Книга - Pride and Consequence

Pride and Consequence
AlTonya Washington


Could they begin again?Zakira loves her man, Malik, more than life itself. His prowess in the bedroom is rivaled only by his talent in the kitchen. The successful restaurant they run is as satisfying as their passionate marriage. But when devastating illness strikes Malik, his stubborn pride becomes their undoing. He leaves her…Devastated, Zakira dedicates herself to Malik's legacy, the restaurant. But when he returns, fully recovered…and ready to reclaim her and their business, Zakira is stunned. The desire still burns hot between them, but there's anger, too. Now Malik will need more than soul-searing kisses to win her trust and her wounded heart. He will have to make her believe in them…again.









Pride and Consequence

AlTonya Washington





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


My tenth novel—this is dedicated to my main guy. Mommy loves you, Masee!




Contents


Acknowledgment

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14




Acknowledgment


I thank God for instilling in me my love of books and

writing. I thank Him each day for providing the life,

health and strength to create and for finding me a worthy

recipient of this blessing.




Chapter 1


“Calm down, Zakira, just calm down.”

The words replayed themselves again and again. She practically chanted the phrase in the silent hallway, lit only by the myriad of Christmas candles lining the walls.

For weeks, the terrible, yet familiar nightmare had intruded on Zakira Badu’s dreams. There was no way she would get back to sleep anytime soon. She hurried down the black carpeted stairway, rubbing her hands across the sleeves of her short, pink satin robe. The kitchen was only a short distance away, and a cup of warm milk was always the perfect remedy for sleeplessness. Zakira’s small feet padded the plush carpeting. Several tendrils of her naturally thick, waist-length hair were matted against her temple and neck. She tugged at the clinging locks and sighed. The dreaded dream was having the worst effect on her. The frazzled nerves and edgy moods were both frightening and frustrating.

The lower level of the lovely Richmond, Virginia, home was dark except for the electric holiday candles arranged in every corner of the living room and along the hallway that led to the kitchen.

The spacious state-of-the-art kitchen was void of any light, but that didn’t faze Zakira. She spent most of her time in that portion of the house. In a matter of minutes, she had the refrigerator door open, quickly selected a carton of milk from one of the side shelves and kicked the stainless steel door shut. From the overhead pan rack, she grabbed a small gold-bottomed pot and headed to the stove.

Once the milk was set to warm, Zakira leaned back against the oak kitchen island. She hugged her petite form and watched the stove burner turn orange from the searing heat. Then, closing her eyes, she allowed her thoughts to return to the disturbing dream.

The same nightmare had haunted her for weeks and she could not understand it. The strange thing was that the “nightmare” really wasn’t that at all. It was more of a vision. A recurring vision. In a candlelit room was a man dressed in black and lying flat on some surface that she could not make out. The man’s identity remained a mystery. The closer she moved to the unfamiliar form, the more out of focus it became.

Uttering a low groan, Zakira pushed her hands through her hair and massaged her scalp. She was so engrossed by her dark thoughts that she did not hear the front door open and shut. The sound of another body moving around the house went unnoticed.

The milk on the stove had finally simmered long enough. Zakira removed it as though in a daze. She set the pot aside and was reaching for a mug, when a pair of arms extended out of the darkness to envelop her in a steely embrace. Zakira forgot everything and began to struggle as her captor lifted her from the polished hardwood floor.

Zakira’s legs and arms flew wildly as she tried to wrench herself out of the iron hold. Her breath caught in her throat and prevented her from screaming. Her shock, combined with the pungent aroma from the man’s leather jacket, overwhelmed her ability to fight harder.

The man placed her atop the wooden counter and, from there, Zakira bravely looked into the face of her attacker. When she spied the wide, white grin and shoulder-length dreadlocks, she raised her hand and placed a cracking slap to the man’s face.

“You damn fool!” she breathed.

Surprised by his wife’s actions, Malik Badu brought one large hand to the side of his handsome, dark face. He massaged his cheek, until the slight sting had vanished. “Zakira, what—”

“What the hell are you doing, sneaking in here like that?” she cried, pounding her fists against the front of Malik’s jacket. “Do you know how much you scared me?”

Malik rubbed his hands along the side of Zakira’s thighs. “Shh…baby doll, I’m sorry,” he soothed.

“You should be! I really don’t need you playin’ ‘Let’s attack Zakira’ tonight. Especially, when I just had one of those damn dreams,” she finished, wiping a tear from her cheek.

Malik bowed his head, his long lashes closing over his grayish-black gaze. “Come here,” he said softly, pulling Zakira against him and rocking her slowly. When her breathing had returned to normal, he pulled away and glanced behind him. “Is that what the milk is for?”

Zakira nodded. Malik’s gaze narrowed as he cupped his wife’s dark chocolate oval face and pressed a soft kiss to her full lips. He smiled, hearing her soft moan when the kiss became more heated.

Zakira tilted her head back and opened her eyes. Malik broke the kiss to trail his lips down the side of her neck. His hands ventured beneath the satiny material of her robe. She squeezed his shoulders when she felt his hands grasp her buttocks tightly as he lifted her from the counter.

“Forget the milk,” he whispered in her ear and pulled her even closer. “I know a better way.”

Instinctively, Zakira locked her legs around his lean waist as he carried her from the kitchen. Her hands pushed the heavy leather jacket from her husband’s broad shoulders. It fell to the floor and was forgotten while they journeyed upstairs.

Only a few moments seemed to pass before Zakira felt herself being lowered onto the bed. Slowly and seductively, Malik unbuttoned her thin nightshirt and pushed it from her slender shoulders. His intense stare trailed across every inch of newly exposed skin, as though her nude body were a sight unfamiliar to him. His strong fingers curled around the waistband of the lacy panties she wore and he tugged them away.

Malik, however, had yet to remove his own clothes. He simply leaned across Zakira and massaged her soft skin.

“Mal…” she whispered, throwing both arms above her head and closing her eyes to savor his touch. The caress made her forget everything, except how wonderful she felt at that moment.

A sigh of disappointment escaped her lips when he ended the delightful massage. He replaced his hands with his mouth. Zakira moaned shamelessly beneath the touch of his wide, sensuous mouth gliding across her body.

Beginning with the column of her neck, he moved downward. Zakira still had her arms thrown overhead and gasped when she felt his lips pressing sweet kisses into the softly scented pit of her arm.

“Malik please…” she urged, as she tried tugging his sweater over his back.

In response, he pulled her hands away and pressed them to her sides. “Shh,” he soothed, his warm breath fluttering against her skin.

She arched her body closer to his mouth. Long, heavy dreads grazed her skin when his lips touched the hardened tip of her breast. He released his grip on her wrists, and she instantly pushed her fingers through his hair.

Malik squeezed one breast as his lips feasted on the other. The simple, erotic caress robbed Zakira of her breath. She desperately wanted to feel his bare skin against hers. Once again, she moved her hands over his gray wool sweater. Suddenly, she requested that he undress by tugging at his broad shoulders.

A roguish grin touched Malik’s gorgeous face and he again pinned Zakira’s hands to her sides. He continued the caress, his lips moving onward from her breast to trail her flat stomach. Zakira’s hips rose from the bed when she felt Malik’s mouth touching the center of her body. Her lips parted as she pushed her head deeper into the pillows and enjoyed the caress.

The intensity of the kiss increased moment by moment. The expertise of the intimate caress was overwhelming. He knew exactly how his wife of three years liked to be touched. He never hesitated to give her what she wanted. In many ways, he played the willing slave in their bedroom. Every sexual request or fantasy was eagerly granted.

The soft groans expressed on Zakira’s part soon turned to cries of pleasure. Malik never veered from his task and Zakira was soon experiencing an intense orgasm. He finally pulled away and watched her quiver from the incredible sensations coursing through her.



“Wipe that grin off your face,” Zakira ordered later, without opening her eyes. She could envision Malik sitting above her, still fully clothed and smiling.

Of course, she was right. Malik continued to grin as he watched Zakira yawn before she drifted back to sleep.

Slowly and carefully, so he would not awaken her, he eased off the bed and headed to the bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him, he began to disrobe. Pulling the heavy sweater away from his chiseled torso, thoughts of Zakira filled his mind. Lord, how he loved that woman. She was his life, and he prayed he never lost her. Moreover, he prayed she never lost him.



A lazy smile brightened Zakira’s face when she woke the next morning in her husband’s arms. She was surprised that they had slept so soundly, especially when they usually woke in a tangle of covers, arms and legs. Not wanting to disturb the moment, she snuggled deeper into Malik’s embrace and sighed.

Malik woke the instant he felt Zakira wiggling against him. When his grip tightened on her arm, she looked up.

“Morning,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the strong line of his jaw.

His haunting gray tinged stare narrowed. “Tell me about this dream.”

“Malik…” she sighed, trying to pull away.

“Zakira…” he repeated in a warning tone, as he tightened his hold.

She grimaced and closed her eyes. “Baby, what does it matter now? I feel a lot better this morning.”

“What about tonight?” Malik challenged, a slight frown beginning to form between his thick black brows.

She seemed to consider his question for a moment. Then she tensed and tried to sit up.

Malik, however, had made up his mind. He wasn’t going to let her get away so easily this time.

“Let me go,” she softly ordered when he pinned her beneath him on the bed.

His grip was unyielding. “Zaki, do you realize you were so caught up in that damn dream last night, that you didn’t even hear me come in the house? Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way, but either way I’m gonna find out what’s upsetting you.”

Zakira’s huge brown eyes searched Malik’s narrowed darker ones. What she saw there convinced her he would not let up until she came clean. Finally, she nodded and he released his hold on her. She sat up in bed and focused her gaze on the burgundy-and-black comforter covering the bed.

“Um…it’s really just a vision or…something.”

Malik rolled his eyes. “Zakira…” he said once again. His tone warned her to be truthful.

She raised her hands defensively. “It is. I swear it. I see a man laid out, dressed in black. There’re candles everywhere. Unfortunately, the closer I come to him, the foggier the scene becomes.”

“And that’s it?” Malik questioned as he propped himself on an elbow and watched her.

Zakira nodded. “That’s it. I guess it freaks me out so much because it all just looks so eerie, you know?”

He shrugged one huge shoulder and pushed himself to a sitting position. “I think maybe you just saw a movie or something that scared you,” he reasoned.

Zakira was not convinced. “I’ve never been spooked by a movie before. I don’t see why that would bother me now.”

“There’s always a first time,” Malik decided, watching Zakira consider the possibility. A small smirk tugged at his mouth and he leaned forward to press a kiss to her mouth.

“So, what time are we leaving on Thursday?” Zakira asked, turning on her stomach and resting her head on Malik’s pillow. She watched him pull back the covers and get out of bed.

“Thursday?” he asked.

Zakira closed her eyes and grimaced. “The food festival? California?” she replied, her soft, melodic voice going flat.

Malik selected a black, long-sleeved shirt from his closet. “Damn, Zaki, I thought you were just teasing about that.”

“Don’t even try it, Malik Kuame Badu. You promised.”

“Don’t get excited,” Malik soothed, waving one hand in the air before he once again disappeared into the closet. “We really didn’t discuss it that much. I thought you were just making a suggestion.”

Zakira toyed with a cotton-soft lock of her thick hair. “I suggested it because I wanted us to go. You agreed and said you’d take care of the tickets and everything,” she reminded him in a weary tone. Getting away in the midst of the Christmas madness was a treat she was looking forward to.

“I’ll get on it soon as I get to the restaurant,” he promised, his deep voice muffled from the closet.

“Never mind,” Zakira groaned, pushing herself up in the bed, “I’ll handle it. This is the closest we’ll probably get to taking a vacation. I don’t plan on missing out.”

“You’re the best, Zaki.”

“Mmm, so I’ve been told.”

Malik emerged from the closet carrying a pair of wine-colored slacks and a matching jacket. He tossed them to the chair where the black shirt lay. “So what’cha got planned for today?” he asked.

Zakira swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Not much. I’ve got some things I want to try out in the kitchen, so I’ll probably be there most of the day. After I handle our travel arrangements,” she added pointedly.

Malik grinned. “You should bring that stuff into the restaurant when you get it together,” he ordered, heading across the room to the bathroom.

Zakira shook her head. Her husband never passed on the chance to get her more involved with his business. Malik had just begun working on the restaurant when they met five years ago. Zakira had been interning for a Richmond consulting firm when he arrived one day for an appointment with a friend of his who also worked for the firm.

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.

“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.”

“Zaki—”

“Please,” she stopped him, pushing her chair away from the table, “I already know—you’re sorry. Why don’t we talk when you have a little more to say?” With that, she stomped away from the table.

Malik braced his elbows to the table and clutched fistfuls of his dreads. “Baby, you’ll get your answers as soon as I get mine.”




Chapter 2


Although Badu’s never opened until 3:00 p.m., Malik always arrived at 8:00 a.m. His routine was practically the same each day. Before heading upstairs to his office, he went to the kitchen for a morning meeting with the chefs. The cooking staff of eight arrived even earlier than their boss, despite the fact that ingredients for the day’s menu had already been prepared. The staff never departed without having the necessary supplies for the following business day chopped, chilled and marinated.

Everyone immediately came to attention when they saw Malik. Though the employees of Badu’s admired and respected the forceful young man, they often wished he wasn’t so demanding.

“Just a heads-up. We’re going to be hosting a charity dinner for cancer research a couple weeks before Christmas,” Malik declared at the end of the meeting, already shrugging into the stylish tan suede suit coat he had thrown across a chair. “I should have more specifics soon, but there will be plenty of time for you guys to get prepared.”

The eight chefs exchanged weary looks across the table. They had no problems being on hand for the charity event. It was the time leading up to the dinner they could have done without. Their boss could become more than demanding, he could be almost tyrannical.

“I won’t be working with you on the event, Zakira will,” Malik announced, sensing the chefs’ relief without even looking at their faces.

No one at the table could mask their joy. The boss’s wife would provide a refreshing change from her brooding, unyielding husband.

“It’s not that we dislike working closely with you, you understand?”

Malik grinned. “Sure I do, Jo Jo.” He wasn’t offended.

Malik never apologized for running a tight ship. He felt his people respected him more for it and believed that respect made his restaurant the success that it was.

“So, when is she gonna start coming in, Malik?”

“Well—” Malik began, a smile coming to his face, when he looked toward the rear of the dining room. “Speak of the devil. There she is.”

Zakira was slightly breathless as she hurriedly approached the table. “Sorry guys, I wanted to get here before the end of your meeting. Do y’all have a few minutes?”

“Sure, Zakira!”

“Have a seat, darlin’.”

“Can I get you some coffee?”

Malik rolled his eyes and reclined in his chair as he watched the eight stiff-lipped men fawn over his wife. Of course, he could never blame them. Zakira brought out something bright in each of his employees. He believed they would work round the clock for her if she asked them to.

“I’m fine,” Zakira was assuring the chefs, as she set her maroon cashmere wrap on a vacant chair. “This won’t take long. I just wanted to discuss a couple of things with you all. Did Malik tell you guys about the dinner?” she asked, watching everyone smile and nod.

“Great,” she said, already reaching into the oversized black leather tote she carried.

Malik’s smoldering charcoal-gray stare never strayed from his wife as she discussed menu ideas and timelines with his employees. He admired the ease with which she handled the group of finicky chefs. When they began to discuss the particulars, he stood and took Zakira’s elbow in a light hold.

“I’m gonna head on up to the office, unless you need me to stay,” he said, brushing his hand against the soft clinging cashmere of her pearl gray dress.

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.”

Carlos pressed his hand to his chest and sighed. “You’re so good for my ego.”

“Mmm-hmm. Well, I did bring something for you guys,” Zakira revealed, lifting the basket she carried.

“I knew it. What is it?” Carlos inquired, already taking the package.

Zakira clasped her gloved hands together. “They’re chicken potpies. I used herbs from my garden to season the pastry. The vegetables are fresh, and the chicken has been marinated in an herb sauce, also courtesy of my garden.”

Carlos closed his eyes in happiness. “I can’t wait to dive in.”

“Well, there’s enough for you and the rest of the guys, so let me know what you think. We’ll meet Friday morning to discuss some other things pertaining to the charity dinner.”

Carlos saluted her and headed farther into the kitchen with his delicious burden. Zakira smiled and relished the welcome vibe she received whenever she visited the restaurant. She had always felt a sense of acceptance from the Badu’s employees and since she’d started organizing the cancer fund-raiser, she’d experienced an even deeper sense of acceptance. The staff truly seemed to enjoy working with her on the event and they respected her opinions and ideas.

Zakira sighed before heading upstairs.

“Zakira!” Chanel called, a bright smile on her face. “If you’re looking for Malik, he left.”

“Damn,” Zakira muttered, setting her purse on Chanel’s desk. “Did he tell you where he was going?”

Chanel shook her head. “Sorry, he didn’t.”

“Do you know when he might be back?”

“I’m sorry, he really didn’t tell me anything before he left.”

Realizing she would just have to wait it out, Zakira spent a little while longer at the restaurant, then headed home.



As Zakira was leaving Malik’s office, he was arriving at the doctor’s. He shut the door to his black SUV, but leaned against the car instead of walking away from it. He knew none of what he would hear that day would be good. He stroked the strong line of his jaw for a moment, thinking of how his life was about to change. Then, taking a deep breath, he headed into the building.

Dr. McNeil was in the lobby speaking with his receptionist. He turned when the lobby doors opened.

“Malik! Glad you could make it on such short notice.”

Malik’s dark eyes narrowed, and he gave the doctor a humorless smirk. “Why prolong it?”

Dr. McNeil gestured in the direction of his office. “This way.”

Malik’s stride was rapid but steady as he followed the doctor. When the double oak-paneled office doors closed behind them, he turned and spread his hands. “Well?”

Dr. McNeil headed toward his desk. “Have a seat, Malik.”

With a grimace, Malik watched as the doctor calmly took his position. He followed suit, choosing one of the cushioned chairs in front the wide pine desk. “How long have I got?”

“Malik…” Dr. McNeil faltered, trying to find the right words.

“Listen, Doc, can you please just get to it?”

Dr. McNeil studied him for a moment. Then, sighing, he removed his round, gold-rimmed spectacles and leaned forward. “The mass of tissue we discovered after the scan is a tumor. The tests showed that it’s malignant.”

Though Malik had assumed as much, the news was a shock. He felt a strange tightening in his chest, as though his breath were being shut off. Bowing his head, he buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“This isn’t the end of things, Malik. There are treatments.” Dr. McNeil informed him.

Malik leaned back in the chair and pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “How did this happen?”

Dr. McNeil frowned. “The tumor?”

Malik nodded.

“Well, it’s difficult to say,” the doctor replied. “Actually, the cause of tumors is unknown.”

Malik pushed his tall, athletic form out of the chair and paced the floor. “Dammit, you’ve got to have some clue!” he snapped.

“Malik, a lot of money and time has gone into studying tumors and their causes, but there’s still no concrete piece of evidence that gives a satisfactory explanation. Studies have shown that cancer can be caused by viruses, forms of radiant energy, even heredity.”

Malik shook his head and pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. “This hasn’t happened to anyone else in my family.”

“There’s always a first,” Dr. McNeil quietly pointed out.

“Thanks,” Malik replied dryly, rolling his intense dark gaze towards the ceiling.

“There is the possibility of surgery,” Dr. McNeil suggested.

“No way. No surgery.” Malik firmly refused, his slanting eyes narrowing further.

Dr. McNeil stood behind his desk, obviously surprised by Malik’s attitude. “You do realize that this could save your life?”

Malik waved his finger at the doctor. “Yeah, well, what if something goes wrong with the surgery, what then? This is my brain we’re talking about. Can you guarantee that if I survive the surgery I’ll be all there, mentally?”

Dr. McNeil sighed. “No, I can’t. There is always a risk when surgery is involved.”

“Well, Doc, that’s a risk I don’t want to take.”

“Malik—”

“Doc, please.” Malik interrupted, raising his hand. The stress of the moment had finally gotten the better of him and he dropped to the windowsill and sat there holding his head. “Believe it or not, all this scares the hell out of me. But surgery scares me more than the tumor.”

“Malik, I can understand how this might be affecting you, but you should keep a positive outlook on this. The operation could very well be a success.”

Malik’s voice was slightly muffled beneath his hands covering his face. “I can’t let Zakira see me that way, stuck in a bed. And I can’t let her see me die.”



By eight o’clock that evening, Zakira’s nerves were in overdrive. After leaving Badu’s, she took a long drive, did some Christmas shopping and visited a few friends. Feeling a little better, she decided to go home. When she called the restaurant and discovered Malik was not there, nor had he been home, she became worried again. Trying to keep an open mind, she washed her hair and braided the thick mass into two pigtails which she wrapped around her head. She even cleaned the already immaculate house in an attempt to keep from fretting over the whereabouts of her husband. So much activity eventually exhausted her, and she collapsed on the sofa for a short nap.

Malik’s key scratched the lock some thirty minutes after Zakira fell asleep. He entered the house quietly, not wanting to frighten her if she was still awake. The tense, guarded look in his dark eyes turned softer when he found his wife fast asleep in the living room. He crept across the thick carpet so he would not awaken her. Easing his heavy frame to the sofa, he took a seat next to her.

Malik’s exquisite charcoal gaze roamed Zakira’s face as though he were trying to memorize her lovely features. Very lightly, he traced the soft line of her brow and Zakira instantly awoke.

Frowning a little, Zakira got her bearings before glancing up. When she saw Malik leaning over her, she bolted up on the sofa. Her small fingers, curled around the lapels of his suede jacket and jerked him close to her.

“Where have you been all day? Why didn’t you call me?” she asked frantically.

Malik pulled Zakira’s hands away and held them tightly in his. “Shh. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses to the tops of her fingers.

“Where were you?”

Malik shrugged and let go of Zakira’s hands as he leaned back on the sofa. “There was someplace I needed to be.”

“Like Doctor McNeil’s office?” Zakira softly inquired.

Malik’s narrowed gaze snapped to her face. “How’d you—”

“He called today, but you weren’t here. It sounded urgent.”

Malik ignored the faint pain near his temple. “It was just an exam. Routine.”

Zakira propped her elbow on the arm of the sofa. “You didn’t tell me you changed physicians. That’s why I was worried.”

“Damn, Zaki, does it matter?” Malik snapped. He desperately wanted to confide in her, but something wouldn’t allow him to. The inability to be honest with his wife caused his already short temper to boil.

Zakira’s eyes widened slightly at the outburst, but she chose to ignore his mood. “Why don’t you come sample what I worked on today?” she asked instead. She knew Malik too well to believe nothing was wrong. She would just have to use a different tactic to get some answers.

Malik’s gorgeous grin instantly returned. He leaned across her and lowered his mouth to the side of her neck. “Should I go to the kitchen or the bedroom?” he teased.

Zakira burst into laughter. “The kitchen, man!” she ordered, pushing away his heavy body.

A look of mock disappointment clouded Malik’s handsome dark face, but he did as he was told. It took much longer than usual to reach the kitchen with his hands tugging at Zakira’s blouse.

“Sit!” she ordered, when they finally reached the kitchen.

Malik got comfortable at the kitchen island while Zakira removed the light dinner she had prepared from the oven. There were the delicious chicken potpies, a mixture of broccoli, tomatoes and cucumbers marinated in a zesty wine vinegar and crushed herb dressing, and huge apple-walnut muffins. A light white wine topped off the tasty meal.

For a while, the only sounds in the kitchen were the clinking of utensils and glasses as they feasted on the dinner.

Several times, Zakira’s wide gaze traced every nuance of Malik’s face. She tried to search out any signs that something might be wrong. Of course, he looked as fit as ever.

“These dinners get better and better,” he complimented, after taking the last swig of wine from his glass.

“Thanks, baby,” Zakira whispered across the table, genuinely pleased by the compliment. “Did you have enough?”

Malik massaged the back of his neck and stood. “I’m just gonna get another drink.”

Zakira’s wide eyes followed him as he made his way to the counter. He lost his footing, just before he reached his destination. He had to grasp the edge of the oak counter for support.

“Malik?” Zakira called, rising from the table as well.

“I’m all right, Zaki,” he said, hoping he sounded convincing. “I don’t think I need another drink.”

Zakira was not amused by his teasing. “Are you having another dizzy spell?”

Confusion etched on Malik’s face and he turned. It was obvious that the comment took him by surprise. “What do you know about my dizzy spells?”

Zakira leaned against the edge of the table and regarded the handsome giant trying to put up a brave front. “I know you’ve been having them at least three times a week. But, of course, those are only the ones I’ve seen. I even know where you keep the pills.”

The depths of Malik’s eyes took on a darker tint and he looked as though he wanted to respond. Then, thinking better of it, he ran his fingers through his dreads and moved away from the counter.

“I’m goin’ to bed,” he mumbled, leaving Zakira alone in the kitchen.

The task of cleaning the kitchen turned out to be less time-consuming than Zakira anticipated. After she finished, she headed for bed.

Malik was still in the shower, when she walked into the bedroom. She decided to slip into her nightgown, since she had taken a shower just before starting dinner. She was smoothing lotion across her skin when Malik walked out of the steamy bathroom. For a moment, he stood staring at her while drying the droplets of water from his chest. He tossed the towel to the dresser and headed across the room, stopping just behind his wife. He grasped her hips in a firm hold and pulled her back against him. Burying his handsome face in the crook of her neck, he inhaled her sweet scent.

“I know you’re tired of hearing it, but I am sorry,” he whispered, his deep voice sounding muffled.

The soft apology sent shivers down Zakira’s back. She closed her eyes briefly and savored the moment. Then turning, she raised her face to his for a kiss.

Malik did not disappoint her. He pressed the tip of his tongue to the corner of her mouth, before tracing the lush full line of her lips. Zakira repeated the intimate action as she traced the wide sensual curve of his mouth.

When the kiss deepened, Malik lifted Zakira against his nude body and carried her across the room. Setting her down next to the bed, he lay back and pulled her down to him. With her straddling his huge form, Malik’s large hands trailed possessively over her thighs and beneath the hemline of her gown.

Zakira threw her head back and moaned when she felt Malik’s thumb caress the soft bud of her womanhood. The light circular motion of his finger soon had her wet with need. He removed his fingers and slid both hands around her hips to cup her full bottom. Lifting her easily, he slowly set her down over his throbbing arousal.

Zakira’s hands caressed Malik’s sexy, dark chocolate form, tracing his chiseled torso and abdomen. She rotated her hips and smiled when she heard him groan in response. Feeling his hard length inside her forced cries from her mouth.

Malik’s touch traced every curve of her body, fondling her full breasts beneath the silk nightie she still wore. One hand reached up to pull the pins from her hair, before he unraveled the thick braids. When the black mass fell across Zakira’s shoulders, he cupped her neck and pulled her down for a deep kiss.

Soon though, Malik wanted control and flipped Zakira to her back. He draped one of her shapely legs across his shoulder and deepened his thrusts….



“Malik?” Zakira whispered a long while later when they lay sprawled across the bed.

“Mmm-hmm?” he murmured, smoothing his palm against her flat stomach.

“Baby, if there were something wrong…you would tell me, right?”

Zakira never saw Malik squeeze his eyes shut as he answered. “I promise I would.”




Chapter 3


Zakira woke early the next morning wanting to make love to her husband again. “Malik…” she sighed, reaching across the bed. When her fingers touched the cool sheets, she sat up and looked around the bedroom. Malik was nowhere in sight, but Zakira was certain he was still home since he never left without waking her.

Slipping into the wispy gown that had been tossed aside the night before, she went in search of her husband. The moment she stepped into the hallway, delicious aromas drifted upward from downstairs. Nose in the air, she followed the wonderful smells all the way to the kitchen.

Wearing nothing but a pair of burgundy silk boxers, Malik was at work in front of the stove. A wicked smile tugged at Zakira’s lips as she crossed her arms over her chest and enjoyed the sultry view. After a moment, her eyes drifted to the dinette table and she noticed the spread. There were fluffy-looking, round pancakes, fresh orange juice, milk and seasoned hash browns.

Malik was a whiz in the kitchen. It had been his primary reason for wanting to open the restaurant. Unfortunately, there were now so many obligations involved with running Badu’s that he spent little time cooking.

“Have a seat,” Malik called from the stove without looking around.

Zakira did as she was told. She was about to serve herself when Malik walked over and set a mouthwatering broccoli-and-three-cheese omelet before her.

“Oh, thank you! My God, how long have you been up?” Zakira exclaimed, immediately digging into the omelet.

Malik shrugged and turned to the kitchen island. “I had to get up and get this,” he said, pulling a brightly wrapped package from a side drawer.

“What have you done?” Zakira asked, as she set down her fork and took the gift. It only took a few seconds to tear through the wrapping. When she touched the gold velvet box, her brown eyes snapped to Malik’s face. “What is it?”

Malik pulled one hand through his dreads and sat across from her. “Open it.”

Sighing, Zakira opened the long case. Her loud gasp filled the room when she lifted a gorgeous diamond-encrusted tennis bracelet from the box. “Malik,” she whispered, shaking her head at the extravagant gift.

“Think of it as an early Christmas present. Besides, I wanted to make up for the way I acted last night when you asked about Doctor McNeil.”

“I love this,” Zakira assured him, gesturing at the sparkling piece of jewelry. “But all I want is for you to be straight with me.”

“I know,” Malik assured her, nodding his head quickly. He stood, but Zakira grabbed his hand before he could get too far. She tugged and waited for him to take the chair next to her.

“Malik, I’ve got an awful feeling about this and it has nothing to do with any dream,” she said, cupping the side of his face in her palm. “It’s scaring me.”

Malik pulled her hand away from his face and pressed a hard kiss to her palm. He never answered, but Zakira could tell by the guarded look in his dark eyes that he was scared, as well.



Elegantly dressed couples filed into Badu’s Restaurant. A long red carpet led from the establishment’s entrance and ended at the edge of the sidewalk. Each guest felt like royalty as they clutched small white envelopes that carried Badu’s logo on the outside and an invitation inside.

The restaurant had undergone a mild transformation for the event. Several extra dining tables had been set on the edge of the dance floor to accommodate the staggering number of guests. Several people took to the smaller dance space, eager to enjoy the cool jazz stylings of a local group. Others were more interested in the fantastic dinners that were served. Diners had their choice of three entrées: spicy roast duck basted in a fragrant white wine sauce with a delicious wild rice, broccoli and herb side; a hearty chicken, scallop and red onion sauté served on a bed of tender noodles; or grilled salmon steak with a fresh vegetarian stir-fry.

Malik watched Zakira mingling and smiling as she wandered through the crowd. Every aspect of the evening was so perfect he wanted the entire group to know who was responsible. Heads turned at the sound of a crystal goblet being tapped with a fork. Malik had requested the band take a break when he joined them on stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention. I have a small announcement to make!”

Zakira turned to watch her husband. Her cocoa gaze sparkled with love as she admired his smooth, handsome appearance in the tailored, three-piece beige pin-striped suit.

“Tonight, many of you have approached me with congratulations on coordinating such a successful event. I wanted to let everyone here know that the menu, the atmosphere and the luxurious setting are all my wife’s doing. What you see before you tonight are the results of her hard work. Zakira, girl, you wanna come up here and take a bow?”

Applause filled the air as Zakira made her way toward the stage. She accepted Malik’s hand, and he escorted her up the short stairway. She kissed his cheek, then turned to face the crowd.

“I’m sure we all wish there weren’t a need for this type of event,” she told the crowd, watching the group nod in agreement. “Since there is, I want to thank the committee for allowing me to be a part of it. I thank you for your compliments, but the real accolades should go to the women who lend their efforts each day to help fight this dreaded disease that affects so many children.”

Zakira’s graciousness and emotional words brought forth another round of applause. She stood smoothing her hands across the sides of the chic, ankle-length silver satin evening gown and waited for the crowd to settle down.

“In lieu of applause,” Zakira was saying, “we here at Badu’s would like to forward our fee for hosting tonight’s event to the Richmond Children’s Cancer Research Fund.”

Deafening applause followed the announcement. Zakira bowed, and then nodded toward the band, who were preparing for their next set. She left the stage with Malik at her side.



“So are you glad you accepted the invitation?”

Edwina smoothed her hands over the chiffon sleeves of her cobalt-blue silk evening gown. “Oh, Z, I still get shivers thinking about what you did. That was a beautiful gesture, forfeiting your fee from tonight.”

Zakira toyed with a curly tendril that dangled from the chignon atop her head. “I thought so, too. Raising money for any charity is hard enough without having to worry about another bill.”

“Amen,” Eddie agreed, her light hazel eyes scanning the crowded room.

“So, you didn’t answer my question,” Zakira said. At Eddie’s frown, she rolled her eyes. “Are you glad you accepted my invitation?”

Edwina groaned. “Yes, I am. Despite the fact that I’ve seen two of my ex-boyfriends here with their new women, might I add.”

“Please! I bet they drooled all over themselves when they saw how gorgeous you are.”

Edwina brushed her hand against Zakira’s bare arm. “I appreciate your kind words.”

“Kind, hell, they’re true. Edwina Harris, you need to let that mess go. It’s their loss. Move on.”

“Mmm…spoken like a woman with a handsome, sexy husband to go home with.”

Zakira’s cocoa eyes clouded with concern. “Speaking of which, I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Hey,” Eddie said, a questioning look on her face. “Is something going on with y’all? I mean, I wanted to ask you about it when I visited before, but I was caught up in my own drama.”

Zakira reached for her stepsister’s hand and squeezed it. “Sometimes I forget how handy it is to have a therapist in the family.”

“You need to talk?” Eddie whispered, pressing Zakira’s hand to her chest.

“Not here, okay? Lunch, tomorrow. Is that good for you?”

“Yeah, sweetie, it’s fine,” Edwina assured her, pulling her stepsister close for a hug. “We’ll finish discussing it later. You go find Malik.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” Zakira whispered, kissing the woman’s cheek before hurrying off.

As Edwina stood near the edge of the dance floor watching her stepsister, she had no idea she herself was being watched. Trekel Grisani had caught sight of Edwina shortly after he arrived at the restaurant. He had noticed her speaking with both Zakira and Malik several times during the evening. They all seemed exceptionally close, and he couldn’t believe he had never seen her before.



Several people told Zakira they had seen Malik head upstairs. She found him in his office, sprawled across the dark brown leather sofa. Just as she was about to approach him, his eyes opened and he sat up. Zakira decided to stay put and watch him. Malik covered his face with both hands and took several deep breaths. Then, he left the sofa and walked over to the wide desk. He stumbled just as he reached the brown swivel chair and grasped the edge of his desk for support.

Zakira balled a fist against her mouth to prevent herself from crying out. She watched Malik search one of the desk drawers before he extracted the now familiar pill bottle. He swallowed one of the capsules, then took a seat and closed his eyes again.



The next day, Edwina sat her elbow atop the table and propped the side of her face against her fist. “Are you sure you’re not overreacting?” she asked, giving her stepsister a doubtful look.

Zakira rolled her eyes toward the restaurant’s high ceiling. “No offense, Eddie, but you weren’t there. You didn’t see the look on his face when he stumbled. He was scared. He’s acting so strange. The dizziness I figured was because he’s working too hard, but now there’s the pills, this sudden checkup, a new doctor, he’s stumbling around like a drunk…I can’t help but be worried out of my mind.”

Eddie smoothed her hands over her low-cut navy silk blouse and leaned back in her chair. “This worrying can’t be good for you.”

Zakira’s stylish ponytail slapped her cheeks when she nodded her head. “I know. But it’s not going to stop until I get some answers.” She spotted Trekel Grisani heading toward the table.

“Hey, baby doll,” he greeted, as he took her hand and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“Hey, sweetie.” Zakira replied, patting her hand against his cheek. “I’m surprised to see you outside that office of yours.”

Tree smiled, revealing his striking white grin. “Yeah, I break out every now and then.”

Zakira laughed, as she raised her hands above the table. “Tree, I want you to meet my stepsister, Edwina Harris. Eddie this is Trekel Grisani.”

Tree’s extremely handsome face registered surprise. “Stepsister? And I’m just meeting her now?” he scolded playfully.

Zakira shrugged. “Better late than never.”

Tree turned and his pitch-black gaze narrowed the moment he saw the exquisite beauty who stared back at him with her gorgeous almond-shaped eyes. Tree stood uncharacteristically speechless. The lovely, delicate features that never failed to render men helpless succeeded once more. However, this time, it appeared that Eddie was just as captivated as Tree.

Zakira hid her smile as she studied Tree’s entranced expression and Edwina’s reaction to him. After a moment, she cleared her throat.

“Tree, would you like to join us?” she asked.

Tree hesitated for a moment. Then, shaking his head, he ran one finger across his wide brow. “Um…I’m sorry, Edwina, for staring,” he apologized very softly, his deep voice sounding very raspy.

Eddie fiddled with the wide collar of her blouse and nodded. “It’s okay,” she managed, surprised by the apology. An apology, in fact, was very unnecessary when she was just as guilty. Trekel Grisani was unbelievably gorgeous. The close-cut wavy black hair, striking onyx eyes, wide nose and mouth made for an irresistible combination. Zakira had called him Tree and Edwina figured it was a nickname. A well-deserved nickname, in any case. The man had an awesome build, to say the least. Massive shoulders, a wide chest and back, lean waist and long legs…yes, Tree was the perfect name for him.

“Thanks, Z, but I’m meeting with a client,” Tree explained when he turned around. “I just wanted to stop and say hello.”

“Well, listen, if you have some time later on, could I stop by and talk for a while?”

Tree smiled and glanced at his watch. “That’s fine. Maybe around three?”

Zakira smiled. “I’ll see you then.”

Tree leaned down and pressed another kiss to her cheek. Then, he turned, pinning Eddie with his intense onyx stare. “It was very nice to meet you, Edwina.”

Eddie’s sweet brown stare was practically glued to Tree’s handsome face. “It was very nice meeting you,” she replied.

Tree stared for just an instant longer before he left the table.

Eddie waited a moment before she turned her head. Her eyes followed Tree’s departing form.

A smirk crossed Zakira’s mouth as she watched her stepsister. “Yes, he is.”

Eddie frowned and turned to face her sister. She waited for Zakira to elaborate.

“He really is as sweet and thoughtful as he is gorgeous and sexy,” she clarified.

Eddie shrugged. “That would appear to be true,” she agreed, lightly.

“Sure seemed taken by you, girl,” Zakira teased.

Edwina smiled. “You are imagining things.”

“Ha! I’m not imagining the way your eyes were glued to him.”

“Z! I don’t believe you said that,” Edwina replied, outraged. “And anyway, wasn’t it you who said I should forget about men for a while?”

Zakira waved her hand. “Not when it comes to Trekel Grisani. I can’t believe I never considered putting you guys together before. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him and he couldn’t stop looking at you. Why deny it? The man is gorgeous and built. Unlike most of his colleagues, he’s a good, honest lawyer, and he seemed very into you.”

Eddie sent Zakira an exasperated look. “As if I don’t have enough problems with men,” she sighed, raising her hands.

Zakira leaned across the table. “What problems, Eddie? Tree is a very nice guy. He’s sweet, gorgeous and intelligent. You don’t come across a combination like that every day.”

“I’m sure you’re right. But Z, maybe you haven’t realized that I only date black men.”

Zakira appeared dumbfounded. Then, she realized what Eddie meant. “Honey, Tree is black.”

Edwina leaned back in her chair and balled her fist beneath her chin. “Did we just talk to the same man? Tall, gorgeous…white?”

“Eddie, he is black. His father is Italian, but his mother is definitely a black woman. He doesn’t have her coloring, but look at his features and you can tell.”

Eddie shrugged, but still appeared uneasy.

“Edwina you can’t deny that you were attracted to him.”

“Maybe I can’t, but I’m just not ready for another man right now. Any man,” she said, sounding as though she were trying to convince herself.



“He told me to show you right in, Zakira,” Carrie Shephard said as she opened the door to her boss’s office.

Tree was on the phone when his assistant escorted Zakira inside. He waved to her and began wrapping up his call.

She walked around the impressive penthouse office located in a posh silver skyscraper in downtown Richmond. She had not visited in a while, but she was always amazed by the beauty of Tree’s home. Everything was dark and oversized to accommodate his size. Still, both the office and the living quarters held an unmistakable aura of style and authority. She was studying a wall decorated only with pictures of Tree and Malik. If Trekel Grisani couldn’t put her fears to rest concerning her husband, she didn’t know who could.

“Hey, you.” Tree said, as he headed over to Zakira. He leaned down to give her a warm hug.

“Hi,” Zakira sighed.

A small furrow formed between Tree’s sleek brows and he pulled away. “What’s the matter?”

She came right out with it. “Tree, do you know what’s going on with Malik?”

“What’s…going on with him?” Tree replied, watching Zakira suspiciously.

“Mmm-hmm. He’s been acting so weird for the past few weeks. I think he might be sick…Can you tell me anything?”

Tree managed to slip his mask in place before Zakira could see that he knew more than he was telling. He had warned Malik that Zakira’s intuition was keen where her husband was concerned.

Zakira took a seat in front of Tree’s desk and pinned him with her large chocolate stare. “Tree, I know Malik is your client, but I’m asking you as his wife…as your friend. I’d appreciate anything you could tell me.”

Tree reclined in his chair and stroked the smooth curve of his jaw. “There’s not much to say.”

“You haven’t noticed anything?”

“Sweetie, it could be business or any number of things. You know how Malik is,” Tree observed, hoping he sounded convincing.

Zakira appeared crestfallen. “Yeah, I know how he is. But Tree, I know something’s not right with him.”

Tree ran one hand across his close-cut hair and grimaced. “Z, maybe he doesn’t want you to worry.”

“See, that’s it right there!” Zakira shouted, pointing a finger at Tree. “This may be something I need to know. I don’t care what it is. I have to know. Wondering is driving me crazy.”

Tree left his chair and walked around the desk. He knelt before Zakira and pulled both her hands into one of his. “Shh…stop this,” he soothed. “You’re starting to upset me.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, sniffling softly. “You’re right. Maybe I am making a mountain out of a molehill.”

Tree squeezed Zakira’s hands. “Why don’t you go home and try to calm down. Malik will come clean with you, if there’s anything to tell.”

“You’re right,” she said, nodding as she absently smoothed her hands across Tree’s shoulders. “Lemme get out of here.” Tree stood and pushed his hands into the deep pockets of his trousers. As soon as the door closed behind Zakira, he was dialing Malik’s number.



“Doctor McNeil, I’ve got Doctor Douglass Burns on the line for you.”

“Thanks, Simone,” Dr. McNeil told his secretary. “Hey, Doug.”

“Sed, it’s been a long time.”

“I’ll say. I don’t hear from you every day,” Dr. McNeil told his old colleague,

Burns chuckled. “Well, I’m actually calling about one of your patients.”

McNeil frowned. “Which patient?”

“Malik Badu.”

“Malik Badu? How do you know him?”

“He called to get some information on our center here. He liked what he heard and plans on admitting himself.”

“You’re kidding, right?”





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