Tell Me No Lies: The Black Orchid, Book 1

by Magnolia Smith

  “No decisions yet. But I’ve started a blog chronicling my efforts to redo Southern food classics as healthy.”

  “Then you’re on the right track,” Haley said with a satisfied look.

  My mother wrinkled her nose in disdain. “Everyone needs a hobby, I suppose.”

  “What’s your next step after the blog?” Haley looked at me with wide, innocent eyes.

  “I haven’t thought that far in advance.” I gave my little sister a knowing look. “I thought about visiting some local restaurants and seeing if they’d stock a few of my beignets.” The coffeehouse popped in my head. “Maybe The Coffee Grind for one. The owner and I are friendly.”

  “And then what?” my father asked rather gruffly. “You getting paid for these beignets?”

  “It’s not about the money.”

  “Nonsense. It’s always about the money.”

  I shot Quinn an embarrassed look before responding. “I’ll probably set up an online store. Maybe sell them at farmer’s markets.”

  “Farmer’s market.” My mother’s face flushed with anger. “My daughter?”

  I had all of this laid out in my business plan, but under my father’s sharp stare and my mother’s disapproving glare, I was drawing a blank.

  “Then will you get paid?”

  “I don’t know, Dad. I haven’t thought that far.” I had, but not in a really long time.

  “Maybe the beignets will be a big hit at the coffee shop and word of mouth will spread like fire,” Haley suggested helpfully.

  “Perhaps you’ll get a free cup of coffee for your efforts,” my mother added with a laugh. “Have you thought about selling your beignets on a street corner with a little hat beside you? People can toss you quarters.”

  Haley and I exchanged looks. Our mom had never been good at making jokes.

  Mother looked at Father. “Violin lessons, a French tutor, horseback riding, and she wants to sell beignets?” She threw her hands in the air.

  Quinn looked at me thoughtfully. “Haley said you make different types of beignets?”

  “Oh yeah. Low carb, vegan…”

  My mother rolled her eyes.

  “And then there are the flavors: blueberry, lavender vanilla, chocolate, raisin.”

  “She also makes desserts out of beignets, right Rain?” my sister chimed in.

  “That’s correct. I make a really fabulous strawberry shortcake, banana pudding, sweet potato with marshmallow topping.”

  “Sweet potato beignets?” His face split into a wide grin. “Now you’re talking my language. So your shop would really be more of a dessert boutique?”

  My mouth dropped open. “A dessert boutique is exactly what I have planned.”

  He looked at my parents and smiled politely. “Dessert boutiques are everywhere in Atlanta.” He turned to me. “So, you can throw down in the kitchen?”

  “She’s an awesome cook,” Haley responded. “I’m not saying that just because she’s my sister. These are like hundred-year-old recipes from our great-great-great-grandmother handed down for years.”

  I shrugged. “People tell me I’m good.”

  Quinn glanced at my father, then back at me. “I might have a proposition for you.

  My dad turned off the pilot light on the grill and sat down beside my mother. “What do you have in mind, son?”

  “You need an investor? A silent partner? I’m always looking to diversify.” He shrugged and looked embarrassed. “I’ve got some money to invest, I just need a good business to sink it into.”

  Haley wiggled excitedly beside him and then planted a kiss on his cheek. He blushed but held my gaze. “Just give me a number. I’m sure you’ll be reasonable.”

  I thought about the amount I’d planned on borrowing two years ago, the amount I needed to open the storefront, furnish it and staff with a few employees. I took a deep breath. It wasn’t hard to calculate. I was good with numbers, though it wouldn’t be precise until I sat down and figured out exactly what I needed.

  “You said silent partner, that means you have no say on the creative direction I choose, or how I run the business?”

  “Your sister said you’ve got a degree in Accounting plus an MBA, so I figure my money’s probably in good hands. With that being said, I’ve got a degree in Marketing, so you’re welcome to pick my brain whenever you like.”

  It all sounded good to me. I told him the figure, held my breath and waited.

  “Cool.” He grinned at me. “When I return, I’ll have my attorney draw up an agreement.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’d like to see a copy of your business and marketing plans, if you don’t mind. That includes social media right?”

  Turning to Haley, I could feel the beginning of a smile forming on my lips. “Yes.”

  “Oh,” he said. “One more thing, I get all the free sweet potato beignets I can cram into my mouth, right?”

  I giggled. “Right.”

  He looked at my parents for a moment and then leaned forward, extending his hand. “Then you got yourself a deal, ma’am.”

  My mother’s mouth fell open in shock, while my father scrutinized the young man until he was obviously uncomfortable.

  But I beamed at him. “I’ll get your contact information from Haley and we can sit down and really discuss details.”

  “Well, dinner’s ready,” my father said. “Plates on the counter in the kitchen. Potato salad and tea is in the refrigerator and the baked beans are on the stove. Help yourself.”

  Haley looked at me. “Well?”

  I could not stop smiling. “Well what, Haley?”

  “Have you made a decision about your job?”

  I took a deep breath and avoided my parents’ eyes. Nodding, I couldn’t suppress my happiness.

  “I’m quitting. Effective immediately!”

  Haley wrapped her arms around Quinn and kissed him on the lips.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Are you close to rendezvousing with the target?”

  “Yeah, Zelie’s all over it. She’ll let me know when it’s handled.”

  “Good.” Mark was quiet for a moment. “What are you doing to keep busy?”

  I looked around the living room, wondering if it was fitted with cameras and bugs. It was clean during my morning sweep, but The Group was relentless, they could’ve come in while I took a shower. Or used the bathroom. Or when I blinked.

  I glanced at my watch and smiled. She was on her way. I sat back on my couch and relaxed. “Oh, you know, the norm. Exercising, reading books…”

  He grunted into the phone. “I’ll find you something soon.”

  I’d been careful. No one knew about Rain. No one knew she was here or that I’d contacted her. Mark was just fishing.

  “That sounds great. I’m all about staying busy.”

  “There’s something major coming down the pipe and the boss has you in mind for it.”

  “If it’s wet work, I’d prefer to pass on it.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, Kael. But if you stop taking hits, the higher ups will begin to wonder. We don’t want them wondering, do we?”

  I sat up. “Of course not. But I’m doing my job and I’m doing it well.”

  “I know.” He sighed wearily. “You’re one of the best we got, that’s why they don’t want to let you go. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  “Kael?”

  “Yeah?”

  “The Group finds no value in rebels, you know?”

  “Yes, I know.”

  I hung up the phone, tired of Mark’s dire warnings. Ever since Zagreb, he wouldn’t get off my case. What did I have to do to prove I was okay? To prove I was a company man, shoot up a mall? I was fine with killing, more than fine. I just had a problem with indiscrimina
te murder.

  I’d questioned a mission once, and now my superiors wouldn’t let me live it down.

  I pressed a button on my watch and walked around the room, checking for bugs. When I found none, I checked devices, nooks and crannies for cameras. Nothing. The room was clean. I wasn’t paranoid, just cautious. No one could know about Rain. She didn’t need to be on The Group’s radar.

  I went to the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. It was from my vineyard in Saint-Bris-le-Vineux. We only produced a few thousand bottles a year, most of which went to the local restaurants in the village, but there was one restaurant in Alexandria that purchased several cases every year.

  Needless to say, it was a mostly private endeavor, something I did with the help of our winemaker, a local villager and a small staff that kept me sane. The vineyard and Rain, it was all I had.

  The vineyard gave me something normal to do when I had those rare moments to get away and forget the world. It was good to only focus on soil and water and grapevines.

  I rummaged through the cabinets looking for a decanter and wineglasses. The home came completely furnished, and fortunately that included quality white wineglasses and a crystal pitcher, which would do the trick.

  While the wine breathed, my thoughts drifted to Rain. I was surprised when I’d received her text. She’d agreed to come over. I couldn’t wait to see her alone. I wanted to touch her, kiss her. It had been so long.

  If it hadn’t been for work and the vineyards, my longing for her would’ve driven me mad. I don’t care what I told her two years ago. I didn’t want to wait any longer. I wanted to strip her naked and make love to her.

  We could figure out the rest later.

  * * * * *

  I reached the townhouse he was renting for his stay in Raleigh. It was conveniently close to my home and my parents’ home, come to think of it. The brick building with black shutters and wrought iron railings was located in a cul-de-sac so full of oak and pine trees that you could hardly see the other homes from the road.

  I barely had time to knock on his door when he answered bare-chested and wearing a pair of low-slung track pants. He casually shrugged into a t-shirt as I entered the room.

  He closed the door behind me and I swallowed hard. “There’s a glass of Sauvignon Blanc waiting on you.” He gestured toward the gourmet kitchen. “You still like it at room temperature?”

  I nodded as I look at the kitchen counter and saw a half-full wine goblet, shimmering pale gold under the kitchen’s fluorescent light.

  And then he was standing before me. He brought the goblet to my lips.

  I took a sip. Licked my lips. “Thank you.”

  He smiled at me. “How is it?”

  “Good.” He continued to watch me expectantly. “You want more?”

  “Yes, what do you really think of the wine?”

  “Oh. Umm,” I motioned with my mouth for another sip. He obliged, following the taste of wine with a kiss to my neck and shoulders.

  “Notes of grapefruit.”

  He nibbled on my ear. “And?”

  I was suddenly feeling flushed and lightheaded, and I didn’t think it was because of the wine. “Lots of minerality and grassiness, melon and lemon?”

  He softly bit my neck. “Anything else?”

  “Oak barrels? French probably.”

  “Yes, but just barely. Shy of six months, I only wanted a hint of vanilla.” He planted a kiss on my lips and when I gasped in surprise, his tongue slipped inside.

  I couldn’t stop myself. I wrapped my arms around his neck and allowed him to kiss me. My nose tingled as if I might start crying.

  He pulled back first. “I’ve missed you, Rain.”

  Shuddering, I stepped backwards, took the wineglass from him.

  “You look different,” he said, unable to take his eyes off me.

  “It’s my hair, newly curly. I should probably pull it into a ponytail. Is it different good or different bad?”

  “Oh, you’re bad alright.”

  “What?” I stopped and saw his lust-filled expression. “Oh, bad good?”

  “Finish your wine.”

  Like a good little girl, I inelegantly gulped the rest of my wine down. I placed the glass beside me and sat for a moment as the wine warmed my body.

  He nodded, bringing a hand to my hair. He gently lifted one long curl and twirled it around his finger. “I’m used to seeing your hair straight but this is nice too. It’s different but it suits you, I think.”

  He had almost wrapped the entire length of hair around his finger and I could feel it softly tugging at my scalp. Sparks of pleasure emanated from my scalp, traveled down my body and straight to my nipples. Aroused? Check.

  He looked me directly in my eyes, inches from my face, and then gently unraveled the curl. His breath was hot on my skin and my nipples stood at attention.

  I fanned myself with my hand as if I were in church in the middle of August with no air conditioning. Kael was looking at me like he wanted to ravish me. If I finished this glass of wine, I didn’t know if I’d be able to resist.

  I sat down on the couch in his living room, better to put some space between us. But then he came toward me with that sexy glint in his eyes. I was wishing I hadn’t worn a pretty silk bra with no padding. Hopefully, he hadn’t noticed my response to him playing with my hair.

  I needed to change the vibe in this room because right now, I wouldn’t be surprised if some Barry White started playing.

  “I’m quitting my job.” The words fell out of my mouth so quickly, I could hardly believe I’d said them.

  He sat down beside me. I’d already told him about my dilemma the day before at lunch.

  “So, you’re going to start your own business?”

  “I think so.” I told him about Quinn and his offer.

  “I could’ve given you the money.” He gazed at me for a moment. “I’m jealous. What’s this guy’s name?”

  I told him and he nodded as if committing it to memory.

  He stood, rifled through his briefcase and pulled out his checkbook. He scribbled a few words, tore a check off and then strode over to me with his hand out.

  I stared at the rectangular piece of paper. He had written me a check for ten thousand dollars.

  “What’s this for?”

  “Payments for a couple thousand beignets and coffee, whatever it will cover.”

  “What are you going to do with this many beignets?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t care. Once you get up and running. Make them and then donate them to the local police force or something.”

  “This is really not necessary. Appreciated but,” I held the check out, “maybe you should hold on to this until I’m actually up and running.”

  “There’s no rush. Take your time.”

  “Why are you doing this? Considering how you left things between us.”

  “How did I leave things? The ball was left in your court.”

  At that, I whirled around, the fear of falling into his bed replaced by red-hot frustration. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He reached out, touched my cheek with his hand. I wanted to close my eyes and just rub my face across the roughness of his palm. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Not after the way he played me.

  I smacked his hand away and glared at him.

  Eyes wide, he stared at his outstretched hand as if I’d burned him. “I can’t even touch you?”

  This was hard, so very hard. I wanted nothing more than to forget everything, the past and the future. I wanted only to think about the now, with him touching me, all over my body. But I wouldn’t be stupid again.

  I found my purse and held it to my chest. “You want your check back now?”

  “Because you won’t let me touch you or kiss you?” His face hardened.
“I wasn’t paying you for the services I hoped you might render.”

  He stepped toward me and I moved back, fumbling for the doorknob. I finally wrenched it open and basically ran out of the room.

  * * * * *

  My father’s lips were pressed into a thin line as I told him about Kael’s check.

  “Give that damn boy his check back.”

  I sat back in the booth I shared with my father, feeling as if the air had been knocked out of me. My father never used profanity unless he was very, very angry. And had he told me to give the money back?

  My father waved away the waitress when she offered more tea. He leaned forward, his gaze focused on me.

  “Accepting money from that football player is one thing. I’m pretty sure Haley has him wrapped around her little finger, but I also believe he wants a legitimate business to invest in. But this,” he pointed his finger at me, “is different. Is this that same boy that knocked the wind out of you awhile back?”

  I avoided my father’s laser beam stare and played with a saltshaker. He remembered. But then again, fathers tended to remember the men that broke their daughter’s hearts. I nodded.

  “Yeah. Definitely take that check and tear it up in his face. He’s making quick amends with you. That or he likes to be in control. He’ll hold that money over your head forever.”

  Kael wasn’t like that and I told him so.

  “How do you know? You don’t really know him. You said yourself you hadn’t seen him in three years.”

  It was two, but… “We’ve stayed in contact,” I added lamely and then sighed. I was lying, and he was right.

  He pointed the spoon at me for emphasis. “Quinn’s offering is a blessing I think you should take. But if you can’t make your business work with this new infusion of cash, paying Quinn back and making him a profit, you need to give up on that particular dream and find yourself a real job.”

  He eyed me coolly as he sipped his coffee. “A job you’ll be happy with.”

  I didn’t respond. I focused on my Bananas Foster pancakes and savored the taste of the banana liqueur and pecans.