“It’s like he’s trying to take away the one thing I remember about my mother,” Madison said. “She was always singing, and she sang with us too. She taught us songs, and we sang them together.”
“Remember this one, y’all?” Deirdre asked before singing “The Shepherd Song.”
Morgan said, “Yes! We were little when she taught us that one.”
“I don’t remember it,” Danielle said. “Why can’t I remember?”
“You were a baby,” Deirdre said.
Montana had a great idea. “You could learn it now! How would you all like to sing at your grandmother’s brunch on Sunday?”
“All of Grandmother’s friends come to her Sunday brunch,” Deirdre said. “Daddy wouldn’t want us singing in front of them.”
“I know. That’s why we won’t tell him about it. It will be a surprise.”
Morgan’s eyes widened. “Ms. Montana, you are gonna get in so much trouble.”
Montana smiled. She wasn’t worried about getting in trouble with Quentin Chambers. Not if it was going to bring music back into this house, where it belonged. The children wanted—no, needed—to sing. It was their legacy, gifted to them by their mother.
Montana also had a sneaking suspicion the music would reach Quentin too. If he fired her after that—well, then, Montana was sure that bringing the music back was her purpose in this household. She had to follow God on this, and her spirit was telling her to lead a miniature Chambers choir. God had never led her wrong before.
CHAPTER 16
Chloe was determined to have the perfect birthday. It started off well with a morning at the day spa. She had a full-body hot-rock massage, pedicure, and facial, and she tipped very well—on Quentin’s black American Express card.
Next she took herself on a shopping spree and treated herself to a new Hermès Birkin bag and several new pairs of Louboutin heels—of course, all paid for by Quentin. He was being quite generous on her special day, and Chloe felt as if she deserved every bit of it. It was exactly what she deserved for being a great girlfriend and future wife.
Speaking of which, since her birthday would be the perfect time to pop the question, Chloe made sure to choose a very romantic new French restaurant called Le Grand Château for her birthday dinner. In case Quentin was feeling matrimonial, the beautiful setting might push him to go ahead and do the inevitable.
Quentin had agreed to dress up for her birthday dinner, and he was looking very delicious in his suit. Chloe was going to have a taste of caramel for dessert too if Quentin played his cards right and came correct on the birthday gift.
“What did you buy me?” Chloe asked Quentin, as the maître d’ showed them to their table.
Quentin laughed out loud. “Didn’t you just take yourself shopping?”
“That’s not the same, and you know it! I’m not going to be a happy camper if you don’t have a tiny box of something on your person.”
“Why does it have to be a tiny box?” Quentin asked.
“The best presents come in tiny boxes, sweetie.”
Quentin smiled at the waiter as he approached. “Wine, sir?” the waiter asked.
“Yes, bring me your best Pinot Noir, and Riesling for the lady.”
“Excellent choices, sir. Would you like to order your dinner?”
Quentin nodded. “We’ll have the five-course seafood with stuffed rockfish and lobster tail.”
“That comes with dessert, sir. What would you like?”
“Ask the lady. It’s her birthday.”
The waiter smiled at Chloe. “Mademoiselle, would you like to try our flan? It is regarded as the best in town.”
“Do you like it?” Chloe asked.
“Oh, I love it,” the waiter gushed.
She doubted he liked it that much, but nodded. “I will try the flan.”
“Wonderful choices. I will be right out with the wine.”
“He’s working hard for his tip, isn’t he?” Quentin asked. “I thought he was about to start tap dancing and sing us a song.”
Chloe laughed at Quentin’s dry humor. “He would if you ask him. He knows a wealthy man when he sees one. Your tip would probably pay all of his expenses for the month.”
Sometimes it bothered Chloe that Quentin didn’t seem to understand the power that came with his wealth. He’d never been poor and never would be, so the idea of a life without luxuries was foreign to him.
Chloe knew exactly what it meant to struggle. Her family came from a little town in Alabama called Leeds, and they were dirt-poor. Chloe’s grandmother’s house had had indoor plumbing for only about fifteen years. She remembered going over there during the summers and enduring the God-awful heat and that disgusting outhouse.
She’d come to Atlanta to reinvent herself, and she’d been successful at it. Now she could send her grandmother money from time to time. When she went home to her family reunions, everyone said she was big-time, and she was—compared to them.
But marrying Quentin would be the ultimate come up. She’d provide everything he needed in a wife, and he’d make her rich beyond her wildest dreams.
She decided to change the topic of conversation from her gift to something Quentin actually seemed to care about—his foundation.
“So I met with your mother a few days ago on the plans for the ball. We’re shooting for the beginning of June.”
“That doesn’t give you much time to plan, but I trust you to pull it off.”
Chloe beamed. “Yes, I think your mother and I make a great team. We’ve also enlisted the nanny’s help.”
“Montana? She’s a party planner?”
“Not really, but she’s sweet and eager to please. Plus, she’s the tiebreaker between me and Estelle.”
Quentin threw his head back and laughed. “I’m surprised my mother is allowing you to think that. The only employee who might overrule Mother is Ms. Levy, and that’s only because they’ve become friends over the years.”
Chloe was thrilled to hear Quentin refer to Montana as an employee. That’s exactly what she was, and Chloe had to keep reminding herself that the young girl wasn’t trying to steal her man.
“Yes, well, maybe I’ll befriend Montana, and it’ll be young Mrs. Chambers and the nanny versus the elder Mrs. Chambers and the housekeeper.”
Quentin’s laughter abruptly stopped. “You slid that on in there, didn’t you?”
“What?”
“I’m going to let it pass, since it’s your birthday. Everybody gets to make wishes on their birthday.”
“I don’t make wishes. I make plans,” Chloe said.
Quentin shook his head wearily. “Do you have a theme for the party?”
“We’re having a masquerade ball. What do you think?”
He shrugged. “If you all like it, I love it.”
“We do love it. And Montana made the suggestion of having flowers all over the house in different stages, from buds to blooms.”
“Transitioning flowers for Transitions,” Quentin said, nodding thoughtfully while he took in the idea.
“I like the idea too,” Chloe said, although she was slightly annoyed that Quentin had figured out the reason for the flowers without being told. She didn’t want him in sync with Montana.
The waiter came back and presented them with two bottles of wine. He poured each of them a glass and bowed deeply as he backed away from the table.
“You know something funny,” Quentin asked, as he took his first sip of wine. He closed his eyes and savored the taste before swallowing. “Montana has been leaving fresh flowers in my office every day. I thought it was one of the children, but it was her!”
Chloe lifted an eyebrow. “Really? Why does she do that?”
“She said that my office is pretty boring, and that she was trying to brighten the place.”
“I could decorate your office if you’d like. Bring in some great interior designers, maybe even tear down a wall. Would you like that?” Chloe asked.
There
was a hint of irritation in her tone. She didn’t like Montana noticing anything about her man’s space. First of all, what was she even doing in Quentin’s office? And then to take the liberty of leaving fresh flowers for a man? It sounded flirtatious to Chloe. It sounded like something she would do to get a man’s attention.
“No, no. I don’t want to redecorate. It was just nice of her to think of that. I appreciated it. Then the kids told her I like French toast. Do you know she and the kids got up and made me breakfast?”
Chloe pouted. “You’re going to make me jealous! She’s there to take care of the children, not my man.”
“You’re jealous of Montana? That’s crazy.”
Chloe took a huge gulp of her wine. She hadn’t meant to swallow so much, and she choked a little. When Quentin jumped up to help, she waved one hand in the air.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. But yes, I am jealous. I’d like to do those things for you. I want to be there for you. She’s known you a couple of weeks, she’s under your roof, and already she’s doing nice little things for you.”
“She was just spending time with the kids. She’s the nanny . . .”
“Yes, but in five years you haven’t once mentioned wanting to wake up to me on the other side of your bed.”
Quentin chuckled. “I’ve woken up many times next to you, Chloe. You’re being silly.”
“Yes, in hotels, villas, cottages, bed and breakfasts, and châteaus. But never your home.”
Quentin gave her an incredulous look. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. You know why you can’t spend the night. My children live in the mansion.”
Chloe looked down at the table and sighed. “I don’t want to spend the night. I want to spend my life.”
Suddenly remorseful, Quentin took Chloe’s hand. “I’m sorry if it seems like this is going nowhere. I do care for you very much, but I wouldn’t be angry with you if you decided to move on.”
Quentin flipped Chloe’s hand over and placed a little box in it. She knew there wasn’t a ring inside, based on Quentin’s presentation. Instead she opened the box to find a pretty pair of emerald and diamond earrings. They were beautiful, but not what she was hoping for.
“Thank you, Quentin. They’re lovely.”
He stroked her face with one hand. “Just as you are.”
Chloe looked up into Quentin’s light brown eyes and exhaled. How long would she be able to stand being his woman without the benefit of being a wife? There weren’t any other eligible multimillionaires beating down her door. She’d invested too much time in Quentin. Out of common courtesy, none of the wealthy men in Quentin’s circle would touch her with a ten-foot pole. And the thought of finding another wealthy, elderly white man, after she’d sampled Quentin’s caramel goodness for five years, turned her stomach.
One thing she did know, that French toast was the last meal this nanny was going to cook for her man.
“So how would you like to order some strawberry crêpes?” Chloe asked.
“Oh, they have crêpes? I didn’t see that on the menu,” Quentin replied.
Chloe grinned. “I mean at the Ritz. For breakfast.”
“Can we get this fancy French stuff to go?”
Chloe cackled as Quentin flagged the waiter down. There was one thing she did have on the sweet, flower-bearing, breakfast-cooking Montana. Chloe had spent five years learning everything that turned Quentin on, and all the things that didn’t.
In Chloe’s book, a black lace teddy trumped breakfast any day.
CHAPTER 17
Quentin’s head throbbed as he made a cup of coffee in the kitchen at home. No doubt, Chloe was going to be furious when she woke up to find him gone, but he’d promised Alex he was coming over for a visit. At least Quentin had shared the strawberry crêpes with Chloe at three in the morning. Quentin was barely interested in the entire evening—the carnal activities or the crêpes—but Chloe seemed to be enjoying herself, and that’s all that mattered since it was her birthday.
Chloe would’ve been furious to know that Quentin’s thoughts kept drifting to Montana during her birthday celebration. He kept imagining her smile and that big wild head of hair that begged him to touch it.
There was something about Montana that made him want to pursue her. He felt like a sleepy lion that’d been having his meals brought to him. Then suddenly a young gazelle crossed his path, and he remembered that he was a hunter.
That was exactly it. Chloe had offered herself up on a platter, but Montana just skipped back and forth, taunting him, stirring his true nature. Quentin was a man’s man. He liked to hunt for his food.
He closed his eyes and sipped the coffee. It was good, a Jamaican roast he’d bought when he and Chloe had spent a week in Montego Bay.
Quentin wondered if Montana had ever been to Jamaica. Then he imagined her curves in a two-piece swimsuit.
It completely jarred Quentin when he opened his eyes and Montana was opening the sliding kitchen door. She looked like she’d been in a fight. Her hair was flying out of its ponytail, she was drenched in sweat, and she clutched the wall, huffing and puffing.
“What happened to you?” Quentin asked.
Montana held up one finger. She inhaled deeply and exhaled a few times before replying. “You inspired me, Mr. Chambers. I tried to go running this morning.”
This made Quentin burst into laughter. “You just woke up one day and decided to go running?”
“Yeah, well, I figured I’ve got two legs and two feet. How hard could it be?”
When Montana started to slide down the wall to the floor, Quentin helped her over to the table. Then he gave her a glass of juice and a bottle of water.
“Drink both. You’ve probably sweated out every electrolyte in your body.”
Montana guzzled the juice. “Thank you. I feel okay, except that my feet are killing me.”
“Let me see your shoes.”
Montana stuck out her feet and immediately Quentin saw the problem. The shoes weren’t running shoes. They were walking shoes, definitely not made to take the impact of running on the hard ground.
“Are they okay?” Montana asked.
“Not for running. They look a little cheaply made, too.”
Montana scoffed. “I beg your pardon! I paid twenty-nine dollars for these at Target.”
“If you’re gonna run, you need better shoes.”
Quentin took out his cell phone and flipped it open. He started dialing a number.
“What are you doing? Calling the sneaker police on me?” Montana asked.
He shook his head. “Sneakers? Therein, my friend, lies the problem.”
“There is nothing wrong with my shoes.”
Quentin held up one finger as he spoke into the phone. “Hey, Gerard. Yeah, man, can you open a little early today? I’ve got an emergency. A friend of mine is trying to run in some no-name walking shoes.... I know, man. She don’t know no better. . . . Nah, not Chloe. Chloe doesn’t run, she zumbas or whatever. Yeah. . . . Okay, we’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”
Montana furrowed her brows. “Who will be where in forty-five minutes? I don’t have money for any expensive running shoes. I will stick to my Target specials.”
“Let me help you. I don’t want you to hurt yourself out there. My friend has a sporting goods shop, and he will fit you with the best running shoes you’ve ever had.”
Montana folded her arms across her chest. “And how much is this going to cost me?”
“Just a couple of hours.”
“You can’t buy me shoes, Mr. Chambers. That’s not part of my salary.”
Quentin shook his head. “Okay, then let’s call it your clothing allowance. Go shower really quickly, though, because you stink.”
“I do not!” Then, Montana sniffed herself. “Okay, so I do, but that was rude.”
“No, it would be rude if I let you go out and about smelling like that. A friend wouldn’t do that.”
“We’re friends, Mr. Cha
mbers?”
Quentin smiled at her. “Anyone who cooks me yummy food for breakfast is my friend. And since we’re friends, I have another request.”
“What’s that?”
“Call me Quentin.”
Montana gave him a thoughtful look. “Okay, I’ll call you Quentin. But only when I’m off the clock.”
“Okay, I’m giving you the morning off to go shoe shopping. Most women would be ecstatic about this. You have given me nothing but push back.”
“I am not like most women.”
Quentin nodded his head in silent agreement. He was going to enjoy taking her shopping. He wished it wasn’t just for shoes. He’d love to buy her a dress. Something bright to flatter her figure. Then he wouldn’t mind sporting her on his arm.
His cell phone buzzed on the table. It was Chloe. What a way to get knocked back to reality.
Quentin shooed Montana from the kitchen. “Go and get changed before the kids start harassing you for stuff.”
When Montana was gone, Quentin answered the phone. “Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad. I’m hurt.” Quentin cringed at the whining tone in Chloe’s voice. Had she always whined like that and he hadn’t noticed it before?
“We had a great time, didn’t we?”
“Yes, but I’m lonely and cold in this big bed.”
“I’m sorry, Chloe. I’ve got a million and one things to do today. My mother is forcing me to go to her brunch on Sunday. I’m trying to escape.”
There was a long pause before Chloe replied. “I will be there.”
“I can’t endure her church friends.”
Chloe let out a sad chuckle. “I know you can’t. That’s why I’m coming. I’ve got your back.”
“I know. Call me later?”
“Yep. Bye, baby, love you.”
Quentin swallowed. “Okay, talk to you soon.”
He disconnected the call and shook his head. Every time Chloe said, “I love you,” he felt like a massive jerk. Who deals with a woman for five years, sleeps with her whenever he wants, parades her around town, and doesn’t tell her he loves her? He didn’t think he was that guy. But ever since Chandra had died, Quentin couldn’t bring himself to say those words to a woman—especially not Chloe.
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