Page 38 of Lemon Drop

“Saadiq.”

I kept going.

“Can we just talk for a minute?”

I opened my door. I felt her standing behind me, felt those eyes on my back. I also felt what I felt earlier in that office when she’d scrambled to hide after finally giving herself to me. So, I climbed into my truck, and as hard as it was, I pulled away.

It was her turn to watch me leave.

Three days after I landed on Port Isle, I was finally ready to do more than sleep. The first two days I was here, I had slept like my body was starving for it. I snuggled down in the giant bed and slept through sun rays and moon beams, after room service meals, after baths in the deep soaking tub. I hadn’t realized how bone-tired I was until I got here and my body rebelled on me.

I was a little embarrassed, but I didn’t worry about my laptop, emails, schedules, calls, nothing. I just slept, and when the guilt tried to creep in, I reminded myself that obviously, I needed that damn sleep. Since I had turned down their offer to stay in the gorgeous mini-mansion they’d rented, Dream made sure to check on me every day. She wasn’t intrusive. To my surprise, neither was KiKi. My cousin had decided to come with me on the spur of the moment and rented one of these luxe little villas next door to me. She made sure I was breathing, that I ate and hydrated, but then she left me alone.

I stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows in my villa at the exclusive Maroon resort, named in honor of the colonies runaways had established centuries ago when they dared to escape human bondage. I held a chilled lemon drop in my hand and looked out at Port Isle. The island looked like it had been made to make a person relax. Beyond the glass, it was dusk. The setting sun was somewhere behind the villa now, but its last light spilled across the beach and shimmered over the Atlantic, altering the shades of the blue-green water. The sky was changing into its evening colors, the bright blue of the hot, sunny day fading into lavender and gold before becoming the dark, starry night. The villa sat close enough to the beach that I could hear the waves rolling in, making a steady, soft sound against the shore, and see the dunes beyond the private path, covered with sea oats that bent lazily in the breeze. The Atlantic stretched on forever, beautiful and endless against the horizon.

The whole resort was lovely in a quiet, expensive way. My little villa was tucked away, all creamy limestone, warm wood, and soft fabrics. It just felt indulgent, like a guilty pleasure. The luxurious king bed behind me slept like a cloud, and the bright, airy décor wrapped around me like a dream. The times I had been up, I had ventured outside to relax on the private patio, stretching out on one of the lounge chairs or relaxing in my plunge pool. The resort had a more traditional hotel, but damn, I was glad we’d splurged on this.

I took a sip of my drink, enjoying the familiar, cold blend of tart and sweet as I felt so much of the heaviness I carried melt away. I hadn’t come to Port Isle for the best reasons, but still, it had been a great decision. I could admit now that I had come to the island because my feelings were hurt. It sounded childish when I put it that way, but it was the truth. Saadiq Masters had hurt my feelings, bad. It wasn’t because he had been cold in his office after what happened between us. I understood that part, even if I hated it. I had hurt him; I knew I had. I’d seen it all over his face. Nah, what hurt me was that night, after he came to my house. He dragged Adam off my porch and beat his ass for pounding on my door, but he still wouldn’t talk to me. I thought we’d had time to think, to calm down. I thought surely enough time had passed for the emotions sparked by the way he had fucked me so thoroughly in his office to die down. But in the words of Jerome Waters, my father, I thought wrong.

I just couldn’t believe he looked me over to make sure I was okay, then climbed into his truck and left me standing there. After that, I couldn’t hide my feelings from KiKi anymore. I sat on my porch, leaned against my cousin’s arm and cried like I was a baby. I cried because I was hurt, yeah. But I also cried because I was confused and tired and even a little lost. Like where did I go from there? How could I work in an office with a man I cared about so much when he wouldn’t even speak to me? Logically, I knew it probably wouldn’t stay that way. But I was too exhausted to think logically, tired from work, from trying to hold together a relationship that had been falling apart, from the demands of family life, even from how stubborn my grandmother, one of my most favorite people, had been earlier that day. I’d voiced that while I wept, told KiKi, “I’m so damn tired.” She took over from there.

And here we were. I leaned against the window and stared out at the water. I wished I could explain myself to Saadiq, make him understand what I had been thinking. I hadn’t shut down on him because I didn’t want him. Hell, now that he had claimed me on the polished wood of his desk, I could admit I wanted him too much. I wanted his fine ass in ways I had spent years refusing to name. I realized now that it was because I was scared to make it real. Real shit, if it went wrong, could mess up careers and friendships and a whole lot of things I valued.

I also backed off what happened because I needed to figure something else out. My attraction to Saadiq was not in doubt. It was the damned timing. I didn’t want him ever wondering whether what happened in his office happened because I was hurt or even angry and looking for the nearest comfort. Saadiq Masters was not a rebound or a get back. He deserved more than that, more than being the man I ran to because somebody else had disappointed me. A man like Saadiq was too proud for that. I never wanted him to look back and think, Yeah, she came to me, but only because she was hurt.

The best I could come up with was that my hurt may have pushed me into acting on what was between Saadiq and me, but it didn’t create it. I wish I could have chosen him in better circumstances, but I no longer had any doubt that eventually, I would have chosen him. I didn’t know what to do with that.

I closed my eyes briefly and pressed my forehead against the cool glass. It didn’t help that I missed him. I missed Saadiq, my boss, but I also missed Saadiq, the man who had laced his fingers with mine, pressed against my back, and whispered things in my ear as he claimed my body.

I took another sip of my lemon drop and smiled a little as I thought about that. Then another thought flashed in my head. Lord, Demon would be unbearable if he knew he had been right; Bria, too. I thought about our conversation that morning she came to pick up Sanaa. She had been so insistent that Saadiq was a good man. I couldn’t forget the look on her face when I reminded her that he had a child conceived outside their relationship. Ugh! He was so good in so many ways. I hated that he was a cheater. It didn’t match anything else I knew about him.

That was something I struggled with. I hated that no matter how much he had mentored me and poured into me professionally and no matter how I felt about him personally, there was still that mark against him in my mind. I had watched what my father’s infidelity did to my mother, even after he spent years trying to repair the damage. I had told myself long ago that was my non-negotiable. That’s why Adam Milhouse was already a thing of the past to me. But Saadiq…

I jumped as my phone rang. I walked to the sitting area and grabbed it off the table, smiling when I saw KiKi’s name.

“What?” I answered.

“Bitch, I gave you two nights. That’s all yo’ ass get. Get up! We going to Noir,” she announced.

I kissed my teeth. “Bitch, I am up.”

“Well, hurry up!”

Noir. One of Port Isle’s most popular lounges, it was known for its decadent drinks, delicious bites, and dazzling patrons. KiKi was right. I was not about to sit in this villa every night overthinking. A sexy little outfit, a decent buzz, and some lively music sounded exactly like what I needed. I took the last sip of my lemon drop and set the empty glass on the little table.

“Give me an hour,” I said before disconnecting.

I crossed the room toward my suitcase, refusing to spend tonight standing at the window thinking about a man who would not speak to me. I was rested now and ready to have fun. I was going to put on something that made me feel pretty, go down to Noir, and let Port Isle remind me that I had a life to live.

Still, if Saadiq Masters called, I just might answer.

One thing my clients appreciated was my attention to detail. I was meticulous, thorough to a fault. Even having an assistant like Topaz and a partner like Yoli, I still went through every important document line by line. So, imagine my surprise when I was reviewing a list of investment properties my client Clive Boykins was considering. It was a six-unit apartment complex that would be used as one property manager’s unit and five short-term, vacation rentals. And it just so happened that the complex was located on the beautiful island of Port Isle. I decided that before I could advise my client to purchase the property, I’d need to make sure someone set eyes on it and with the appropriate experts, examined every square foot of it, of course. Who better to lead this intensive review than I (strictly in the best interests of my client)?

So, on a bright, blazing hot Friday morning, Yoli, Reign, and I disembarked on Port Isle. Within two hours of landing, we were checked into our rooms at the Maroon and were walking through the property that had caught Boykins’s attention. I could see why. It was protected from too much noise and company by lush greenery and the fact that it was set back a good distance from the road. But the seclusion was an illusion of sorts; it was still close to upscale shopping, dining, and entertainment venues of the island’s money strip, a long, winding section called The Strand. If everything checked out structurally, I’d absolutely recommend the property. And no matter what other reason I may have for coming to the island, I still had my client’s best interests at heart.

Once we were back at the resort, Reign immediately began to make plans for lunch, but I opted out. I knew Yoli would thank me later. I was starting to suspect what she felt for Reign was a little bit more than the harmless flirtation I thought it was. Yoli and I were going to either end up with true love or lawsuits. If she felt like I did, she knew it was worth the risk.

I’d find lunch as I explored the island. First order of business was locating a decent coffeeshop. Grabbing lunchtime coffee was a habit I’d picked up from my little coffee connoisseur, Topaz Waters. She drank one cup in the morning and one at lunchtime, swearing it helped her avoid that midafternoon crash I saw some of my sleepy-eyed staff bumble through. She liked local shops with owners who could talk forever about coffee beans and the best ways to brew. I didn’t realize how much she’d rubbed off on me until I was standing at the counter of a Port Isle favorite, according to my concierge back at the Maroon, called The Blessed Bean.