Faye said, once they’d settled into the buttery leather seats of Dexter’s ride.
“Thinking about bed, are we?” Faye rolled her eyes. “So tell me, Doctor. Does your battling wars and quakes and saving lives leave any time for love?”
“Not really.” She tried to answer the question as casually as it had been asked.
“Is that by choice?”
No! A part of Faye had always wanted to be a wife and mother, a superwoman able to juggle kiddies and career a
nd leap tall buildings with a single bound. But early rejections in those formative years had built in a defense mechanism that had left her guarded, wary and slow to trust. Her father’s death had taught her that loving unconditionally and absolutely could be painful, and that the love of your life could leave you without a moment’s notice or a backward glance.
“C’mon, now,” Dexter kidded. “Tell me about all those peers and patients you’ve strung along those hospital corridors.”
You mean all two of them? “Unlike you, Dexter Drake, I am not a player...or a flirt.”
“I’ve been known for being both of them,” Dexter admitted. “I’m not going to lie about that.”
“He’s nothing if not honest,” Faye mumbled to the passing mountains, mimicking what Dexter had earlier said.
“The thing about me,” Dexter continued, “is that I’m clear about who I am, what I want and how I act in relationships. I talk straight, am upfront, and no woman has to guess what’s going on between us.”
“And that justifies your lifestyle?”
“Are you judging my lifestyle?”
“No. You just remind me of a boy I’ve hated since my teenage years.”
“Damn.”
“No,” Faye hurried to correct. “I don’t hate you. That statement wasn’t about you. It was about me, and the insecurities born in my childhood and teenaged years. Larry Chambers was in my eighth-grade class. He looked like a teenaged Will Smith and everyone loved him. When it came to popularity he could make you or break you, and I was his comedy relief. He called me Frank or Olive Oil from Popeye, depending on the day. I was already introverted and this type of attention was excruciating. Sorry...I just had a flashback moment. I guess being back in the States will do that to you.” Faye was embarrassed, but felt strangely liberated, as well. She was no longer close to hyperventilating when being in His Highness’s presence. He felt more like a brother now, or one of the boys in the operating room. “Now you’re becoming the person I feel I can tell everything, too.”
“Ah, Doctor, are we going to become pals?”
Faye slid him a glance. “Maybe.”
Small talk punctuated long moments of companionable silence as they made the forty-five-minute trip from outer San Diego back to the resort. Dexter pulled into a reserved parking spot at the front of the hotel, cut the engine and then walked around to open the door for Faye.
She smiled, shyly, guiltily, as though the bubble that had surrounded them in his luxury car and the restaurant had burst; the golden carriage had turned back into a pumpkin and her glass slipper was simply a Bebe slingback after all.
“Thanks for dinner,” she said as soon as she’d exited his vehicle, eager to be alone and in her room so that she could assess the night.
“The night is young,” Dexter replied and much to Faye’s chagrin fell in step beside her and accompanied her into the hotel. “Would you like to check out the lounge, or take a turn on the dance floor? The lounge is more laid-back. The club will let us get our party on.”
They’d reached the middle of the lobby; still fairly crowded. It was Saturday night, after all. “Thanks but I think I’ll pass. I think the nonstop pace of the past few years is catching up with me. A pillow is calling my name.”
“All right then,” Dexter replied, once again placing a gentle hand on her elbow and steering them toward the elevators. “Let’s get you tucked in.”
“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary.” The look on Faye’s face made it clear that “tucking” was not exactly what she thought he had on his mind!
“My bad.” Dexter pushed the elevator button, his attitude nonplussed. “Figure of speech. But I will be a gentleman and see you to your door.”
The elevator came. They entered. The ride to Faye’s floor and the walk to the door of her suite were quiet.
“Thanks again,” Faye said, fumbling for her key card. “It was a very nice evening.”
“My pleasure,” Dexter said, his voice slightly husky as he gently removed the card from Faye’s hand. He kept his gaze locked with hers as he unlocked her door. He took a step, one that put his body within inches of hers; so close that she could feel his heat, imagine his “intention.”
“Okay, so, goodnight.” She averted her eyes and held out her hand. Please! Just give me my key card before I die!
But, no. That would have been too much like right. He had to place one hand on her shoulder and another on her chin, had to turn her head ever so slightly. Had to run his hand down her arm as he bent down his head and placed a kiss—soft and feathery—on her parted lips.
“Good night, Doctor,” he murmured.
“Good night.” She walked into the room, turned and offered as best a smile as she could muster under the circumstances (keeping her knees from buckling and her heart from beating out her chest) and closed the door.
Inside the room, silence enveloped her. That...and abject loneliness unlike she’d ever felt. She leaned against the door, took several calming breaths and asked herself the million-dollar question: What. Just. Happened?
Chapter 12
The next day, Dexter found himself asking a similar question. He’d think about Faye at the oddest times: while coming from the east wing where he resided to join his parents in the dining room, when mixing various types of grapes for the company’s latest wine offering and last night, while hanging with some of his friends in the local casino’s high-limits room. That had surprised him. Normally nothing came between him and his rare games of poker. He thought of her now, sitting in his office for the first time since Papa Dee was hospitalized, needing to concentrate on the numbers that Donovan had given him about the expansion into Northern California planned for next year.
“What do you think?” Donovan knocked, asked the question and entered Dexter’s office at the same time.
“Looks pretty good so far,” Dexter replied, although since he’d been reading the first two sentences for the past ten minutes, he really had no idea.
“What about the idea of opening up a wine-tasting bar in Paradise Valley?”
Dexter nodded slowly. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Man, quit with the B.S.” He took a seat in one the two leather chairs that faced Dexter’s desk. “You probably just started reading the report. And our meeting with Warren and Dad is in an hour.”
“Sorry, Don.” Dexter tossed the folder on the desk and sat back in his chair. “It’s been one of those mornings.”
“I know you’re worried about Papa Dee, man. We all are. But you were there and heard what the heart specialist said. He assured us that Papa suffered no permanent damage and that there is no inordinate amount of plaque built up in his arteries. So with the medication, change in diet and a little more exercise...he’ll be good as new. It’s a good thing we had a doctor at the party.” Dexter remained silent, staring out the large window that revealed acres and acres of loaded grapevines. “Wait a minute...” Donovan leaned forward, eyeing his brother carefully. “You’re not thinking about Papa Dee or his doctors. You’re thinking about her, that Buckner chick, aren’t you?” Donovan chuckled; sat back in his seat. “What’s going on, player?”
“Why do you think something is going on?”
“Because it took me a minute to put two plus two together to get four, but now that I have...”
“You’re a mathematician? Nothing is going on, bro. Just took her out to dinner, on behalf of the family showing our appreciation and what not.”
“Is that so? Our comping her stay one hundred percent wasn’t appreciation enough?”
Dexter shrugged. “I wanted to add a personal touch.”
“Ha! I’m sure you did.”
“Yes, but not in the way you mean. I took her out for a nice dinner and then delivered her to her door with nothing more than a kiss and a good-night.
”
“You’re joking, right?” Donovan deadpanned. “What, you’re not attracted to her?”
“She’s not really my type, but it’s not that.” Dexter’s brows creased in thought. “She’s different. I know some very intelligent women and—”
“Of course you do,” Diamond interrupted, walking in and taking the seat next to Donovan. “You grew up with one.”
“He’s talking about the doctor,” Donovan said.
“At Loma Linda? Which one?”
“No, Dr. Buckner. The woman who helped save Papa Dee.”
“Of course! She’s female and breathing.” Diamond held out the word and winked at Donovan. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Because you know our brother,” Donovan said with a sly grin.
Dexter walked over and took a seat at the conference table. “I suggest ya’ll get out of my business and into Drake Wines’ business. Where’s Dad and Warren?”
“Warren is on his way,” Diamond replied. “As for Dad, we’ll have to go on without him. Looks like Papa Dee might get released a day early. He, Mom and the grands are on their way to the hospital...hopefully to pick him up.”
Dexter looked up as Warren Drake entered the room. “Well,” he said, giving his cousin a nod as he approached the group. “Let’s get started on the discussion about how we’re getting ready to take over Napa Valley.”
* * *
Dexter wasn’t the only one buried in work. Faye had vowed not to check her work emails during the week she was at Drake Wines, but a phone call from San Diego State’s School of Nursing had changed all that. After months of correspondence and phone calls, the university had agreed to an educational partnership. A select group of senior students would be able to volunteer at the clinic in exchange for credit toward their degree. With the school year starting shortly, there was no time to waste. Faye accessed her work inbox, found the email and attachments that the school had sent and scanned the histories of the nurses suggested. She also saw emails from the agency through which she’d rented her condominium, saying that it was ready for move-in, and another one from the church that had previously owned the building where the clinic would be housed and had shown charity in selling the place at almost thirty-five percent below market value. So after transferring the information to be printed out in the hotel’s business center, she made appointments to visit the condo and the commercial building. Faye smiled, happy to feel back in her element and out of the mood that had enveloped her since last night...and the kiss.
