by Zuri Day
That kiss. That man. Those incredible lips. Faye glanced at the clock and then reached for her phone. As soon as Adeline answered, Faye said, “I’m in trouble.”
“Ooh, good! You must have met someone.”
“Not just someone, girl,” Faye said. Her tone was serious, somber even. “One of the owners of this resort.”
Adeline squealed. “Please tell me that your self-imposed celibacy is over.”
Sometimes Faye regretted having ever told Adeline about her love life. Or lack thereof. “I can’t tell you that because it isn’t true. We did go to dinner though.”
“Okay, that’s a start. What happened afterward?”
“He walked me to my room, gave me a brief kiss and left—just like a gentleman.”
“That’s it?”
“Don’t sound so disappointed.”
“Don’t mind me, girl. After being married for ten years, I can’t imagine going without sex for as long as you. And I can’t imagine why you think you’re in trouble.”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about him.”
“Ooh, praise the Lord! There’s hope for you yet. So tell me about him. Is he handsome? How tall? How old? How’d you meet him? Start at the beginning and don’t leave anything out!”
Faye gave her the rundown, from the time she saw him in the lobby until he’d kissed her good-night. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find him attractive. But we’re total opposites. I can’t see what we’d have in common.”
“He has a penis and you say you’re attracted. I can think of at least one thing that you both might like.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious! Stop being such a conservative prude and live a little. You’re only there for a few more days before moving to San Diego. As you’ve pointed out, you two are opposites and will probably travel in totally different circles. It is most likely that after you leave the resort, you’ll never see him again.” That thought didn’t sit well with Faye at all. Yes, she was in trouble big-time. “Here, your choices were limited. It made it easy for you to get buried in work. But I worry about you, Faye. You’re a pretty girl, an intelligent and skilled doctor. When you finish healing and comforting all of your patients, I want you to have someone in your life who can comfort you.”
“It would be nice to have a friend here.” Aside from the church group she’d met in Haiti, and the subsequent partnership with the San Diego ministry who’d sold her the building for the clinic, she really knew no one in Southern California.
“Then it’s settled. If he asks you out on another date, you’ll go. If he doesn’t ask you out, then you ask him. If he agrees, and wants to end the evening in a horizontal position, you’ll be open to that. Right?”
“Addie! I just met him. He’ll think I’m...easy, promiscuous!”
“This is the twenty-first century and you’re not a virgin. He’ll think you’re a warm-blooded woman with grown-up needs. Promise me if the opportunity arises you’ll at least consider what I’ve said?”
“I promise to consider it. But that’s all.”
Shortly after their conversation, Faye left the resort. She spent a good deal of the day in San Diego: checking out her new condo, seeing the building that would house the clinic and meeting with the pastor of Open Arms Church. Both on the way to and on the way back from San Diego she thought about what her friend Adeline had said.
“That woman is crazy,” she finally decided. Dexter probably has no desire to go out with me again, and I’m definitely not going to ask him out. “Just focus on the clinic, Faye. That alone will be a full plate.”
Just like that, Faye dismissed the notion of again hooking up with Dexter. Soon, she would learn that life was what happened when one was busy making other plans.
Chapter 13
Two days later, the following Monday, Faye had just returned to her room after having lunch in the Grapevine when her hotel phone rang. After two quiet evenings where the landline had remained silent, she’d begun to think that her dinner with Dexter was indeed “one night only” and that if she could simply lie low for the next few days she could leave Drake Wines with fairly good memories—not necessarily those that Adeline suggested, but nice ones nonetheless. Now, she was sure he was calling to try and finish what he’d started. Probably not every day that he doesn’t get the goods.
“Hello?”
“Dr. Buckner? This is Genevieve Drake.”
This was a surprise. I hope Papa Dee is okay. “Yes, Mrs. Drake.”
“Please, call me Genevieve. And may I call you Faye?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’m sure you have a lot going on, so I’ll get right to the point. We brought home Papa Dee today.”
“That’s good news.”
“It is indeed. We thought it would happen a couple days earlier but a low fever kept them cautious. But he’s home now and that’s why I’m calling. He’s asked about you. I thought I’d invite you for tea and then, if you have time, perhaps you could check in on him.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Drake—”
“Genevieve.”
“Yes, Genevieve. But your family has already done so much. I’ll be more than happy to check in on Mr. Drake. It’s not necessary to make a fuss by fixing tea.”
“It’s no fuss—we have tea every day. Besides, my son told me that you’ve moved here from Haiti to start your own clinic. I think that is a very noble endeavor and would like to hear more about that, and to speak with you about another matter as well. Would three o’clock work for you?”
Faye looked at the desk clock. “That sounds fine.”
“Perfect. Our home isn’t far from the hotel. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
“There are few tea times in Haiti. Is this a formal affair?”
“Oh, heavens no!” Genevieve said, with a chuckle. “Very casual. Wear whatever is comfortable.”
It sounded simple enough, but it still took Faye half an hour to decide on a pencil skirt in denim fabric paired with a stark white peasant blouse and leather flats. Her new hairstyle had survived the weekend, but the professional makeup job done in the salon gave way to a hint of blush, lipstick and a spritz of her favorite cologne.
Shortly after Faye arrived there, Genevieve entered the lobby. She was put together from head to toe; shoulder-length black hair held back with a pearl clasp, a light blue knit shell and navy slacks that complemented her skin tone and slender frame. They greeted each other and within minutes were driving in an SUV and passing between two columns and under a wrought-iron sign that simply read DRAKE in elegant calligraphy.
“Your property is beautiful,” Faye said, looking out on the picturesque landscaping that appeared to belong on a movie set.
“Thank you, Faye,” Genevieve said. “It’s been in the family for over a hundred years. Donald, my husband, grew up on this property—and all of our children, of course. When the boys were young, they’d invite their friends out and play baseball over there—” she pointed toward a vast expanse of flat land surrounded by trees
“—or ride horses. Never a dull moment when the kids were young—or now either for that matter.” They came to a stop in front of a sprawling white house with contrasting black shutters. “Here we are. Welcome to the Drake estate.”
Indeed, Faye thought as she exited the pearl white Escalade and looked around her. In addition to what she assumed was the main house there were three smaller but similarly designed homes that sat back not far from a cobblestone connecting road. A fence made of stark white wood and wrought iron surrounded as much of the property as she could see, and beyond it were grapevines and rolling hills, one of which contained the Honeymoon House, as Faye recalled from the hotel brochure.
They entered the home and, like the outside landscape, the interior
did not disappoint. Light filtered in through large picture windows, accenting the warm earth tones mixed with coppers and gold. They bypassed a large room and continued down the hall to a smaller one, a library as it turned out. The burgundy, navy and tan color scheme complemented the cherrywood and included a cozy sitting area with two wingbacks and a love seat. Inside sat another woman who’d thanked her at the hospital.
“You remember my mother-in-law,” Genevieve said as they entered.
“Mary Drake,” the woman said, her smile warm, her matronly look inviting and familiar.
“Yes, Mrs. Drake.”
“Please, baby. Just call me Miss Mary, or Grandma, same as the other kids.”
“Thank you, Miss Mary.”
A maid entered with an elaborate tea cart. “Faye, how would you like your tea?” Genevieve asked.
“Cream and sugar, please.” As Genevieve prepared their tea, Faye continued. “I’m glad to hear about Papa Dee.”
“A trooper, that one,” Mary said, accepting her teacup and taking a sip.
“The doctors are amazed that his heart is still so strong,” Genevieve added, stirring thoughtfully. “But we’re worried. That’s one of the reasons we wanted to talk to you, Faye. To see if there is any possibility that you could help us where Papa Dee is concerned.”
“I’d be happy to help in any way that I can.”
“While it looks as though he’s on the road to full recovery, we are going to hire a full-time, live-in nurse. We thought that perhaps you could conduct the second interview, ask the types of medical questions necessary to make sure they’re a fit.”
Faye nodded. “It would be my pleasure. This tea is delicious, by the way.”
“It’s my favorite. We get it at Sprouts, a local store that carries mostly organic produce. Which is a perfect segue into our second plan of action with Papa. He loves his fried this and smothered that, is a southern boy through and through, but we want to hire a nutritionist who can design a menu befitting his age and health concerns.”
“It sounds like you’re doing all the right things.”
“We’re trying,” Genevieve said, her rapidly blinking eyes fighting tears. “He means so much to us.”
“We understand that you arrived here from Haiti,” Mary said. “How did you hear of our resort?”
For the next half hour, Faye gave the short version of her story: the Peace Corps, her time in Africa, how the earthquake brought her back to the western hemisphere and how the kindness and generosity of her mentor had brought her here. “I miss Haiti and the work I did there. But it’s good to be back in the States.”
The telephone rang. “Excuse me,” Genevieve said, reaching for the crystal-beaded cordless. “Hello?” She listened, smiling at Faye as she did so. “Oh, yes. Certainly. We’ll come right away. That was the nurse,” she said after hanging up. “Papa will be taking his nap soon. She suggested we come now.” They both peered at a closed-eyed Mary, looking regal, even in sleep.
“Looks like it’s nap time for a few people,” Genevieve loudly whispered. They stood to leave. The phone rang again. “Wouldn’t you know it? The phone has barely rung all afternoon.” She looked at the caller ID. “Ah, this is my cousin from up north. Hello, Benita. I was just heading out. Can I call you back?” Faye noted the beautiful ring Genevieve wore as she waved her right hand. “Oh, okay. I understand. Hold on a moment.” She pressed the hold button. “Faye, I need to take this call. Would you mind terribly going to see Papa without me? His is the first house down the lane. There are orange and lemon trees in front, and a swing on the porch. You can’t miss it.”
“No problem.” She held out her hand. “Thanks for the tea.”
Faye left the room and, resisting the urge to snoop and check out other parts of the house, was soon outside in the afternoon sun. She enjoyed the short walk to the first of several smaller houses, walked up the curved entrance and used the brass knocker.
The door opened and she looked into the face she least expected to see.
Dexter leaned against the doorjamb. “Well...hello.”
Chapter 14
“Hello.” He looked better than she remembered. “I understand that Mr. Drake wants to see me?”
“And which Mr. Drake is that?” The smile was hubristic, but it worked.
“Mr. David Drake Sr.” Faye smiled too. Her flirting skills were rusty, but something about this man made her feel all girlie inside.
Dexter gave her the once-over. “Come on in,” he drawled.
He turned and she followed him across a comfortably appointed living room and down a short hall. She checked out his tight butt without shame, drank in his broad shoulders, narrow waist and long legs...and remembered Adeline’s nudge to have fun. Once again his firm booty beckoned. I could have some fun with that. They reached Papa Dee’s bedroom before her mind had a chance to run with just how much fun she could have.
“Someone to see you, Papa,” Dexter announced.
Faye walked up to the bed, her smile bright, her countenance genuinely cheerful. “Hello, Mr. Drake,” she said, lightly touching his arm. “You look much better than the last time I saw you.”
The jovial man whom Faye remembered from the birthday party was not the one she encountered now. He looked at her intensely, his eyes squinting as if he was recalling her presence. His stare was so unflinching and lasted to the point where she became uncomfortable. Does he not remember me? she wondered.
Papa Dee slowly raised his hand and placed it on Faye’s arm. “There’s my curly-haired angel,” he said, his voice raspy, his eyes bright. “I thought you’d gone and left me for a younger man.”
Faye’s smile broadened, and she was surprised to feel tears threatening to fall. “It’s so good to see you, Papa,” she said, using the name that everyone else did without realizing it. “You look really good.”
“I know you’re fibbing, sweet pea,” he said, his breath slightly labored. “But it sure sounds nice.”
“Whatever you say.” She placed a thumb on his wrist and checked his pulse with him being none the wiser. She then caressed his cheek, feeling his neck in the process. No temperature. Good. “I imagine you’re just about ready to get out of that bed.”
“About to go stir-crazy.”
“I’ll check out the doctor’s report and talk to the nurse. Let’s see if we can get those young bones to moving.”
Papa Dee nodded as his eyes fluttered closed. Itching for her stethoscope, Faye instead placed a light hand on his chest, noting that his breathing was full and steady. She looked up and, seeing the concern in his eyes, gave Dexter a reassuring smile. He’s good, she mouthed. He nodded and motioned for them to leave the bedroom.
They walked into the open-concept living area, where the nurse was typing on her computer. After introducing herself, Faye asked several questions regarding Papa Dee’s health, including the medications that had been prescribed and the rehabilitation program that had been established. She found out that the nurse was on loan from the hospital, and would be leaving at week’s end. Faye made a mental note to speak with Genevieve tomorrow about a replacement. All of this was handled in the calm, no-nonsense persona she’d adopted while in residency at a hospital in Washington, D.C. and honed in makeshift tents in the bowels of Africa. Dexter looked on with keen interest at a woman obviously in her element and very good at what she did. And was it his imagination, or did she get better looking every time he saw her? He noticed the way her mouth pursed just so when she was thinking and the way her fine hair made wispy curls at her temples, curls he wanted to rub with his finger, in front of ears he wanted to outline with his tongue. Never before had he noticed how there could be such sexiness in simplicity and how not having all of one’s assets on full display could awaken his curiosity to the content of her hidden treasures. She was, in a word, dif
ferent. There was something else. Something he couldn’t quite pinpoint, couldn’t quite define, drawing him to her despite his inner protestations that she “wasn’t his type.”
After finishing with the nurse, Faye walked over to where Dexter gazed out the window. “He’s recovering nicely,” she said, also staring out on the beautiful August afternoon. Palm trees collided with maples in a zany yet effortless landscape, while hummingbirds vied for nectar from the feeders strategically hung from the frame of Papa Dee’s front porch. “I think he’ll be all right.” At this confident statement, Dexter offered Faye an unreadable look. His smoldering eyes sent shivers one place and intense heat another.
To break the spell she felt he was undoubtedly weaving with his sparkling, curly-lash-framed eyes, she looked at her watch and was genuinely surprised at the time. “Oh! I need to run. I signed up for the DD&T that starts at six-thirty.”
Dexter’s sister, Diamond, had implemented this latest resort offering a year ago. Guests at the hotel were treated to a grand tour of the facilities followed by a discounted dinner at the Grapevine and dancing in the lounge. He’d been totally for it when she presented it to the group, had even participated sometimes by talking to the groups when they came through the cellar or wine shop. But he had no intentions of letting someone else school Faye Buckner on the art of fine wines. No, he planned to do that all by his lonesome.
He grabbed her hand. “Come with me.”
The movement was spontaneous and surprising, as evidenced by Faye’s gut reaction—to pull away. “What are you doing?”
“You scared of me?”