Authors: Pamela Yaye
But she saw something differentâhunger, desireâbefore he blinked and the moment was gone.
“See you on the campaign trail,” she sang, trying to sound casual and unaffected, getting into her car before she did something crazy like throw caution to the wind and kiss the lips that had tempted her all evening.
“Be safe,” he responded.
She pulled away, then looked into the rearview mirror to find him still standing there, staring. Something had happened tonight, when they'd hugged; something innate yet palpable, something ethereal yet all too real. Monique had no doubt that she'd felt it and she was positive that Niko had sensed it, too.
On the drive home she tried to redirect her thoughts about him, focus solely on the fact that they were opponents in a coveted mayoral campaign. But such attempts were futile. The race was on, of that there was no doubt. Whether it ended in a boardroom or a bedroom, now, that was the question. That Monique was leaning toward the latter as her ending of choice was creating a problem, one that would only escalate in the coming months if there were more intimate meetings like this.
From now until November their seeing each other was a given. With that in mind Monique determined that it was best to keep her meetings with him as public and professional as possible. Because she could not be responsible for her actions with that man behind closed doors.
Chapter 6
T
he next day, Niko entered the Drake residence to the sound of raucous laughter floating down the hallway. He smiled, despite the fact that he had no idea who'd told the joke or caused the chuckles. It could have been anyone. When it came to Drake gatherings around the family table, they were always lively, filled with stimulating conversation and many differences of opinion. It was as though having a child to cover every possible angle of life's spectrum had been Ike Sr. and Jennifer's plan.
Take the oldest, Ike Jr. Almost from the womb, it was known that he'd be the one who'd step into his father's footsteps and carry on the family business. He'd taken to this role like a fish to water, had graduated with business degrees from Fisk University and the Wharton School and hadn't looked back. Reginald, the second son, was doing the same thing in their native home of New Orleans. As with Ike Jr., business had come naturally. So had family life. After spending time in California and giving relocation brief consideration, he'd married his college sweetheart and turned a nineteenth-century Creole town house into a modern-day masterpiece. Warren, the brother directly under Niko, took after his grandfather as a lover of the land. The first crop harvest from a vineyard he'd begun several years ago had turned a tidy profit and seemed poised to do it again. The twins, Terrell and Teresa, though currently working at the family business, were still figuring out exactly what they wanted to do in life. Armed with degrees in engineering and journalism respectively, and boasting fraternity and sorority connections and healthy bank accounts, the sky was the limit. Julian, next to the youngest, was the serious one in the bunch. As quiet and introspective as his siblings were the opposite, he'd not talked until he was two years old and even now spoke sparingly, usually when he had something to say that was prolific and profound. A personality that was perfect for psychology, his chosen profession. And then there was London, the baby of the family. She'd managed to stay out of trouble long enough to earn a degree in fashion design and she'd surely spent enough money on clothes to fund several college educations, but what she'd end up doing with her life was anyone's guess. He heard her now, arguing with their father about why he should buy her a house. Niko shook his head. His mother was right. The Drake bunch had been overdue for a get-together. He didn't realize how much he'd missed it until now.
“There he is!”
“About time you got here, boy.”
“If it isn't the politician. Where you been? Out kissing babies and schmoozing old men?”
The questions came in rapid fire with one beginning before another could end.
“Will you all stop the interrogation?” Jennifer raised her voice above the din, quickly gaining the respect that she commanded. “Let the child sit down before you start in.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He kissed her and took a seat.
“Now,” Jennifer said as soon as his butt had touched the cushion, “why are you so late getting to the brunch?”
“Geez!” Niko joined the others in laugher. He eyed the drink pitchers on the table, deciding whether he wanted a Bloody Mary mix, lemonade or tea. Given how he was in the hot seat, he reached for the one containing alcohol. “I thought you were on my side.”
“I am. I let you sit down, didn't I?”
“That, you did.”
“Does your being late have anything to do with your date last night?”
Niko almost spewed the sip he'd just taken. Not even twelve hours later and his private dinner with Monique was already making the rounds?
Jennifer reached over and patted his hand. “Don't worry. This isn't fodder for the rumor mills. Grace hired Esteban for a dinner she's having tonight and happened by the club to share some last-minute changes she'd thought of for her menu. She saw you and Monique Slater leaving out the back door. Said you two shared a friendly hug.”
Niko got up and walked to the buffet. “Did you talk to Grace or a reporter for the
Cove Chronicle?
”
Ike Sr. snorted. “Is there a difference?”
“Don't worry, Niko. I trust Grace to keep a confidence. She and I have been friends for decades.”
“I appreciate that but there's no great story here. Yes, Monique and I met for dinner. For obvious reasons, we decided to do so privately.”
“You don't owe us an explanation,” Terrell said, rising from the table and joining his brother at the buffet. “She's an attractive, single woman. Oh, and she's breathing. Of course you'd take her out.”
“That's low, bro,” Warren said with a shake of his head. “And considering how many women's numbers are in your phone's address book, it's a dig that you should not be making. Don't listen to Terrell, baby,” he said to his wife. “Drake men aren't players.”
“Boy, please.” London smirked while texting on her cell phone. “Considering how big Charli's stomach is getting, it looks like someone's had some fun.”
“London!” Jennifer gave her youngest a look. “How many times do I have to tell you...no electronics at the table.”
“Mom, it's justâ”
“Put it down.” Ike Jr. gave his younger sister a stare that dared her to defy him. She put down the phone.
Niko was glad the heat on him had been deflected and to know what Grace had seen. It was all the more reason why he couldn't see Monique socially or act out the fantasy that had played in his head ever since holding her in his arms. No, there were too many eyes, too many people watching. It wouldn't do for him to act on that desire at all.
Chapter 7
M
onique blinked her eyes, allowing them to adjust to the bright sunlight. She was glad she'd taken her godmother up on her offer and attended church. It wasn't something she did often, but the choir had sung beautifully and she'd enjoyed the sermon. Sitting in those pews, listening to his lyrical cadence speak on the truth setting one free and unconditional love, she'd been assuaged with a feeling of peace. And then another feeling, guilt, about Rob and the message from him on her phone when she had returned home from dinner with Niko. How he missed her and wanted her to reconsider the decision to end their relationship. Finally considering his feelings was what had led her to break up with him in the first place.
As if conjuring him up, her phone rang. She pointed to it, mouthed “I'll be back” to Margo and stepped a few yards away from the socializing parishioners. “I was just thinking about you,” she said by way of greeting, adjusting her earbud to hear more clearly.
“I hope it was about what I suggested on the message I left,” Rob replied, his voice crisp and professional-sounding in her ear. “And how you'd like to invite me up to see you.”
She immediately thought of Niko, and how words that oozed from his inviting lips caused her toes to curl. Rob had never caused anything to curl, tighten or moisten simply by speaking. Ever. It was true, yet she immediately chided herself for making the comparison.
“How's life in Los Angeles?”
“Same old, same old. Lonely without you.”
Say “I miss you, too,” Monique!
She wanted to, but she couldn't. The words were blocked by thoughts of the pastor's message about truth and being set free. “I had my first debate with an opponent yesterday,” she said instead.
“Really? Who?”
“Niko Drake. He's running as an independent.”
“That was fast. Didn't you just announce your candidacy days ago?”
“Yes.”
“Who set this up so quickly?”
“Would you believe the owner of a beauty shop?”
“Come again?”
Monique laughed, then shared the short version of yesterday's events. “We both held ourselves in check, didn't let things get ugly. Then last night we met and agreed to leave the negative ads and mudslinging to others and run positive-oriented races that stick to the facts.”
“You met last night?”
Monique heard the pout in his voice and immediately recognized her error. “Yes.” And then, to make it more official-sounding, she added, “We had a brief meeting.”
“Interesting. Where?”
“At the golf-course country club.” That was sort of, kind of, correct. It was the best she could do. Monique simply couldn't bring herself to share that Niko had treated her to a five-star meal in an extravagant private dining room.
“Hobnobbing with the bougie crowd, I see.”
“I'm interacting with all of the citizens of Paradise Cove,” Monique responded. “No matter the height of their status or the size of their bank account.” She hadn't meant to sound curt, but she had.
“Of course you are, Monique. I didn't mean to imply otherwise. Listen, I'd like to come up next weekend. Maybe we can spend a night in romantic San Francisco.”
“I'm afraid I won't see San Francisco until the Silver Serenade Concert during Memorial Day weekend. Until then, my schedule is filled with appearances, meetings and juggling clients.”
“What is the Silver Serenade Concert?”
“It's a charity event put on by members of Northern California society, including Paradise Cove, a black-tie affair.”
“Sounds like one that requires an escort. I'm offering my services.”
“Rob...”
“We were friends before we began dating, Monique. Can't we be friends now?”
She hesitated, thinking. Was it a good idea to reconnect with him in this way? Would it send the wrong signal? And then she considered his words. They were friends. She could use an escort. This might be a way to maintain a friendship with a really nice guy.
“I think you'd really enjoy the concert, Rob. I'll get another ticket.”
“I can purchase my own ticket, Monique.”
“Sure you could. If you could find one. With the concert sold out, they're hard to get. If it means that much, you can pay me back.”
“Deal. Send me the details. But I'd still like to see you this weekend. It's a rare one where I won't be working. Plus, you can help me celebrate.”
“What?”
A pause and then “My birthday.”
“So sorry, Rob! Of course your birthday is this weekend. With everything going on here I'd totally forgotten.”
“So...can I come up?”
“Sure, why not.”
“Excellent! I can't wait to see you!”
Monique immediately regretted her decision. From the excitement in his voice, she knew that he hoped for a second chance. When he arrived she'd have to make it crystal clear that she would not be his birthday present and that a reconciliation was never going to happen.
Looking up, she saw her godmother waving her over. “Rob, I've got to run. I'm taking Margo and two of her best friends out to lunch. Call you later?”
Shortly after hanging up from Rob, Monique and company headed to Acquired Taste, which, next to the golf-course supper club, was the city's nicest restaurant. The women were chatty and Monique was glad for the diversion. Thoughts of how impossible her rekindling a relationship with Rob was reminded her of how equally unlikely it was she'd begin one with Niko. If she defeated him in the election, then any chance of romance would go out the window. She still remembered how angry he'd been when she'd won the debate. He'd wanted nothing more to do with her. Would someone as proud as Niko date the woman who snatched his political dream? She didn't think so. If she lost, the outcome would be the same. No Niko. He'd be the town's darling and even more a target for determined female constituents. She'd go back to Los Angeles, pick up where she'd left off in her career and find a man who was as comfortable and loyal as the one she'd let go, but gave her the kind of excitement that the one who could never be hers did with just a glance.
Afternoon passed into evening and Monique remained within the confines of Golden Gates, where her godmother resided in one of the smaller homes near the community's north side. She enjoyed Margo's company immensely, but more than that, Monique didn't want to leave and be alone with her thoughts. So after eating at Acquired Taste, she had driven each of the ladies to their homes and then taken her godmother on a drive through the country before they'd returned to Margo's home and watched shows on Investigation Discovery. That superpositive Margo, who wouldn't hurt a fly, found ID to be one of her favorite channels, with back-to-back stories about murder and mayhem, was for Monique a complete irony. Still they watched and chatted and drank homemade hot chocolate. But when Margo began to yawn, having missed her usual midday nap, Monique gave a hug, said goodbye and headed out the door.
Still, Monique was not ready to face her empty home. So instead of getting in her car, she went around to the trunk, donned the sneakers always kept there for emergencies and decided to find and walk the trail that Margo had mentioned, the one that bordered the Golden Gates community and the government-protected marshland just on the other side. According to her godmother, a variety of rare birds and insects called this area home, so for now it was off-limits to land developers. Monique wondered how the Drakes felt about that as she breathed in fresh air and swung her arms, enjoying the impromptu exercise.
She continued to think about them as she reached the trail and began walking through it, now thankful for the government's intervention. This natural habitat was beautiful. The trail was lined with trees and branches that created a canopy overhead. Flowers bloomed and there were so many different leaves and bushes that after a dozen or so Monique lost count. She meandered for ten minutes, not knowing where the trail ended and not really caring. Even though it felt otherwise, she was only minutes from civilization. Right now she felt safe and secure in this cocoon of natural beauty, with the sounds of the insects and frogs serving as background music to the myriad of thoughts that continued to bounce around her head: the race, Rob, Niko, the Drakes and then...
Monique stopped dead in her tracks. What was that noise? She looked around, noticing for the first time that the light was fading and that total darkness was probably less than half an hour away. Swaying branches now cast creepy shadows across the smooth trail; the sound of insect noises seemed to increase. She looked ahead of her and then turned back, deciding that where she'd come from was a better trek to take than one into the unknown.
But there it was again. That sound. She paused again, and her heart beat louder than any other sound she currently heard. Now watching all of those crime shows about stalking and strangling and murders in swamps didn't seem like such a great idea. It was getting dark. The area was swampy. And she had the frightening and disconcerting feeling that she was not alone.
The sound became clearer. Footsteps. Definitely footsteps, coming closer and gaining speed. A jogger, perhaps? Or a serial killer? Rational thought fled, and Monique decided to do the same. She turned away from the footsteps, broke into a full-on run...and ran smack-dab into a hard chest, a scruffy chin and strong, sure arms around her.
She screamed.
“Monique! It's me!”
Through her haze of fear she heard the voice, remembered the owner of its sound as well as the scent of the cologne that had embraced her twenty-four hours before. Niko? She looked up. It was him!
“Niko!”
“Yes,” he said, amid laughter.
The rumbling in his chest caused by his chuckling caused Monique to feel annoyed yet comforted at the same time. She pushed away from him.
“What's so funny?”
He allowed her to retreat, but still held on to her arms, his face a study in amusement. “When you said you'd see me on the trail,” he drawled, looking square into her face with those bedroom eyes, “I didn't know that this is what you had in mind.”