Pride and Consequence (3 page)

The soft lingering kisses he dropped to her neck slowly melted the ice wall she had constructed. After a few moments, she turned and pulled him into bed with her. Malik's hands were everywhere, caressing, squeezing, fondling…. Zakira moaned his name as her fingers entwined in the long dreadlocks. Malik cupped her breasts in his wide palms and savored the taste of one, firm bud. The kisses journeyed upward, landing against Zakira's collarbone and along the smooth column of her neck.

“Mmm…” she moaned, encircling his neck as she arched into his chest. The fabric of his shirt grazed her bare skin with the most delicious intensity. Suddenly, the full force of his massive frame settled across Zakira's body and her eyes snapped open.

“Mmm…Malik, wait a minute…Malik…Malik?” she called, nudging his side with her knee.

There was no response and she began to shove against his broad shoulders. “Malik? Son of a…” she sighed, realizing her husband had fallen asleep while making love to her. When the sound of soft snores caught her ear, she braced all her weight against his and managed to push him away.

While Malik slumbered, Zakira stood next to the bed and watched him. Her suspicions were raging, and the strange pill bottle was at the center of her thoughts.

“Forget this,” she whispered. “I have a party to dress for.” She headed for the bathroom while Malik's snoring gained volume.

“Actually, we've been having problems simply finding a venue for the event.”

“Who wouldn't want to take part in something like that?”

Two women stood talking next to Zakira at the buffet table. The annual Saturday Night Gala had been in full swing when she arrived. The black-and-white affair offered dancing, wine tasting and, of course, an immense dinner buffet.

“You'd be surprised how fast people shy away when they find out something's for charity. Especially the businesses. All they care about is what type of fee they'll generate for renting out their establishment.”

“Excuse me?”

The two women silenced their discussion and turned to face Zakira.

“I'm sorry to interrupt,” she said with a smile. “I couldn't help but overhear. What is your charity, if you don't mind me asking?”

“No, of course not. It's the Richmond Children's Cancer Research Fund.”

“Richmond? Virginia?” Zakira asked.

The woman who had spoken pressed one white-gloved hand to her throat. “Yes, it's really just a group of doctors' wives who run the organization. We have no ties with the hospitals or state agencies, but we've managed to collect over half a million dollars during our two years in existence.”

“That's admirable,” Zakira breathed, highly impressed by the group's success.

Suddenly, the woman shook her head and gave a nervous laugh. “Please forgive me. I don't know where my manners are. I'm Lydia Cartright.”

“And I'm Jessica Black.”

Zakira set her plate down on the buffet table and shook hands with both women. “Zakira Badu, I'm also from Richmond.”

“Well, it's certainly nice to meet a home girl.” Lydia noted before gesturing at their surroundings. “So, what brings you all the way to a California food festival? Pigging out like the rest of us?”

Zakira laughed. “Yes and no,” she replied. “My husband owns a restaurant in Richmond. I don't know if you've ever heard of Badu's?”

“Badu's?” Lydia and Jessica cried, exchanging glances.

“Honey, my husband and I eat there all the time!” Jessica was saying.

“Same here. In fact, Badu's was the next restaurant on my list,” Lydia softly mentioned.

Zakira's brown eyes narrowed. “On your list?”

Jessica cleared her throat and fiddled with the folds of her white satin evening gown. “Lydia's trying to organize the next event for the charity. We were thinking of renting a hall and hiring caterers, but then we thought it might be cheaper to rent a nice restaurant for the evening.”

“Unfortunately, your other colleagues in town are making us want to consider a charity picnic,” Lydia shared. “Bring your own food, of course,” she added.

“Well, it sounds like a great cause. I'd love to help any way I can,” Zakira offered, folding her arms over the square bodice of her black evening gown.

Jessica and Lydia were overcome with gratefulness.

“You can't know what this means for us,” Lydia whispered as she squeezed Zakira's hands. “We're hoping to schedule the event two weeks before Christmas—hopefully folks will be a bit more charitable.”

“We can't pay a lot,” Jessica warned, “but we promise to come up with a suitable figure.”

Zakira waved her hand. “Let's not discuss all that now,” she said, searching her black clutch purse. “I'll need to speak with my husband, but I know he'll be eager to help. Here, hold on to our card and give me a call when you get back to Richmond.”

Jessica's almond-brown face softened with gratitude. “This means so much, Zakira. Bless you.”

“My goodness,” Lydia suddenly breathed, her green eyes riveted on the tall, gorgeous man who had just entered the ballroom.

Jessica and Zakira turned in time to see Malik make his appearance. Zakira felt her heart flip at the sight of him in the stylish tux. He wore his long dreads in a ponytail and the style only emphasized his rugged, magnificent features.

“Who
is
that?” Jessica whispered, her dark eyes feasting on Malik who had stopped to speak with two gentlemen.

Zakira smiled and turned to face her new acquaintances. “Ladies, that's my husband,” she announced, laughing at the friendly envy they allowed her to see. She glanced across her shoulder, her expression rueful. She had managed to forgive Malik's unexpected nap, but promised that she would not forget to ask him about it.

“All right, you two, please don't forget to call. I'll discuss this with Malik and we should be ready to start planning right away.”

Again, Lydia and Jessica reached out to shake her hand.

“Thank you so much, Zakira!”

“We'll definitely be calling.”

Zakira waved off the two women, grabbed her plate and went in search of her husband. By the time she reached Malik, he was shaking hands with the two men he had been speaking with.

“Did you have a good nap?” she asked, waiting for him to turn around.

Malik let his head fall back and he closed his eyes for a moment. “Zaki,” he sighed, finally turning to face her. “Baby, I'm sorry about that.”

Zakira nodded and focused her smoky brown eyes on her full plate. “I wish I could remember how many times I've heard ‘I'm sorry' over the last two days.”

“It's about all I can say,” he whispered, bringing his arms around her waist. “That, and I hope you'll let me make this up to you.”

Zakira selected a plump pink shrimp from her plate and popped it into her mouth. “Make it up to me, hmm? You'll probably fall asleep before you can get halfway through it.”

Malik's low laughter rumbled forth. “That's not the only way I know how to make up, Zaki.”

“I'm glad to hear that.”

“You gonna give me a chance here, or what?”

Zakira decided to let up a little and raised her eyes to his. “So, what do you have in mind?”

Malik took the plate from Zakira's hands and set it on the tray of a passing server. “I'd rather show you,” he said, pulling her close.

Zakira began to sway to the rhythm of the sultry Latin groove. “This had better be good,” she warned him.

And it was. Malik was true to his word. At 6 a.m. Sunday morning, he was rousing Zakira from her sleep and telling her to hurry and get dressed. They hopped into a rented convertible and began their day.

Zakira thought the view of the ocean from her fifth-floor balcony was exquisite, but it didn't compare with the view from the passenger seat of their car. When the sun rose, Malik let the top down and Zakira reveled in the feel of the fresh sea air whipping through her long hair.

“This is incredible!” she shouted, acting like a kid on a roller coaster as her wide eyes scanned the natural beauty surrounding them—entrancing blue water, tall cliffs, towering trees that filtered the gorgeous sunlight and the never-ending curved road that grew steeper as it carried them to a higher altitude.

“When did you think of this?” Zakira asked later that afternoon. They were seated on the hood of the black convertible, with a food-filled straw basket between them.

Malik dipped his wheat cracker into a spicy cheese spread and shrugged. “When I woke up and realized I'd fallen asleep while making love to you.”

Zakira tugged her bottom lip between her teeth and studied his gorgeous profile. She ached to question him about his behavior…and the pills. “Malik—”

“What was it you were wanting to discuss with me after the party? Something about a charity?” he interjected, obviously sensing that she was about to ask something he was not prepared to answer.

“Yeah…” Zakira sighed, deciding it was best not to bring up such a heavy subject. “I met two women from Richmond last night. They're trying to plan a charity function and are having problems with the venue.”

“Mmm…financial problems?” Malik guessed.

Zakira nodded, as she cut a portion of aged sharp cheddar from the huge block. “They're offering to pay, but, of course, they can't afford much. I'm hoping we can work something out. I'd really like to help them,” she said, brushing a speck of cheese from her snug pink V-neck sweater.

“I don't have a problem with it. Hell, it'll be tax-deductible.”

“Malik!” Zakira chastised.

“What? I'm just stating a fact,” he said, chuckling at her horrified expression. “Anyway, what's the charity?”

Zakira nibbled the cheese and followed it with a swig of the fruitful red wine. “It's the Richmond Children's Cancer Research Fund. The women I spoke with are doctors' wives, they…”

“Malik? Baby? Did you hear me?” Zakira said a moment later, noticing the hard, set look on his face.

“We better bounce if we want to make the inn before dark,” he suggested quickly, jumping to the ground and repacking the basket.

Zakira watched him closely, but she did not argue. As the car continued its trek up the gorgeous coast, she decided she would get her answers that night.

“How is it?”

Zakira shook her head. “So good. I've never had clam chowder this good. I guess owning a restaurant on the ocean makes it easy to get the best seafood. And I've definitely had my fill of it this weekend.”

Malik's expression reflected concern. “You're not eating much. Are you sick?”

Zakira swirled her spoon in the creamy pearl-colored chowder. “No, I'm not sick. Are you?” she asked, raising her probing gaze to his face.

He would not respond and a few minutes passed in silence. Zakira silently chastised herself for the question. She hadn't meant to approach the subject quite that way. Besides, the day had been so wonderful, she didn't want it to end on a sour note. Unfortunately, Malik's mood had her more than a little suspicious.

“I had an idea about the charity dinner.”

Zakira forced a phony smile to her face. “Oh?”

Malik ran one hand though his dreads and nodded. “I was wondering if you'd consider working with the staff on the menu and presentation?”

Despite her reluctance to become more active with the business, Zakira discovered she was quite interested in the idea. “What do you have in mind?”

Malik leaned against the oversized wooden high-backed chair. “Well, I was hoping you'd come up with your own ideas and discuss them with the cook staff. We have a meeting every day, so…”

Zakira was nodding. Ideas for the menu were already entering her mind. Of course, she would discuss them with the charity's coordinators first. Still, she had the feeling this was going to be a very successful event.

“You seem pleased,” Malik observed, taking note of the expression brightening his wife's pretty chocolate-toned face.

Zakira could not deny it. “It makes me feel good to be part of something so important. I just can't believe they've had a hard time finding a place to have the thing.”

Malik shrugged, pushing up the sleeves of his lightweight navy blue sweatshirt.

“I mean, I can't imagine anyone not jumping to help them. Especially for a cause like this. Cancer in children, it's—”

“Zakira, do we have to talk about this now?” Malik suddenly snapped, his stare glinting with frustration. “We're supposed to be having a good time here.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Malik?” she snapped back, her mahogany brown stare ablaze. “If I remember correctly, you asked me about the charity dinner. You know, your mood lately has gotten progressively worse and I'm tired of it.”