The Pleasure of His Company

by Lindsay Evans

  Inside was the same disorder she’d left. Clothes all over the bed and the chair near the window. Her suitcase gaped open on the dresser with her other bathing suit and underwear spilling out. She grabbed clothes from the chair and tossed them on top of the suitcase.

  “Sit.” She scrubbed a hand self-consciously over her windblown hair. “I’m going to have a quick shower—just make yourself comfortable.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s okay, darling.”

  But Adah hadn’t forgotten her mother’s earlier comment about her getting cleaned up. “It won’t take me long. Sit and play some music on your iPad or something.”

  Then she seized the nearest item of clothing on the suitcase and rushed to the bathroom. Barely fifteen minutes later, she walked out, running a brush over her hair, her body freshly lotioned and wearing the fitted floral sundress her best friend had insisted she bring to Aruba.

  “Inject some sexy in your life, Adah,” Selene had told her as she pressed a large department store bag full of dresses and underwear she’d gotten nearly free in her job as a fashion buyer.

  Adah felt like a fraud in the garment, effortlessly pretty in a way she couldn’t pull off in her everyday life. It felt like she was playing dress up, or at least trying to be like her mother. But she swept those thoughts away. Refreshed from her rushed shower, she twisted her straightened hair into a quick topknot.

  “What brings you here, Mother?”

  “My only daughter, of course.” Her mother had truly made herself comfortable, streaming a Luther Vandross song from the small iPad on her lap. She shut it down by closing the cover and set it aside. “I didn’t want you to feel all alone in this strange new place by yourself,” she continued.

  “I’m not alone, Mother. There are thousands of tourists on the island this time of year, not to mention all the people who live here.”

  “You know what I mean. You’re always going someplace by yourself. I think you’d be tired of that sort of solitary existence by now.”

  Her mother had grown up in a boisterous home as one of six children and often voiced regrets she hadn’t had another child after Zoe died.

  “With Zoe gone, I’m an only child, Mother. I’m used to being alone. Most times I prefer it.” Like now.

  “Nonsense.” Her mother made a dismissive motion. “Nobody really likes being alone. But I can only be with you for a little while. There’s some business back home in Atlanta I need to tend to.” The business that had shaped the course of all their lives since it started. “I came to treat you to something nice for your birthday. I know your father and I were so busy last month we didn’t get a chance to celebrate with you properly.”

  Weeks before they’d done the annual dinner at Adah’s favorite restaurant but hadn’t had time for the separate weekend trip to Saint Simons Island that was also part of the birthday tradition.

  “It’s okay. I know with the company being in trouble, you and Daddy don’t have as much time as usual.”

  “That’s no excuse, darling. And that’s the reason why I’m here!” Her mother looked excited about whatever she was about to reveal. “I moved you to one of the rooms on the top floor and reserved a half day’s pampering session in the most beautiful spa. The masseuses there are award winning—although I didn’t know massage was something you could get awards for.” Her mother frowned like she was giving serious thought to her last remark.

  “Mother, you really didn’t have to.” Adah had come to Aruba by herself to think. The key part of that being by herself.

  “I know. But I want to.” Her mother leaned forward with an even bigger smile. “Our appointments are tomorrow morning. They’ll pick us up from here at ten. And while we’re gone, they’ll move your things up to the new room.”

  And that was that.

  Adah immediately knew her mother’s ploy for what it was. And she was half surprised at its transparency. A bribe to get the wedding show on the road and pull the family business out of the fire in which it had found itself despite her parents’ brilliance and the relative success of its line of natural hair care products. Still, she allowed it all to happen, the ever-present guilt pricking her into saying yes to whatever it was her mother wanted.

  Her twin, Zoe, had died when they were just eleven years old. A car accident on the way home from a young entrepreneurs’ summer camp. It was beyond awful that her sister, her best friend, had died. Adah had forced Zoe to sit on the passenger side of the car’s back seat just because she’d wanted to sit behind the driver for a reason she couldn’t even remember now. The guilt about that still tore her apart. Even at eleven years old, Zoe had been the one eager to take over the family business and make it even better. All Adah had wanted was a job where she could be surrounded by children and hear their laughter all day.

  In the end, as co-owner of an exclusive day care complex in North Atlanta catering to some of the city’s wealthiest residents, Adah had gotten the job she’d wanted. Zoe had gotten nothing but death.

  * * *

  The next morning, after a restless night spent with her mother on the other side of the wall in an adjoining room, Adah woke and pulled on the same sundress from the afternoon before and the leather sandals. The car that came to get them smelled of the spa, something vaguely citrusy and clean, making her feel as if she were already resting on a masseuse’s table and waiting to be transported to boneless relaxation. But she knew peace wouldn’t come. Her mother had something to say, and she would state it when she thought Adah was most vulnerable—while she was getting her massage.

  She did try to relax during the car ride through the bright and tourist-rich streets of Oranjestad, the car’s engine purring through roundabouts and past casinos that burped out victims of the previous night’s gambling excesses. Her mother sat across from her, looking content and refreshed, like she’d had the good night’s sleep Adah had been denied, her hair perfectly put together in a gray ponytail resting over her shoulder, an ocean-green dress complementing the slender lines of her body.

  “You don’t really have to do any of this,” Adah said.

  “I know, darling. But I want to do this for you. It’ll mellow you. Besides, after this, your father and I will feel better about not doing enough for your birthday.”

  Her mother plucked a slice of pineapple from the silver dish sitting between them. Juice exploded from the fruit and dripped down the side of her mouth. On another person, it would have looked clumsy, but her mother’s delighted laughter and the delicate way she wiped the juice from her mouth with one of the cloth napkins made her seem charming and young. Not for the first time, Adah wished she had been the child her mother deserved, a truer reflection of her instead of this awkward and too-soft girl-woman who barely knew how to style herself.

  Adah drank from a bottle of water, not wanting to chance any fruit on her dress. With her luck, one of the dark red strawberries would squirt out of her mouth and down her front, making it looked like she’d just suffered a massive nosebleed. Or a mugging.

  In the spa, beautiful women in white whisked Adah and her mother away to a serene room that smelled even more like tranquility, this time with low, strings-heavy music and dim lighting. The women gave them fluffy white robes to change into and plied them with cucumber-infused water. An old Deep Forest album, humming with the sounds of chirping birds overlaid by timid violins, played in the background.

  Once she was lying on a massage table, with her mother in an identical position a few feet away, Adah actually tried to relax. A silent masseuse began to work on her face, smoothing eucalyptus-scented circles over her forehead and cheeks, while her mother shared stories about what Adah had missed in Atlanta the single day she’d been gone.

  “And Petra doesn’t seem like the type to fall for someone that shallow, or scary,” her mother said, continuing her portion of a conversation Adah was barely p
aying attention to.

  She was talking about a bank manager friend of theirs who’d hooked up with the cold but slightly scandalous anchor of a national news network based in Atlanta. On the outside, Petra seemed boring, and everyone she knew was stuck wondering how she’d managed to snag a man like Gabriel Saint.

  “Every woman has something about them that only appeals to a select few people,” Adah said. Petra kept things pretty low-key and had a wicked sense of humor she often kept hidden. “Petra is a badass,” Adah said. “She just doesn’t show that side of herself very often.”

  “Well, one person must have seen it, and I mean Gabriel Saint, because everyone is mystified about them being together.”

  “Including you?”

  “Including me.”

  Adah smiled as much as the hands moving on her face would allow. “You only see what you want to see.”

  Her mother laughed, not admitting to the truth they both knew. And it was so comfortable talking with her about the old familiar things that Adah did actually relax.

  But then her mother said, “Have you been giving much thought to the wedding, darling?”

  Adah released a slow breath through her nose. “No, I haven’t.” The masseuse paused with her hands on the suddenly tense muscles of Adah’s thigh. After a quick glance at Adah’s face, she continued the massage.

  “You know Errol and Stephanie are excited to officially welcome you into their family.” Errol and Stephanie Randal were onetime rivals and now potential in-laws of Adah’s, owners of Leilani’s Pearls, a successful bath-and-beauty business that was on the verge of the same kind of stagnation pulling down Palmer-Mitchell Naturals. Separately the two companies would flounder, but by joining together they stood a greater chance of succeeding in the increasingly competitive marketplace.

  Just about every beauty company had some kind of natural-hair product line now, even companies who’d created their success from selling perms to black women. Despite being in business for over thirty years, Palmer-Mitchell Naturals was a relatively new company and not well-known enough to succeed on its own.

  Palmer-Mitchell Naturals needed Leilani’s Pearls much more than the other way around. And the agreement to merge companies, and do it in a way that kept the businesses in the family, hinged on Adah’s agreement to marry the Randal’s son, Bennett. The idea for Adah to become the sacrificial wife had come from her mother during a time of romantic disappointment and on the anniversary of her sister’s death. Marinating in pain from all sides, Adah could think only that the less useful sister had survived.

  “I know the Randals are anxious, Mother. I know you and Daddy are, too.” Her stomach clenched with unease, and she wished she could just say yes and agree to the date without putting her parents through all this worry. Any relaxation she’d gained from the massage had fled. Her muscles felt tight and unwieldy.

  “I want you to be certain about your decision, Adah. When I first suggested this idea, you were a young woman in college, practically still a child. I know you’re a different person now.”

  But the situation Palmer-Mitchell Naturals found itself in was the same. Adah pressed her lips together while the anxiety rolled through her, steady and unrelenting. The masseuse’s fingers dug harder into her back.

  “But—” her mother’s tone changed “—think about how amazing this would be for you, too. You could have the financial freedom to realize your dreams. And have a handsome husband to call your own.”

  As if all Adah had ever wanted from this thing was a man.

  She twitched under a particularly firm press of the masseuse’s fingers. “I know I agreed to all this before, but I just need a little time right now.”

  Her mother sighed. “I know, darling. I know.”

  Then she noticeably withdrew into herself, leaving the room silent except for the sounds of the women’s hands on their skin, oil rubbing into flesh and quiet breathing. Embarrassment at airing their dirty laundry in such a relatively public place heated Adah’s face. Although it hadn’t been a full-fledged fight, she felt battered and in the wrong. Her mother had always come away from their arguments as the clear victor while Adah was left limping and bleeding in her separate corner. This time was no different. She sighed into the deafening silence.

  Later, Adah tried to recapture some of the lighthearted conversation they’d been having before. But her heart wasn’t in it, and it was obvious. Soon enough, their spa day was finished. Adah’s body was limp from the massage, but her mind was wound too tightly to rest.

  After the car dropped them off at the hotel, Adah and her mother picked up the keys to their new rooms and took the elevator up. The penthouse room was beautiful. But Adah gave it no more than a passing glance before she grabbed her jogging clothes and quickly changed.

  “I’m going out,” she called out through the open door between their rooms, then left before her mother could reply.

  Adah took the stairs. Her sneakered feet pounded on the elegant steps, taking her down five flights, away from her mother and the snaking guilt that wouldn’t let her say no outright to the gift of an upgrade. For so much of her twenty-six years, Adah felt she’d been stealing her life. A charmed existence taken away from her sister, who’d died before she’d even fully known what she had. Parents who loved her. Parents who could afford to send her to private school. Who had the strength and brilliance to start a small business that became a national company within Adah’s lifetime. Her parents wanted more. Adah wanted more. But she knew the things they wanted were no longer compatible with her own wants, if they ever were.

  At the bottom floor, she panted rough and ragged, sweat covering her body, heat flowing through her like she wished some new strength would. She was tired of this weakness of hers in the face of her parents’ wishes. Marriage was a serious thing. If she couldn’t find a man of her own, she’d rather be alone than with someone she wasn’t in love with.

  The messed-up thing was that she actually liked Bennett Randal. They’d known each other for years and were like brother and sister. But he wasn’t someone she wanted to marry. At first, she thought she would be able to do it, but the idea of being with him in that way had unsettled her more and more as the years passed. Bennett, she knew, didn’t have the qualms she did.

  He expected the marriage to happen. While the details were being finalized, he was enjoying being a bachelor, gobbling up all the available sex he could, usually via the hottest reality stars in Atlanta and the world, before he was tied to Adah forever.

  Forever.

  Just the thought of it made her breath stutter. And it wasn’t just because she was running full speed out of the hotel and onto the beach. Her feet pushed into the soft sand, and she forced herself to take even breaths, trying to put as much distance from her troubles as possible while not getting one step ahead of them.

  Adah squeezed her eyes tightly for a moment but kept pace along the beach, which was nearly empty; most of the beachgoers had gone inside for showers and dinner and sex. The moon was fat and gorgeous in the Aruban sky. A paradise. Or it would be if her mother and Adah’s own troubles hadn’t followed her here.

  She ran on. Her breath huffing. The sound of her feet thumping against the sand and the waves rushing up toward her but never touching. A writhing shape in the water pulled her attention from her breath’s steady rhythm. The moon glided over whatever it was, showing hints of curves. A couple, she thought, making love in the water and under the stars. She changed her path and ran in an arc away from the water, giving whoever it was their privacy.

  But as she moved away, the splashing grew more intense and moved closer to the beach; then a lone body climbed from the water. Adah’s footsteps slowed as details of the swimmer emerged under the moonlight. A masculine body firm with muscles apparent even in the dark, bare shoulders, torso and hips. She stared, her footsteps slowing. Was t
his man naked?

  “Doe Eyes?”

  She stumbled at the familiar voice and nickname, then without fully realizing it, began walking toward the water’s edge and the gorgeous creature emerging from the water, getting barer as the moonlight slid silver fingers over every hard inch of him.

  “Ah,” Kingsley said, his breath coming quickly after his swim. “I figured I would see you again.”

  Adah clenched her jaw to stop her tongue from hanging out of her mouth. Kingsley wasn’t naked, but he might as well have been. The moonlight outlined him from the top of his proud head to his feet striding out of the water and across the sand to meet her. Pale swim trunks clung to his hips, to the insistent shape between his legs, and the tops of his muscled thighs that were wide and hard enough to make the tips of her fingers ache to sink into them.

  He just said something. It’s my turn to talk now. She swallowed again.

  “I’m just going for a jog to escape my troubles,” Adah finally said with her wryest smile. She looked down the beach and saw the illuminated outline of her hotel much farther away than she’d realized.

  Damn. How far had she come?

  “Should we call it destiny then?” Kingsley wiped the seawater from his face, dragging his hand from his chin down to his strong throat and chiseled chest. Even in the soft light and pervasive dark, Adah could see his grin.

  “Let’s just call it a coincidence and leave it at that,” she said, crossing her arms over nipples that had gone embarrassingly tight.

  Kingsley stepped even closer, and she resisted the urge to close the last few feet of space between them and see if his body was as hard or smooth as it looked.

  She cleared her throat. “Aren’t you afraid they’ll cart you off for public indecency?”

  He looked down at himself and shrugged. “They’d be false charges if they do,” he said, grinning. “Do you think I’m being indecent just by swimming at night? I have a suit on.”

  “What you call a bathing suit some might call underwear.” And the fact that it was a pair of tight white trunks only highlighted what a dark bathing suit would hide. Not that he had anything to be ashamed about. Heat scalded her cheeks, and she yanked her gaze up from his crotch.