The Sweetest Thing

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  “Close the door behind you,” he said nonchalantly as he reached for the lamp on the nightstand and shut off the lights.

  Grabbing for her purse Rachel hurried to the bedroom door, snatching it open. He called her name as the door hit hard against the wall.

  “What?” she snapped.

  “Make sure Harper gets my message.”

  “And what if I don’t?”

  “You don’t want to make me mad, Rachel. Make me mad and this might be the last time I scratch that itch you keep coming to me with,” he said as he burst out laughing. His maniacal laughter resounded around the room. Infuriated, Rachel stormed out of his space slamming the front door of his home as she made her exit.

  Quentin and Harper were in the midst of a heated debate behind the counter when Rachel came through the front door of the bakery. Miss Alice was sitting at a table enjoying a cup of warm tea and a slice of toasted lemon pound cake topped with mixed berries. As she made her way to the older woman’s side, Rachel looked from him to her, back and forth, as if she were watching a tennis match.

  “Hey, Miss Alice,” she intoned softly.

  Miss Alice waved a wrinkled hand. “How you doin’, baby?”

  “I’m fine. What’s going on with them two?” she asked, gesturing in Quentin and Harper’s direction.

  Miss Alice leaned forward in her seat. She glanced to the table next to them, then over to the party dining in the seats behind Rachel. The gesture was almost conspiratorial and Rachel couldn’t keep herself from leaning in closer as though the other woman intended to whisper a dark secret against her ear.

  “Just a little sexual frustration,” Miss Alice said and then she sat back, taking another bite of her cake.

  Rachel stared at the woman for a brief moment. Tossing another look toward the couple still deep in conversation she rolled her eyes and pretended to gag. “I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit,” she muttered.

  Miss Alice laughed. She stared at Rachel hard, something about the young woman seeming different. “What’s going on with you?” she asked. “There’s something different about you. You don’t look like yourself!”

  Rachel avoided the other woman’s searching stare. She dragged a finger around the collar of her shirt, pulling at the floral-print scarf she wore.

  “Child, what happened to your neck?” Miss Alice questioned. The woman’s tone shifted from teasing to concerned as she reached forward, using both hands to pull the collar of Rachel’s top aside. She gasped at the pattern of dark bruises that decorated the young woman’s skin.

  Rachel fanned her hands away. “It’s nothing, Miss Alice. Leave me alone, please. Why are you always messing with me?”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Quentin questioned as he suddenly appeared at the table and took a seat beside Miss Alice. He looked from one woman to the other as Harper eased herself into the empty chair at Rachel’s side.

  Neither he nor Harper missed the cutting look Miss Alice gave Rachel as the younger woman changed the subject.

  “Hey, you two. How’s it going?” Rachel asked, avoiding Miss Alice’s stare.

  Harper nodded. “Everything’s good.”

  “Well, it would be if Harper wasn’t trying to tell me how to run my business,” Quentin chimed.

  Harper smiled. “I guess if you were running your business the way you should be we wouldn’t have a problem, would we?”

  “What are you two talking about?” Rachel asked.

  “Wedding cakes,” they both chimed at the same time.

  Miss Alice laughed. “You two ain’t got no problems if that’s all you can find to fuss about.”

  Quentin and Harper both laughed. Rachel didn’t find them amusing. “I’m not here to stay,” she said, her expression frozen in annoyance. “I just stopped by to see if Harper wanted to visit the corporate offices of Home Grown Foods. Dwayne extended an invitation. He thought that if you were able to see the plant and talk to the executives who help run the company you’d feel better about agreeing to the sale.”

  Miss Alice suddenly sat forward again, an eyebrow lifted. “Dwayne Porter?”

  Rachel pursed her lips as she shot the older woman a heated look. She took a deep breath. “Yes, ma’am,” she answered. “Dwayne Porter.”

  “When did that snake crawl back into town?” she questioned, her gaze still locked on Rachel’s face.

  When she didn’t answer Miss Alice grunted. “Well,” she mused, “I guess that answers quite a few questions for me, doesn’t it, Rachel?”

  The two women locked gazes, Miss Alice’s narrowed stare voicing her concerns and her displeasure. Rachel continued to ignore her, turning to look at Harper.

  “The entire tour will probably take two, maybe three hours. If you agree then he would like to schedule it for sometime next week.”

  Harper stared across the table. “Only if Quentin agrees to join me.”

  He tilted his head, the glee in his eyes dimming ever so slightly.

  “Quentin?” Rachel’s eyes were lifted in his direction for an answer.

  Miss Alice broke the awkward silence. “Sounds like a good thing for you to do. Harper needs to make a decision and she wants you to help her do that.”

  “But Miss Alice,” Quentin started, “I don’t think . . .”

  Miss Alice gently patted his arm, stalling his words. “Good lookin’ out!” she said, echoing words Pop had often used. “Good lookin’ out!”

  Rachel gave them both a snide smile. “I’ll tell Dwayne to schedule the tour,” she said as she stood back up and headed toward the door.

  “Tell him, we’ll call him when we’re ready,” Quentin interjected. “I’m planning to take some time off so we’ll schedule it when we get back.”

  Rachel tossed him a look and nodded.

  Miss Alice called after her. “Love ain’t supposed to hurt, Rachel!” she said.

  Rachel turned and gave the matriarch a hard stare before she responded. “Love doesn’t have anything to do with it, Miss Alice.” And then she turned, moving quickly out the front door.

  Miss Alice shook her head from side to side.

  “What was that all about?” Quentin asked, concern washing over his face. “Is Rachel okay?”

  Miss Alice forced a smile on her face as she tapped his hand. “She’s just dealing with a little sexual frustration,” she said matter-of-factly. “Just a little sexual frustration.”

  Both Harper and Quentin looked at her and then at each other, making sure they’d heard the woman correctly. Then both burst out laughing as Miss Alice went back to eating her cake.

  “It’s frustrating!” Harper whined into her computer screen.

  Jasmine stared into her own webcam, her head shaking. “I really don’t want to hear about your personal problems,” the woman chimed.

  “Some friend you are!”

  “I really don’t see what your problem is. Just get you some and be done with it. You two know that’s what you want to do anyway.”

  “It’s more than that, Jasmine. I really care about Quentin. I don’t want to mess this up.”

  “Define ‘care.’”

  “He’s incredible and he makes me feel special and . . .”

  “And the brother is hot!” Jasmine interrupted. “Toss your panties at him, lay across the oven or the stove or wherever it is he spends all his attention and do him already!”

  Harper laughed. “I thought you told me to wait six months.”

  “I told you to wait at least six months before you made any life-altering decisions. This is sex. I’m not telling you to marry the man. I’m telling you to screw his brains out until he can’t take anymore! Get it out of your system.”

  Harper gasped. “Did you just say what I think you said?”

  “I did and it was necessary to get my point across. In a few months you can decide if he’s worth marrying.”

  “He’s definitely worth marrying, Jazz! And he wants to marry me!”

  “Oh,
no! Do not tell me you two have already gone there.”

  “It was casual conversation.”

  “Girl, there is nothing casual about talking marriage with a man. Now I know Mama Pearl taught you better than that.”

  “Speaking of, how is she really doing? Every time I talk to her she tells me she’s doing fine.”

  “Mean as ever. And she’s really missing you so she’s making my life miserable. Now I know why you always had a hard time holding on to a guy and getting you some. Your grandmother has blocked the last two guys I’ve tried to get with.”

  “That sounds like my grandmother! She’s going to make sure you do right whether you want to or not.”

  “So come home! Give her something else to focus on. It might help you with that little problem you’re having, too. You won’t have to figure out what to do. Mama Pearl will figure it out for you.”

  Harper blew a deep sigh. “I’m actually thinking about coming home for a week or two and then I can come back to Memphis.”

  “Uh, run that by me again. You’re planning on going back to Memphis?”

  “I . . . well . . . it’s . . .” Harper stammered, searching for her words.

  Jasmine shook her head and waved a hand in the air. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. If I don’t know I don’t have to lie to Mama Pearl.”

  “Like you have never lied to Mama Pearl before!”

  Jasmine laughed. “I know, right! But she gets under your skin and then you feel bad. So come home and stay so your grandmother can make you feel bad instead of me!”

  For another hour the two women continued to catch up on each other, and on business, a ton of laughter flooding the conversation. When Harper finally disconnected the call, her homesickness was thick and full, hanging heavy in the air around her. Despite the teasing between her and Jasmine, she did have some major decisions to make and waiting six months wasn’t going to make a difference one way or the other. She just didn’t have a clue what she wanted to do.

  14

  He hadn’t had a decent break in months and Quentin was thankful for the three-day weekend. The staff was on tap to keep the bakery running and he had decided to take Harper on a short road trip to Nashville for the weekend. He’d been invited to perform with a group of old college friends and he was looking forward to the opportunity.

  It had been a week-long conversation with Harper about whether she should or shouldn’t go and once she had given in, resigned to throw caution to the wind, and have herself a great time, he had them packed and in the car before she could change her mind. They’d gone with Troy’s blessings, Jasmine’s best wishes, and even Miss Alice had prayed for their safekeeping.

  For three and one-half hours the couple traveled the 210 miles along Interstate 40 to the Hermitage Hotel. And despite the easy conversations that flowed between them, Quentin knew that Harper was nervous, her anxiety at an all-time high. She was nervous and so was he, both of them knowing that they were on the verge of crossing a point of no return in their growing relationship. Any other time or place and the adventure would have been the easiest thing for them to embark on but that moment still found them questioning if they were doing the right thing.

  The old venerable property defined luxury and the exquisite hotel lobby was the epitome of Southern charm. Harper’s excitement bubbled as Quentin checked them into the presidential suite. The oversize room was generously appointed and from their room’s window they had a great view of the Capitol Building. Once the door was closed and locked her enthusiasm ran over and she climbed onto the king-size bed and began to hop up and down. Quentin found her enthusiasm infectious.

  “You need to stop before you break that bed,” he laughed as he snapped a picture of her on his smart phone.

  “Oh, can you imagine if we go back and tell Troy and them that we broke the bed? That would be too funny!” She laughed.

  “Don’t put me in that,” Quentin said, laughing with her. “If you break that bed there will be no we in that.”

  Harper dropped down onto her knees. “The story is much more interesting when it’s the both of us doing it,” she said.

  Quentin crawled onto the bed with her, wrapping his arms around her torso. “I think we need to do it then,” he said as he kissed her mouth, capturing her lips beneath his own.

  Harper purred as she kissed him back. He tasted of mint and honey and just as she was thinking of tossing her clothes aside, Quentin’s cell phone rang. It chimed and stopped, then minutes later chimed a second and then a third time.

  Harper broke the connection, pulling her mouth from his. “Someone wants to speak with you really bad,” she said, her breathing heavy.

  Quentin shook his head as he reached for the device and answered it. “Hello?”

  Sliding off the bed Harper moved back to peer out the window, waiting while Quentin finished his conversation. When he finally disconnected the call disappointment adorned his face.

  “What’s wrong?” she questioned.

  “That was my friend Paul. He and his band are downstairs getting set up. I need to go down and meet them,” he said, referring to the group that he’d been invited to perform with that night.

  Harper pursed her lips in a pretend pout. She slowly pulled at the zipper on the jacket she was wearing, exposing just a hint of the red-laced brassiere she wore. “Oh well,” she said. “Leave a girl hanging.”

  An erection lengthened in Quentin’s pants, his eyes widening. “You don’t play fair,” he said, amusement pulling at the lines of his mouth.

  Harper laughed as she zipped her top closed. “Make it up to me then,” she intoned.

  He grinned. “Anything you want, baby,” he said as Harper slowly eased her way back into his arms.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and locked her fingers behind his back as she lifted her chin to stare up at him. “Tonight, when we get back to the room, you have to play your saxophone naked for me,” she said, her voice a loud whisper.

  Quentin grinned as he rolled his eyes skyward. His head waved from side to side and he leaned in to kiss her lips. “Naked?”

  She nodded. “Yep!”

  “You know you’re the only one I’d do that for, right?” He tapped her on her behind as she headed in the direction of the door. Quentin turned, searching out his saxophone case. Retrieving the instrument he followed behind her, suddenly anxious for the afternoon to be over.

  Quentin couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so hard. Harper had been the belle of the ball with his fraternity brothers and it had been a great time. He took a deep breath as he lifted his saxophone from the case, adjusting the neck cork. He moved over to the large chair he’d placed in the center of the room and took a seat. Pulling the instrument to his lips he bit down gently against the mouthpiece.

  In the bathroom Harper turned off the shower and wrapped the plush white towel around her body as she swiped at the moisture against her skin. The music coming from the other room was soft at first, slowly building in volume. The song was “Lights Down Low” and she was impressed that she was beginning to recognize the songs Quentin loved so much. As he played she couldn’t help but smile, excited by the prospect of what she might find on the other side of the door. She stopped doing what she was doing and stood in the center of the marbled space to listen. With her eyes closed, the sweet lull was intoxicating, teasing all of her senses.

  As Quentin transitioned to his next song, Harper pulled her fingers through the short length of her hair. Her face was flushed from the steam in the room and she applied a light coat of moisturizer to her skin. Her only makeup was a hint of eyeliner to brighten her eyes and the barest coat of lip gloss across her lips. She searched her toiletry bag for her perfume and when she found the signature Thierry Mugler bottle she dabbed the exotic scent on all of her pulse points: her wrists, the inside of her elbows, the nape of her neck, and the creases behind her knees. She started to recap the bottle, hesitated, smiled, then spritzed her inner t
highs.

  Miss Alice had gifted the leopard-print lace-and-satin baby-doll gown to her and as she slipped it over her head, Harper wasn’t anticipating being in her clothes for very long. The thought suddenly excited her and she held her breath to stall the intense wave of emotion that swept through her body. Taking one last look at her reflection in the mirror, Harper opened the bathroom door and moved back into the room.

  The lights were dimmed, casting a haunting glow through the space. The music was easy, like a warm breeze, and Harper couldn’t help but smile as it washed over her. Quentin sat in the center of the room, in all his glory. As naked as the day he’d been born, the saxophone hanging low between his legs, obscuring his private parts. His large feet were firmly planted on the floor and his broad shoulders were hunched ever so slightly as he leaned forward in his seat. The contrast between the instrument’s shining gold surface and his pale complexion was visually enticing. Harper stood staring and Quentin stared back, his eyes focused on the sheer beauty of her smile. He changed songs, “Ain’t No Sunshine” resounding with a sexy ambiance through the space.

  She moved slowly toward him, her body gliding across the carpeted floor until she came to a stop directly in front of him. She slowly gyrated her hips in sync to the music, drawing her hands across her body. Her fingers danced past her stomach, brushed over one breast and then the other, stroked her neck, pulled through her hair, and laced together above her head. The slow, sensual motion of her erotic dance teased every ounce of his fortitude. But he kept playing, making that horn sing as she reveled in the moment. Then unable to resist a second longer, Quentin blew his last note, allowing his beloved instrument to slide to the floor at his side.

  Harper smiled as he reached for her. Quentin welcomed the exquisite woman into his arms, anxious to feel her against him. He wrapped one hand around her waist and twisted the other into the hair at the back of her head as he drew her against him. She smelled like heaven and the scent of her nourished and quenched the hunger rising from deep in his soul. He pressed his face into her neck, inhaling the sweet aroma against her skin as he held her close.