"You can do everything while you are here," Tamara said excitedly, “water sports, mountain activities, fine dining, the spa. You must try out the specialty restaurants. There are twelve of them."
Mona interrupted Tamara's gushing list of activities. "Tamara will be your chaperone, Madam. We will be staying next door in the staff quarters. Anything you need, you can call us."
"This is glorious." Terri headed for the patio, pulling off her hijab and shaking out her hair.
"Madam," Mona said cautiously, "please do not appear in public without your head covering."
"It's just the patio!" Terri said, gesturing to the outside. "Who can see?"
It was really private and secluded. She expected that was how all the suites were built in this massive hotel of architectural wonder.
Mona smiled. "Just a precautionary warning, Madam." She bowed slightly. "I will now leave you to your privacy."
She left and Terri took the time to inspect the entire suite. She stood in the middle of one of the bedrooms, with its massive bed, and inhaled. She felt tiny in comparison to the height of the place.
Tamara was unpacking her clothes in the master bedroom and Terri stuck her head in. "I am going to take a quick tour."
"But Madam," Tamara protested, "I can show you around."
"And I am sure I am going to need you to. I am just going to walk around for a while. Maybe check out the spa. I saw the entrance on my way in."
Tamara smiled. "You'll love it there."
"See you in a bit." Terri stepped out into the thick, plush carpeted hallway and headed toward the elevator. Even the air smelled rich, she chuckled to herself.
There were four floors of hotel and the Al Jerza suite was on the very top. She got in the elevator and pressed 1, where the lobby was. And if she remembered correctly, the spa was opposite the lobby and was surrounded by an exotic garden. She wished she had taken her camera.
The elevator stopped at the third floor. And two men got on. They were both in business suits.
They both said good afternoon to her politely.
Luckily the one to the right did not see her eyes widen or the way she clutched her hijab closer to her chin.
He faced straight ahead after slightly turning to acknowledge her. He glanced at his watch impatiently as they went down to the next floor. Three more people got on, two women and a teenager; they were obviously in holiday spirits.
The guy in the business suit stepped closer to her in the back of the elevator and she watched him with bated breath. She was still reeling from the coincidence.
Zachary Lee Chang! Here in Jannah!
He was obviously not on holiday. He had a briefcase in hand and had on a tailored business suit that fit him perfectly.
He glanced at his watch again, a frown furrowing his brow. His eyelashes were long. His face was a thing of symmetrical beauty. Terri observed him carefully: those slightly slanted eyes, his wavy hair was brushed off his forehead, his ears a perfect shell, his skin warm honey.
She remembered the first time she saw him. She had thought he was not real. You only heard about guys like him in bodice ripper romance novels. He would be a pirate or a lord in a castle.
He must have felt her stare; he turned and looked at her full on just when the elevator doors opened on to the first floor.
Terri looked away quickly but he didn't.
She exited the elevator before him and hurried away into the vast lobby, completely losing her bearings.
She looked behind her and her eyes collided once more with Zack's. He had stopped and was staring after her in puzzlement.
Terri dragged her eyes away from his and almost collided with someone.
"Hey," a husky Australian voice whistled. "Be careful where you are going, Salome. You are a dancer, aren't you?"
"No...er, sorry." Terri murmured. She walked toward the lobby entrance and took a deep breath. That was a close call.
****
Zack arrived after the meeting started in the conference room. Not a very auspicious start. He was twenty-five minutes late. They had taken forever to check him in, relocating him to a different room. Some rich sheik had on the spur of the moment taken a whole wing, the wing that he was booked in. That had caused chaos in the bookings and a scramble to relocate him.
And then after he had put down his luggage, in what the receptionist had described as an upgrade, and exited the room, he had connected eyes with a Muslim woman in the elevator.
When he had seen her it had felt like an electric charge. He had never felt that way before. He had never reacted to a stranger like that before. It was remarkable.
He had stood stock still for a full minute in the lobby and watched her walk away from him.
One minute added to his already late arrival to an important meeting. He could not even make excuses. He could just slide into the last available chair and feel like he had a strike against him already.
Latecomer. Not a good sign.
Prince Hamad's three lawyers were at the top of the table. The main one, who he knew was Taheer Al Nagi, was the prince's trusted lawyer for decades. He welcomed him, no censure in his voice. He must have been aware of the mix-up in the lobby.
Zack relaxed a teeny bit and looked around.
He counted the prospective lawyers there. There were six of them around the table. He made seven.
There was a brief in front of him and he looked at it. It contained a listing of Prince Hamad's holdings in the Caribbean and his prospective investments. The list was like candy land for lawyers.
He should be seeing dollar signs when he flipped through the brief but instead he was seeing hazel eyes bright with interest trained on him.
Usually that type of attention was par for the course for him but today, something in him responded.
He had been riveted to the spot too, with just a stare. She was so covered up that he hadn't really seen anything else but her cute button nose and those eyes.
He struggled to focus on what Taheer Al Nagi was saying. He looked around the table at his competition. He spotted Martin Gold from Gold and Rich, one of the top firms in Jamaica, Chang and Dubois' main competitor for lucrative deals.
They were the top two firms and nothing much separated them in terms of age and expertise. They were both family-based firms. They had an impeccable client list. They dealt with the rich and famous, sharing them equally in a friendly rivalry that spanned decades.
Their representative, Martin Gold, was sitting at the head of the table near Taheer. Zack had gone to law school with Martin. They were about the same age; both of them were from a family of lawyers.
It was going to be tough competition, not an easy walk in the park to convince Prince Hamad to choose his firm. He ran his eyes around the table and looked at his other somberly dressed colleagues. He knew most of them. He had wrangled in court with James Nectar from Dominica; he had sat on Caribbean Commonwealth committees with Louis from Haiti.
It dawned on him rapidly that each of the firms represented must have had the same thought that his firm did, that Prince Hamad wanted younger lawyers. Only two lawyers were there who looked to be older men.
Martin chose that moment to look over at him and raise an eyebrow. He nodded slightly. They had been cordial acquaintances for years. He had dated Sherry Gold, Martin's sister, for exactly one month, back when he had just started in his dad’s practice. One night he had forgotten a dinner date with Sherry and she had told him that she had had enough of lawyers.
He wondered where she was now. She had been a very fun person, creative, and she hated logical conclusions.
He tuned into what Taheer was saying. "We need local liaisons for Prince Hamad's latest multi-billion dollar investments. And he is willing to pay the successful firm a retainer to deal with his ongoing investments of course."
Everybody straightened up at the table when the figure was thrown casually in the air like he was talking about pennies. Even Zack suddenly had sharp focus. Th
is was going to be a huge account.
"However," Taheer said as his head gear bobbed up and down, "Prince Hamad is an exact man, a man that some would say is very hard to please. He needs the right firm and though you will be working with us, he gets the final say on our choice. Over the next couple of days he will dine with all of you, in Jannah. We believe in conducting business in a more casual manner than you do it here in the West.
"We have an Akdharian saying that you only know a person well after supping with him. Prince Hamad will personally talk to each of you—after you meet our approval, of course."
Taheer cleared his throat. "How are you with golf?"
Most of the men nodded and murmured.
"Prince Hamad will meet you on the greens tomorrow morning at five," Taheer said formally. "In the meantime, please enjoy yourself around the property. That concludes our business for the day."
They filed out of the room unhurriedly and Zack looked after them, a bemused expression in his eyes. Amoy was right; this was going to be one week of bliss. He liked this unhurried way of doing business.
"Zachary Lee Chang," Martin rested a heavy hand on his shoulder, "how are you doing, man?"
Zack grinned. "Good, and you?"
"Terrific. Martin straightened his tie. "I love this place. I wish my wife could come; she would be thoroughly impressed."
Zack raised an eyebrow. "You married?"
"Yes, man." Martin sat down in the chair beside him. "I have three kids too."
He whipped out his mobile phone and Zack dutifully looked at the picture of his wife and three children.
The youngest one was a beautiful cherub-looking baby who looked just like the wife. None of the children had any features remotely resembling Martin.
But that didn't matter. Martin was a family man. That was one thing in Martin's favor as far as the prince was concerned. He seemed to be heavily into family.
"So what about you?" Martin asked, pushing his phone back in his jacket. "You and Judith married yet?"
"No," Zack murmured. "No, we are not. As a matter of fact, we are not together anymore."
"And they sent you to represent the firm?" Martin laughed. "You know that the prince got married at eighteen, got his first child the same year. He has a son your age, man."
"Good to know." Zack nodded. But the way Martin reeled off the information gave him pause. A man like Martin Gold was not going to get married and he didn't hear about it.
Martin was flashy and though they had not spoken for quite a while now, he would have heard from some mutual acquaintance about a society wedding. Jamaica was not that large.
"I am still not discounting you as competition though," Martin gave him a friendly pat on his back. "You have an eastern background; maybe he'll like that."
Zack looked at Martin assessingly. "What is your wife's name?"
Martin quirked a brow and answered smoothly, "Asilah."
Zack laughed.
"What?" Martin frowned.
"Asilah," Zack got up, "that's an Arabic name."
"So?" Martin shrugged, "My wife has some of that.”
Zack smirked. "It's obviously a farce. Fake wife, fake kids."
"That’s quite a conclusion to jump to," Martin sputtered. "And completely unprovable."
Zack changed the subject. He had almost forgotten how determined Martin was to win by any means necessary, and that meant fabricating a fake family to seem more impressive with Prince Hamad.
"How is Sherry these days?"
"She lives with five other artists in Manhattan, still trying to get some exposure in the art world."
"She happy?" Zack asked.
Martin nodded in disgust. "Yes, nauseatingly so. She is doing what she loves best and hanging with her free love pals."
Zack smiled. At least she had finally fit in somewhere. She had hated the expectations that her parents had burdened her with. "Say hello for me."
Martin shrugged. "If I see her. Where are you off to now?"
"I don't know." Zack shrugged, "I might just take a look around." He left the boardroom and headed for his luxuriously appointed suite.
First, he was going to make a call to the firm and check in, and then he was going to change into some casual clothes and maybe get a massage. He would utilize every moment he had at Hotel Jannah. It was not every day one got an opportunity like this.
Chapter Eight
Zack walked toward the building on the property marked ‘spa’ and inhaled when he entered the lobby; so many scents hit him at once. A smiling lady at the front desk asked him if she could assist.
"What would you suggest?" he asked.
“The mud baths are very popular for walk-in treatments,” she said helpfully. “If you want to do massages or other treatments, you would have to make an appointment.”
Zack nodded. "Mud baths, huh?"
"Yes," she smiled, "it's relaxing, it's a de-stressor, it pulls toxins from your skin, relieves you of aches and joint pains, it improves your circulation, it balances your pH levels.”
"Sold," Zack said before she could continue.
"Only the unisex baths are available at this time though," she said, her face set in a moue. "Are you okay with that?"
"Sure. Why not? Everybody will be in mud; it doesn't matter who is in there."
"You are required to wear swim trunks." She gave him a flirty look, "Private baths you can go naked, though. So come back and book another one."
Zack laughed. "I may, if this mud bath works as effectively as you say it does."
"All our clients are very happy." She gave him an access key and pointed him to the spa room.
When he walked into the tropically decorated room—complete with greenery, low intimate lighting and a mini waterfall—he saw that there were three twin baths, all of them in different alcoves.
One side of each bath was already occupied. There was a total of six baths, and everybody had chosen a bath with no one else beside them. This was going to be awkward, being the latecomer and all. He decided to use the bath beside the sole female, or he assumed the person was female. She had mud on her face and in her hair.
He sank down doubtfully in the red clay slush and looked over at his neighbor. Her eyes were open.
Hazel eyes.
The eyes from today.
"Hi," he smiled. "I saw you in the elevator today."
She nodded. "Yes. Hello."
He relaxed in the mud completely, adjusting to the sensation that he was actually soaking in dirt. There was a little vibrating feeling that actually kept the mud churning, and the mud was warm.
He closed his eyes and instantly relaxed. He was almost too relaxed to pursue the thought in his mind. Should he strike up a conversation with Miss Hazel eyes or not?
He cracked his eyes open when a timer went off and the guy in one alcove got up.
"I didn't know there was a timer on this," he murmured out loud. "I would love to stay here all day. No, all year."
Hazel eyes chuckled. "Me too."
He glanced over at her. "Is it too forward if I ask your name?"
She snuggled even deeper in the bath. "My name is Lola."
"Lola, I am Zachary. Everybody shortens my name to Zack except my grandmother."
"They have a way of doing that." She lifted her head and looked at her timer.
"Where are you from?" Zack asked, warming up to the fact that she seemed so receptive to him.
"That's a tough question." She turned to look at him. The mud caked her face, and it made her eyes seem wider and her lips pinker. He felt a sharp attraction toward her that was unexpected and unwanted.
What was wrong with him? He had not even seen her face properly or anything and there he was attracted.
"I am from Jamaica," he murmured huskily.
She didn't respond; she closed her eyes and relaxed. "I love Jamaican food."
"Imagine that." Zack chuckled. "Like which food?"
"Patty's and Brown Stewed Fish," she mur
mured.
"So you have Jamaican connections?" Zack asked, pressing her.
"Oh yes." She cracked one eye opened and looked at him. "So you are here on vacation?"
"No." Zack turned on his side toward her. "I wish it was a vacation but really it is business, or a long interview session with the lawyers of the man who owns this place."
She widened her eyes. "You mean Prince Hamad?"
"Yes." Zachary straightened back up and looked at her. "And you? You are obviously on vacation?"
He was fishing but she didn't seem to mind.
"You could call it a vacation. I am here on an errand but this is a gorgeous place and I have never stayed in a hotel this grand before, so I am soaking up all the experiences that I can."
Zack looked at her sharply. "It's as if you read my mind. I have never had a mud bath before and I was thinking of soaking up all the experiences that I can too."
Her timer went off.
Just when he was thinking of asking her out, she heaved herself out of the bath. Her figure was outlined in mud but she still had a nice figure from what he could discern.
"Goodbye Zachary," she whispered. "Enjoy your mud."
"No wait." Zack didn't want her to go.
She waved and he found himself feeling almost bereft. How ridiculous was he being?
*****
Terri floated down the path leading from the spa, feeling renewed and squeaky clean after washing off the mud and massaging some of the spa’s exotically scented lotions into her skin. The spa had been a good idea. Even her hair was feeling softer and curlier. She wished she could wear it out now.
She felt fresh, renewed, and pleased that she had spoken to Zack. He had not wanted her to leave.
He liked her, or was he was just being sociable? Whatever the case, she was happy for their initial meeting, even though she had to tell him that she was Lola. She was sure she would get the chance to straighten it all out when she got back home.
She walked past the Cancun Cafe, one of the many snack bars at the hotel, and slowed down when she saw a silky white Persian cat in the window. At first she thought that he wasn't real but then he blinked at her slowly and she laughed. She would check out the inside of the place.
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