скачать книгу бесплатно
He had seemed hooked from the moment they met. The two began dating, and Zakira was very impressed by the smart, young, instinctive businessman. She was even more taken by Malik’s fierce dark looks, his six-foot-plus height, his large, muscular build, and the thick dreadlocks which, at that time, only grazed his cheeks. When he smiled, his grayish-black, slightly slanted eyes crinkled at the corners and his smile instantly triggered deep dimples.
As Zakira got to know Malik, she discovered he was often viewed as intimidating and unapproachable. While his appearance unsettled most people, his wife felt just the opposite. Many marveled that such an overpowering soul could be with so gentle a soul as the sweet and kind Zakira.
For his part, Malik was completely bound to his wife. He didn’t think he could ever become bored or disillusioned with her. Besides Zakira’s fantastic looks, her mind was immensely intriguing. The intelligent twenty-nine-year-old woman had a quick mind for business and her savvy frequently rivaled his. That was one of the reasons he constantly encouraged her to take more of an interest in the restaurant. Badu’s was Malik’s creation, but he wanted to run it with his wife by his side. Perhaps one day, was her usual reply.
“Malik! The airport limo’s here!” Zakira called, as she sprinted upstairs. When she got to the bedroom door, she almost collided with her husband.
“Ready?” he whispered, patting his hand against her waist.
Zakira smiled. “Mmm-hmm. I’m just gonna check and make sure we didn’t forget anything.”
“You mean make sure I didn’t forget anything?” Malik teased, before kissing her neck and patting her waist once more. “Hurry up,” he ordered.
Zakira headed to the picture window that overlooked the herb garden on the east side of the yard. She checked the side locks, then sprinted over to the bathroom door to take one last look.
“Uh-huh, just as I thought,” she muttered, spying Malik’s valise on the black marble counter. She grabbed the small piece of luggage and was about to head out, when she noticed a prescription pill bottle beside it. The label noted Malik’s name, recommended dosage and the amount of available refills for a drug she had never heard of. Confusion etched on her face as she caressed the clear slender bottle.
“Zaki, let’s move!”
“Coming!” she called, slipping the small cylinder into the valise before she rushed out of the bathroom.
San Diego, California
The eighth annual Restaurateurs’ Retreat was being held at the Shepherd’s Inn, a serene resort complete with lofty breathtaking views of the Pacific. Restaurant owners and critics alike were on hand for a weekend of sampling the latest, most creative and decadent dishes.
“Mmm…Malik, promise me we’ll take a drive along the coast before we leave?”
“Whatever you want.”
Zakira turned from their bedroom balcony. She watched her husband searching the tiny valise he had carried since they left the airport’s limousine. She bit her tongue to keep from asking what he was looking for. She already knew. Dammit, what are those pills for? she silently questioned herself.
When Malik disappeared into the bathroom, she cast her suspicions aside and inspected the rest of the plush suite. The color scheme was an elegant white on gold, with thick ocean-blue carpeting throughout. Still, the heart-stopping view of the Pacific was what held her captive. The sight of the waves crashing against the huge stone boulders clustered along the west bank of the resort produced the most soothing sound. She closed her eyes and imagined making love with her sexy husband amidst the thunder of the ocean rolling across the massive rocks
“Stop it, Zaki,” she ordered herself, stepping back into the room. In a matter of minutes, she had located the room service menu and ordered a small feast. She had just slipped into her favorite purple terry robe when Malik left the bathroom.
He offered no explanation for his obvious mood and went about changing into his own comfortable attire. Zakira ventured back out to the balcony with a copy of the festival’s program in hand. She had browsed halfway through it, when Malik joined her outside.
“Damn,” he whispered, as blown away by the view as Zakira had been.
She smiled. “I know, right? I could definitely get used to this.”
Malik took a seat on one of the cushiony white armchairs and propped his bare feet against the white iron railing. “Don’t tell me you’d trade East Coast livin’ for this?”
Zakira set the program on the short iron table next to her chair and shrugged. “I think I could live here.”
“California, Zaki?”
“What? It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, this is beautiful, but the rest of the state…”
“Oh, stop, there are some very lovely areas here. Which is why I’ve often suggested that you expand your business here.
Malik’s deep chuckles rose. “Remember what I said about you becoming more involved in my business? Forget it.”
Zakira threw her head back and laughed. “Fair enough,” she conceded, moving out of her chair. “I’m going to put my hair up. Room service should be here soon. I didn’t think you’d be in the mood to go out tonight, so I ordered in.”
Malik caught her hand when she stepped past him. “Thanks,” he said, pulling her to his lap. His big hands cupped her small face as his lips touched hers.
Zakira gasped, allowing him the entrance he sought. She kissed him with equal passion, arching herself against his wide, bare chest. Her nails grazed his flawless dark skin, and her legs trembled when his hand tested the softness of her inner thigh.
The doorbell sounded. Malik’s eyes searched Zakira’s face with an intensity that almost frightened her. Then, as though he were waking from a dream, he shook his head and smiled.
“I better get that,” he whispered.
Zakira eased off his lap. “Um, I’ll just be in the bathroom,” she told him, praying her weak legs would carry her that far.
Zakira found the suite a bit darker when she emerged from the bathroom. The setting sun offered the only illumination. Slowly, she retraced her steps to the balcony.
“Malik…” she sighed, eyeing the seductive transformation.
A cozy round table set for two had been placed in the center of the balcony. Candles offered a golden warmth that seemed to intensify the fiery orange glow from the retreating sun.
“Thought we’d take advantage of a West Coast sunset,” Malik explained, as he finished filling their wineglasses.
Zakira smiled and turned her eyes toward the sun. “I knew you were impressed.”
Malik offered no response and simply walked over to hold her chair. When Zakira took her seat, his fingers brushed the nape of her neck in one fleeting motion.
“I’m glad you talked me into this.”
“So, you’re admitting I had to talk you into it, huh?” Zakira questioned later, as they ate thick slices of chocolate cheesecake in bed. The room was lit by the glow of the huge moon. In the distance, crashing waves provided a sound more romantic than the most heartfelt song.
“We needed to get away. I know I did,” Malik admitted.
Zakira set her cake on the bedside stand and turned to rest her head on Malik’s bare chest. “Is something going on with the business?” she asked.
Malik squeezed her shoulders. “What makes you think that?”
“You seem to be under a lot of stress. I thought maybe it was business-related.”
The room was bathed in darkness, but Malik’s frustration showed. “The business is fine.”
Zakira heard the soft edge to his reply and debated whether to inquire further.
“Damn, this is so relaxing.” Malik sighed, drawing Zakira more tightly against his powerful frame. “I wish we could stay longer than a weekend.”
The quiet, peaceful tone of his voice robbed Zakira of her desire to mention anything that might ruin the moment. She pressed a kiss to one of his bulging pectorals and closed her eyes. The calming roar of the waves several feet below eventually lulled them to sleep.
“This is incredible. What is it?”
“Canapé Ricotta, ma’am.”
“Come on, there has to be more than ricotta cheese in this thing,” Zakira marveled and popped another one of the exquisite pastries into her mouth.
The young dark-haired man behind the red-and-white-painted boot, beamed. “It’s actually a blend of several cheeses along with a butter and herb sauce. The flavor of the ricotta cheese is most pronounced, hence the name.”
“Outstanding,” Zakira complimented once more. “Baby, you should try this,” she told Malik when he arrived at the booth.
“Hit me,” he requested, opening his mouth for one of the canapés. “Not bad,” he said as the pungent blend of herbs and cheeses triggered his taste buds.
“So, where were you?” Zakira asked, once they had moved on from the Italian food booths.
Malik’s grin triggered his dimples. “There’s a Louisiana soul food booth back there,” he announced.
Zakira glanced across her shoulder. “You’re kidding?”
“Mmm-mmm.”
“Why didn’t you come get me? I could go for a bowl of hot gumbo right about now,” she said, pushing her hands inside her quarter-length olive-green sweater jacket.
Malik slipped one arm around her waist. “I thought we could go there for lunch—they’ve got a restaurant here at the resort.”
“Sounds good,” Zakira absently replied, her brown eyes widening as she spotted another interesting booth.
“Do you have room left for anything?” Malik asked his petite wife, watching as she scanned the menu of Louisiana specialties.
“Please,” Zakira drawled without looking away from the menu, “I’ve been thinking about that gumbo since you told me about this place.”
“Did I hear someone say gumbo?”
Zakira looked up and smiled at the cheerful young woman who had arrived at the table. “You sure did. I’d like your biggest bowl,” she said, giggling when Malik uttered a soft mocking sound of shock.
“Great choice,” the perky honey-complexioned waitress replied before turning to Malik. “And will it be the same for you, sir?”
Malik’s slanting gaze narrowed a bit more and he pushed his menu aside. “Nah, I think I’m gonna pass.”
Zakira leaned forward. “Baby, aren’t you gonna eat anything?”
“Just bring me a glass of lemonade, will you?” he asked the waitress, who smiled and nodded before leaving the table.
“You must be hungry? You barely sampled any of the food out there,” Zakira noted, watching Malik shrug. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine, Zaki. Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting, I just—”
“I’m going to the restroom. I’ll be back.” He interjected, leaving Zakira staring after him.
Lunch was a quiet affair. Malik’s silence had unnerved and angered her so that Zakira managed to finish only half of the spicy rich seafood gumbo. She had the remainder of the lunch packed in a to-go container and told her husband she would see him later. She spent the rest of the afternoon visiting more booths, chatting with other restaurant owners and enjoying the vibrant beauty of the seaside resort. She adjourned to the suite much later that afternoon and decided to take a nap before the evening’s scheduled gala.
Subtle tingles of sensation surged up and down Zakira’s spine. She shivered in her sleep and snuggled deeper into the warm queen-sized bed.
“Zaki…”
“Hmm?” she moaned, slowly awakening when the pleasurable sensations grew stronger as they coursed through her body.
Malik’s perfect teeth fastened to Zakira’s earlobe and he whispered her name again. When her lashes fluttered open and her brown eyes focused on his face, he pressed a kiss to her mouth.
Zakira rolled her eyes in response. When she turned her head away, she could hear his deep chuckle in her ear.
“I’m sorry,” he sang.
Zakira turned onto her back and fixed him with an unimpressed glare. “I know,” she replied pointedly
Again, Malik chuckled. “Forgive me?”
Zakira laced her fingers together atop the crisp blue sheets. “I guess I could, if I knew what happened. We were having a great time, and all of a sudden you flip.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“And that’s it? You’ve been acting strange for a while now, and your only explanation is you’re sorry?”
Malik fixed her with another devastating smile. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he declared, leaning over when she turned her face away.
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.
