Even though she was currently single, by choice, thank you very much, Anika felt no petty jealousy over her friend’s success in love. She only harbored a wish that she too connected with her life mate, whom she envisioned as strong enough to hold her ample and voluptuous size-twelve body in his steel, masculine arms; wise enough to understand her unique wit and challenge her sharp mind; passionate enough to make her toes tingle at just the very thought of his loving; handsome enough to make any woman envious; and loyal enough not to wander like a hungry dog.
A real man, ready for some real love.
Anika firmly believed that her destiny awaited her. There was a knight out there with her name on him. An ebony knight.
Anika loved black men: their strength and resilience; their beautiful bronzed bodies; their noble and handsome features; their wise eyes and full supple lips; the deep resonance of their baritone voices. Simply sinful! Deliciously delightful!
Her Mr. Right would definitely be a smooth ebony brother with a heart of gold. And she wouldn’t have to look for him either. He would happen upon her life when she least expected.
Brrnngg.
“The Haven. Anika Foxx speaking,” she said into the phone, after picking it up after the first ring.
“Good morning, gorgeous. Miss me?”
Anika rolled her wide, expressive eyes upward as she recognized his voice immediately. “How can I miss someone I don’t even really know?” she asked him, obviously distracted as she began to scan the stack of paperwork piled on her desk.
Deshawn Jamison laughed into the phone, undeterred by her seemingly constant aloofness toward him. “I would love the chance to get to know you better. Name the time and the place. I’m there.”
“How about never and nowhere?” Anika answered flippantly, biting back a smile as she signed her name to several files with flare. She thoroughly enjoyed their sparring, as well as the intoxicating sound of his voice. That was a fact she would admit to no one. “Listen, lover boy. We go through this little piece of drama all the time. Why don’t you harass your ex if you’re so desperate? What’s her name again? Pumpkin, Pee-wee, Peanut, Poodle—”
“Poochie,” he interrupted easily, humor in his vibrant voice.
Anika dropped her perfectly coiffed head in her hand in exasperation, fighting hard to ignore his innate charm. As much as she hated it, a very erotic image of him naked and sweaty in her very office teased her senses. “I’m in Jersey, you’re down South. Why are you running up a phone bill for nothing?”
“Just felt like hearing your voice,” he drawled like a tiger, and about as dangerous to her sensibilities as one.
Anika pulled air between her teeth, refusing to fall for his charm. Chloe had already schooled her on his dealings with women. Now, as sexy and boyishly charming as he was, especially with those eyes, Anika was not looking for a playboy to tame. “Where’s Chloe?” she asked suddenly, meaning to change the subject
“Right here staring in my mouth—oof!”
Anika laughed, guessing right that her feisty best friend had hit him. “That’s my girl,” she cheered, as she read a memo on her desk.
“Anika?” Chloe said after a moment of silence.
“Hey, girl,” she sighed with pleasure. “Why’d you give Mr. Lover Lover my number?”
“I didn’t. I dialed the number and gave him the phone. Quickest fifty bucks I ever made. Hold on.” She paused. “Good, he’s gone.”
“So what’s going on, girl?”
“You know I don’t like to bother you at work. You got a minute to talk?”
Anika tensed, her eyes instantly troubled. “Spill,” she said almost reluctantly.
“You’re going to be a godmother,” Chloe said in a rushed voice, unable to conceal her excitement and happiness.
Anika squealed loudly and jumped up from her chair, causing it to fly back and hit the wall with a loud bang. She pressed the phone closer to her ear. “Lawd, quit,” she said, her cinnamon eyes bright with blessedness. “You’re gonna be a mommy?”
“Yes,” Chloe said, feeling so warm inside at the thought of having a baby with Devon’s coal eyes and dimpled cheeks. “I also called because I have a photo shoot for the hair care line in New York next week. Why don’t you come and stay with me at the apartment like the old days?”
Anika took her seat as she raked her manicured fingers through her crop of stylishly short hair. In the past she would pack up work clothes and drive into the city to stay with Chloe at her penthouse whenever she was in town. It used to be their way of staying close with Chloe traveling so much during her glamorous modeling career.
But that was before Chloe had married. “Is Devon coming too?”
“Yeah. Their business has some downtime between projects with the cold weather and all.”
“Oh no. Anika Foxx is no one’s third wheel,” she immediately protested.
Sitting around watching Chloe and Devon maul each other like horny teenagers wasn’t her idea of fun. The couple of times she’d visited them in South Carolina they could hardly keep their hands off each other.
“I’m the one who got married and I haven’t flipped on you. So don’t you dare flip on me.” Chloe’s voice was hurt. “I haven’t seen you in a year, Anika. Now... you coming or not?”
“What if I say no?” Anika teased, her smile full and her mocha eyes filled with mirth as she tapped her pen on the desk.
“What if I give Deshawn all your numbers: cell phone, house, work, your mama’s house, and your e- mail?” Chloe said, without a moment’s hesitation.
Anika did a serious eye roll. “I’ll be there.”
“Good,” she said, the satisfaction she felt evident. “We’ve handled the personal, now let’s talk business. How’s The Haven doing?”
Anika moved on to fill Chloe in on the many triumphs and few failures of the nonprofit organization since they last spoke. Chloe was on the board of directors for both the Bolton Foundation and The Haven, even though she hardly attended any of the meetings since she lived out of state. Still, she was passionate about the work being done and she counted on her friend to give her the heads-up on everything.
“Well, everything sounds good,” Chloe said, after Anika finished explaining the new voucher program, implemented to send the women back to school for their GED or higher education.
“In fact I’m about five minutes late for our weekly case-management meeting. So I’ll give you a call later on tonight, ’kay? Oh, and, Chloe . . . congratulations again.”
Anika finally removed her leather overcoat, draping it over the back of her chair, before gathering her files. She headed out of the office, her footsteps silenced by the plush peach carpeting as she walked down the long hall. She passed the empty closed office doors, the lounge area, and the medic room to come to a huge conference room, leaving a trail of Victoria Secret’s apple-scented body mist behind her.
As soon as she sauntered into the room where her staff was assembled, Anika smiled brilliantly at everyone and took her place at the head of the square conference table. She crossed her shapely legs, gripping the edge of the table to pull herself forward in the rolling chair. She opened her first folder, ready to briefly discuss each of her clients, to receive and give advice, and to commiserate. “Okay, everyone. Let’s pow-wow.”
∞
“Hey! Where is everybody?” Anika called out, after using her spare key to enter her parents’ comfortable new home on Staten Island. Dropping her Coach sack and overcoat onto the mahogany table in the foyer, she took the long hall leading to the den, swamped by the melancholy smell of Granny’s liniment, and the scents of her father’s cigars, and her mother’s cooking wafting from the kitchen.
Anika loved her parents’ house. It was a lesson in compromise. Amazingly her equally stylish mother was able to have the elegant decor she wanted while still respecting the comfort her father demanded. Thus the house was contemporary, stylish, and livable. Anika had decorated her own home along the same func
tional lines.
She walked into the den. There, sitting in his favorite leather recliner, was her daddy. Tail, robust, stalwart, constant. He had the remote in one hand with a plump cigar between his index and middle fingers, and a can of light beer in the other. He was relaxing after a long day of work as a plumber for the Housing Authority.
She paused in the doorway, inhaling deeply of the scent of the burning tobacco. Anika also used to partake of a good cigar occasionally with a stiff snifter of brandy. But alas, when she discovered that the cigar was darkening her lips to an unattractive shade of deep purple, she stopped with a quickness.
“What’s the deal, old man?” she teased, moving to take a seat on the maroon leather sofa adjacent to him.
“Same-o same-o,” he answered, his voice gruff and deep like Lou Rawls’s, as his handsome and distinguished face broke into a smile at the sight of his only daughter. His baby girl. “What’s up with you, Sugarplum?”
It amazed and pleased her that her father refused to stop calling her, a thirty-five-year old woman, by a childhood endearment. “Just drove over to dye Granny’s hair. Where is she anyway?” Anika asked.
“Right here,” a voice said from behind her. “Don’t talk about me like I’m dead. I might have one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel, but I ain’t slipped yet!”
Anika looked over her shoulder at her plump grandmother, who was no more than five-feet-four inches, but could and would stand up to anyone. Granny Bert was an odd mix of love and criticism, all in one. She could be the sweetest woman in the world, but if you got on her nerves, she had no qualms about telling you about yourself . . . and she pulled no punches. If a man with a bad eye ticked her off, she was calling him a “one-eyed fool” without a hint of pause. In her anger, Esther from Sandford and Son had nothing on Gran.
Between this dynamo of a woman, her own mother, and Mama Dell, Chloe’s deceased mother, Anika had no choice but to be a strong, independent woman. There had been much struggle to reach this point in her life, and their life lessons had helped her along the way.
“Whatcha do, put your finger in a light socket, Donna King?” Anika teased with a wink, earning a gruff laugh from her father as they both looked pointedly at Gran’s silver-rooted hair sticking straight up on her head.
Bertha shook her finger at her one and only granddaughter. “Don’t smell yourself and be grown, Anika. You’re not too old for me to send outside for a switch. Now come on and do my hair,” she threw over her shoulder, confident Anika would follow.
And she did.
Granny Bert had lived with her parents ever since Grandpa Roger passed and the Foxxes had been better off because of it. With her came affection, wisdom, wit, and at times wildness. Anika loved her dearly, just as the rest of their rambunctious family did
Anika would never forget Gran’s two rules for little girls: “Keep your panties up and your dress down,” and “Make sure you wash every day or your hot spot will tell on ya every time.”
Now, who could disagree with that?
Anika entered the kitchen, slipping on an old shirt of her father’s that her grandmother provided to protect her outfit. “Where’s Ma?” she asked, as she used the big-toothed plastic comb to part the feather-soft silver hair into four sections.
“She’s in her sewing room finishing up a dress she’s making for one of the ladies from church,” Gran offered, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the feel of Anika’s fingers on her scalp.
Anika nodded, her mocha eyes focused on the task at hand.
As she turned her grandmother’s silvery new growth back to a crisp ebony, Anika laughed at the infamous stories the older woman told about her childhood growing up in Hawkinsville, Georgia. Their laughter mingled in the air above them. There was a lesson to be learned in every tale.
“All done, Granny,” she told her, having just put the last sponge roller in her pressed hair. The woman truly refused to move forward in hair care. It was still sponge rollers and hot combs.
Granny reached into her brassiere, or “the bank” as she called it, and pulled out a piece of tied cloth she had pinned to the strap. She extracted a twenty-dollar bill. “Here you go, baby. Put some gas in that fancy car of yours.”
Already knowing it would be futile to refuse the money, Anika just accepted it, but as soon as Gran bustled into the bathroom to inspect her fresh do, she dashed into her bedroom at the back of the house. She placed the money where she knew Gran kept the rest of her emergency stash: her Bible.
She was back in the kitchen cleaning up the hair supplies before Gran returned. “I’m heading on home, Gran. There’s a movie I want to watch on cable,” she called over her shoulder as she carried the supplies into the bathroom.
“See you this weekend, Sugarplum?” Gran asked, washing the hair grease from her wrinkled hands in the kitchen sink.
On Sundays the entire family usually met at Anika’s parents’ for a big, tantalizing dinner. It was a tradition that her parents insisted on. There was only one reason Anika would miss it. “Actually, Chloe’s coming into town Friday.”
“I know where to reach you then.” Granny smiled, looking up at her beautiful granddaughter as she dried her hands with a paper towel. “Does she still have that fancy apartment in New York?”
Anika nodded. “She hates hotels and prefers to stay in the apartment whenever she comes into town.”
“Why don’t you invite her over? It’s been so long since we’ve seen her.”
“Her husband’s coming.”
“So? Invite him too. I wanna see what kind of fish she caught anyway. Better not be a guppy.”
Anika smiled. “If they don’t have other plans, I know they’ll come,” she said, before lowering her head to press a kiss to the smooth cheek. It was soft and smelled faintly of Noxzema, the only thing Granny Bert allowed on her face.
“You drive safe and don’t forget to tell your parents you’re leaving,” she called over her shoulder, before disappearing into her room. Soon the sound of the Wheel of Fortune’s theme music filtered through the closed door.
Anika headed for her mother’s sewing room located on the other side of the den. As soon as she stepped into the room her words froze in her throat.
Her mother, whom Anika was the spitting image of, was sitting on her father’s lap in his recliner. Their lips were locked in a loving kiss. Not wanting to interrupt their groove, Anika turned and left the den quietly.
They were so obviously still in love with shows of affection always present between them. Constant touches. Sneaking away to their bedroom. Winks. Loving glances. It was the kind of everlasting devotion Anika hoped to find one day. She would settle for nothing less, because she deserved nothing less.
∞
Anika finished smoothing the Ashanti moisturizer on her freshly scrubbed face before leaving her elaborately decorated beige and gold bathroom. She left the steam and heavy scent of Victoria Secret’s apple bath gel and body mist behind. Nude, her full but shapely body strong and gleaming, she strode across the wood floor to her eight-drawer cherry dresser.
She took out a lavender satin pajama short set and pulled it on, enjoying the feel of the cool material against her skin as she moved toward her walk-in closet. She studied the multitude of stylish clothes there, before selecting a crimson wool outfit to wear to work the next day.
Next, Anika made her way into her small, modern kitchen. She pushed play on the CD player she kept on the uncluttered kitchen counter. Soon the sultry sound of Ms. Mary singing “Don’t Go” filled the air. As she was contemplating what to eat for dinner, she thought of Warren Anders’ offer for a dinner date. He was a handsome and brilliant attorney who did pro bono work for The Haven. Over the past few months, they had gone on a few dates, usually to the movies, dinner, or a charity function. Handsome and intelligent as he was, Anika found the man to be dull. His conversation was stilted and he definitely didn’t elicit any sexual attraction from her. They only kissed once and that
had been lackluster.
Not her Mr. Right, but good enough for Mr. Right Now.
Deciding to make a quick chef salad, Anika was just beginning to chop up iceberg lettuce when her phone rang. For some ungodly reason she immediately thought of Deshawn Jamison. Chloe wouldn’t have given him her number. Or would she? She’d better not have.
She thought of the handsome flirt with his dimpled smiles and overwhelming confidence. He knew he was gorgeous with caramel appeal. He knew he had a killer body. He knew he could charm a devout lesbian out of her panties. And he used all of that to chase women as if it were going out of style. Anika had come across many fine brothers like Deshawn before who made a game of proving that he could have any woman he wanted. He usually was successful, according to Chloe.
Her best friend was totally enamored of her womanizing brother-in-law, only slightly disturbed by his antics. She even defended him, saying, “Well, he isn’t married.”
Anika was woman enough to admit that the man was devastatingly gorgeous, and she had felt an attraction to him at their first meeting during the reception. Chloe likened the twins’ looks to Taimak from The Last Dragon, while Anika considered them a little more refined and rugged like Boris Kodje from Soul Food.
Deshawn was a man used to getting his way with women, and Anika had been more than delighted to be the exception. She had relished in delivering that blow to his massive ego. His ardent words of his own physical prowess did not impress her. Okay, maybe just a little. Still, Anika had no plans of being one of the notches on his well-worn belt. She was looking for more substance in a grown man than just sex appeal.
Pushing her thoughts of him away, Anika picked up the phone on its third ring. “Hello.”
“Anika, this is Monique. We got an emergency.” Her heart began to pound at the sound of her assistant coordinator’s voice. Monique Hartford ran the night shift at the shelter until the majority of the full-time staff arrived at 8:00 a.m. She was a godsend and Anika knew she could count on Monique to get the job done in her absence. “Spill,” she said, steeling herself.
“Tara and her daughter just showed up.”
Heavenly Match Page 2