The Trouble With Luv’
Pamela Yaye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Acknowledgment

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

Acknowledgment

Being an author is a dream come true, a dream God placed in my heart and faithfully brought to pass. Thank you, Lord, for all your blessings on me!

To my husband, Jean-Claude: You make me laugh, you make me smile, and for the last six years, you have made me one very, very happy woman. I love you, papito!

Baby Aysiah: Thank you for taking two-hour naps and for sleeping through the night. You are my number-one girl, and mommy loves you very much.

Mom and Dad: Words can’t describe what you mean to me. You are everything I want and ever hope to be. Thank you for inspiring me, believing in me and encouraging me to pursue my dreams.

To the most beautiful woman I know: Bettey, you’re the best sister a girl could have. Intelligent, funny and caring, you continually show me what it means to be loved. Only God knows what I would do without you.

Kenny: You’re the best big brother a girl could have. Your ambition is admirable, and I know you are just steps away from even greater success.

To the lovely Sha-Shana Crichton: I never imagined I would find an agent I not only like and respect, but consider a friend. We are going to have a long and prosperous relationship because I’m never, ever letting you go!

To my editor, Mavis Allen: You are talented beyond measure, and working with you has helped me refine my skills. Thank you for your insight, your dedication to this project and your invaluable contributions.

Marsha and Delroy McCormack: God brought you guys into my life when I really needed a friend. Thank you for everything you’ve done. I never would have finished editing this book if it wasn’t for you!

Chapter 1

“Wake up, chile! I can’t believe the day is half done and you’re still lazing around in bed. Humph! It’s a wonder you ever get anything done keeping such peculiar hours.”

Ebony groaned. Cradling the phone under her chin, she forced her eyes open. She didn’t know what time it was, but she knew it was too early for this. Sunlight streamed through the partially opened window, warming the cold, dark room. Birds chattered and a light wind ruffled the lavender satin curtains.

Reluctant to leave the comfort of her bed, Ebony dragged the duvet cover over her face. I don’t want to get up now. I’m tired. I want to sleep in. Is that too much to ask?

It must have been, because the next thing she knew, aunt Mae was roaring in her ear. “Are you listening to me, chile? I said, ‘wake up!’”

Emerging from beneath the covers, Ebony peered at the alarm clock perched on the edge of the dresser. Blurry eyes prevented her from making out the numbers, 9…1…2. That can’t be right, she thought, groping around the nightstand for her wristwatch, aunt Mae said it was noon. The silver hands on her diamond Rolex confirmed the accurate time. “It’s only after nine,” she croaked, shaking her head in disbelief. “Aunt Mae, I’m—”

“Listen,” Mae ordered, cutting her off midsentence, “I’ll be dressed and ready to go at five, so don’t be late getting here. I’m part of the setup crew so it’s important I’m at church on time. People are depending on me, Ebony.”

“For what?”

Mae released a heavy sigh. What was the matter with young people these days? she wondered, taking a sip of her tea. When she was a child, she listened when grown folks spoke. It was either that or get smacked upside the head. Her niece, as intelligent and as educated as she was, didn’t know how to listen. And the few times she did, she still got it wrong. “Tonight is the spring banquet at Jubilee Christian Center, remember? I mentioned it to you last Thursday when you came over for dinner. You agreed to buy a ticket and you promised to invite Opal and Kendall, as well.”

Ebony yawned. She didn’t recall saying any such thing but she could have. She was prone to agree with her aunt Mae whenever she was put on the spot. Ebony loved her aunt to death, but the woman yakked too damn much. It was difficult keeping up with all the rambling she did. For the sake of argument, Ebony agreed with her aunt’s memory of events. “Okay, I’ll buy a ticket to show my support. I’ll even drop you off at the church tonight, but I’m not staying for the dinner. I have far too much work to do, aunt Mae.”

“That’s not good enough, Ebony. The good Lord expects more from his children than their money. You could make all the money in the world, donate it to the church, and it still wouldn’t be enough. He wants your time. This banquet is about Christian fellowship. Meeting new people. Making new friends. There will be singing and eating and mingling and…”

Ebony was too tired to argue. If she couldn’t outargue her aunt when she was sober, she’d be no match for her in her present state. She wasn’t going to the banquet, and there was nothing aunt Mae could say to change her mind. She didn’t have time for fellowship. Or to meet new people. Or to make new friends. She had a business to run. And if she ever got aunt Mae off the phone, she was going to take a shower, get dressed and head straight over to the office.

“It sounds like this, ah, banquet thing is going to be fabulous, aunt Mae, but I can’t go. Work calls,” she sang, her voice suddenly suffused with cheer. Ebony loved everything about her job. Discreet Boutiques was her life and she wouldn’t trade the long hours, the pressures that came with being a CEO or her unbelievably high expectations for anything. “I expect to be at the office before noon and I plan to be there for the remainder of the day,” she told her aunt matter-of-factly.

After some shuffling sounds, and incoherent mumbles, Mae said, “That’s ridiculous! Preposterous! Working on a Saturday? What’s the matter with you, chile?” She didn’t give her niece any room to reply. “There is a time and place for everything, Ebony. A time to work and a time to play. A time to be serious and a time to have fun. It won’t kill you to attend the banquet. Your work isn’t going anywhere,” she pointed out, the exasperation in her voice evident. “It will be there when you go into the office on Monday.”

That’s what I’m afraid of, Ebony thought, forcing herself to sit up and face the day. Going back to sleep was out of the question now, because when aunt Mae got started on something, there was just no stopping her. The sharp-witted Southerner had never been to law school or taken the bar exam, but she could argue a point better than O.J’s illustrious Dream Team.

“…that’s why you don’t have a man, chile. Work. Work. Work. Who lives like that?” Mae queried, her tone one of incredulity.

Ebony didn’t answer. She didn’t expect her aunt to understand. Fifty years ago, single women aspired to be wives and mothers, not career women. Of course she thinks I’m a workaholic! I should be tending to a husband and breast-feeding babies, not running my own business. Ebony chose her words carefully. The last thing she wanted to do was affront her aunt. They had an excellent relationship and she appreciated her guidance and wisdom. But not when it came to her career. “You don’t know how much time and energy goes into running a successful business, Auntie.”

“Maybe I don’t,” she conceded, “but I do know that you’re working yourself too hard. You eat, breathe and sleep work. When you’re not at the office you’re driving there. You have a beautiful house you barely spend time at, a fancy sports car you hardly drive and piles of money you don’t spend. What kind of life is that? It’s sickening what you’re doing to yourself, Ebony. Just sickening!” Mae did nothing to conceal the contempt in her voice. She didn’t want her niece to get mad at her but this had to be said. “Working fourteen hour days, six days a week is not healthy for anyone, Ebony.” After pausing to ensure her words sank in, she added, “Even George takes a break from time to time. He goes down to that little ranch of his and rides horses and fishes and—”

“George?” Ebony frowned at the phone. “Who’s George?”

“The president of the United States! He was reelected, remember?” Mae’s voice reached an ear-splitting pitch. “See, you’ve been working yourself so hard you’ve forgotten who your president is!”

Ebony burst into laughter. Mae was a hoot. She had enough fire in her five-foot frame for five women and a tongue on her that would make her church friends blush. Upsetting aunt Mae was never a good idea, but Ebony had to make it clear that she wouldn’t be attending the banquet. “Maybe next time, aunt Mae. I have a lot to accomplish today, and when I get home from work I’m going to prop my feet up on the coffee table and watch a good movie. Dressing up and socializing with a bunch of church-folk after putting in a full day at the office is the last thing I’d want to do.” Smothering a yawn with her hands, she tossed off the sheets and crawled out of bed.

Ebony glanced at the wall clock, amazed at how early it was. On the weekends, she rarely got out of bed before noon. From now on I’m going to turn the ringer off the phone before I go to bed, she thought, stretching her hands leisurely above her head. This was the third consecutive Saturday she had been stirred from her sleep by the insistent ringing of the phone. Aunt Mae was like a mother to her, but unless she was calling to tell her she won the state lottery, she didn’t want to hear from her before noon.

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” A short pause, then, “There’ll be good-looking men there, Ebony. Doctors. Lawyers. Engineers. Professional people like you. Won’t you come, suga? I really want you there.”

Ebony didn’t miss the disappointment in her aunt’s voice. But if she wavered, even for a nanosecond, Mae would pounce on her like a fox on a squirrel. She had to remain strong. “The truth is, Auntie, I’m just not the churchgoing type.”

“‘I’m just not the churchgoing type,’” she mimicked. Ebony could see her aunt shaking her head and rolling her tongue over her lips like she was prone to do whenever she was about to lose her patience. “Hogwash! That’s plain ole’ nonsense, chile. Everyone is the churchgoing type!”

Mae smacked her forehead with her hand. Now I understand. How could I have missed it? It’s staring me right in the face! Setting out to resolve the “situation,” she stood and bustled into the bedroom. She flung open the closet door and combed through her church clothes. Her hands stopped at a polyester green two-piece. Too flashy. She continued on with her search. “I know what this is all about, Ebony. You don’t have anything to wear! No worries, chile. I can lend you one of the new outfits I picked up at Lane Bryant. Got them for fifty percent off and I was able to use my senior discount card, too,” she said, sounding proud.

Mae took out a modest-looking pink dress from the back of her closet and inspected it. Holding the outfit at arm’s length, she spoke as if Ebony were in the room rather than on the phone. “I know this frock is too big in the chest and has a loose fitting waist, but I’ll pin it from the inside and nobody’ll be the wiser.”

Ebony chuckled. She would swim in one of aunt Mae’s size twenty dresses.

Mae went on as if the matter had been settled. “If you don’t want to wear one of my outfits that’s fine, but wear something appropriate to church. Don’t come to the house of the Lord dressed in one of your party getups,” she warned, her voice stern. “My friends from the Lakewood Bingo Hall will be there and I don’t want them laughing at you.”

The phone beeped.

“There goes my other line. Looks like I have to run.” Mae spoke at a rapid pace. “The banquet doesn’t start until six-thirty so that gives you the entire day to laze around in bed if you so please.”

“But—”

“Enjoy what’s left of the day!”

“But I—”

“Don’t be late picking me up!”

“I’m not go—”

“See you at five!”

Before Ebony could object, the phone line went dead.

Where were the “good-looking” men aunt Mae said would be here? Ebony thought, as her eyes scanned the well-dressed crowd. She saw short and pudgy, tall and lanky, seedy-looking and average, but no good-looking men anywhere.

Then she saw him. The light-skinned man with the sexy dimples. He was nothing short of gorgeous. Oblivious of the lovesick expression on her face, she trailed him with her eyes around the room like a lost puppy in search of its owner. His vanilla colored suit, matching silk tie and designer shoes confirmed that he had good taste and a strong sense of style. Ebony loved handsome black men who moved with confidence, and Mr. Man was swimming in it.

Licking her lips aggressively, she shifted in her seat to get a better look at him. Dimples are hot! Nice smile. Perfectly shaped head. Size twelve feet, maybe thirteen. And those eyes!

Ebony was eyeballing him so hard, she feared she might pop an eye vessel. But she didn’t have the power to turn away. It was as if his eyes were reaching across the room and seizing her attention. And he had other impressive physical attributes as well. A cocoa butter complexion that looked as smooth as a baby’s bottom. Well-rounded chin. Thick eyelashes. And a traffic stopping smile that set hearts aflutter.

Over the next thirty minutes, Ebony watched the gorgeous stranger move around the room, socializing with the other guests. His classic good looks garnered him the attention of every single woman in the room, and a few who were taken as well. A constant stream of ladies had been approaching him since his arrival, but he didn’t seem the least bit impressed in what any of them had to offer.

The lusty grin on Ebony’s face slid away when a model-thin woman with feline features cornered him near the men’s washroom. She watched them shake hands, contemplating whether or not to go and rescue him from the woman’s clutches. He looked trapped and the terse expression on his face suggested the conversation was not going well. But before Ebony could stroll over there and send Jezebel on her way, the emcee took to the stage and asked guests to be seated. Smiling in satisfaction, she watched the twosome separate and return to their rightful seats.

Ebony helped herself to a buttered biscuit and took a generous bite. Taking a momentary look around the room, she sized up her competition. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the room, but no one else had her charisma or sexual confidence. That, she was sure of. Most of the women in here looked sexually repressed, she thought, chuckling to herself. And one thing I know for sure is that men adore sexually liberated women. Ebony knew men inside and out. They enjoyed being with females who played by their own rules, lived in the moment and were free to do whatever, whenever, wherever. Ebony was as free as a jaybird. Few hang-ups. Open to try anything at least once. And when it came to sex, she had no inhibitions. None whatsoever.

Ebony set her sights back on the stranger with the killer smile.

“Handsome, isn’t he?”

She tore her eyes away from him long enough to give her best friend a smile. “That’s an understatement. Handsome doesn’t even begin to describe how scrumptious he is.”

Opal laughed. “But he doesn’t meet your height requirement,” she teased.

Ebony licked her lips in an exaggerated fashion. “Every now and then a brother comes along who forces me to make an exception of my rules.” She flicked her head in his direction. “And there he is. He doesn’t clear six feet and he’s more of a caramel shade than dark chocolate, but he’s the best-looking man in the room and there are several cuties in here tonight.”

In the last hour, the room had finally started to fill up with some good-looking men. There was a six-footer with curly hair resting against the back wall. He was positively adorable, but he didn’t look a day over eighteen. Ebony was all for the older-woman, younger man craze, but dating junior would be robbing the cradle. Or rather, the womb. The casually dressed man sitting at the table to her right looked like a low-budget version of Usher, but his mustard-colored dress shirt was speckled with lint and he had a protruding Adam’s apple. An older gentleman, who looked like he slept on silk sheets and had weekly manicures and pedicures, was giving her the eye, but he had stained teeth. With all that money, you’d think he could get his teeth whitened, she thought, turning away from his sleepy gaze. No, the prize for the finest man in the room definitely went to Dimples.

Ebony’s eyes darted around the room. The well-spaced banquet hall was a cluster of tables set with lace place mats, ivory bone china and triangle vases filled with trumpet-shaped daffodils. Diffused lights and classical music provided an intimate and peaceful setting. Guests were in the process of being served, and latecomers moved around the hall, hunting down any available seats.

“Who knew all the hotties were hiding out in church?” Ebony asked, before returning her attention to the object of her affection. Everything about the man was delicious, from the gleam in his eyes to the way his lips curved into that disarming smile of his. As she stared, one word turned over and over in her mind: tas-ty.

“He reminds me of Gavin,” Opal confessed, sorry the moment the words left her mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Ebony waved off the apology. “I was the one who broke things off, remember? I’m fine, Opal. Besides, life’s too short for regrets.”

Her no-strings-attached relationship with Gavin Taylor, a promising investment banker, had been running smoothly until he had ruined things by getting serious on her. While basking in the aftermath of a toe-curling lovemaking session, he had announced that it was time to take their relationship to the “next level.”

“We’re not getting any younger,” he’d said, nuzzling his chin against her shoulder. “Most people our age are already married.” He said he wanted kids. Two, maybe three. With a sedated expression on his face, he had hugged her to his chest and rubbed a hand over her stomach. “Why don’t I sell my place, move in here and we start working on that family?”

Ebony had retreated like a soldier caught in a cross fire. Settling down and having kids was not in her blueprints; operating the most profitable lingerie franchise in North America was. It was her first and only aspiration. Gavin Taylor was a terrific guy—articulate, intelligent, dependable—but Ebony would rather swim in shark-infested waters than get married and have babies.

Three lonely months had elapsed since the demise of their relationship and Ebony was yet to find someone to take his place. Living a sexless life was starting to have adverse effects on her. She was moody. Irritable. Short-tempered. And she found herself thinking about sex twenty-four-seven. During board meetings. On the phone with important clients. Waiting in line at the grocery store. At the bank. And every time a semiattractive man looked her way, she undressed him with her eyes. Sex toys had never appealed to her, but things were getting so bad, she was thinking about buying a battery-operated “friend.” It had been so long since she had been intimate with a man, she had started to wonder if it would ever happen again. But from where she was sitting, things were definitely starting to look up.

“Gavin has nothing on that man. Nothing at all.” Ebony winked. “But I’ll give you all the dirty details in the morning.”

Opal’s mouth dropped. Her earrings tinkled harshly as she swung her head back and forth. “Ebony Denise Garrett,” she began, in a hushed tone of voice. “I know you’re not about to proposition that man. He—” Opal broke off her sentence when she realized the elderly woman beside her had stopped talking and was watching her. Opal put on a warm smile, and when the nosy grandmother returned to her meal, she jammed her elbow hard into Ebony’s ribs.

“Ow! What did you do that for?”

“You can’t take home some brother you met at church! You should be ashamed of yourself for even entertaining the thought,” Opal hissed. “I have half a mind to leave you sitting here by yourself.”

Ebony fought back a laugh. Sometimes Opal was worse than a great-great-grandmother. The tiger print dress hugging her voluptuous figure suggested she was gregarious, reckless and impulsive, but Opal Sheppard was as straight as a ruler. She was responsible and organized and planned every second of every day. There was no room in her life for any funny business or spontaneity. If it wasn’t on her daily agenda, it wasn’t happening.

Lips curled with disgust, Opal tried fruitlessly to hold Ebony’s wandering gaze. Put off by the grin dancing on her friend’s face, she laid down her fork, which had been suspended in midair, and folded her hands in front of her like she was about to drop a bombshell. “I can’t believe the things that come out of your mouth sometimes! It’s like you think with your…your…your private parts instead of using your brain.” The mother in her said, “You need to get it together. It’s time for you to grow up and quit—”

“Dang, girl! I was just playing!” Ebony said, finally giving in to her laughter. She hugged Opal with one hand, and was relieved when the miserable frown on her face fell away. “I just wanted to see what your reaction would be. God, you’re such an easy target.” Ebony resumed eating, but not before she added, “I’m not going home with anyone tonight, so don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

“Don’t joke like that, Ebony. It’s not funny.” Opal finished what was left on her plate, and then signaled the waiter over. Dissatisfied with the tiny portion of food she had been given, she asked for another helping of baked chicken and shrimp fried rice. Opal didn’t need a second helping of food, but she believed in getting her money’s worth, and so far, she hadn’t even eaten forty dollars’ worth of anything. Since the New Year, her waistline had been growing at an alarming rate, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from filling her stomach.

Opal cast her eyes back at Ebony, and was surprised to find her still ogling the man at table number twelve. “Is he that fine?”

A roguish smile curled the corners of Ebony’s mouth. In a dreamy-sounding voice she purred, “Girl, I think he’s making love to me with his eyes.”

Chapter 2

That woman is trouble in three-inch heels, Xavier decided, as the statuesque woman with the smoky eyes and mocha-brown skin approached. Her auburn hair was short, trendy, and bounced restlessly as she walked. The stylish cut showed off her delicate neckline and gave her a bold, edgy look.

She is sin waiting to happen! Xavier watched the woman weave her way through the crowd, like she was on a mission. Everything about her was tempting—the seductive curl of her lips, her sensual walk, the way she moved through space. Her mischievous smile set him on edge, but there was no denying it; the woman had a Lord-have-mercy-body. Her crimson V-neck dress clung to each and every luscious curve and drew attention to her figure. She had a smile that shone brighter than headlights, and the glint in her eyes hauled him in like a fisherman with the catch of the day. Her flawless skin was the most beautiful shade of chocolate, clear and smooth. The woman had the ultimate bad-girl face and when she brushed past him and requested an iced tea from the portly man working the refreshment bar, Xavier concluded that her sexy, throaty voice could seduce even the most God-fearing man.

Tea in hand and an affable smile on her face, Ebony turned to greet the man to her right. “Having a good time?”

Xavier turned at the sound of her voice. His eyes lingered on her full, pouty lips and ultrawhite teeth. Her chandelier earrings shimmered under the soft lights, and jingled every time she so much as batted an eyelash. Gawking was indecorous and made the doer look asinine, but Xavier couldn’t help himself. And when her smile expanded, revealing a perfect mouth, he felt like someone was squeezing his heart with both hands. She had the whitest teeth he had ever seen. Teeth so white it looked like food had never passed her lips. But the sugar in her smile, the honey on her red-hued lips and the dangerous slope of her hips told him otherwise.

Xavier took a sip of his drink before responding to her question. “I’m having a good time, thanks.”

“The food was wonderful, wasn’t it?”

He could listen to her deep vixenish voice all night. Rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, he patted a hand over his stomach. “The women’s fellowship committee really outdid themselves this year. The main course was scrumptious, the desserts heavenly and the overwhelming turnout is a testament to all their hard work.”

He smiled kindly, those dimpled cheeks enhancing his nice-guy appeal. He exuded masculinity and strength and though they stood shoulder to shoulder, Ebony felt elfin standing next to him. It was a welcome change. Most men were intimidated by her size; it was refreshing being with a man who wasn’t dwarfed by her five-eight frame.

Ebony extended her right hand. “Ebony Garrett. And you are?”

“Xavier Reed. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ebony. I’ve never seen you at Jubilee Christian Center. Did one of our members invite you?”

“I came with my aunt. She visits Jubilee from time to time.”

“Have you ever attended one of our services?” Xavier asked, inhaling her sweet perfume. The scent made him hanker for fresh fruit.

“I don’t have much free time during the week, so I like to hit the clubs on the weekends. I use Sundays to catch up on sleep.” Stop babbling, Ebony chided herself. Be engaging and witty and let him know you’re both interested and available.

With a pensive expression on his face, he said, “You don’t know what you’re missing out on, Ms. Garrett. Church is where we feed the soul.” He paused briefly, unsure of whether to share a page from his autobiography. “Back in the day, I thought there was nothing better than running the street with my boys and partying the night away. But after my best friend died, I knew I had to make some serious changes in my life. I gave up that reckless lifestyle years ago and started attending Jubilee. That was the best decision I ever made.”

“Nothing wrong with having a good time,” Ebony countered, troubled to learn about his wild past. “After putting in twelve hours or more a day from Monday to Friday, I need an outlet. I need to unwind. I’m not much of a drinker,” she pointed out. “I go to the club to dance. Dancing is a great way to relieve stress. You should try it sometime.”

“Maybe you should cut back on your hours so you won’t be so stressed.”

Ebony bit her tongue. She wanted to tell him to mind his own damn business, but didn’t. In the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the flamboyantly dressed emcee swaggering toward the stage. He had a program in his right hand and a microphone in the other. She turned back to Xavier, her lips fashioned into a smile. His eyes were the lightest shade of brown she had ever seen and the overall image he projected was one of extreme confidence. Yes, he was just the kind of man she was searching for.

They talked for a few minutes about the church and then a long, painful silence settled in between them.

There was an air of shyness about him Ebony hadn’t picked up on initially. If she waited for him to build up enough courage to ask her out, they could be standing there all night, and time was of the essence. “Have you heard of A Taste of Venice?” Ebony asked, tilting her head to the right. Her stance gave him an unrestricted view of her cleavage.

Xavier kept his eyes on her face. She couldn’t be more obvious, he thought, refusing himself a glance at her chest. “That’s the new upscale restaurant on Hennepin and Ninth, right?” She nodded, and he continued. “I’ve been meaning to check it out, but I haven’t had the time.”

So far so good, Ebony thought, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. She paused, when a trio of long-haired, blue-eyed blondes approached the bar. Each woman was making googly eyes at him. How desperate can you be? she wondered, when the thinnest one in the group tossed some hair over her shoulder and winked. Heifer.

Ebony waited until the women slithered away before she spoke again. “Are you free for dinner this Friday? Say, eight o’clock. We can meet at the restaurant if you’d like.” She opened her clutch purse, pulled out a business card and had started to hand it to him when he politely declined. The smile slid off her face. “No, you’re not free this Friday or no, you don’t want to have dinner with me period?”

“Both.” His eyes smiled, belying his harsh words.

The vacant expression on his face caused self-doubt to take up residence in her mind. Is he for real? she wondered. Ebony pushed for more details. “I don’t understand why you don’t want to go out with me. It’s just dinner.”

Xavier downed the rest of his soda. It was time to bring this conversation to a close. The entertainment portion of the program was set to begin any minute now and he didn’t want to miss anything. His friend Liberty Williams was singing “Amazing Grace” and he just knew she was going to blow the roof off the church. “You seem to be a lovely woman and all, Ms. Garrett, but I can’t go out with you.”

Ebony was stunned by his brusque reply, but her face remained inexpressive. “Why? Are you dating someone? Engaged? Married?” No sense in making the same mistake twice, she thought, checking his left hand. No ring. In fact, aside from his watch, he wore no jewelry at all.

Xavier’s eyes raked the room. This was one of those situations where his bogus wedding band would have come in handy. A few years ago, he had taken to wearing a gold ring on his wedding finger, but it hadn’t been the deterrent he had hoped it would be. Women had descended on him in droves. They slipped business cards into his pocket, scrawled their phone numbers on napkins and told him his wife would never have to know. “No, I’m as single as they come.” Xavier left it at that. He had a feeling that if he said anything else, she might use it against him later.

“Then why won’t you go out with me?” Ebony cringed at the sound of her voice. She sounded desperate, pathetic, needy. Clearing her throat, she took a mouthful of soda and tried again. “What I meant was, what’s the harm in two single, very attractive people going out for dinner?” His eyes twinkled in amusement, which was all the encouragement she needed. Now she knew two things about Xavier Reed: he found her attractive and he thought she was amusing. Both were very good things. “I’m paying, Xavier. It won’t cost you a thing if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s not it.” Xavier chose his words carefully. It wasn’t his style to hurt people’s feelings, but there was no way he was going out with this pushy woman. “I’m an excellent judge of character, Ms. Garrett, and I seriously doubt we’d have anything in common.”

Ebony nailed him with a look. The articulate and well-spoken man had obviously been blessed with good looks, but he was about as warm as an ice-rink. She took a step forward to leave, but the sting of his insult pushed her to ask, “How do you know we have nothing in common when you don’t know anything about me?”

I know you’re aggressive and bad news. Xavier decided to keep his observations to himself. He shrugged one shoulder. “Call it intuition.”

Ebony studied him. Low-cropped hair. Chiseled facial features. Sculptured physique. There was a distinguished almost regal bearing about him. He couldn’t be more than thirty, if that, but he was incredibly serious. Much too serious for a man so young. And handsome. Used to dating sociable, engaging men, not judgmental, ice-cold ones, Ebony quickly concluded that Xavier Reed would bore her to death and she was better off not going anywhere with him.

“Well, it was nice meeting you.” He put his empty glass on the bar, smoothed a hand over his blazer and admonished her to enjoy the rest of her evening. Xavier turned, but was hampered when she coiled a hand around his arm.

Ebony hated rejection. It was an incurable virus that could break someone down. Play with their mind. Taunt them when they least expected it. Xavier Reed might be stern-faced and aloof, but after a few drinks, and some laughs, he’d be putty in her hands. But first, Ebony had to convince him to go out with her. Then, and only then, would she seduce the pants off him. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” she purred, batting her eyelashes. “We don’t have to go to A Taste of Venice—we can go anywhere you want. When it comes to things like that I’m not fussy. I’m easy.”

I bet you are, he said to himself. Xavier slapped a smile on his face, in the hopes of screening the irritation he felt. Six years ago, he would have jumped at her offer. Easily swayed by glamorous women oozing sex appeal, he would have taken her out for an expensive meal, worked it off at one of Minneapolis’ trendy nightclubs and then whisked her back to his place for a night she’d never forget. But Xavier wasn’t the man he used to be. Gone were the one-night stands, meaningless relationships and bad-boy ways. Xavier had known it was time to quit playing the field when his closest friends had started dropping like flies.

First, Dominick had moved in with his girlfriend; then commitment-shy Lemar had gone off and gotten himself engaged; and these days, Juan was so consumed with his new lady love, two weeks had passed since they last spoke. The all-boys club had dismantled quicker than a female R&B group. He had lost his boys to women, and although he was happy for them, it made him hanker for a relationship all his own. He was saving up to buy a BMW, but aside from owning a temperamental, banged-up jalopy, every aspect of his life was in order. He owned a three-bedroom home in one of the city’s developing areas; had a substantial amount of money tucked away in low-risk investments; traveled two, sometimes three times a year; cooked, cleaned and washed better than most women and he had no baby mama drama to complicate his life. Returning to graduate school to earn a master’s degree in psychology was a long-range goal, but for right now, he was content being a high school guidance counselor and part-time economics teacher. All he needed was the right woman to complete the picture. He had played the field long enough and at thirty-two he was ready to start a family of his own. Xavier was in a settling-down frame of mind, and the woman clinging to his arm was not “the one.”

I wonder if I’ll ever find Ms. Right, he thought, as his eyes skimmed the banquet hall. Chatting with Ms. Garrett reminded Xavier of why he was still single. The twenty-first-century woman was too assertive, had more game than a rap star and didn’t have the patience to wait for a man to make the first move. She wanted to be in control. Wanted to run the show. Wanted to be the one to wear the pants in the relationship. What happened to the good old days when a man used to ask a woman out? Where are all the traditional women hiding? he wondered. The room was crawling with women. A handful of them were even beautiful enough to strut the runway. But all the ladies who had approached him tonight were of the Ms. Garrett persuasion—pushy, abrasive and eager to engage in carnal pleasures. Sweet, nurturing and modest was more of what Xavier had in mind for a girlfriend. He didn’t want to be with a human doormat, but on the other hand, he didn’t want to be with a woman who crammed her opinions down his throat and called the shots, either.

His eyes returned to Ms. Garrett. She smelled good, she looked good and she sounded good, but he wasn’t going out with her. No matter how hard she pushed. The woman was far too aggressive for his tastes. She had a backside that could rival J-Lo’s, but experience told him women who looked like supermodels—primed to perfection and smelling like a cosmetics counter—usually had the diva attitude to match. And besides, he wasn’t interested in a one-night stand; he was seeking a meaningful, long-term relationship that would eventually end up at the altar.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Garrett, but I can’t.” He freed his arm from her grasp.

“Are you sure?”

He thought, this woman is as persistent as a recurring dream. “Again, it was nice meeting you.” Xavier walked away, without giving her or her offer another thought.

When Ebony retook her seat a minute later, Opal greeted her warmly. “So, how did it go? When are you guys going out?”

“A quarter to never,” she said.

Opal broke out into a fit of giggles.

Ebony didn’t know what her friend was tittering about. The man had been about as friendly as a bulldog. Draping her napkin over her legs, she reflected on their exchange. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Mr. I’m-Too-Good-To-Go-Out-With-You was an arrogant jerk with an unlikable personality.

Her eyes searched the banquet hall. In his tailored suit and designer shoes, Xavier Reed was easily identifiable in the crowd. He was standing near the stage and, to her shock, laughing it up with a plus-size woman with an outrageous weave. So, he can laugh with her but he can’t even give me a smile? As she scrutinized him from head to toe, her eyes narrowed in distaste.

Xavier Reed wasn’t all that. He wasn’t even six feet and he had shifty eyes.

What woman in her right mind would want to go out with a short, leery-eyed, sourpuss anyway? she thought, stabbing her fork into a coconut drop. Xavier had done her a favor by turning her down. Going out with him for dinner would undoubtedly have been the longest two hours of her life. Comforted by her thoughts, she told Opal, “He’s not all that. He might look good from a distance, but up close he’s just as cute as the next guy. The man is no Taye Diggs.” When Opal rolled her eyes, Ebony laughed. “He’s not the one to help you get your groove back, girl.”

Brushing aside Ebony’s fallacious remarks, Opal said, “Who are you trying to fool? ‘He’s just as cute as the next guy.’ Please. That man is fine. He’d turn heads in the dark. You said so yourself.” After a brief pause, she asked, “Did you at least get his name?”

“Xavier Reed,” Ebony uttered, as if saying his name made her mouth ache.

“Ooh, he even has a sexy name!”

Ebony said nothing. She sampled her piece of carrot cake, and then washed it down with some sparkling apple cider. “Can we please talk about something else?”

“Oh, you’re just bitter because he turned you down. Just goes to show you, girlfriend. You can’t always get what you want.”

“Says who?”

Ebony checked her program. Eight performances left. She plopped her purse on her lap and fished around for her car keys. It didn’t matter if Kirk Franklin & the Family were up next, after this song she was going home. If Ebony had to sit through another hymn or contemporary gospel song, she was going to scream. Holler so loud people would think an evil spirit had possessed her.

When a middle-aged Spanish woman with a beehivelike hairstyle took the microphone a few seconds later and started singing an off-key rendition of Donnie McClurkin’s “We Fall Down,” Ebony bit down hard on her bottom lip. Most of the performers had an abundance of talent, but they had no stage presence whatsoever. The delivery was always the same. Take the mike, say a few words of encouragement, sing, give the Lord a wave offering or two and wrap it up. The first performance was tolerable, but by the sixth it was akin to slow torture.

Should have left with Opal, Ebony thought, folding her arms across her chest. Opal had departed to pick up her daughters from a birthday party, leaving Ebony to suffer through four more songs. Straightening her shoulders, she inched her chair back and swung her legs out from underneath the table. When Ebony caught her aunt Mae, she gave her a half wave and mouthed “goodbye.” One of the church sisters was giving her aunt a ride home, so Ebony was free to go whenever she was ready. She checked her watch again: 10:37. Time to bounce!

Ebony was thankful she had had the foresight to pick a table at the back of the hall. Now that she was ready to leave, she didn’t have to worry about disrupting the program when she walked out. The same time Ebony slipped her purse over her shoulder and stood, the emcee asked Brother Xavier to join him on the stage. I guess I can stay a few more minutes, she decided, lowering herself back onto the chair.

Xavier took the microphone, greeted the audience warmly and thanked everyone for coming. “On May 1 our ‘Changing Lives Through Meals’ program will kick off again. The last three years of the program have been an enormous success, due largely to our dedicated and selfless volunteers. We’re looking for people who can commit to helping out on Wednesday and Friday evenings for the duration of the summer. If you’re interested in getting involved in a worthy cause and want to give back to the community, please see me at the end of the program. I would love to discuss…”

No, thanks, Ebony thought, standing and moving briskly out of the banquet hall. Good night, sourpuss.

Chapter 3

“Where the hell are my thongs? The purchase order I’m clutching has an arrival date of April 28. That was three days ago.” Taking a deep breath, Ebony drew on every ounce of self-control she had to remain calm. But Mr. Rutherford was goading her, trying her patience like only he could. Tucking a loose curl behind her ear, she half listened as the owner of Logan Warehouse droned on about the latest problems with his business. Two of his best men had quit yesterday. He was understaffed. The warehouse security system was on the blink.

“The truck had mechanical problems while en route to your boutique, Ms. Garrett. You have to understand these things happen from time to time in business. But don’t you worry, little lady. I’ll have my best driver out there first thing in the morning with the shipment. Now, how’s that for service?”

Ebony’s eyes narrowed. He was patronizing her. She could almost see the balding man leering on the other end of the line, rubbing a stubby hand over his liver-spotted head. If she had the power to reach through the phone, she’d snatch him up by the collar and shake all two hundred and fifty pounds of him.

“Now, you listen to me, Mr. Rutherford. This is unacceptable and I refuse to tolerate your company’s incompetence any longer.” He tried to interrupt, but she swiftly cut him off. “This is not the first time I’ve had to put up with delays and inconveniences. This type of ineptitude has occurred at least a half-dozen times over the last six months. Tomorrow morning is simply not good enough. I want that shipment today.” Ebony paused, took a deep breath and waited for him to come up with a reasonable solution to the problem.

“Take it easy, little lady. Having a hissy fit isn’t going to get the shipment there today. Like I said, it’ll be there in the morning. That’s the best I can do.”

Ebony gripped the body of the receiver, the veins in her neck throbbing uncontrollably. “Let me put it to you in terms you’ll understand, Mr. Rutherford. If the shipment is not here by the end of the day, I’ll terminate our contract and find another trucking company to do business with.” Ebony calmly replaced the receiver. Truth be told, she couldn’t afford to do business with another trucking company. The larger companies charged astronomical fees, didn’t guarantee shipment arrivals, either, and forced customers to sign long-term contracts. Ebony was bluffing, but Mr. Rutherford didn’t need to know that. If he came through for her today, she would renegotiate their contract in a way that would satisfy them both. And if he didn’t, she’d kill him with her bare hands.

Ebony inspected her two-week-old manicure. She would call and make an appointment at Total Image Salon. Her French manicure was all but ruined. Chipped paint, dry cuticles and a broken nail needed tending to, and the sooner Ebony could get her nails done, the better.

Ebony buzzed her receptionist.

“Yes, Mrs. Garrett?”

“Please prepare a cancellation request form and fax it over to Logan Warehouse immediately.”

“Another late shipment?”

“For the last time.” Ebony clicked off the intercom. She moved over to the window and drew open the blinds. From where she was standing, it looked like colorful ants were shuffling down Eighth Avenue. Setting up the Discreet Boutiques headquarters in the Accenture Tower had been the best decision she and Kendall had ever made. The rent far exceeded what they had planned to spend, but on days like this—when Ebony needed tranquility and a moment’s peace—the location was worth every cent. Her eyes tracked the sun as it dropped behind the clouds and then faded out of sight. Wrapped up in her observations, she didn’t hear the knock on her office door.

“Daydreaming about frolicking on the beaches of Negril again?”

Ebony moaned. This time last year she had been sipping fruity Caribbean cocktails at Beaches Negril Resort, dancing with men of every shade of brown and a few in between and sleeping in hammocks under the shade of overgrown palm trees.

All business in a tweed suit, a few pieces of expensive-looking jewelry and her wavy hair pulled back in a neat bun, Kendall Douglas radiated cool sophistication. The co-owner of Discreet Boutiques sat down on one of the navy-blue padded chairs, crossed her legs and clasped her hands together.

“You’d be daydreaming too if you’d had Caribbean men catering to your every whim.” Ebony returned to her desk. Once she was settled in her leather chair, she asked, “So, how did the meeting go? Did Yolanda heed your advice, or do we have to fire her?”

Kendall smoothed a hand over hair, taking a few minutes to gauge her partner’s mood. “I got through to her, Ebony. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t tell me not to worry, Kendall. Her unprofessional behavior and complete disregard for the company have caused lost revenue and dissatisfaction among our employees and valued customers.” Yolanda Simmons, the store manager for boutique number six, had been showing up late to work, helping herself to unauthorized days off and delegating her duties to other employees for the past month. Yesterday, when Ebony had learned about what was going on, her first inclination had been to fire Yolanda immediately, but Kendall wouldn’t hear of it. Her partner liked the single mother and thought she was an asset to the company. She had promised Ebony she would meet with Yolanda as soon as possible and get to the bottom of things.

“Yolanda knows she has a good thing going with Discreet Boutiques and that she’d be a fool to mess it up. Her next raise increase is set for August 1 and I know for a fact she’s been eyeing Bridget’s position. I told her only serious and committed employees would be considered for the Human Resources post when Bridget goes on maternity leave. I told Yolanda she had two options—either clean up her act or start looking for another job.”

Ebony raised an eyebrow. “You said that?”

Kendall nodded.

“What was her response? Was she open to what you had to say?”

“The poor thing burst into tears.” Glancing down at her blazer, Kendall brushed aside specks of lint. “Cried all over me. She confided that her live-in boyfriend has been messing around, and she suspects he may have gotten another girl pregnant. You know what the crazy thing is?”

Ebony shrugged a shoulder. “No.”

“She doesn’t want to leave him! I could sympathize with her because God knows I dated my fair share of losers before I married Turner, but I never, ever allowed personal problems to impede my work.”

Ebony shook her head sharply. Happily unmarried, she enjoyed a rich life, a life more enjoyable and fulfilling than her married counterparts’. No drama. No stress. And most importantly, no heartache. “All relationships start off smelling like roses, and end up reeking like sour milk. When a diamond ring slips on a woman’s finger, she becomes a bodyguard, a private investigator, a—”

“Huh?” a completely baffled Kendall asked. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve seen it happen a million times before. Confident, self-assured, intelligent women will follow their men around like a Doberman, just to make sure other women don’t get too close. They’ll take a day off work to investigate whether his business conference at a five-star hotel is a company meeting, or a personal one.” Ebony added, “I like my life the way it is. Uncomplicated, stress-free and all the freedom I can stand.”

“You’re going to be thirty this year, Ebony. In two short months to be exact. You’re not a teenager anymore. It’s time you found yourself a man, settled down and started working on having a litter of your own.” Kendall chuckled at her joke. She sobered long enough to say, “You can pretend to be happy, but I know you’re miserable sleeping in that big ole house by yourself. Just admit it!”

“Girl, please,” Ebony scoffed, her mouth fitting into a smirk. “I’m as happy as a dolphin at Sea World!”

After the security alarm was disabled, Ebony shut the door behind her and kicked off her four-inch heels. There was nothing she loved more than returning home after a grueling day of work. She lived on a quiet street with other impressive homes in Linden Hills, a first tier suburb ten miles southwest of downtown Minneapolis. In the winter, the normally short commute was a killer, but Ebony didn’t mind. The privacy and solace that came with living in a respected and valued community outweighed all inconveniences.

Charmed by the elegance of the four-bedroom, three-bathroom home, Ebony had fallen in love with it on sight. It had all the features and amenities she had been searching for: lofty, ten-foot ceilings; colossal picture windows; hardwood maple floors; and a small pool with an adjoining hot tub. Ebony loved the warmth and the light of the sun, and the surplus of oversize windows guaranteed daily doses of sunshine.

Ebony had listened with half an ear, as the rail-thin Realtor lectured about the history of the house, the most recent renovations and the previous owners. After a brief walk-through, she had concluded that this was the house of her dreams. It was four thousand square feet of paradise and she was willing to do anything to call it home.

“A single woman could go mad in a place of this size and magnitude,” the Realtor had teased. Ignoring him, she had strolled through the French doors and into the tree-shaded backyard. It was the size of a tiny forest. The Realtor chatted on, and was so unenthusiastic about her buying the Tudor-style house, Ebony started to think he had other clients lined up for it. Making note of his pessimism and mentally slashing his commission, Ebony ordered him to put her offer in. This was the house she wanted, and no one was going to dampen her enthusiasm. By the close of the month she had finalized the deal and moved in five weeks later.

Dragging herself up the stairs, she stripped off clothes as she went. The master bedroom was the size of the apartment Ebony had lived in when she was a freshman in college. The light, open bedroom was an explosion of bright colors. Fuchsia bedding. A maroon area rug. Flower vases overflowing with every color of roses imaginable. The room was boldly decorated, ultrafeminine and perfectly Ebony. A full bathroom, completely outfitted in white; an enormous walk-in-closet; and a balcony wide enough for lounge chairs and a dainty glass table were her favorite aspects of the opulent master bedroom.

Not wanting her sanctuary to be muddled, Ebony had selected a few choice pieces from an antique furniture store. A mahogany dresser, a steel vanity table, an iron-rimmed chair and a pair of glass nightstands framed her elevated sleigh bed. In the adjoining office, alabaster walls were adorned with African art purchased in Manhattan at the legendary Abuja Art Gallery. Her favorite painting was positioned beside the elliptical mirror, and at the peak of day, sunshine bounced off its golden frame and reflected off the opposite wall. A shapely Nigerian woman in traditional dress, balancing a water bucket on her head, and her offspring on her hip, served as a reminder to Ebony that there was nothing she couldn’t do. As she reflected on the potency and resiliency of her evocative female ancestors, self-respect stirred within her spirit. She was proud of who she was. Proud of her heritage. Proud of the legacy of her people. And proud of where she had come from.

Ebony turned away from the picture. Clad in nothing but a black silk robe and slippers, she returned to the main floor to get a drink. En route to the kitchen, she passed the family room, which housed a fireplace which she had yet to use—comfy chairs and couches and a fifty-inch plasma screen TV. Ebony entered the kitchen and after opening the window above the sink, poured herself a drink. Ceramic tile counters, stainless steel appliances and a center table that seated eight made it a chef’s paradise. Ebony didn’t cook, so the less time she spent in the kitchen, the better off she was.

Back in her bedroom, sipping peach-flavored iced tea, Ebony selected CD number three on her stereo. Jill Scott’s hypnotic voice filled the room, offering a sweet escape. Closing her eyes, she sang along. She bobbed her head fluently, feelings of tranquility washing over her. But Ebony’s peace didn’t last long. The telephone interrupted her thoughts and yanked her back into the here and now.

“Hi, suga. Did you just get home?” Not bothering to wait for a response, Mae continued. “I called your office and that precious little receptionist of yours told me you were gone.”

“I had a nail appointment.”

“Are you okay? You don’t sound like yourself, honey.”

“I’m tired,” Ebony replied. “Wednesdays are typically hectic days and today was no exception. I was about to step into the tub for a soak when you called. Everything all right?”

Mae coughed. “Just fighting off this flu bug that’s been going around.”

“Do you need me to bring you anything?” Ebony loved aunt Mae with all her heart and she would do anything to put a smile on her face. When her husband died from heart failure, Mae had packed up her load and moved to Minneapolis to be closer to her brother and his family. Out of respect for her husband, she had never remarried or had children of her own. But the seventy-four-year-old woman would tell anyone who listened that her feisty niece was the daughter she had always wanted. Ebony had quickly grown attached to her father’s sister. And when her parents had died in a horrific car accident at the hands of a drunk driver, it had been aunt Mae who nursed her through the ordeal and welcomed her into her home.

“I’m all right, suga. I don’t need you to bring me anything, but I do need a small favor.” She paused, then added, “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind, Auntie. What is it?”

“I hate to have to bother you,” she began, her voice growing faint, “but I promised to cook tonight for the Changing Lives Through Meals program at Jubilee.”

“What are you asking me to do, aunt Mae? You know I can’t cook.”

“No, no, chile. Don’t be silly.” The thought of Ebony in the kitchen, wearing an apron and all, made her laugh. Her shoulders juddered uncontrollably. Once her chuckles subsided, she continued. “I prepared the food this afternoon, suga. Everything is ready to go. All I need for you to do is pick it up and run it over to the church for me.”

Ebony didn’t want to go back outside. It was hot enough out there to cause a serious case of heatstroke. And tonight was the first time in months she had managed to leave the office at a decent hour. There were only two things on her agenda for the evening: peace and quiet. The season finale of CSI Miami was on at eight o’clock and Ebony had been looking forward to it all week. No, there was no room on her schedule to drive halfway across the city to deliver food.

As if she could hear the deliberations going on in her niece’s mind, Mae injected her voice with cheer. “It’s for a good cause, Ebony, and it won’t take more than an hour if you leave the house right now. All you have to do is give the food to Brother Xavier, and then you can be on your merry little way.”

Ebony checked the time. Her aunt’s town house was a ten-minute drive, the church twenty. If she took a quick shower instead of a lengthy bath, she could drop the food off at the church and make it back home before the theme music for CSI started. Ebony didn’t want to disappoint her aunt, and on the upside, stopping by the church would give her another crack at Xavier. She had met some stuffy, uptight men before, but no one had ever turned her down twice. Who knows, she thought, protecting her hair with a plastic shower cap, maybe this is one of those blessings in disguise aunt Mae is always talking about. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Chapter 4

Xavier masked his disappointment with a spurious smile. Where is everybody? he wondered hopelessly. Three elderly women and their stern-faced husbands were seated on orange chairs, getting acquainted. Xavier had been counting on twenty volunteers for the program; he’d be lucky if he ended up with ten. He checked his watch and was surprised to see that it was minutes to seven.

At the close of the banquet, scores of people, both young and old, had surrounded him to hear more about the Changing Lives Through Meals program. They praised what the church was doing, and seemed eager to get involved. Where are those people now? Xavier didn’t know why he was so upset; this happened every year. People gave lip service to helping out and giving back to the community, but when it came time for them to step up, they fell back.

Creak.

Xavier’s head snapped up. Creak. Creak. Creak. Someone was trying to open the door. Another volunteer! Xavier jumped to his feet, flew down the hall at the speed of light and took the stairs two at a time. He reached the foyer in seconds. But when he saw who was at the door, he came to an abrupt halt. What is she doing here? He was desperate for volunteers, but not that desperate. His brief conversation at the banquet with the overtly sexual woman was still fresh in his mind. Xavier didn’t allow his thoughts to linger on the past; there was no way of knowing where they would take him and he was in the house of the Lord. Scratching the side of his face, he tried to remember her name. He would feel bad if he had to ask her her name, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember. Xavier concentrated for a few seconds. She was named after a color. That much he knew for sure.

Blue? Naw, that’s stupid. Nobody names their daughter Blue!

Raven? No.

Violet? Definitely not.

Xavier moved forward. The poor woman was wrestling with two gargantuan black pots, several plastic bags bearing the Ralph’s Gorcery logo were swinging from her wrists, and here he was standing here watching her like a mannequin.

“Looks like you could use some help,” he noted, snapping out of his musings and relieving her of the pots.

Massaging the tenderness out of her wrists, she smiled her thanks.

After a brief pause, Xavier greeted her warmly. “It’s nice seeing you again.”

Ebony’s nose wrinkled. “It’s nice seeing me again?” she repeated, the doubtful look on her face carried into her tone. “Funny, I got the distinct impression you didn’t like me.”

Xavier opened his mouth to dispute her claim but the words didn’t come. She was right; he didn’t like her. The collar on his striped dress shirt and the accompanying tie were suddenly stifling. Her eyes rolled over his face and he wisely looked away.

Oblivious to his discomfort, Ebony apologized for being late. “I’ve been driving around this neighbourhood for the last ten minutes trying to find this church. I couldn’t remember what side of the block it was on.”

“No worries, you’re right on time. We haven’t even started yet.” Then, “Is this everything?”

Ebony nodded.

The aroma seeping out of the pots was tormenting Xavier’s empty stomach. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply. “Something sure smells good.” He motioned with his head to the pots. “What do you have in here?”

Ebony pointed to the pot in his right hand. “Sweet and sour meatballs. The other one has fried chicken. The vegetable casserole, coconut rice and cream and mushroom soup are in these grocery bags.” She trailed him downstairs, appreciating the view of his tight butt and muscular legs. Does the man ever have a body on him!

Xavier ducked into the kitchen, leaving Ebony in the banquet hall with the others. She blinked rapidly, as her eyes took in their surroundings. Was this the same room she had been in four days ago? The dim lights and oversize paintings had concealed flaky paint, crumbling borders and a stained and tattered carpet. The once elegantly dressed tables were now bare, revealing food stains, pen markings and chipped wood.

A fair-skinned woman, wearing an auburn wig, which looked like it was clinging to her head for dear life, waved her over. “Hello there,” she greeted, with a full smile on her plump, collagen-enhanced lips. “I’m Sister Bertha and the man over there in the beige fedora is my husband. Say hello to the pretty lady, Willy.”

When the man did as he was told, Ebony said, “It’s nice meeting you both.”

“Wow! Your hair is just too cute.” Sister Bertha touched her nape with clawlike fingernails. “All the big celebrities are wearing their hair like you. I just love the cut. Do you think I should do my hair like that?”

Sister Bertha fluffed her hair and Ebony just about fell out laughing. The sixty-something woman evidently thought she had it going on in her chartreuse A-line dress, multicolored sandals and heavy makeup. The ensemble was hideous, but Ebony couldn’t help admiring the old lady’s spunk. She didn’t know about the others, but she was going to get along just fine with Sister Bertha. “I think it would look great,” she lied, averting her gaze. God, forgive me for lying in church.

Sister Bertha introduced her to the others. Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne were the oldest couple, and the introductions seemed to interrupt a heated argument; Maria and Jules Hernandez were a nice-looking Mexican couple, who confessed that they had celebrated their thirtieth wedding anniversary yesterday. After offering her congratulations, Ebony excused herself and set out to find the unbelievably handsome program coordinator. She didn’t have to look very far. Xavier stood at the back of the kitchen, with a plate of food in his hand and a fork in his mouth.

“What are you doing?”

The sound of Ebony’s voice startled Xavier.

She pointed a finger at the stove, which was topped with plastic bags, casserole dishes and various sizes of pots and containers. Fixing a hand on her lap, she said, “The food you’re eating is supposed to be for the homeless.”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing. Put down that plate and step away from the stove before I call Sister Bertha in here.” The tone of her voice was harsh, but Xavier could tell by the way her mouth was twitching that she was trying hard not to laugh.

Xavier did what he was told, but not before he ate the last three meatballs on his plate. Shamefaced, he threw his hands up in surrender. “Guilty as charged. I was in here tasting the food. But I was starving and the food smelled so good!” He grabbed a napkin from the counter and cleaned his mouth. “You sure can cook! Those are the best sweet and sour meatballs I’ve ever had.” He walked toward her, a smile playing on his lips. “It’s true what they say, you know. The fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

That’s not the only way, Ebony thought, returning his smile.

He pointed at the stainless steel pot he had carried into the kitchen. “You’re going to have to teach me how to make those.”

What’s the harm in letting him think I cooked the food? It might help him see me in a better light. Deciding she wasn’t breaking any of the Ten Commandments by not correcting him, she said, “I’m glad the food is to your liking, Xavier, but keep in mind it’s for the less fortunate. I didn’t slave over a hot stove for three hours so you can eat it all up before the guests arrive.” Ebony ignored the guilt pricking her heart. She waved a hand toward the stove. “It’s hard work cooking all that food.” Now you’re overdoing it, said a voice. Remember, less is always more.

Xavier cocked his head to the right. He crossed his arms over his chest as he locked eyes with the woman sharing his personal space. Oval-shaped face. Accentuated cheekbones. Small, even teeth flanked by an inviting mouth. A black calf-length body-hugging dress masked her full chest, curvaceous hips and thick thighs.

Black…Black…Black…Ebony! Her name is Ebony! Xavier couldn’t hold back his smile. Remembering her name saved him the embarrassment of having to ask. His eyes returned to her face. She was without a doubt his sexiest volunteer to date. He would have to be careful. Very careful. Caution had to be the order of the day whenever she was around. Ebony was a clear and present danger to his emotional and physical well-being, and if he wasn’t vigilant he just might yield to her seductive charms. Strikingly beautiful women had the power to turn even the most moral and upright man out, and Xavier didn’t want to be the newest member inducted into the Sucker Hall of Fame.

Ebony was just another woman. Albeit, a provocative and amorous one, but a woman nonetheless. He had mixed feelings about her, but decided to reserve judgment until he got to know her better. Xavier plucked at his shirt. Is it just me or is it hot in here? he thought, feeling like the walls of the kitchen were shrinking. Is it her come-hither stare that’s got me hot under the collar or did someone turn up the thermostat?

He watched Ebony walk over to the fridge and pour herself a glass of juice. When she raised the glass to her lips, he wondered what it would be like to kiss her. Sucking her bottom lip. Licking the—Xavier gave his head a good shake. Clearing his throat, he dragged his eyes away from her face. You’re in church for God’s sake! Stop lusting after that woman! She’s bad news. But soon, his eyes were back on her. Ebony gave new credence to what made a woman sexy. She definitely had a penchant for fine clothes, but it wasn’t her outfit or makeup or diamond rings that made her desirable. It was the way she carried herself. Her lithe movements and sensual grace. She walked like the ground was her runway. Shoulders squared. Chin up. Arms hung loosely at her side. Elegance was integrated in every move. And every step she took was flawless. It was these formidable characteristics that left Xavier wondering why she was here. Volunteers didn’t look or act or sound like her.

“Don’t take offense to what I’m about to say, but you’re the last person I would’ve expected to volunteer,” he said, voicing his thoughts.

“Oh, really? Why’s that?”

“Well, with your twelve-hour days and all, I didn’t think someone in such high demand would have the time.”

Now I have to stay. Ebony stepped toward him, took off her cream-colored trench coat, and flung it over a chair. Xavier had pegged her all wrong, and there was nothing she enjoyed more than proving people wrong. How hard could it be serving the homeless? Ebony was a little bummed about missing the season finale of her favorite show but this was more important. Xavier-the-know-it-all Reed would see just how charitable and generous she could be. She would have to catch the season finale of CSI Miami some other time, because tonight there was nothing more important than teaching Xavier Reed a lesson.

The doors of Jubilee Christian Center opened an hour later, to a crowd of over a hundred people. Far more than anticipated. Xavier and the male volunteers wasted no time scrounging up more tables and the women had them dressed in no time. After Xavier welcomed everyone and said a short prayer, he saw to it that guests were organized in two orderly lines. Sister Bertha and Maria dished the food, Ebony staffed the drink table and the rest of the volunteers ensured everyone was comfortable and had enough to eat. Aside from the food Ebony had brought, there was macaroni and cheese, fried shrimp, meat loaf, potato salad, baked beans, dinner rolls and an assortment of soups. There was enough food in the kitchen to feed a large army.

When all the guests were taken care of, the volunteers fixed themselves a plate and sat down wherever there was a vacant seat.

“Spend time getting to know the people at your table,” Xavier had encouraged, when he was giving last minute instructions. His eyes had circled the room and then lingered on Ebony’s face. “The only difference between the people eating here tonight and us is that they fell on hard times and didn’t have the necessary support system to survive. Inside, we are all the same. We all want to be loved, supported, cared for and cared about. Make the people who walk—” Xavier had swept a hand toward the hallway “—in here tonight feel special. Talk to them. Ask them questions. Listen earnestly to what they have to say. For a lot of them, it’s been months or even years since they had a quality meal and a meaningful conversation.”

Xavier’s words of encouragement played in Ebony’s mind now. He was asking the impossible. She couldn’t even look at her tablemates without shuddering, let alone engaging them in conversation. Mariana, the pencil-thin woman to her left, smelled like she had bathed in vodka. And every time she opened her mouth to put food in, some spilled out. Chester, who sat on her far right, was no better. He had a set of utensils, but pretended they weren’t there. He scooped up vegetables with his callused hands. Cut meat loaf with his fingers. Slurped his cream of mushroom soup. His shaggy facial hair was soiled with dirt and now remnants of his meal. When he guzzled down his drink, and then belched loud enough to shake the entire church, Ebony pushed away her plate. I’ll eat when I get home.

She caught Xavier watching her, and managed a weak smile.

“Are you going to eat the rest of your food?”

Ebony redirected her eyes to the beige-skinned man with the fatherly voice. “No, you go ahead.” When she handed him her plate, he grinned broadly, revealing badly stained teeth. “Old Man Griffin’s the name,” he told her. “Thanks.”

He tossed a handful of shrimp into his mouth. “Suppa’ sure is good, miss. Lady.”

Realizing he was referring to her, she said, “Glad you’re enjoying it.” Sister Bertha had seen to it that all the guests washed their hands and faces with soap, but to remove the grime out from Old Man Griffin’s fingertips called for something a little stronger than regular soap. It looked like the man needed some extra-strength bleach.

“We gonna get dessert?”

“I think I saw some chocolate swirl cheesecake around the back.”

“Chocolate swirl cheesecake! My old lady used to make that…was good…real good. Haven’t had dat in a long while.”

“Where is she?”

He shoveled macaroni into his mouth. “Don’t know for sure.”

“What happened?” Ebony asked in a quiet voice. She was about to withdraw her question, when the older man dropped his fork, propped his elbows up on the table and started to talk.

Ebony, and the other people at the table, listened quietly as Old Man Griffin shared from his past. He recounted how his life had taken a turn for the worse with clear detail and emotion. It was the winter of 2001, three months after September 11th. People were still scared. The economy was crumbling. Jobs were hard to come by. But the construction industry was flourishing. He loathed the cold weather, but he needed a steady paycheck. It was his third day on the job, the coldest day of the year, and he was battling the flu. A gust of bitter wind had rocked his scaffold, and in the blink of an eye, he slid off and landed hard on his back. Neck and facial injuries and a broken back had ended his construction career. He scratched his head. “Da foreman said I wasn’t en…entittl…”

“Entitled,” Ebony corrected.

“Thank you, miss. Lady. Da foreman said I wasn’t entitled to any cump…cumpens—”

“Compensation?”

He smiled his thanks. “Yes, dat’s it. He said I wasn’t entitled to any compensation because temporary workers aren’t covered for disability insurance or health benefits.” He fell silent for a few seconds. “Those damn welfare checks weren’t enough to feed my pregnant wife and two small kids. It was hell. I couldn’t get another job until my back healed and I couldn’t send my old lady out to find work, either. When we couldn’t pay da rent da second month, our stupid landlord kicked us out.”

Old Man Griffin twiddled with the napkin holder. Unshed tears pooled his black-brown eyes. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, pushed the pain back to its rightful place and said, “We didn’t have anywhere to go. My wife’s cousin took pity on us and let us stay with her and her family for a month, and then we had to go.”

“And you don’t know where your family is now?” Ebony asked.

“My old lady took da children to her people down south…I think they’re in one of da Carolinas, I’m not sure. I haven’t seen or heard from dem in a year. Her family never thought I was good enough for her anyways.” He hung his head, but the anguish in his voice was unmistakable when he said, “I miss dem kids, especially the baby. She was just a few weeks old when my wife left. She’s three now and don’t even know her own daddy.”

“At least your ma didn’t toss you out on the street so her pimp could move in.”

Ebony swung her head to the right. Her gaze landed on the slight adolescent-looking girl with the chalk-white lips sitting next to Amelia. The girl reminded her of Halle Barry in New Jack City. The stringy blond hair. Cheap makeup. Too-short skirt and stretchy blouse. Ebony didn’t know what drug she was abusing, but it was obvious she was a slave to something.

“Back in the day, I was the most popular girl in school. All the brothers wanted to get with me. Jocks. Pretty boys. Geeks.” She snorted. “Today, those boys wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole.”

Silence fell over the table. In the silence, Ebony searched for the right thing to say. “There are places you can go and get help. Agencies. Shelters. Community Centers. They’ll get you off the street, help you stay clean and give you a fresh start.”

“There’s no help for me. Ma used to say I’d never amount to anything. Told me I’d end up turning tricks like her. Said it was in my blood.” With a flick of her head, she said, “Guess she was right.”

Ebony extended a hand. “I’m Ebony. What’s your name?”

“Why do you care?” The woman’s eyes hardened, and her shoulders arched like she was gearing for a fight. She took in Ebony’s perfect hair, flawless complexion and polished nails. “You must feel pretty good about yourself, huh? Serving poor black folk. I bet you think you’re better than us. All dressed up in designer clothes and shit.”

It took a lot for Ebony to get embarrassed. But when a hush fell over the room and people at surrounding tables gawked at her, she felt her face flush. She didn’t dare look over at Xavier; she could feel the heat of his angry stare right where she was. Drinking from her glass didn’t loosen her airway. Keep your cool, she told herself. Don’t argue with her. If you ignore her, she’ll get bored and move on to something else.

No such luck.

“Is this your good deed for the year, Ms. Socialite? Feeding homeless bums? Giving advice? Pretending to care? Trying to make the world a better place, huh?”

For the first time in Ebony’s life, she was speechless. Running a shaky hand through her hair, she wished that she were back at home, in bed, figuring out the latest mystery on CSI.

“Don’t you hear me talking to you?”

Ebony’s eyes spread. Is she talking to me?

“Yeah, you heard me, Miss I-think-I’m-Better-Than-Everybody-Else. You’re too good to answer me now, huh? People like you make me sick. You walk up in here like you know what’s going on out there on the streets, but you have no idea. I’ve been taking care of myself for years—y-e-a-r-s—and I don’t need no damn agency making my life worse.” Her eyes tapered. “I don’t need your advice, either, ya hear? I can take care of my damn self!” She leaped out of her seat and the plastic chair sailed back on the floor and landed with a clunk. Leveling more insults at Ebony, she snatched up her frayed windbreaker and then stormed out of the hall.

Chapter 5

“My dogs ache,” Sister Bertha announced, hobbling into the kitchen some three hours later. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but my shift is over. Come on, Willy, let’s go home. Mama needs to soak her feet.”

The other two couples followed suit, leaving Xavier and Ebony alone to finish up. The next forty-five minutes flew by quickly, as they worked to get the church basement back in shape.

Ebony couldn’t remember the last time she had worked this hard. She had swept and mopped the kitchen floor while Xavier stacked the tables, collected garbage and vacuumed. Once the dishwasher was loaded, and the cycle set, Ebony was going to bid Xavier good-night and head home. Anything that had been overlooked would be his responsibility. She was beat. So tired she could hardly keep her eyes open.

“Where’s the dishwasher?” she asked, checking underneath the sink and along the counter. “Is it in the storage room or something?”

Xavier tapped his chest. “You’re looking at it!” The look of disbelief on Ebony’s face brought a grin to his mouth. “The church doesn’t have the extra money to buy one,” he explained. “So for now—” he held up his hands “—these will have to do.”

Ebony faced the sink. It was overflowing with crusted plates and utensils and the counter was piled as well. What she really wanted to do was go home, but she didn’t feel right leaving Xavier alone when there was still work to be done. The clock on the microwave said it was five minutes to ten. The sooner they got started, the sooner she could go home. Ebony picked up one of the sponges on the counter and flung it his way. “You wash, and I’ll rinse.”

They worked side by side for the next twenty minutes. Conversation was minimal; the only sound in the kitchen was of clinking dishes and gushing water. Xavier thought of his plans for the weekend while he washed; Ebony thought about work while she rinsed. She would be spending much of the morning behind her desk, proofreading reports on her company’s five-year plan. She and Kendall had a follow-up meeting with the senior loan officer at First National Trust Bank in eight weeks and they couldn’t afford to be unprepared.

Six Discreet Boutiques stores were scattered throughout Minneapolis, some in high-end malls, others in single standing buildings. The idea of opening her own boutique had been conceived after interning at Victoria’s Secret. Ebony had always loved soft things, and in her opinion, nothing made a woman feel prettier or sexier than lace. After she’d shared her aspirations with Kendall, who had an eye for design, they had come up with the idea to host weekly “Silk Parties” in their dorm room. It was new and exciting and before long, all the girls on campus were trying to wrangle an invitation. In the fashion of Avon and Mary Kay, Ebony and Kendall had organized the event to give women of all shapes, colors and sizes the opportunity to sample undergarments, place orders, offer feedback on previously purchased lingerie and make suggestions. The “Silk Parties” had been an instant hit, and after peddling their merchandise on campus for two years, they’d had enough profits to rent a small store.

The present day success of Discreet Boutiques wasn’t enough for Ebony. Opening additional stores, expanding the company to neighbouring states and taking it worldwide would be the culmination of all her dreams. These days, lingerie and sensual products were a billion-dollar industry. Ebony was thankful they hadn’t thrown in the towel those first few years when business had been rough. Poor quality lingerie, meager sales and slothful and indecorous staff had threatened to do them in when they opened their first boutique, almost ten years ago, but when their marketing director, Sabrina Navarro, had come on board, there had been a dramatic turnaround. The advancement of women in society, and the influx of moms working outside the home, had given “the weaker sex” both confidence and independence. Modern day women knew what they wanted in their careers, their relationships and most importantly—the bedroom.

Ebony was so absorbed in her musings she didn’t notice Xavier watching her. Like a well-oiled machine, she took the dish he passed her, rinsed it and placed it on the rack to dry. As she turned to receive the next dish, her hands skimmed his hands and sent a ripple of desire through her body. Recovering quickly from the jolt, she turned to face him. Ebony pointed at the dishes in the sink. “You’re supposed to be washing, not watching me.”

Xavier gave her a grin. “Looks like someone’s head is in the clouds. He must be very special.” Xavier didn’t wait for her to deny or confirm. The cheeky expression on her face was answer enough. “So, you have a boyfriend?”

Ebony smiled like she had a secret she was unwilling to share.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he shoved a plate into her hands. Disapproval was in his eyes and in the tone of his voice when he said, “If you have a boyfriend, then why were you all over me at the banquet?”

Ebony rinsed off the dish and dropped it on the dish rack. The other plates shook. “Let’s set the record straight. I was not all over you last Saturday. I merely introduced myself and asked if you’d be interested in having dinner, that’s it.” She was quick to add, “And if you must know, I’m single. The last thing a woman like me wants is some man up under her twenty-four-seven. I’m happily dating and that suits me just fine.”

Xavier didn’t look convinced. “Really?”

She nodded. “My girlfriends think I’m clinically depressed because I’m not sprinting to the altar, but I’m perfectly sane.” Ebony found herself laughing when Xavier made a funny face at her. “It’s true! I’m just not one of those women in a rush to settle down. I’ll be the big three-0 in July but I just don’t feel the need to get married. Not one bit,” she stressed.

“Your birthday’s in July?”

“Uh-huh.”

“When?”

“The twenty-ninth.”

Xavier stared at her. “You’re kidding!”

“Do you want me to show you two pieces of ID?”

He shook his head.

“I was born at 1:22 a.m. on July 29 at the Arthur Hayes Medical Center.” Ebony’s forehead crinkled. Xavier was staring at her like she’d just confessed she was thirteen rather than thirty. “What’s with the wide eyes and slack jaw? Why is it so hard for you to believe I was born on July 29?”

“Because I was born on July 29!”

Her stomach flopped. “Really?”

Xavier nodded. “I came into the world three years before you, though.” After a minute, a smile flickered across his face. “Crazy, huh?”

“And you said we had nothing in common,” she teased. “I guess it’s true what they say after all, you can’t judge a book by its cover.” Then, with her most innocent smile and in a honey-sweet voice, she said, “I’m not as bad as you think, Xavier.”

Coughing to hide his embarrassment, he busied himself with washing the last remaining dishes. His mind returned to last Saturday. He hadn’t exactly been warm when she came over and introduced herself. In fact, he had been downright rude. He had nothing against her personally, just women like her. She was right of course. You can’t judge a book by its cover. But you can tell what it’s about by the packaging, a small voice said in response. Xavier knew little about Ebony, but he knew her type. She was outrageous and unpredictable—everything he didn’t want in a woman. That was reason enough to stay away. Far away.

Xavier looked around the kitchen. It was spotless. The floors had been mopped. Dishes were neatly stacked. Leftover food had been wrapped and stored in the freezer.

He swiped his keys off the counter and turned to Ebony. When she smiled at him, he realized he wasn’t ready for their time together to end. The night was still young and he had nothing to do at home except laundry.

“Do you want to go somewhere for coffee?” He pointed to the clock on the microwave. “It’s still early.”

Is he asking me out? Ebony sure hoped so. She had every intention of saying yes, but decided to make him sweat it out. “I don’t know, Xavier. What would we talk about? We have nothing in common, remember?”

To her astonishment, he guffawed loudly. “Does that mean you’re turning down my invitation?” Xavier didn’t know why, but he wanted to know more about her. Lots more. Ebony was unlike anyone he had ever met. She intrigued him. There was an openness about her and she was a woman of tremendous charm. I’m not interested in her on a romantic level, he told himself, we’re just having a cup of coffee. Xavier had no intention of falling under her spell. They were going to share a cup of coffee, and then he was going home—alone. “I feel indebted to you for all your help. I’d still be elbow-deep in soapsuds if you hadn’t stayed behind. The least I can do is buy you coffee.”

Ebony thought for a moment. Xavier’s invitation was strictly platonic, but he didn’t have to know she had other things in mind. She was attracted to him at the deepest level, and the more he resisted her, the more she wanted him. Her face glowed, radiant with anticipation. She was going to be polite and engaging and flirtatious and her “date” wouldn’t know what hit him. Seducing Xavier Reed was going to be fun. “I’m ready when you are,” she said, tossing her jacket over her arm and collecting her purse.

A smile warmed Ebony’s lips. By the end of the night, Xavier would be on his hands and knees begging to take her out again. She loved challenges, and nothing revved her engine like a healthy dose of competition. Snagging Xavier Reed would be like taking candy from a baby. And Ebony was in the mood for something sweet.

Xavier did another quick sweep of the kitchen. Confident that everything was in place, he flipped off the lights.

When Xavier fixed a hand to her waist and guided her through the kitchen, she had to remind herself to breathe. Ebony had met hundreds of gorgeous men, everyone from professional athletes to models to actors, but there was something special about the man walking beside her. Xavier Reed was in a class all his own. As far as her eyes could see, he was perfect. Sharp eyes. Long, thin fingers. Thick lips perfect for sucking and kissing. And the spicy, refreshing cologne embracing his skin suggested he had an adventurous side. Just the type of man she was looking for.

I just wish he wasn’t so fine, she thought, as they climbed the stairs. He could turn me out with just one smile!

While Xavier secured the locks on the doors, Ebony hurried across the church parking lot and climbed into her SUV. Thoughts of their impending date consumed her mind. She would have to keep her loose tongue in check. If she said or did the wrong thing, she might not get another chance.

Xavier jogged over. “Follow me,” he told her. “I know the perfect place.” When he turned and walked toward a battered gray car, a lusty smile claimed her lips. Ebony shook her head slowly, awe clear in her eyes. That man is too fine for his own good!

Dakota’s Bar and Grill was not what Ebony had in mind when Xavier asked her out. She was thinking of a fun, happening spot like The Hampton Club, or Sydney’s Café, not a mediocre restaurant with second-rate food and poor service. Trailing him into the dining area, she was careful not to touch anything. The customers were a mix of young starry-eyed couples and middle-aged singles who were looking for more than a tasty meal on a Friday night. Ebony took in her unsightly surroundings. Her eyes narrowed in disgust at the hideous neon plastic tablecloths and paint-splashed walls.

“Have you ever been here?” Xavier asked, sliding into one of the booths.

“No. Never.” Thank God went unsaid.

“Then you’re in for a real treat tonight.”

Ebony would rather stand than sit down in the flaky vinyl booth, but when Xavier motioned for her to take a seat, she did. It was as cold as a hospital examination table. Inspecting the tablecloth for a second time, she noted that it had bread crumbs and what looked like tomato sauce stains.

“Hungry?” Xavier asked, from behind a laminated menu.

“Starving.” Ebony didn’t even bother opening her menu. She already knew what she was having. You could never go wrong with soup and salad. But when the frizzy haired waitress with the pierced eyebrow bounced over and described the specials of the day, chicken noodle soup and Caesar salad quickly lost their appeal.

“The snapper is the best thing on the menu, Ebony. Go on. Try it. You’ll love it.”

She gave the waitress the nod. “And I’ll have a glass of red wine.”

“And you, sir?”

Xavier closed his menu. “I’ll have the Chocolate Supreme Milkshake and a slice of apple pie.”

Before Ebony could ask for the table to be wiped, the waitress bent down and gave it a thorough cleaning. Some of the worry lines on Ebony’s forehead fell away. When she saw wet wipes lying beside the condiments, she tore open a package and wiped down her hands. Maybe this place isn’t a dive after all.

The waitress departed, returned a few seconds later with their beverages and then left to check on a trio of black women now seated in her section.

A bowl of peanuts sat on the middle of the table next to a vase of fake flowers. Ebony scooped up a handful and put some into her mouth. When she finished what was in her hand, she took some more. “These are good. I could eat the whole bowl!”

“How can you be hungry after all that food we ate at the church? Where do you put it all?” he joked good-naturedly.

“I didn’t eat anything at church,” she confessed, double-checking to ensure her napkin was clean. Ebony covered her lap, and then dusted the salt off her hands. When she lifted her head and found Xavier watching her, she asked him what was wrong. “What’s with the frown?”

“Why didn’t you eat at church?”

“Old Man Griffin was still hungry after he finished his plate, so I gave him mine.”

Xavier raised a brow. It was the second time tonight Ebony had surprised him. First she had stayed behind to help him clean, and now this. He had watched her on and off during the night and whenever he glanced her way she looked like she wanted to bolt from her seat. Chester and Mariana were sloppy eaters, and he thought their poor table manners had robbed her of her appetite. But that hadn’t been it at all. Xavier was glad his assumptions were wrong. Thinking about dinner reminded him of something he wanted to say. He waited patiently for the waitress to serve Ebony her meal, and then for her to start eating, before he spoke. “I wanted to talk to you about Lydia’s—”

“Who?”

“The young girl who stormed out of the church.”

“I didn’t even know her name.” Ebony knew what was coming next. Xavier was going to reprimand her for chasing the girl off. “I don’t even know what I did wrong. One minute I’m listening to Old Man Griffin talk about his accident at work and the next thing I know she’s yelling at me!”

Xavier reached out and touched her hand.

His warmth spread up her hand and to her heart. It was a dizzying sensation. Ebony stared down at his hands. His fingers were long and thin, his nails neatly trimmed. But it was the size of his hands that made the blood in her body rush to her most intimate parts. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from blurting out what she was thinking.

“I don’t know what she said to you, but don’t take it personal. Her mother has a heavy drug habit and she’s been arrested for prostitution too many times to count. She kicked Lydia out of the apartment shortly after her seventeenth birthday and she’s been hustling ever since. I’ve been trying to get her into a shelter, but she refuses to go.”

When Xavier had been young and idealistic, he had thought he could change the world. He was going to make a difference. Touch lives. Bring change. Under his care, druggies would kick their addictions, dealers would see the errors of their ways and prostitutes would turn away from their corners and head to the church. But he soon realized there was little he could do if the person didn’t want to change. And the majority of the homeless people who came through the church doors night after night didn’t really want his help. These days Xavier concentrated on providing a place where they could have a hot meal. “Lydia’s tough-girl-I-don’t-need-anybody persona is a defense mechanism. It’s her way of coping with all the crap that’s going on around her. You represent everything she’s not but would love to be. That’s why she lashed out at you. Don’t take what she said to heart. They were the words of an angry girl who feels like she’s fighting against the world.”

In the ensuing silence, Ebony gave more thought to what Xavier said. His words were comforting and made a lot of sense, but she couldn’t help feeling guilty. Maybe she had done something to provoke Lydia. Or maybe he was right. Maybe Lydia was a troubled teen trying to find her way. Xavier had given her something to think about.

Ebony sipped her drink. “You’re very insightful, Mr. Reed.”

He winked at her. “I get that all the time.”

They laughed. Ebony looked out the window and marveled at the number of stars in the sky. It was a clear night, flanked by a light breeze. Somewhere between stargazing and finishing her meal, her mind wandered. She would have to go into the office early tomorrow. Piles of paperwork were stacked high on her desk and she had an afternoon meeting with a bank representative. Ebony had realized at a young age that education was key for enrichment, personal and professional growth and most importantly, independence. Starting Discreet Boutiques had been her passport to financial security and its success was a complement to her hard work and dedication. Success came at a price, and Ebony refused to let anything—not even sleep deprivation—stand in her way.

“Who are you daydreaming about now?” Xavier asked, intruding on her private thoughts. He took a bite of his pie.

“Not who, what. I was thinking about work.”

“Do you always have work on the brain?”

“Most of the time.”

“What do you do for a living?” His right hand flew up before the question was off his lips. “Don’t answer that. Let me guess.” Cupping his chin and soothing his hand over his jaw, he narrowed his eyes on her face. Admiring her creamy-brown complexion and well-shaped lips wasn’t going to give him any clues, but he gawked anyway.

Ebony’s heart skipped a beat. And then another one. She tasted her drink, and the rich liquid cooled her body’s fire. It wasn’t Xavier’s steady gaze that made her palms sweat; it was desire. It surged through her body like a hurricane through the state of Florida in the month of June.

“You’re a career-minded woman, with great self-confidence,” Xavier began, “so I’d guess that you were a stockbroker, a state prosecutor or maybe even a CEO of a Fortune 500 company.”

Ebony nodded appreciatively. “Not bad, Xavier. I’m not CEO of a billion-dollar company—yet, but I am co-owner of a popular lingerie boutique.”

“I knew it!”

“How’d you know?”

“Power’s oozing from your pores.”

“Am I that easy to read?”

Xavier snapped his fingers. “Like the cover of a book.”

Ebony liked the way his smile danced across his face. I wonder how the rest of his body moves. “Have you been involved in the program for a long time?” she asked, changing the subject before her lax tongue got her into trouble.

“This is my fourth year as the program coordinator, but I’ve been going to Jubilee for years. The members have become part of my extended family. Pastor Henderson and his wife, Necee, are my second parents and their teenage sons are the brothers I never had. I don’t work too far from the church, so when I need a quiet place to work, I come by and use one of the upstairs offices.”

“Where do you work? Oh no, let me guess,” she said, imitating him to a tee. Letting her eyes rove over his thick, juicy lips, she wondered if it was possible for him to look anything but delicious. I bet he’d even look good in a pair of neon pants, she thought, holding his gaze. “You’re a natural born leader, so I’d guess you work in Human Services. You’re a firefighter, a medic or maybe even a cop.” A picture of Xavier in a blue polyester uniform and handcuffs dangling from his hips flashed in her mind. Then a devilish grin rippled across her face. “Am I right?”

“Not bad. But you’re wrong.” He chuckled heartily at the exaggerated look of shock on her face. Xavier finished his milkshake. “I’m the guidance counselor and home economics teacher at Christian Academy High. But—” he paused for effect “—when I was a little I used to play cops and robbers.”

Xavier’s heart warmed at the sound of Ebony’s rich, throaty laugh. It was playful, sexy and flirtatious all in one. And he wanted to hear more of it.

For the next forty-five minutes, conversation flowed smoothly between the pair. Flirtatious smiles, shrieks of laughter and amusing tales punctuated the meal. Ebony was shocked at how much they had in common. They shared more than just a birth date. Sushi was their favorite food. Baseball their sport of choice. They both played the piano and were the biggest John Coltrane fans of all time. And they had each seen the movie Love Jones about fifty times.

The waitress bounced back over to the table. “How’s your meal, ma’am?”

“Terrific.”

When the waitress took the plates and asked if they needed anything else, Xavier draped his arms over the back of the booth. “Could you bring us a couple of dessert menus? I think my date is in the mood for something sweet.”

Am I ever, Ebony thought, cleaning her lips with a napkin.

“Had you always dreamed about owning your own business?” he asked, returning to the topic they had been discussing before they were interrupted. “Is this what you imagined yourself doing when you were a kid?”

“Nope. When I was seven years old, I wanted to be a firefighter.” The words were barely out of her mouth when she felt a sharp stab of pain in her stomach. Ebony’s eyes watered. Gripping the side of the table, she took a long, deep breath. It didn’t help. She felt like the room was spinning.

Xavier examined her face. “Are you okay? You don’t look too good.”

“Be right back,” was all Ebony could say. Cupping her mouth with one hand, and cradling her stomach with the other, she hurried toward the washrooms.

Once inside the ladies’ room, Ebony threw herself over the sink and emptied her stomach. She thought the worst was behind her, but when she tried to stand up, she felt her stomach twist into tight knots. Holding her side, she slumped against the wall and dropped to her knees. Closing her eyes, she prayed that the pain would end.

“Oh my God!” she heard someone yell. She felt a hand on her shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

Ebony’s eyes flittered open at the sound of the soft and caring voice. The scent of onions permeated the tiny jail-cell-size bathroom. She felt the heat of the woman’s breath on her face, but she didn’t have the strength to move away. “I’m sick,” she said.

“Do you want me to call your husband?” The woman read the question in her eyes. “My sisters and I are sitting in the booth behind you guys. Now, let’s get you cleaned up before I go and get him. If he comes in here and sees you slobbering all over yourself, he’ll probably pass out.”

Xavier! Ebony didn’t want him to see her like this, but she couldn’t spend the rest of the night on the bathroom floor of Dakota’s Bar and Grill, either. She took the toilet paper the brown-skinned woman offered her, cleaned her mouth and dragged herself up off the floor. When Ebony saw her reflection in the mirror, her eyes spread wide in shock. Mascara coursed down her cheeks, the front of her dress was stained and to top it all off, she smelled like spoiled fish.

Chapter 6

Paradise Moore adjusted her denim Lane Bryant dress. She checked her bra, stuck out her chest and drew a deep breath. Sauntering through the dining area, she switched her thick hips to the music playing. She tried on a myriad of smiles as she approached the corner booth, and settled on one that showed every single tooth.

The man with the deep-brown skin and hazel eyes was even better looking up close. He had a straight nose, a pointed jaw and eyes that looked like they could see right through her. When she pulled up in front of his table, his cologne wrapped itself around her and all two hundred pounds of her tingled. It took a half minute for Paradise to remember why she was there. She cleared her throat and once she had his undivided attention, said, “I’m sorry to bother you, but your wife needs your help.”

Xavier chewed the pie in his mouth. “Pardon me?”

“She’s sick.”

“Who?”

“What do you mean, who? Your wife!”

“What wife?”

Paradise wrinkled her nose. Was he for real? His wife was in the bathroom with a sore stomach, a high fever and numbness in her hands and legs and here he was trying to run game. Sure, he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but that didn’t mean anything. He was probably one of those husbands who “forgot” to put it on before he left the house. The man was too handsome for words and his dimples made her want to plop down on his lap and nuzzle up under his chin, but only a fool would mess around with a married man. Karma was no joke and she didn’t want to provoke the vicious hand of fate.

Paradise pointed to the other side of the booth. “There was a woman sitting here with you a few minutes ago. About five-eight, kinda bony, exotic features, big butt.”

“We’re not married. She’s a…” What was she? Ebony was certainly friendly enough and he liked talking to her, but he didn’t consider her a friend. But for lack of a better word, he said, “She’s a friend.”

Paradise grinned like she had just won first prize on a TV game show. The man was fair game. He was on the market! She sat down, made herself comfortable and extended a hand. When he squeezed it, she said, “I’m Paradise Moore. What’s your name?”

“I don’t mean to be rude, Ms. Moore, but I believe you came here to tell me about my date. Is she all right? Where is she?”

“In the bathroom throwing up. I’m no doctor or anything, but I am a registered nurse at Hennepin County Medical Center and experience tells me that your friend has more than just an upset stomach. After having three children of my own, I can easily decipher the early signs of pregnancy. Throwing up at any given time of the day and spending hours on end in the bathroom are signs number one and two.”

Xavier sat in stunned silence. Ebony was pregnant? Hadn’t he just watched her drink a glass of wine? “No, she couldn’t be pregnant.”

“Oh, yes, she is,” Paradise told him, matter-of-factly.

Why would Ebony harm her unborn child by drinking alcohol? Xavier had seen firsthand the effects of fetal alcohol syndrome and other drug and alcohol related learning disabilities. It infuriated him that mothers could be so selfish when it came to the physical and emotional needs of their unborn child.

Xavier rubbed a hand over his forehead, in an attempt to clear his mind. During dinner, Ebony had impressed him greatly. She had a quick smile, a vibrant personality governed with charm and grace, and an abundance of energy. It was exciting to be around a woman who spoke her mind and expressed herself so freely. When their discussion had turned to the present state of politics and government, Ebony had argued her opinion like she was speaking on behalf of the president himself. There hadn’t been a dull moment all night.

To his surprise, there was nothing arrogant or egotistical about her. Xavier knew you couldn’t really know someone after a few hours, but he had a good idea about who she was. That’s why news of her pregnancy took him for a loop. Ebony bordered on being a workaholic and it sounded like she had her personal and professional life all mapped out. Why would she complicate her life by having a child? It wasn’t Xavier’s place to interfere in people’s private matters, but he couldn’t sit by and do nothing while she endangered the health of her unborn child. Drinking alcohol while pregnant made about as much sense as smoking a cigarette in church.

“So, where are you going after here?” Paradise asked.

Xavier tested out a smile. “Thanks for your help.” He collected his jacket and Ebony’s things and slid out of the booth.

A minute later, Xavier stuck his head inside the door of the ladies’ room. He found Ebony perched on a wooden stool, sipping a glass of what he surmised was ginger ale. The desire to take her in his arms and kiss the tracks of her tears was overpowering. Xavier didn’t know if it was the knowledge of her pregnancy, or the vulnerability in her eyes, but he wanted to hold her. Comfort her. Soothe away the pain lines etched across her face. Tell her she and the baby were going to be just fine. But he didn’t. He didn’t know her well enough to offer such intimacy.

When Ebony saw Xavier in the doorway, she straightened her clothes and cleaned the corners of her mouth. Embarrassed, she couldn’t even bring herself to look him in the eye. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Getting sick all over yourself and then hiding out in the ladies’ room was not the way to make a good impression on a man like Xavier. Or any man for that matter. Ebony had rinsed her mouth out with water for a good five minutes, but her breath still smelled like old socks.

Xavier took in her sad eyes and crumpled clothes. Ebony Garrett, a woman of luxurious tastes who prided herself on her impeccable appearance, was a mess. Strands of hair were pasted on her forehead, she had bloodshot eyes and the natural glow of her skin had faded. His sister, Jacqueline, was nearing the end of her first trimester, and complained nonstop about the sudden bouts of dizziness, nausea and vomiting she experienced on almost a daily basis. Maybe there was some truth to what that Paradise woman had said. “What happened?”

After a few quiet seconds, Ebony found the strength to speak. “I just want you to know that I don’t make it a habit of crying in front of strangers.” Her attempt to diffuse the awkwardness between them brought a smile of understanding to his lips and temporarily put her at ease. “I think I have food poisoning. That, or I suddenly became allergic to snapper. Can you drive me home? I don’t think I’m well enough to drive.”

“Of course. Do you think you can walk out of here?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

When Ebony tried to stand, Xavier came over, put a comforting hand around her waist and then guided her out of the washroom. Ignoring the shameless whispers and curious stares of the other patrons, they made their way to the front of the restaurant. People could be so nosy, he thought, noticing Paradise and her band of equally chubby friends eyeing them. Doesn’t anybody mind their own business anymore?

Xavier stopped at the register to settle their bill, but the white-haired manager took one look at Ebony and said, “The meal’s on the house.”

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