12
Harper woke to breakfast in bed, Quentin holding a tray in his hands as he entered the room. Sitting upright against the pillows, she stretched up and out, easing the tension out of her muscles. She smiled brightly as she swiped the remnants of sleep from her eyes.
“Good morning,” he chimed easily, leaning to kiss her forehead.
“Good morning to you. I could have come downstairs,” she said.
He grinned. “I know but it wasn’t necessary. I thought I’d spoil you a little bit.”
“A girl could get used to this,” she gushed.
“I’m hoping my girl does,” he said with a quick wink of his eye. He set the tray over her legs and dropped down onto the bed beside her. “How’d you sleep?” he asked.
“I slept well. I wish you’d been able to come get in the bed with me.”
Quentin laughed. “I don’t think that would have been a good idea.”
She smiled brightly. “You mean what we did on the stairs wasn’t a dream?”
“Who did what on the stairs?” Quentin teased, tossing a look over one shoulder and then the other. He suddenly turned serious. “Speaking of the stairs, are you okay with what happened between us? I know I should have stopped but I wanted to pleasure you. Pleasuring you pleasured me.”
Harper sighed as she leaned back against the pillows. “We both needed the release. Think of it as us standing at the line and we stuck a toe over but didn’t really cross it.”
“I think we crossed it, Harper.”
“Grinding and fondling don’t count,” she said as she reached for one of the ripe red strawberries on her plate.
“Is that what you plan to tell our daughters? That it’s okay for little boys to fondle and grind against them because that doesn’t count?”
Harper’s strawberry stalled midair en route to her mouth. She met the look he was giving her, his eyebrows raised in question.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Quentin said. “Just answer my question.”
She paused in reflection still staring into his eyes before she answered. “I plan to tell our daughters that they need to protect everything that’s precious until the right man comes along. I will tell them that little boys will never have their best interests but once the right man has her heart then everything else will fall into its proper place. And then I will tell them that if they ever have any doubts to run it by their daddy.”
He smiled.
“Of course, if that doesn’t work I can always tell them that their daddy fondled and grinded against me but it didn’t count.”
Quentin chuckled warmly then leaned to kiss her, strawberries and morning breath tinting her lips. Harper lifted the tray from her lap and moved it to the other side of the bed. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You make me happy, Quentin. I don’t imagine anything being different in four months, six months, or one year from now, other than I’ll be even happier. I don’t regret what happened. And I can only begin to imagine where you and I are going from here.”
He cupped her chin with his fingers, lifting her eyes to his. “I know this is right, Harper. I feel it,” he whispered and then he kissed her one last time before heading back to work.
File folders upon file folders were strewn around the large conference table. Troy stood at the head of the table plodding through papers in search of something he knew was there but just couldn’t put his fingers on. He dropped the documents in his hands down and blew a heavy sigh. Undoing the buttons on his shirtsleeves he pushed them past his elbows then pulled at the collar, loosening it and his necktie. He was just about to refocus on his search when he looked up and saw Rachel rushing past the conference-room door.
“Hey,” he called, concern rising in his tone. “Rachel! Is everything okay?”
He heard the tap of her high heels come to an abrupt stop in the hallway and he called out to her a second time. “Rachel!”
Rachel did an about-face and moved back to the conference-room entrance. She poked her head through the door. “Hey, what’s up?”
Leaning against the table Troy eyed her warily. “I should be asking you that. Is everything okay?”
She nodded, taking a deep breath. “Everything’s fine.”
He gestured for her to join him in the room. Rachel rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, annoyance like bad makeup across her face. She moved into the room and dropped down onto one of the leather chairs. Clearly, she was not a happy camper. Disheveled, her hair was wild, the thick curls spiraling past her shoulders. Her face was flushed and she’d misbuttoned her blouse, the garment looking like she’d slept in it. Troy knew instantly that something wasn’t right. He continued to stare at her as he eased into the chair at her side. Rachel struggled to avoid his gaze, color rising in her cheeks as embarrassment swept through her.
“Don’t you have court this morning?” he finally questioned.
Rachel took a quick glance at the clock on the wall. She cleared her throat. “Mediation for the
Strand v. Harris
case at eleven. I need to get a shower and change. I just left the gym,” she said as she brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“You went to the gym?”
She cut a quick eye at him. “Yes, the gym. Can’t I go to the gym?”
Leaning back Troy crossed his hands together in his lap. “It’s your lie, tell it any way you want to, counselor. But so you know,” he said as he waved his hands in front of her, “this isn’t a pretty look for you.”
Rachel rolled her eyes, her lips pushed into a heavy pout.
“So, really, what’s going on with you?” Troy asked.
Rachel rolled her eyes a second time and bit down against her bottom lip. “Nothing! There is nothing wrong with me.”
“Okay,” he said, “since you usually don’t lie to me twice in a row I guess we’re just going to have to do this another way.”
“Troy, really, I need to go get ready and I don’t have time . . .” she started.
Troy snapped. “Make time.”
Rachel took a deep breath, lifting her eyes to his for the first time since she’d entered the room.
Troy leaned forward in his seat, clasping his hands together. “I agreed to partner with you because you’re an excellent attorney. I’ve always trusted your judgment, and your reputation, for the most part, has been impeccable. Now, I overlooked the issue between you and my brother because all of us knew from the start it wasn’t going anywhere.”
“No, you didn’t,” Rachel retorted.
Troy tossed her a look. “Uh, yeah, we did. The day you and Quentin announced your engagement Pop said there would never be a wedding. He told me and he told Quentin. And he was right.”
“I don’t see what this had to do with anything.”
“Pop said there would be no wedding because your heart was someplace else.”
“I’m sure at the time that he was talking about my career. You know I was focused on finishing my law degree and starting this practice and . . .”
Troy flipped his hand at her, stalling her words. “How long have you and Dwayne been in contact with one another?”
“Dwayne?”
“And why did you feel it necessary to tell him about Harper? And whose idea was it for him to buy the bakery? Are you two back in a relationship?”
Clearly flustered by the questions being thrown at her, Rachel moved to her feet and paced the floor. “I don’t know what your problem is,” she snapped. “It’s an extremely lucrative proposition and Dwayne’s intentions are good.”
Troy nodded and an uneasy silence billowed between them. He stood up and moved to her side. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders he hugged her tightly. Rachel tensed at first and then she relaxed into the embrace, the weight seeming to lift off her shoulders. Troy’s last words pierced through her spirit.
“We’ve been in this game together for far too long, Rachel. Growing up together made us family. Bottom line being family means we look out for each other. So, I would not be looking out for you if I didn’t tell you what is on my mind.”
He took a deep breath before he continued. “You need to think about what you’re doing, Rachel. You can’t keep playing these games believing you’re going to come out on the winning side each time. And you can’t keep playing games that affect other people’s lives. You’re too smart to be taking the risks you’ve been taking lately. So,
be
smart. And if things are out of hand and too much for you to handle, ask for help! Understand?”
Rachel nodded her head into his chest but said nothing. Troy held her for a good while as tears flowed from her eyes. Minutes later he pointed at the clock. “Get your shower and please, remember you’re representing our business.”
It was a short taxi ride to Restaurant Iris, the historic midtown home that had been transformed into a bastion of culinary heights. As the car was stalled in traffic Harper took a moment to gather her thoughts and meditate on the meeting she was about to have with Mr. Porter.
Overall it had been a good day. Despite the elephant in the corner of the bakery she and Quentin had been good with each other, finding an easy balance. As the afternoon had gone on he’d become quiet and slightly withdrawn, his attention on the many loaves of bread that needed to be baked for one of the local restaurants. Despite her best efforts he had refused to discuss her pending meeting with his old friend Dwayne but when the taxi had pulled up to the bakery door he’d kissed her cheek and had wished her good luck. But as the driver pulled in front of the restaurant Harper couldn’t help but think she might need something stronger than luck to get her through the evening.
Entering the lobby she was instantly impressed with the space, the ambiance warm and inviting. Harper was surprised when the maître d’ greeted her by name, advising that her dinner companion was already there waiting for her. She followed as he guided her through the restaurant to a table near the back of the room by the lit fireplace. Dwayne sat waiting, the man still looking like a delectable piece of chocolate in his signature black suit.
He rose from his seat to greet her, extending a warm hand. “Harper, hello!”
“Dwayne! Thank you for meeting with me.”
He pulled out a chair for her and she took a seat. “It’s my pleasure.”
She took a quick glance at her watch. “I’m surprised that I beat Rachel here.”
He smiled politely. “Regretfully, Rachel won’t be able to join us. She called and cancelled.”
“Oh!” Harper exclaimed, slightly surprised. She hadn’t spoken to Rachel, the woman sending a message via Troy to confirm their meeting and now she wasn’t there. The annoyance of it must have shown on her face, leading Dwayne to comment.
“I’m sure she would be here if she could,” he said, his smile deep. “But don’t worry. I promise you I won’t bite,” he said, his eyebrows raised. “Unless, of course, you want me to?”
Harper met his gaze and the silly expression on his face made her smile.
He laughed. “See, I’m really not so bad,” he said, “and I’m sure you’ve heard all kinds of horrible things about me.”
The moment was interrupted when the waitress came to take their drink orders. They made small talk, Dwayne controlling most of the conversation, until the beverages and their appetizers were delivered. Through the main course Dwayne talked about himself and his family and his life in Memphis. It wasn’t until the dessert, a flaming cherries jubilee, was delivered to the table that they finally got around to discussing his interest in her late father’s business.
“I started Home Grown Foods two years after I graduated from college. Now we’re one of the leading food-service distributors to restaurants, healthcare and hospitality facilities, government operations, and educational institutions. We offer more than three hundred fifty thousand national brand products plus our own high-quality private label items ranging from meats to produce to frozen foods. I employ about twenty-five thousand associates in more than sixty locations and our continued growth relies on my acquiring businesses that distinguish us from our competitors.”
“So, why Just Desserts? How will our small business fit into the scope of your organization?” Harper questioned.
“Just Desserts has the benefit of being a neighborhood staple. Right now its name recognition is synonymous with everything downtown Memphis represents. I plan to take that and eventually expand it nationally.”
“How do you keep it from just being swallowed up by your company? I don’t see how it can’t get lost.”
“I have the resources to build multiple Just Desserts locations, expanding that footprint throughout Tennessee, the south region, and nationally. And, with our mass-producing the recipes the bakery is renowned for we will eventually have Just Desserts competing with food brands like Flower Foods, United States Bakery, and Hostess Brands.”
“Hostess filed for bankruptcy,” Harper noted. “There are no more Twinkies!”
Dwayne laughed. “Actually, I read in the news that Twinkies have made a nationwide return. But I think we can give them a good run for the money!”
“And, what about Quentin and Troy? How do they fit into your plans? They’re both an integral part of the business.”
“I hope they’ll both continue to be. They bring a lot of talent to the table. Despite what you may have been told, Harper, I have great respect for both of them. Once upon a time Quentin and I were great friends and I miss our friendship. I’m hoping to make amends and possibly build on this with him.”
He leaned across the table, his dark eyes meeting her stare. He reached for her hand and held it. Harper felt her breath catch in her chest and her pulse quicken. “I promise you,” he said, his tone dropping an octave, “Just Desserts will continue to be a viable entity in the food and bakery industry. All I want is to maximize its full potential and grow it as big as I can.” He leaned back, moving his hand from hers, and smiled.
Harper could only imagine the number of women who had fallen head-first for that smile. She blinked, her eyelashes fluttering as she shifted her gaze from his. Perspiration had dampened her palms and she swiped her hands across the cloth napkin in her lap. She took a deep breath before lifting her eyes back to his.