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Zakira coolly extracted her arm from Malik’s grasp, feeling her entire body tingle scandalously in response to the sweet gesture. “Mmm-mmm,” she replied, with a quick shake of her head. “I’ll be fine.”
He smiled and turned to the table. “Talk to you guys later.” He could feel Zakira’s eyes linger a bit longer than necessary on his departing figure before she forced her eyes back to the page she held.
Before he exited the dining room, he turned to cast one last look at her. The sight of his wife taking an active role in his business pleased him more than she would ever know.
The annoying beep of the intercom pierced the silence of the spacious corner office. Malik slammed his fist against the talk button with such force the machine jumped off the desk.
“What is it, Chanel?” he barked. Reading invoices and recipes, and going over the books for the better part of the morning, had taken a fierce toll on his mood.
“Sorry to bother you, Malik, but Tree’s out here to see you,” Chanel Levy informed her boss.
“Sorry, Chanel. It’s all right. Send him in,” Malik instructed, tossing the paperwork aside as he leaned back in his chair.
A slight frown crossed his dark face when his best friend and lawyer Trekel Grisani walked into the office. “What’s wrong?” Malik asked the moment the door closed.
Tree’s long black lashes closed over his dark eyes as he shook his head. “Everything’s fine, man,” he assured his friend.
Malik visibly relaxed and leaned back a little further in the brown leather chair. “So what’s up? I don’t usually get visits from lawyers in the middle of the day.”
Tree grinned, lowering his massive frame into one of the chairs before the wide desk. “You got a problem with me coming by?”
Malik shrugged. “Nah. You want me to have somethin’ sent up from the kitchen?”
Tree waved his hand and grimaced. “Thanks, I’m cool.” He propped the side of his face against his palm and waited. When Malik remained silent, he sighed. “I think we’ve done enough small talk, man.”
Malik’s heavy brows drew close. “Small talk?” he repeated, purposely misunderstanding.
Tree expelled a frustrated sigh and leaned forward. “Man, will you please give it up? Have you heard anything from Doctor McNeil?”
At Tree’s mention of the doctor’s name, Malik instantly tensed. “I only saw him two days ago,” he murmured, his deep voice raspy with aggravation.
Tree pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat. “All right, so it’s been two days. Shouldn’t they have the results from your tests by now?”
Malik pounded his fist against his thigh. “I doubt it.” He sighed.
“I don’t understand why it’s taking so long,” Tree complained.
In spite of his foul mood, Malik managed to laugh. “We are talkin’ about cancer here, man. I think Doctor McNeil wants to be sure when he tells me I’m about to die.”
Tree realized how unnerving the situation was for his friend. He suddenly regretted having mentioned anything about the tests. “I think you’re overreacting now, Mal.”
“I’m not so sure after what happened,” Malik admitted, shaking his head.
Tree’s long brows drew together as a frown further darkened his extremely handsome face. “What happened with what?”
Malik rubbed one hand through his dreads and stared out the office window that overlooked downtown Richmond. “Zakira’s been having a dream for the last few weeks. She finally told me that all she can see is a man laid out in black, surrounded by candles.”
Tree’s brows rose expectantly. “And?”
Malik turned and shot Tree a murderous glare. “Hell, man, that could be me laid out dead.”
A smile brightened Tree’s handsome face. “Man, I think you’re letting this get to you too much.”
Malik turned back to the windows and braced his hands on the dark paneled sill. “We both know that could be me. The only thing missing is the casket.”
“Mal,” Tree cautioned, but even he found it somewhat unsettling.
A few days later, Zakira opened the door and her smile widened at the sight of her stepsister. “Cold?” she teased the woman standing there with her arms wrapped around her slender form, shivering.
Edwina Harris rolled her almond-shaped eyes to the overcast sky before she rushed past Zakira and hurried into the living room where there was a fireplace.
“Dammit, Z,” she groaned, stomping one stylish, hiking boot shod foot to the carpet. “Why haven’t you made a fire yet, girl?”
Zakira stared at Edwina for a moment, a dumbfounded expression on her face. Then she slapped her hands against her sides. “I never thought about it.”
“Do you have any idea how cold it is outside?” Eddie calmly inquired, propping one hand on her slender hip.
Zakira shook her head and walked over to take her stepsister by the hand. “I’ve been in the kitchen all morning. Come on, I’ll fix you some coffee.”
Eddie held back. “Make it tea and you’ve got a deal.”
“No problem,” Zakira obliged, leading the way down the carpeted hallway.
The moment Eddie stepped past the arched doorway of the kitchen, her eyes closed and a serene smile crossed her lips. “Mmm…what are you making?”
Zakira’s expression was filled with pride as she listened to her sister marvel over the fabulous smells wafting in the air. “What does it smell like?” she teased.
Eddie shot her a wicked glare. “It smells like something I want a piece of.”
Zakira clasped her hands and rushed to the cupboard to retrieve a plate. A fantastic cook, like her husband, she always relished the chance to show off her culinary talents. Edwina, of course, didn’t mind sampling the dishes.
“What is it?” Eddie asked, watching Zakira scoop out what appeared to be a miniature pie.
A surprised expression touched Zakira’s face as she set a fork on the side of the plate. “I know you’ve had chicken potpie before.”
Edwina nodded, accepting the plate. “I have, but none that ever smelled like this,” she whispered, breaking the pie’s flaky crust with her fork. A delighted gasp escaped her mouth when chunks of potatoes, carrots and chicken tumbled onto the plate.
“That’s because I use fresh ingredients and the crust is seasoned,” Zakira revealed smugly.
“Mmm,” Eddie sighed, when she tasted the delicious creation. “With what?”
Zakira took a plate from the cupboard and served herself. “Herbs from our garden out back.”
“Well, it’s delicious,” Eddie complimented.
Bowing her head, Zakira acknowledged the compliment. “Thanks. So, um, what brings you by today?” she asked. Hearing Edwina’s long, dramatic sigh, she already knew the answer.
“Men,” Eddie breathed.
Zakira shook her head as she listened to Edwina lament over her latest poor choice. Not wanting to treat her stepsister’s problems lightly, Zakira still found it all somewhat amusing. When most people saw Edwina Harris, they figured she had her life in perfect order.
Besides having her own medical practice, Edwina was a leggy twenty-eight-year-old with a model’s looks. She wore her hair in a boyish cut that flattered her lovely, dark face. The full lips and almond-shaped hazel eyes gave her a captivating exotic appearance. Men were drawn to her like helpless puppets. Unfortunately, these “puppets” usually turned out to be toads. Toads, who took Eddie through one trial or another.
“I mean, I just can’t believe I fell for his crap.”
Zakira lifted another forkful of the delicious chicken potpie to her lips and savored the taste. “I’m going to make my usual suggestion, but I don’t expect you to take advantage of it.”
Eddie sat up straighter on the bar stool in front of the kitchen island and waited.
“Give all this dating a rest for a while. Stop looking so hard, and maybe the right man will find you.”
Edwina rolled her eyes toward the ceiling in response.
Zakira took a sip of her tea. “Why don’t you put more time into your work? That couldn’t hurt.”
“That’s the last thing I need to do.”
“Eddie, what the hell is wrong with you?” Zakira finally snapped.
“Z, you keep forgetting I’m a sex therapist. Now, if I’m gonna take a break from dating, sex is the last thing I want on my mind.”
Zakira tried to keep her smile from breaking through, but she failed. In seconds, both she and Edwina were laughing uncontrollably.
“Well, what about this?” Zakira said with a sigh, once the high-pitched giggles lost some of their zeal. “Come to our charity dinner at the end of the month.”
Edwina’s lovely face looked blank. “What does a charity dinner have to do with my dating situation?”
“Nothing, and that’s why I think you should come. Not to meet anyone. Just get out and enjoy some good food and stimulating conversation for a good cause. Not to mention the, um, hundred-dollar-a-plate dinner.”
Edwina choked on her tea. “I knew there was a catch. You ain’t right, Z.”
Zakira tried to hide her smile. One look at Edwina’s face made her burst into laughter again. Of course, Eddie couldn’t help but follow suit.
“Now, you drive safe and remember what I said,” Zakira told Eddie a few hours later as they shared a tight hug.
Edwina relished her sister’s embrace a moment longer before pulling away. “I’ll try. And don’t forget to send me my invitation!” she called, already sprinting down the porch steps.
Zakira shook her head and watched Eddie race toward her car.
The phone rang the moment Zakira twisted the front door lock. She rushed into the living room to answer before the machine clicked on.
“Zakira Badu.”
“Yes, ma’am, may I speak with Malik Badu?”
“He’s not here right now. May I take a message?”
“Mrs. Badu, this is Doctor Sedrick McNeil. I will just try reaching Malik. I’ll try his office.”
A faint frown formed on Zakira’s face. “Oh, uh, all right,” she managed.
The connection broke soon after, but she still clutched the receiver. Malik didn’t tell me he had a new doctor.
“Oh, Malik, wait!”
“What is it, Chanel?” Malik said, grimacing as he pulled off the heavy jacket.
Chanel hurried down the hall. “A Doctor McNeil called. He wants you to get in touch with him.” She handed her boss a pink message slip.
For a moment, Malik was sure his heart had stopped beating. He noticed Chanel watching him strangely and ordered himself to get hold of his emotions.
“Thanks. I’ll make the call from my office.”
Chanel only nodded, her hazel eyes tinged with worry.
Malik tossed his jacket to the sofa and headed to his desk. Not wanting to prolong the inevitable, he picked up the phone and entered the necessary digits.
“Doctor McNeil’s office,” a perky voice greeted after the first ring.
Malik hesitated for a moment, and then cleared his throat. “This is Malik Badu I’m returning Doctor McNeil’s call.”
“Oh, Mr. Badu,” the secretary sighed. “Doctor McNeil asked if you wouldn’t mind coming in.”
Malik’s long lashes fell over his eyes. He almost demanded to be told at that moment, but managed to keep a lid on his temper.
“I’ll be there within the hour.”
In an effort to forget Dr. McNeil’s mysterious call, Zakira decided to make another sinful dish. This time, she selected a recipe for fudge-ripple-swirled cookies. She always added her own special touches to any dish that wasn’t her invention. It was the mark of a true cook, her mother always said. Unfortunately, Zakira was so preoccupied by the call that her usual creativity was somewhat hampered. And it was amazing that the cookies were ever ready for the oven. Zakira could not stop herself from looking out the window each time she heard a car pass. Several times, she found herself staring at the phone and wishing Malik would call.
Of course, the doctor’s call could have easily been something routine. If only it weren’t for the other inconsistencies in Malik’s behavior. Zakira knew she wouldn’t feel at ease until she spoke with her husband.
The delicious cookies didn’t take long to bake. When they were done, she rushed upstairs to change her clothes. The waiting and wondering had finally gotten the better of her. In half an hour, she was leaving for the restaurant.
“Zakira! Honey, I was just asking Malik if you were coming in this week.”
A suspicious smirk touched Zakira’s lips as she watched the older man at her side. “Why? More suggestions concerning the menu?”
Head chef Carlos Hamils gave the boss’s beautiful wife a knowing stare. “I’m done making any more changes. I know the organizers of the event have it hard enough without having my dedication to perfection getting in the way.”
Zakira pressed her hand to Carlos’s shoulder. “We really appreciate it,” she whispered.
Carlos round, dark gaze was already focusing on the basket Zakira carried. “So what have you got there?”
“Damn, you don’t miss a thing,” she remarked, having forgotten her reason for stopping by the kitchen.
“Nothin’ gets by this,” Carlos told her, pointing towards his long, angular nose. “So tell me what you’ve been mixing up in the kitchen. And don’t tell me you’re about to stop sharing ideas.”
Zakira threw her head back and laughed. “Please! I’m the one who should be asking you to share ideas.”
