Platinum Promises
Zuri Day
Seduction in the lap of luxury…Stellar business decisions and award-winning wines have helped Dexter Drake turn his family’s luxury resort and spa into the most successful vineyard in southern California. The youngest Drake sibling also has another talent—his legendary prowess with women. He is having too much fun to settle down…until he meets Faye Buckner, a guest at the vineyard’s hotel. And her act of kindness makes it impossible for the freewheeling bachelor to get the beautiful, idealistic doctor out of his mind.Faye has come a long way from her childhood on the mean streets of St. Louis. She believes in making the world a better place, and has dedicated her career to saving lives in third world countries. Now, an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity could give her the chance to do the same in America, so she plans to concentrate on her work.But she soon discovers that there is more to the breathtaking playboy than his gorgeous looks. He has intelligence, compassion and a sinfully sexy embrace. Should Faye remain focused solely on her career, or listen to Dexter’s passionate promises…and her own heart? The Drakes of California In the sparkling vineyards of California, destiny and desire are about to collide.
Seduction in the lap of luxury…
Award-winning wines have helped Dexter Drake turn his family’s luxury resort and spa into the most successful vineyard in Southern California. Yet Dexter has another talent—his prowess with women. He is having too much fun to settle down…until he meets Faye Buckner, a guest at the vineyard’s hotel. Her act of kindness makes it impossible for him to get the beautiful doctor out of his mind.
Faye believes in making the world a better place, and has dedicated her career to saving lives. She plans to concentrate on her work. But she soon discovers that the breathtaking playboy isn’t just gorgeous—he is intelligent and compassionate, too. Should Faye remain focused solely on her career or listen to Dexter’s passionate promises…and her own heart?
“Thanks again,” Faye said, fumbling for her key card. “It was a very nice evening.”
“My pleasure,” Dexter said, his voice slightly husky as he gently removed the card from Faye’s hand, keeping his gaze locked with hers as he unlocked her door. He took a step, one that put his body within inches of hers; he was so close that she could feel his heat, imagine his “intention.”
“Okay, so, good night.” She averted her eyes and held out her hand. Please! Just give me my key card before I die!
But, no, that would have been too much like right. He had to place one hand on her shoulder and another on her chin, and turn her head ever so slightly. Then, he had to run his hand down her arm as he lowered his head and placed a kiss—soft and feathery—on her parted lips.
“Good night, Doctor,” he murmured.
“Good night.” She walked into the room, offered as best a smile as she could muster under the circumstances—keeping her knees from buckling and her heart from beating out her chest—and closed the door.
Inside the room, silence enveloped her. That…and abject loneliness unlike any she’d ever felt. She leaned against the door, took several calming breaths and asked herself the million-dollar question. What. Just. Happened?
ZURI DAY
snuck her first Harlequin romance at the age of twelve from her older sister’s off-limits collection and was hooked from page one. Knights in shining armor and happily-ever-afters filled her teen years and spurred a lifelong love of reading. That she now creates these stories as a full-time, award-winning author is a dream come true! Splitting her time between the stunning Caribbean islands and Southern California, she’s always busy writing her next novel. Zuri makes time to connect with readers and meet with book clubs. She’d love to hear from you, and personally answers every email that’s sent to Zuri@ZuriDay.com.
Platinum Promises
Zuri Day
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader,
Platinum is one of the rarest elements on earth: exceptionally resistant and highly valuable. I believe the same can be said about the love between Dexter and Faye. Like platinum, he is lustrous—polished, dazzling—while her malleability during years spent doctoring in third-world countries has served her well. The rarity is in these two opposites attracting; the resiliency and value is a sustainable relationship formed on common ground.
Faye returns to the States from Port au Prince, Haiti, the capital city of the Western Hemisphere’s poorest country, which was devastated by an earthquake in 2010. She reminds us that all these years later, much restorative work is still desperately needed. There are several charitable organizations through which we can pitch in and help, either by offering our time and services, as Faye did, or by making monetary contributions, Dexter-style.
Either way, for both this couple and for Haiti, love wins!
Zuri Day
In love, a promise is a beautiful token
When heartfelt words are lovingly spoken
And there’s magic when a partner makes a platinum vow
So amazing that the only response is…wow!
Thanks to Glenda Howard and Harlequin’s “Team Zuri”—especially Mr. IT (wink)—for being wonderful and fabulous. Because you are…I am!
Contents
Chapter 1 (#ud6bb850f-4a43-5280-8094-629f7b070d46)
Chapter 2 (#uf8cc9e08-a58b-523b-ac01-1e0f22b56783)
Chapter 3 (#ue2d3c546-3392-5ba3-8a9c-61c139814698)
Chapter 4 (#u125165b2-0aa3-51d8-9e52-26cbe01bdc5a)
Chapter 5 (#u920e0160-541a-5cc3-904b-84c39deca82e)
Chapter 6 (#ua748a109-e9e3-5364-9d77-46bfac590e99)
Chapter 7 (#u07b1e7f6-0f76-5d7d-a2d2-40523f6ead72)
Chapter 8 (#u285a6bf6-f75d-5b49-864c-63519e598f96)
Chapter 9 (#u0fd06a32-b579-5908-9ff8-b146fd7cfe0b)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1
Practical, no-nonsense Dr. Faye Buckner lay in uncharted waters—literally and figuratively—feeling wanton, wicked and strangely...free. The water swirled around her body as her lover’s tongue traced circles against her heartbeat, causing flutters from her stomach to her heat. Ah, yes. The beautiful beaches of Haiti. But how did I get here with him?
“Relax.” Her lover’s voice was as soothing as the water and as warm as a summer breeze.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. I’ll help you.” He laid a trail of kisses down her neck, over her collarbone and on her shoulder, all the while brushing feathery fingers up and down her arm. Goosebumps appeared on the upper part of her body. A furnace of passion exploded within. He captured a nipple with his teeth, pulled it inside his mouth. Not wanting to appear rude or neglectful, he slid his hand to her other nipple, pebbling it between his thumb and forefinger before moving his hand down farther...to her navel, hip and inner thigh.
A foreign feeling of losing control caused her to squeeze her legs together.
Her lover raised up on one elbow as his finger slid up and down the crease caused by her tightly clenched thighs. She closed her eyes.
“Don’t be shy,” he said with a chuckle. “Trust me.”
He leaned over and placed a soft, reverent kiss just below her navel.
Her breath came fast, and her heart beat faster.
He eased back up to her breast. Feathery kisses rained down on her dewy, soft skin, a trail of tantalizing sensations across the fleshy plains of her softness, her boyishly lean frame a perfect canvas for his oral artistry. He reached the thighs, which were still pressed against each other. He lowered himself farther, kissing, rubbing and licking the line that served as the gateway to her desire.
“Let go.”
She moaned, shaking her head from side to side. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t! But why not? She had no answer to that question. Her mind was muddled, logic elusive. How can this be happening? But it was. She could feel it, could feel him, everywhere.
“Don’t think, baby. Just feel. Give yourself to me.” His tongue stiffened, became more insistent even as he eased his hands underneath her booty, licking a wedge between her armor, causing her thighs to part of their own volition. The act was unexpected, the air against her love button a delicious friction. How is the wind blowing there? She dared open one eye and look downward. His bow-shaped lips were parted; it was he who fanned her flame. There, in the most intimate of places. Hot breath touched her feminine furnace as he spread her legs and then kissed her inner thighs. Before she could ponder the deliciousness of the way his skillful tongue felt against her sensitive skin, he moved on to an even more sensitive spot and kissed it. She gasped, taking in a mouthful of air, releasing a lifetime of inhibitions. Without waiting for instruction or permission, her hips began a circular dance, lifting up to meet his tongue. Again, her rational self tried to intervene, tried to argue that such gyrations were inappropriate, lewd, nasty.
He licked her there. Between her lower lips. Once. Again. Deeper still. Reason fled, replaced by desire. She moaned, stroked his close-cropped hair as he stroked her.
“That’s right. Relax and enjoy this.” He ran his lips over her nether ones, over and again, kissing her with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes and wetness in other places. She tossed and turned and tried to get away. He captured her thighs with his large hands, looked up at her with glazed eyes and a wicked smile. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “And neither am I.”
In that moment, Faye’s heart burst—and her head fell against something hard like steel, cold like glass and...leathery. Leather? At the ocean?
WTH?
The cheerful, gray-haired driver glanced back at his passenger waking from an unexpected nap. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We’re almost there!”
Chapter 2
Faye looked around, dazed and confused. She eyed palm trees and grapevines and signs announcing concerts and spas and wine tastings. Slowly the dream faded. Reality crashed in. She wasn’t lying on a beach in Haiti. She was riding in the back of a town car on America’s West Coast, not at all surprised that she’d been lulled to sleep during the one hour drive from San Diego International Airport to her destination, Temecula, California, the area she’d only recently learned was Southern California’s wine country, even older than the more widely known Napa Valley. There had been little sleep in the past seventy-two hours, spent in what had been her home away from home for the past three years.
The memory of that beloved country brought a pang to her heart. She missed Haiti already. Or was it the lover in her dream that she longed for, and the fact that he was not real that made her sad? She narrowed her eyes, tried to “see” the man who’d taken her places she’d never been in waking moments. But there was no recalling his face. Only that body, hard and strong. Only the way he made her temperature soar, causing her to feel embarrassed as the driver looked into the rearview mirror and offered a fatherly smile.
“Looks like you’re in for a treat,” he said, turning onto a winding road bordered by Bird of Paradise bushes and fields of grapevines beyond them. “I wish the wife and I could afford to stay at a place like this.”
“It does look beautiful,” Faye agreed. She was immediately struck with how diametrically opposite her current surroundings were compared with those she’d seen mere hours ago. Ian told me this place was like heaven. He was right. Dr. Ian Chappelow was a philanthropist, mentor and friend. He was the reason why she was no longer in Haiti, the reason why she would see her lifelong dream come true—opening the Hearts of Health and Healing Center, a free clinic for poor families—and the reason why she was getting ready to step into the lobby area of California’s award-winning Drake Wines Resort and Spa. Thinking of him reminded her that between the lengthy customs process and jet lag she’d forgotten to turn on her phone and “ring Haiti as soon as I arrive stateside,” as she’d promised.
The driver opened her door. Faye stepped out and walked around to the trunk of the vehicle, fully prepared to grab her bags.
“Oh, no, miss,” the driver said, easily pulling her two pieces of luggage out and closing the trunk. “I’ll take these to the front desk for you or, if you prefer, to the bell captain to be delivered to your room.”
“Of course.” Faye nodded, granting the driver a brief, bright smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve been catered to in this way. The front desk will be fine. I can handle them from there. Thank you.”
“No problem, miss.” The driver walked with her into the hotel and up to the check-in counter.
Faye dug into her oversized canvas bag for her wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
The driver held up his hands with a smile. “Everything has already been taken care of, including the tip. I hope you enjoy your stay.”
That rascal. Ian had already given her more than she’d ever dreamed possible. She’d insisted that he do nothing more regarding her vacation than pay for the hotel. I see how he listened. Not at all! Faye thanked the driver and within minutes was checked in by the cheery brunette who’d welcomed her to the “Inland Escape,” a tag that she’d later learn had been created by the resort’s director of PR. She accepted her key cards, secured a carry-on handle in each hand and headed toward the bank of elevators the receptionist had indicated. Even in her exhausted state she took in the eclectic yet perfect mix of marble and bamboo, silk walls and bronze fixtures. When scanning the brochures describing the resort, Faye had noted its exclusive feel and had mentioned to Ian her concern at the expense of this trip. “You deserve it,” he’d told her with a reassuring squeeze of her shoulder. “You’re a tireless worker who refuses to rest. Besides, it feels good spending money on the daughter I never had. Those two heathen sons of mine are chomping at the bit to get my fortune after I die.” Faye had shushed talk of death and heathens with an “I love you, Doctor” and a heartfelt hug. Now, looking around, it was clear that the doctor had indeed spent a good sum of money on his “adopted” child.
Halfway across the lobby, Faye walked too close to a vase-holding table, causing her carry-on to get caught in its legs. The stuck luggage was wrenched out of her hands, and the unexpected imbalance caused Faye to stumble. Geez! Having carried bags across rougher terrain, Faye knew that exhaustion was to blame for her errant strides. And she knew just the prescription to help her feel better: sleep. She quickly righted herself, freed the luggage and took three more steps toward the bank of elevators before she looked up, saw a vision and for a second wondered if she’d stepped back into her dream. She hadn’t recalled the face of the phantom man who’d played her body like an instrument while she was sleeping, but if she had, she was sure that he would look like the one across the way, brow creased in concentration as a thumb lazily rubbed the face of a cell phone, the other hand in his pocket.
Eyes trained to take in surroundings and/or symptoms in an instant registered his information on a mental chart: six-one or two, maybe one eighty-five, gorgeous. She could see only his side profile, but if it were any indication of what a full frontal looked like, then Lord. Have. Mercy. Even from the side she could see an aquiline nose, thick lips and a strong brow. Her glances were quick, surreptitious, taking in what had to be a tailored suit; the well-fitted jacket lay across broad shoulders and fell over lean hips. His legs were long, his feet were...don’t go there, Faye. Seriously! That dream has you feeling all beside yourself! While in the jungles of Africa or the makeshift shanties of Port-au-Prince, it had been easy to forget how long she’d gone without a date, let alone an intimate evening. Burying herself in work had kept thoughts of romance at bay; eighteen-hour days had made sleep her only desire when she fell into bed. But the dream had reminded her of what she’d been missing—no, of what she’d never experienced. She wasn’t a virgin, but Faye was positive that she’d never been loved like that, had never experienced what had transpired in her dream. Those sure hands, that skilled tongue...stop it! Even as she worked to divert her train of thought to a subject less...volatile...an involuntary shiver went through her body. She reached the bank of elevators, pushed the button and vowed to herself that she would not look back, that she wouldn’t take one last look at that delectable dish of dark caramel. She argued with herself that it would be senseless to gaze upon that sculpted body just one last time, to commit it to memory, to invite him into her subconscious, and perhaps another passion-filled dream. Faye Buckner, pull yourself together. You are not having that kind of dream ever again! And you’re not going to look at him. Only her head didn’t get the memo, as seemingly of its own will it turned in the direction of the human god. Her eyes betrayed her as well, quickly finding the object of her desire. When they did, it was to find that the man she’d already unconsciously dubbed “the man of her dreams” had finished his scrolling or texting or whatever and was looking in her direction. Is he looking at me? No, couldn’t be. Torn jeans. Ratty T-shirt. I’d hardly garner his attention. And then he smiled. And winked. At her, definitely at her. And since you can see him looking at you, Faye, then he is undoubtedly very aware that you are staring at him.
Crap! Faye quickly turned away, wishing upon ten thousand stars that the elevator would come now, that the doors would open up and rescue her from this extreme embarrassment. At that second, the chime of the bell announced her chariot’s arrival. It couldn’t have been more welcomed had it been Peter’s blowing horn announcing that she’d been accepted through heaven’s pearly gates. She hurried into the elevator and turned to smile at the handsome stranger, whom she assumed from his attire had conducted business at the hotel and was someone she’d more than likely not see again. Her smile quickly flitted away, however, as she saw a laughing, dark-skinned beauty walk up to him and lean in for a hug. He kissed her cheek. The doors closed. Her heart dropped. Of course he’s taken. Someone who looks like that wouldn’t be spending his nights alone. And then the next thought. What do you care? A useless feeling, really, although somehow it mattered. And considering her third thought, Faye knew that it shouldn’t matter. Not at all. He was flirting with me while waiting for her? What a jerk! It was just as well. Whatever fantasy she’d created in the seconds she’d seen him needed to fade away just as quickly as her dream had. She hadn’t come back to the United States to flirt or date or play footsy with some heartthrob. She’d come here to realize an entirely different type of dream: opening a free clinic in a poverty-stricken area of San Diego, to develop a model that would hopefully be re-created in inner cities across the country, and to make her friend, mentor and millionaire who was largely funding her endeavor, Dr. Ian Chappelow, proud.
This place indeed looks magical but you are not Cinderella, this is no fairy tale and that oh-so-gorgeous, dimpled piece of corporate goodness is not your Prince Charming. Period. End of story.
She reached the room boasting the number on the card envelope she’d been given, opened the door and stopped short. Convincing herself that she wasn’t in a fairy tale while staying in these surroundings would not be easy to do. She stepped inside, closed the door and did a slow 360-degree turn. The suite was straight out of a magazine or movie screen. Ian had booked her in a suite, and the living and dining areas alone looked incredibly impressive. The floors were a dark-colored polished wood, the couch and loveseat the color of rose wine. A beautiful multicolored rug anchored that area and complemented the glass and metal coffee and end tables. Beyond the living room was the dining room, complete with buffet. The open-concept kitchen was small yet highly functional, its stainless-steel appliances gleaming in the afternoon sun. Walking to the oversized, floor-to-ceiling windows, Faye beheld the most beautifully landscaped garden she had ever seen. There was a profusion of flowers, perfectly-formed shrubbery and a large fountain in the middle. The cobblestone path added a classic touch to the modern architecture. The mountains soared toward the brilliant blue sky.
“Are you sure you’re not Cinderella?” she mumbled. Wow, Ian...thanks. She continued to gaze out the window, overcome with emotion for the man who’d helped her become a better doctor, had helped her realize her dreams and had sent her here. Batting away tears and battling emotions from she knew not what, she reached for her phone and dialed Ian’s cell phone. The call went to voicemail. She left a brief message, plopped down on the bed and fought off a wave of melancholy.
“You’re exhausted, Doctor. You need sleep and a shower.” And not necessarily in that order.
She walked into the oversized bathroom, stripped off her clothes and stepped into the marble shower. Her goals were to rinse off the weariness and the grime from her journey—and to hopefully wash away her gloominess as well. But as she brushed the loofah sponge over her body, images of sexy eyes and succulent lips, of broad shoulders and long, lean legs flitted across her mind’s eye. She tried to tell herself it was the man from her dream. But, no. The person she was envisioning was all too real. The type of man that women like Faye could only dream about. The type that beautiful women dated, and lucky women married. Like the woman in the lobby, perhaps, the woman whom the man of her dreams had kissed on the cheek. Of course he’d be attracted to someone sexy and flawless. Not someone like her.
Chapter 3
“I saw you!” Marissa Drake said after their greeting, eyeing her brother-in-law with playful suspicion.
“What?”
“Dexter Drake! Don’t even try it. I saw you looking at and flirting with the woman who was waiting by the elevator.”
“Who? The toned, natural-looking sister, about five-seven or eight, with the long legs and cute tush? Naw, I wasn’t looking at her.”
“Right. You weren’t paying her any attention at all.” They laughed as Marissa hooked her arm through his and they began walking toward the hotel entrance. Even before marrying Dexter’s brother, Donovan, a year ago, she and the youngest Drake had developed a special bond. Part of it was his effervescent personality, and part of it was the fact that when both Donovan and Marissa were trying to deny their mutual attraction, Dexter forced his brother’s hand by jokingly implying he was interested in Marissa. He’d threatened to ask her out if Donovan didn’t. That had led to a scowling “don’t you dare” from his more reserved brother followed by a campaign from Donovan for Marissa’s love that would have impressed a presidential candidate. Marissa thought about a particular conversation that took place during this time, and chuckled.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing, just thinking.” An improbable thought came to her mind, but she dismissed it immediately. Dexter may be a matchmaker. She was not. Besides, Dexter liked sultry, flashy women. The woman at the elevator did not at all look his type. “So...what has a Drake Wines executive pulling kitchen duty on a Thursday afternoon?”
“Huh? Oh, right.” Dexter knew that one could see the door to the kitchen when sitting at the end of the bar. Marissa had obviously seen him exit it. “I was meeting with the chef to make sure that everything is in place for Papa’s party tomorrow.” David Drake Sr., Dexter’s great-grandfather, whom everyone affectionately called Papa Dee, had been born on the sprawling, mountainous land inherited by his grandfather almost two centuries ago. His centenary celebration would be the resort’s highlight of the month. “The kitchen staff is as excited as the rest of us and has done a bang-up job.”
“I’m really looking forward to the party. It’s going to be wonderful to pay tribute to Papa Dee in this way.”
“What about you? What had you sipping wine at the bar on a Thursday?”
“On my way back from Riverside and decided to drop by.”
“What’s going on in Riverside?”
“A good friend of mine recently divorced and moved back there. I went to help her settle in and offer moral support. I’d thought about meeting Don here, maybe having dinner with the in-laws. But when I reached him he reminded me about the meeting he had with your cousin.”
Dexter smiled at the mention of his cousin, Warren Drake, part of the clan formerly known as the Drakes of Louisiana. Several years ago, four of the six brothers in that family had relocated to Northern California, when gold had been discovered on land that had been in their family for decades. The siblings had incorporated the land, founded a town and were soon movers and shakers in Paradise Valley, California. Most of the Drakes of Louisiana were now the Drakes of California, just like their cousins. They were also smart and shrewd with business savvy, which is why Donovan was meeting with Warren—to expand their businesses and their brands.
They exited the hotel. “So...what does your friend look like?” Dexter asked. “Is she fine?”
Marissa gave Dexter the side eye. “You are not interested. She has four children.”
“Whoa!”
“Ha! Thought that would make you put that player card back in your pocket. Everyone knows you’re allergic to kids.”
“That’s not true. Kids are cool...as long as they’re not mine.”
“So everything is set for Papa Dee’s party?” Marissa asked, clearly not up for a debate on the value of anyone’s next generation and changing the subject to prove it.
Dexter nodded. “Because of the RSVPs and sold-out rooms, we had to expand the menu, but I consider that a good problem to have. They are working hard to make sure his favorite dishes are executed to perfection.”
“What about the cake?”
“That’s being done by an outside company, one that specializes in imaging. It will feature a picture of Papa, set against a vineyard backdrop, with one hundred candles lighting the way from the countryside to the hotel.”
“Wow. Papa Dee is turning one hundred years old. I can’t even imagine what it will feel like to be in this crazy world another seventy years.”
“I can’t imagine it either,” Dexter said. “But I hope I get to experience it.” They reached his car. “Where are you parked?”
“Not far.”
“You want to ride to the house with me and join us for dinner, since Don is acting like the workaholic that he is?”
“Thanks, Dexter, but no. I think I’ll head on home and make dinner for two.”
“Listen to you sounding all domesticated.”
“Marriage will do that to you,” Marissa said with a laugh. “You ought to try it.”
“Naw, I’m good.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. You saw what happened to the last woman who tried to tie me down.”
“I sure did, but I respect Maria. You can’t be mad at a woman in her thirties who doesn’t want to continue dating—” Marissa used air quotes “—for the next ten years.”
Dexter opened his car door. “On that female-biased note, I’m out.”
“Ha! Whatever.”
“I’ll see you at the party tomorrow.”
“See you.”
Dexter slid into the soft leather seat of his latest toy and made the five-minute trip from the boutique hotel that anchored the resort to the Drake estate to have dinner with his parents. On the way, he thought about what Marissa had said. In two short years both of his older siblings had found their true loves and married them. As a result, his sister, Diamond, had blossomed into an even more beautiful and confident woman with a child on the way, and his brother, Donovan, was happier than Dexter had ever remembered.
“But that’s not you, man,” Dexter said aloud as he pulled into the circular drive of the family home, where he still lived. “There are too many clusters on the vine for you to be satisfied with just one grape.”
Chapter 4
Faye was startled awake, this time by her ringing cell phone. She looked at the clock on her nightstand in amazement, checked that time against what was shown on her watch. What had been intended as a five-minute nap before ordering room service had turned into the first seven uninterrupted hours of sleep she’d had in a very long time. Before, when she’d worked in Africa, and for the past three years that she’d spent in Haiti, four to five hours of sleep per night was the norm, six or seven a luxury. She yawned, stretched and reached for her phone, smiling as she rapidly typed out a text to Ian:
I called and left a message, but here’s a text as well. The brochures don’t do it justice, Doctor! This place is more beautiful than I could have imagined. I plan to enjoy every minute here, and will call you tomorrow. Again, thanks so much.
Eleven-thirty here, Faye thought. That means it’s two-thirty in Haiti. Faye wanted to talk to her best friend, Adeline Marceaux, a native who served as director of Haitian Heartbeats, the organization through which many doctors, including Faye, had entered the country following a devastating earthquake. “She might be up, but I shouldn’t chance it,” Faye said to herself. I’ll just call her tomorrow.
As she placed the phone on the nightstand, it rang. “I don’t believe it!” she exclaimed, looking at the number. “Hello?” The voice on the other end was a bit distorted. Faye pressed the phone against her ear, trying to hear more clearly. “Addie?”
“Faye! Can you hear me?”
“Yes! It’s a little scratchy, but that’s okay.”
“Hold on a minute.” Faye heard a rustling sound, a closing door and then Adeline’s voice, loud and clear.
“Is this better?”
“I can hear you just fine. Girl, you are going to live a long time,” Faye said, a phrase she’d heard the islanders use when someone you were just thinking about got in touch. “I just thought about calling you but figured it was too late.”
“You know how it is—our work is never done.”
“Where are you?”
“Home, now. We just returned from the backcountry,” Adeline explained in the lyrical accent that Faye adored. “Delivering food, water and emergency supplies to some families there. The rains are supposed to begin tomorrow in earnest. We wanted to make sure these provisions were delivered before the roads washed out.”
“I miss Haiti already and wish I were there to help.”
“Don’t worry about us. You are exactly where you need to be, which I assume is the resort. Did you arrive safely?”
“I did.” Faye described what she had seen so far.
“Sounds lovely. Reminds me of a hotel I visited in Saint Thomas.”
Faye stood and began meandering around the room as she talked. “What about the new volunteers? Was their plane able to land?”
“Yes, and you’d like them. One is from Sweden, the grandson of one of Dr. Ian’s friends. The other is a young medical student from Nigeria. Brilliant. Lots of ideas that he learned while helping orphans in the Sudan.”
“Sounds like the kind of help I could use at my clinic.”
“Perhaps. But you’re not supposed to be thinking about work right now. You’re supposed to be relaxing and taking advantage of the amenities that I’m sure are at your fingertips.”
“I know. I’ll try. But I’m so excited about how plans for the clinic are coming together, even though there is still so much to do. The contractor we hired for renovations fell through. He has to be replaced ASAP. Then there are the in-person interviews with the candidates honed from the online résumés received, meetings with the public relations firm and prepping for the benefit fundraiser. Through the churches, shelters and other organizations working with the clinic, there are already almost a hundred children to be screened. I can already use another doctor on board and the nursing staff—”
“Faye!” Adeline’s voice was loud and firm.
“I know,” Faye said with a self-conscious chuckle. “I should be relaxing.” She noticed an envelope that had been slid under the door, and picked it up. “But it’s so hard to turn off, you know?”
“You are a compassionate, dedicated doctor. You give and give until there is nothing left. Now is your time, Faye. For the next week, be a little selfish. Pamper yourself. Get a massage, a mani/pedi...find a cute guy who can knock the cobwebs out of those seldom-used girlie parts.”
“Seriously, Adeline! You did not just go there.”
“Ha! I most certainly did. You’ve gone far too long without the love of a man. It’s time for you to get back in the dating game and find someone to make you happy.”
“I’m already happy,” Faye murmured, opening the
elegant-looking linen envelope and pulling out the gold-embossed card.
“Then find someone with whom to share that happiness. Go flirt with a man, girl!”
A vision immediately came to mind—the man from the lobby, the man of her dreams. The man who was last seen kissing a beautiful woman, Faye. Don’t forget that.
“Faye, are you listening?”
“Actually, I was reading an invitation from the resort. It must have been placed under my door while I napped.”
“What does it say?”
“It says...
Drake Wines Resort and Spa invites you to join in the celebration of its founder, David “Papa Dee” Drake, Sr., as he marks his 100th birthday!
When: Friday, August 8, @ 5:00 p.m.
Where: Gardens of the South Lawn
There will be food, fun and, of course, Southern California’s finest wines!
RSVP recommended, but not required.”
“There you go, girl,” Adeline squealed, the smile in her voice reaching through the phone. “An invitation to a party. Perfect! Go and buy yourself something sexy, put on some heels and flirt with every man in the room. Have some fun, Doctor. That’s an order!”
After ending the call, Faye ordered from the twenty-four-hour room service menu. Thirty minutes later she enjoyed an all-American hamburger and fries, washing it down with a classic cola. She turned on the television and tried to focus on an over-the-top show about hip-hop artists in Atlanta, Georgia, and the women who loved them. Her eyes were on the screen, but her thoughts were on cobwebs, girlie parts, one certain businessman...and a dream.
Chapter 5
Because of the long nap, it had been almost 3 a.m. before Faye had settled into slumber. She woke up, sat up against the headboard and looked around. It was ten o’clock in the morning and she had no patients to see, no chores to do, no visits to make to tent villages and no idea what one did with idle time. It occurred to her that because her job was also her passion, she’d not taken a true vacation in almost five years. What do people do all day when they have nothing to do? She eyed the remote on the nightstand next to her, picked it up and turned on the large, flat-screen TV. After watching the infomercial on Drake Wines, she flipped through the channels. Five minutes and she knew that watching actors she did not know and shows she did not understand would not be how she spent her spare time. She turned off the television and tossed down the remote. Now what?
She looked around the luxurious, perfectly appointed room. Her eye landed on the envelope with You’re invited across the front. “The party,” she murmured, picking up the card once again. Maybe I should take Addie’s advice and attend. But what would I wear? After several years in Africa, and three years in Haiti, her wardrobe had been reduced to khakis, jeans and one simple black dress that she’d worn to the rare formal dinner. Go and buy yourself something sexy, put on some heels and flirt with every man in the room. “Addie is right. I should try and have fun.” That decided, Faye scheduled a massage, a mani/pedi and an appointment at the salon, then ordered a rental car through the concierge. By the time she showered, dressed and did a quick online search, her car was downstairs. With one last look around the room she headed to the elevators, reached the shiny rental, programmed the car’s GPS and set out for something she hadn’t seen in about a year—a shopping mall.
As she listened to the female voice of the GPS telling her to turn left and right, she continued thinking about her conversation with Adeline about her love life. Or, more correctly, her lack thereof. During high school she’d been a bookworm and a loner with no real friends. That changed in college when she found herself surrounded by people who were as geeky as she was, who felt that devouring books and obsessing over studying were the most natural things to do in the world. That’s where she’d met Jesse, a biochemical major. They dated until she began med school. He took a high-paying job in Alaska. Their romance couldn’t survive the distance.
It was all about the career until the Peace Corps, where she’d met Phillip, a studious yet sensitive chap from Birmingham, England. Drawn together by their mutual desire to heal the world, Faye thought she’d found her soul mate. Unfortunately, when she received the inner call to help the earthquake victims of Haiti, Phillip didn’t get that message. They vowed to keep in touch. He promised to visit. Neither happened. Another relationship gone.
And finally, Gerald McPherson. Older man. Brilliant doctor. Faye had been all agog. But Gerald hadn’t a clue. He viewed her as a little sister, and rather than risk being hurt or embarrassed, she hid her crush behind a professional veneer. Good thing too because a year after he’d arrived in Africa he got a visit from his high school sweetheart. Three months later he went back to the States and married her.
Faye reached the mall and began a methodical walk through the stores. Maybe she shouldn’t have spent so much time thinking about exes and unavailable loves. Because now she doubted her ability to take her friend’s advice and have a good time.
* * *
“Looking good there, Papa!” Dexter strolled into his great-grandfather’s bedroom, where a barber had just finished giving Papa Dee a haircut and a facial. “You’re going to have the ladies fighting over you.”
“Won’t be the first time,” Papa Dee drawled.
“Ha!”
The barber chuckled, too. “Again, happy birthday, Mr. Drake,” he said, packing up his equipment. Dexter paid him and showed him to the door.
When he returned to the room, Papa Dee asked, “Did you invite Charlotte, the woman from the casino that I told you about?” His breathing was a little labored, but his eyes twinkled.
“Sure did. But somebody else invited themselves.”
Papa Dee shook his head. “That Birdie needs to get a life.”
“Aw, come on now, Pops. You’ve known Miss Birdie for what...about thirty years?”
“Yep. And that’s about twenty-nine too many.” Papa Dee eyed himself in the mirror, turning this way and that.
“He did a great job,” Dexter said, watching his great-grandfather in the mirror. “You look good.”
“Not bad for an old geezer.”
“You’re going to be the best looking man in the place.”
“I will so long as you stay out of the room.”
“Couldn’t have been me if there hadn’t been you. Here,” Dexter said, walking over to the garment bag that hung in the closet. “Look what I bought you.” He unzipped it to reveal a lightweight, ivory-colored summer suit paired with a tan shirt and striped tie. “You’re going to be killing ’em, player!”
“If we’re talking about Birdie, she’s near ’bout dead already. One foot in the grave and the other on a piece of ice.”
“Don’t be so hard on her, Pops. I think she looks good for her age.”
“Anybody seventy-five and still aboveground looks good! She’s too old for me. I told her that!”
Dexter hid a smile. “I know, Papa. But somehow she knew about the party. Mom couldn’t uninvite her.”
“I’ll handle it,” Papa said with a sigh, spoken like one who more than once had had experience in this area. “Now, that Charlotte...”
“I can’t argue with you, Papa. She’s got it going on for sure.” She was also forty-five going on forty-six. But somehow Papa Dee had finagled her number and they’d been meeting to play bingo at the casino for the past two months.
“You always want to pick somebody who can stoke your fire, son, someone who’ll get your willy working, make you want to run a mile over hot coals...in bare feet!”
“Man, you’re a mess.” Dexter looked at his watch. “We should probably get you ready.” Papa Dee balanced his hands on both arms of the chair before standing. He took a step and stumbled slightly. “Papa?” Dexter was over in an instant. “Are you all right?”
“Fine, I’m fine.” Papa Dee waved him away. “All of this fussing over me has my head in a swoon.”
“You sure you haven’t snuck into some of that brandy you’ve been distilling? I noticed that someone had been in an area of the cellar where only two people have the key.”
“Only two people that you know of,” Papa Dee answered...without answering. “There’ll be plenty of time for spirits. But for me to manage all of these women this evening, I’ve got to have my head on right.”
Chapter 6
Before turning the corner, Faye heard the music, laughter and chatter of a party in full swing. She slowed just for a moment, running her hand across her abdomen to quiet the butterflies. In doing so she noted the softness of her newly purchased sundress’s fabric and the way the extra material swirled around her ankles. Bared arms wouldn’t have been her first choice. But when the boutique worker saw Faye’s toned body she’d gone immediately to the form-fitting floral number, and once seeing her in it had suggested a pair of strappy sandals with three-inch heels. Faye had appreciated her clerk-slash-stylist and had purchased those items, adding a lightweight shawl and jewelry to match. She had promised to return the following week to further update her wardrobe. She’d returned to the hotel just in time for the died-and-gone-to-heaven massage that was followed by the manicure, pedicure and salon visit.
“A haircut please, very close to the scalp,” she’d told the receptionist once she’d stepped inside.
Her beautician had other plans. “You have such a nice grade of hair,” she’d said, running her hands through Faye’s one-inch curls. “I could condition it and treat it so that ringlets form. With the shape of your face, it would look wonderful.”
“I’m not up for high maintenance,” Faye had countered.
“It’s a wash-and-go style, guaranteed.”
When Faye had returned to the room and taken the time to really study her reflection in the mirror—new hairstyle and, thanks to the threaded brow arch and mud mask treatment she’d gotten, new face—she hardly recognized herself. Now, teetering on heels she rarely wore and heading into a crowd of people she didn’t know...she again wondered who’d entered her body and where was the doctor whose idea of fun was poring over periodicals of the latest medical breakthrough. This is all your fault, Addie! And I’d like to take a scalpel to the one who invented heels!
“The party can’t start until you join us.” Faye’s breath caught as the words delivered by a sexy, masculine voice seemed to pour into her ear from much too close a distance. She smelled sandalwood and cedar and felt her stomach flop. “You were heading into the party, correct?”
She dared a glance. Big mistake. Oh, my God, it’s him! The businessman-slash-jerk, she told herself, who’d openly flirted with her while his wife-slash-date-slash-whomever was close by. “Actually,” she began, in her most authoritative voice, “I was...” He stepped directly in front of her, forcing eye contact, “deciding...whether or not...um...” So much for hiding behind a professional veneer. Eight years of schooling, two degrees and an M.D. behind her name, yet suddenly she’d lost command of the King’s English.
“You’ve got to come to this celebration. I insist. You’ll be the prettiest flower in the garden.” The handsome stranger placed a hand under her elbow and gently propelled her forward. “My name is Dexter,” he said, as they walked. “Friends call me Dex.”
“Faye Buckner.” She took a breath, and then another, and then wondered about the woman he’d kissed yesterday afternoon. How did she find out? Just ask him outright? Boy, am I rusty on dating decorum and social protocol. She decided to say nothing, for now.
Dexter stopped at an open bar that was just beyond the hedges that framed the garden’s opening. “Would you like a glass of champagne?”
“Yes, thanks.”
While Dexter placed the order, Faye was allowed a brief reprieve to look around and get her act together. Hard to do when in a fairy-tale garden, standing next to a prince and wearing a crystal-covered slipper, but she called on discipline honed in residency and gathered herself just in time to realize Dexter was asking a question.
“You arrived yesterday, right?”
“Yes.”
“On vacation?”
“Yes.” Are you stuck on stupid or just on that word?! Faye cleared her throat. “What about you? Here on business?”
“You could say that.” Dexter smiled, and Faye noticed that sexy hint of a dimple in his left cheek. “I work here.”
The bartender placed down their flutes. Dexter picked up one and gave it to Faye. “To a wonderful vacation in wine country,” he said.
Faye nodded. “Cheers.”
As she took her first sip, a pretty pregnant woman walked up to them. Faye immediately thought of the dark-skinned woman from yesterday and wondered where this expectant mother fit in the equation. She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“Brother!” the woman snapped as she reached them. “Excuse me,” she said to Faye before turning her attention back on her intended target. “Where is your cell phone?”
Dexter’s devil-may-care attitude never faltered. Nor did his smile. “Why are you being all fussy and looking evil? You need to chill and come to me correctly if you come at all.” He turned to Faye. “She’s usually not like this.” Nodding toward her protruding stomach, he added, “Hormones, I’m told.”
“Excuse me for not bowing down and genuflecting, Your Highness, but I have been dealing with the press and calling you, all while trying to divert a catastrophe. A minor sibling squabble,” the woman said to Faye. “Please forgive us.”
“If you haven’t figured it out, this is my sister, Diamond,” Dexter said, turning to Faye with a feigned look of chagrin. “She’s normally in full use of her manners, but since Junior landed in her stomach it’s scrambled her brain.”
“Oh, shut up.” Diamond gave Dexter a playful push. “Diamond Drake-Wright,” she said with a smile and an extended hand. “I take it you’re Dexter’s date. You have my condolences.”
“No, not his date,” Faye managed to respond, shaking Diamond’s hand even as her mind whirled. “I’m a guest.” Drake...Wright...as in the Drake in Drake Resorts? Now it all made sense: his cockiness, the self-assuredness, almost to a fault. The brochure had stated this was Drake land for more than a hundred years. Dexter had grown up eating with a silver spoon. This paradise was his home; heaven...his backyard!
“Thanks for joining us. I hope you enjoy the party. If you’ll excuse us, my brother is needed over at the production booth. You did bring the DVD, right?”
“Aw, man! I knew I was forgetting something. Excuse me,” he said to Faye, and hurried off.
Diamond and Faye watched his retreating back in silence. “And he says my brain is scrambled.” Diamond’s was the voice of innocence. “Go figure.” The ladies laughed. Diamond walked away, and for the first time since she’d heard his voice and smelled his scent...Faye exhaled.
Chapter 7
After a single glass of bubbly, the rare-drinking Faye was more relaxed and ready to mingle. She walked to one of the buffet stations, fixed a plate and was soon seated at a table that included a couple from England, two BFFs from Nebraska, a father and daughter celebrating her birthday and a businessman from Texas, complete with Stetson, boots and spurs. All the people at the table were friendly and their talkative natures made her feel comfortable. She’d just savored a spoonful of succulent gumbo when a man bearing a resemblance to Dexter spoke into the microphone.
“Good afternoon, everyone!”
His father perhaps? Faye placed down her spoon and listened.
“My name is David Drake Jr. I want to thank all of you for coming here today to celebrate the birthday of this resort’s founder, my father, David Drake Sr. Today, he turns one-hundred years old!” The partygoers cheered and applauded. “As any of you who’ve had the pleasure of meeting him can imagine, the stories are many, the history vast. A detailed biography is included in the programs placed at each table setting and also available in the hotel lobby. For now, please enjoy this short documentary highlighting some of the rich and colorful history of this amazing man.
“As the film plays, the waitstaff will deliver glasses of champagne to every table. Please refrain from drinking them until the end of the film, where we will toast the man known fondly as...Papa Dee.”
Along with the other almost five-hundred guests, Faye watched in part amazement, part amusement as the story of the life of Papa Dee unfolded in the seven-minute film. The family had managed to retain impeccably preserved pictures of Papa Dee during various stages of his life: from the twelve-year-old standing between his maternal French grandparents to the twenty-five-year-old standing with his first wife. Narrated by family members, the documentary blended history with humor and offered a snapshot into what the viewers concluded was a diverse and interesting life. As she watched the film, Faye also snuck peaks at the family Papa Dee built, the ones she knew. Dexter sat next to his great-grandfather, seeming to keep up a running dialogue as they both watched the film. At times, the older man chuckled. At others, he’d lean over to whisper into an attentive Dexter’s ear. Faye found herself wishing she were a whisker on Papa’s aged chin just to hear what transpired during those obviously treasured moments. Smiling at the tableau before her, she was totally caught off guard when Dexter looked up and caught her staring. Busted! She slid her eyes away from the pair, but not before noticing Dexter laugh at something the old man said, head thrown back, pearly whites sparkling, arm reaching across the chair to hug Papa Dee’s slightly bent shoulders. What does that feel like, she wondered, to have a family that is so successful, and so close?
Faye wouldn’t know. Not really, anyway. There were fond memories scattered here and there: a Christmas at SeaWorld in San Diego; Thanksgiving with her father’s parents when she was seven. Her paternal grandparents lived on a farm in Tennessee. It was the first time she’d seen cows, chickens and pigs up close. But her father was a military man, army, gone from home a lot. During their many moves she gained a love for reading but made few friends. Her mother, an outgoing woman whose big personality often overshadowed her daughter, seemed content to leave Faye to her own devices while she either worked toward her BS in business management or socialized with the other wives, usually around a card game or television show. When she was eleven years old, her world got flipped upside down. The family moved to Saint Louis, Faye discovered a love for medicine and her life forever changed. Looking at Dexter’s sister, Diamond, leaning against a tall, handsome man whom Faye presumed was her husband, along with a group of about ten other people Faye imagined were part of the Drake family, Faye felt an unfamiliar pang of longing for family...and for love.
The cheering crowd brought Faye out of her reverie, and belatedly she realized she’d missed the last part of the film. What she couldn’t miss was six feet two inches of delectable goodness rising from his seat to take the mike.
“Hello, everyone. My name is Dexter, a fifth-generation Drake and the vintner here at Drake Wines Resort and Spa. In other words, under the watchful eye of the man we’re celebrating, I developed the bubbly we’re about to sip right now.” He raised the flute in his hand to their laughter and applause. “And now, a few words from the man who taught me everything I know, the man of the hour...David ‘Papa Dee’ Drake!” Everyone clapped again and turned their attention to Papa Dee.
When he stood, Faye noted that even with bent shoulders he stood tall. Had to have been six one, six two in his heyday. She realized that he and Dexter had the same eyes and nose. She also realized that she was spending way too much time analyzing all things Dexter Drake. Here it was almost six o’clock in the afternoon and she hadn’t thought about the clinic she was building or Haitian Heartbeats all day!
As one by one people rose to their feet, Papa Dee stood before the crowd with teary eyes. “Papa Dee Drake! Papa Dee Drake!” they chanted, and Faye joined in. Papa Dee waved his hands to quiet the crowd. “I appreciate all of the love that y’all are showing me. It’s true I’m no longer a spring chicken. But I’m not a cooked goose either!” The audience roared. “Thank you!”
Papa Dee sat, and another man stood up and addressed the crowd. “My name is Donald Drake, president and chief operating officer of the resort and proud grandson of David Drake Sr. Everyone, please, let’s sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Papa Dee and then raise our glasses in a unanimous toast!”
The song was sung, the toast was made and soon the covered patio was filled with those dancing to some of Papa Dee’s favorite songs. Dexter was the first one out on the dance floor, twirling a vivacious Latina to a fast-paced “Minnie the Moocher.” It wasn’t long, however, before a Tyra look-alike tapped Ms. Latina on the shoulder. Dexter didn’t miss a beat as the “Moocher” segued into “A Tisket, A Tasket.” They kicked and stomped and step-ball-changed across the dance floor before he spun her away with one arm and pulled in his sister with the other. The siblings took a trip on the A train, and when they stopped the band had gone from the forties to the fifties without missing a beat. Chuck Berry, Elvis Presley and Ray Charles hits kept the dance floor packed, but Faye never lost sight of her dream man. When the band began playing a Sam Cooke classic and Dexter began walking toward her, Faye’s heart almost dropped to her toes. He can’t be coming over here. She looked behind her. That table was empty, its occupants already on the dance floor. No! Not me! He can’t possibly think I’d—
“Dance? Please?”
That smile is deadly. Lethal. Should require a permit and be concealed in public. “No, thank you. I don’t dance.”
“Nonsense.” He grabbed her hand before she could move it, began gently pulling her up. It felt as though all eyes were on her, her tablemates smiling and prodding her on. There was no way she could resist without looking silly. “I’ve got you,” he whispered as he pulled her up against him. She hung on—not because she was trying to make a romantic move, but because she really couldn’t dance! Especially the way he was turning and rocking back and forth. Fortunately for both of them he was an excellent leader, and she was more than content to follow where he led her. The song spoke of thrills and kisses, infatuation and longing, and sending people places, and with Faye feeling Dexter’s arms around her and smelling the musky manliness of his cologne, her head was spinning with the desire to experience them all with him!
The song ended and still she clung to him. It had been the most thrilling three minutes she’d experienced in a long time. She didn’t want to let go. “That was amazing.” Oops. Wait. Did I say that out loud?
“You are amazing.”
Yes, girl, those words actually came out of your mouth.
“My turn!” A fiery redhead came to steal away Dexter, and the spell was broken. Faye went back to her seat, and after awhile sanity joined her there. But not before reliving how those arms felt around her and how that chest felt up against hers, oh, about a hundred millions times. By the time the band was reminding the revelers that it didn’t mean a thing if it didn’t have that swing, Faye was back out on the dance floor, this time with the businessman from Texas. The day had turned out to be fun after all.
* * *
On the other side of the garden, Dexter joined his sister, Diamond, and their older brother, Donovan. They all watched their great-grandfather enjoy his moment in the sun.
“Ooh, look at Birdie,” Diamond said, giving a surreptitious nod to the scowling woman sitting at the table Papa Dee had occupied. “She does not appreciate Charlotte dancing with her man!”
“They both better watch out for Kat,” Donovan chimed, as he watched Diamond’s assistant, a Drake employee for over twenty years, make a beeline for where Papa Dee was dancing. “I think she’s getting ready to cut in!”
Sure enough the plucky, red-headed Irishwoman kindly took Papa Dee’s hand, placed an arm around his back and joined him in his rock around the clock. A semicircle formed around them as they danced, the audience clapping and cheering them on. The song ended. Papa Dee bowed.
“Such a gentleman,” Diamond cooed, putting a hand on her round belly.
“What a man,” Dexter agreed.
They all watched as the patriarch who’d lived to see five generations took one step, and then another and then fell over.
Chapter 8
Mayhem ensued.
The Drake clan surged toward their fallen patriarch, with Dexter leading the charge. “Move back!” he demanded. Reaching the man he’d idolized since before he knew the word’s meaning, he bent down to scoop him up. Just as he prepared to lift him, a voice even more commanding than his had been cut through the din of chaos.
“Do not move him!”
As one, the crowd turned toward the source of the sound. Faye moved quickly and decisively, her actions coming by rote. She’d weathered warfare in Africa, hurricane threats in Haiti. Her movements were automatic. All thoughts save those of the man on the ground—including the handsome man hovering over him—fled from her mind.
“Please. Let me through. I’m a doctor.” She dropped to her knees and placed two fingers under Papa Dee’s nose. He was not breathing. “Call 911.” Her voice was calm, authoritative, almost soothing in its surety. “Everyone step back. He needs air.” Everyone moved except Dexter, who stayed as if glued to his great-grandfather’s side. She loosened Papa Dee’s tie, ripped apart his shirt and spoke methodically. “I’m going to administer CPR.” She opened Papa Dee’s airway by tilting back his head. When still not detecting a breath, she covered his mouth with hers and sent two quick bursts of air into his body, followed by thirty chest compressions delivered between the ribcage and chest. Considering his age, she was careful to keep her hands directly over his sternum. Even so, she knew the chances were great that a rib would get broken. To save his life, however, it was a chance she had to take. The process was repeated. Breathe into the body. Chest compressions. Check for breath. Again. Finally, Papa Dee moaned. Very slight. Almost inaudible. But it was a sound.
Fortunately, not the only one. The blare of sirens could be heard in the distance. Faye looked up and caught Dexter’s panicked eyes boring into hers. “Someone needs to direct the paramedics to where we are.”
As if a sprinter’s gun had been fired, Dexter was up and moving through the crowd. The resort’s security team worked to keep the guests at bay although honestly, respect for the man they’d come to celebrate kept most everyone at a respectable distance.
Within seconds, paramedics stormed in. As one kneeled down to begin work on Papa Dee, Faye addressed another one. “I’m Dr. Buckner. It seems we have a man with a heart condition. The patient has been somewhat stabilized, but we need to get him quickly to the hospital.”
They secured an oxygen mask on Papa Dee, put him on a stretcher and quickly wheeled him around to the side entrance. Dexter walked briskly alongside the gurney. The paramedic to whom Faye had been speaking uttered a quick “thanks” before turning to run behind the other.
She stayed him with a hand on his arm. “What hospital?”
“Loma Linda.” And then he was gone.
Faye turned and went in the opposite direction, away from the side entrance and toward the front entrance, which was closest to the hotel and its parking lot. Only one thing was on her mind: getting her credentials and then locating the hospital through her GPS. Thankfully, she’d had only one flute of champagne, had taken only one sip from the second that had been offered during the toast. In the space of a few minutes, Papa Dee had gone from being a person whose party she was attending to a person whose life had been in her hands. As a doctor who practiced with her heart, she had to make sure her patient was all right. She wouldn’t be able to rest until she knew.
Within the span of fifteen minutes, Faye was taking the Clinton-Keith exit off I-215. After two more left turns she arrived at the hospital, parked in a designated spot and entered through the emergency entrance.
“Hello,” she said to the receptionist at the desk. “I’m Dr. Buckner, and I’m here to check on a patient, David Drake Sr. He came in probably five, ten minutes ago suffering from cardiac arrest and perhaps other complications.” She placed her credentials down on the desk as she spoke.
“Yes, Doctor,” the receptionist replied after a quick perusal of Faye’s ID, the keys on her computer being clicked rapidly as she viewed the screen. “He’s in emergency right now.”
“The attending physician?”
More key clicks. “Dr. Saunders. I’m not sure we can get you into the emergency room—”
“That won’t be necessary. I can speak with the doctor when he’s finished. Which way to the waiting room?”
“Right around the corner. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you.” Faye rounded the corner. Dexter was the first sight she saw.
She stopped.
He stopped. His eyes were glassy; worry was painted all over his face. “You’re a doctor.”
“Yes, I am.”
“My great-grandfather. Do you think...”
“We don’t know, Dexter. But he was breathing when the paramedics arrived and his heartbeat, while not overly strong, was steady. His skin tone looked good, and there was no drastic drop in his body temperature. I think the best thing for him right now is all of us thinking positive thoughts and believing in the best possible outcome.”
“You’re right.” He continued looking at her. His expression was unreadable. “Thank you.”
As he looked into her doe-brown eyes and she stared into his brownish-hazel orbs, something happened. A heat, low and mostly unidentifiable, passed between them. The same as the one she’d felt on the dance floor while in his arms. Then, like now, it was gone in an instant.
“I was headed to the waiting room.” Faye walked past him and into the room, where various families huddled with combinations of faith and worry, hope and fear. Her targeted destination was easy to spot. Decked out in their party wear, the Drake clan, along with concerned employees who’d come in on their day off to recognize the founder, took up a third of the room. Halfway there, the man she remembered as the son of Papa Dee spotted her. He said something to the group and a dozen heads swiveled in her direction.
“Doctor.” David Drake Jr. was the first to speak.
“How is he?”
“What happened?”
“Is he going to be all right?”
These questions rang out at once. Faye raised her hands to still them. “I just now arrived and haven’t been in the emergency room or spoken to the attending physician. The nurse says he’s stable, and when she has a moment, she’ll let the team know I’m here.”
“What do you think happened to my father?” David Jr.’s voice was strong, but deep concern shown in his eyes.
Faye was almost sure that Papa Dee had suffered a heart attack, but she wasn’t certain so she wouldn’t share. “It’s best not to speculate,” she said instead, her voice automatically calm and soothing from years of comforting the afflicted. “In times like these it’s difficult, but if you’ll try to remain calm and keep your thoughts positive, that’s often the best for your loved one.”
“The doctor’s right,” Dexter added. He placed a hand on Faye’s shoulder. Only now did she realize he’d been standing just behind her; only now was she aware of the source of the woodsy scent that had tickled her nostrils. “Y’all know how Papa is. He wouldn’t want us out here crying and carrying on.” Dexter said the words in the raspy voice of his great-grandfather. “Or getting our faces twisted up.” Another Papa Deeism.
A kind-looking older woman approached Faye. “Hello, I’m Mary Drake, David Jr.’s wife. We’re so thankful that you were there today. Are you a resident of Temecula?”
“No, ma’am. I’m a guest at the hotel.”
This news elicited a variety of facial expressions: surprise, delight, curiosity.
“Donald Drake here,” a tall, imposing man announced, coming forward with hand outstretched. “I’m David Sr.’s grandson and the president of the hotel. What is your name, Doctor?”
“Faye Buckner.”
“How long have you been at our establishment?”
“Just arrived yesterday. I’ll be staying for a week.”
“Well, on behalf of myself, my wife—” he gestured toward an attractive, slim woman whose expression suggested that her thoughts were in overdrive “—and the entire Drake family, let us thank you for stepping in today and helping our patriarch by considering you our guest during your stay.”
Faye’s brow furrowed. She was already a guest at the hotel. How else would she consider herself? “Thank you,” she said, hoping it was an appropriate response to what she thought an obvious statement.
The woman who’d been introduced as Donald’s wife stepped forward. “Dear, would you like to sit down? It may be a while before the doctor comes out.”
Faye nodded and followed the elegance-oozing woman to a row of chairs. On the way, she caught a look pass between Dexter and his sister, and saw a wisp of a smile cut through the worry lines.
“I’m Genevieve Drake,” the woman said as soon as they were seated. “David Jr. and Mary are my husband’s parents—my in-laws.” She nodded toward the three people still standing. “Those are our children. Donovan, he’s the oldest. Diamond is my only daughter and Dexter our youngest son.”
“You have a beautiful family,” Faye said sincerely.
“Thank you. We’re very blessed.”
“Yes. You are.”
“What about you? Are you here visiting with your husband?”
“No, Mrs. Drake. I’m not married.”
A perfectly arched brow rose ever so slightly. “Oh?”
“No, ma’am, I’m single.”
“Single as in never married?”
“Correct.”
“Do you have children? I don’t mean to pry, but you’re smart, attractive...I’m curious.”
Faye chased away the discomfort that usually came with this topic of conversation. At thirty-two years old, it was one she’d had often. “I understand. No, I don’t have any—”
“Excuse me, ladies,” Dexter interrupted. “Faye, you have the distinct look of one being interrogated. Is my mother asking for your date of birth and Social Security number?”
“We’re just talking,” Faye said with a smile, hiding the sigh of relief that she’d been rescued.
“Yes, I’m very familiar with how my mother loves to talk,” he said with a smirk. “All of that listening has probably made you thirsty. Would you like to join me in a hunt for the cafeteria or somewhere to get bottled water?”
Faye stood. “Sure.”
They turned to leave, just in time to see the doctor entering the waiting room and walking toward them. The men were on their feet in an instant.
“How is he, Doc?” Donald asked.
The others gathered around the doctor. “He’s weak, but he’s going to be okay.” The expression on the Drakes’ faces was a collective one of relief. Faye could have sworn that a little more air seeped into the room. “Where is Dr. Buckner?” The doctor looked around the group.
Faye stepped forward. “Right here,” she said, hand outstretched. “You must be Dr. Saunders.”
“Yes. I understand that you attended the patient until paramedics arrived?”
“Yes.”
“Good work. Thanks to your quick actions, there appears to be no permanent damage to any major organs, including the heart.”
David Jr., who was just an inch shorter than his six-foot son, Donald, came to stand beside him. “What happened, Doctor?”
“And you are?”
“I’m the patient’s son.”
The doctor nodded and shook the outstretched hand. “Mr. Drake suffered what’s known as a coronary artery spasm—in layman’s terms, a very mild heart attack.”
“Oh, goodness!” Mary cried, voicing what some of the others had felt. Her own father had died when she was thirty, just ten years after she and David Jr. had married. Now, at seventy-eight, she’d known Papa Dee longer than she’d known her own flesh and blood, and loved him not one bit less. “A heart attack is serious. What are you going to do? A bypass? How can you say that he’ll be fine?”
“Your concern is understandable,” Dr. Saunders replied, his voice firm and matter-of-fact. “Heart attacks can be very serious, and very damaging. Fortunately, what Mr. Drake experienced is the very least of what can happen when the artery wall tightens and blood flow through that artery is restricted.”
“What is the treatment?” Dexter appeared calmer than he’d looked since Papa Dee dropped to the ground.
“We’re still performing tests to determine plaque buildup and other potential causes for the blockage, but in most cases the problems can be solved with medication.”
“Can we see him?”
“He’s still in ICU, but we’ll have him in a private room shortly. The nurse will let you know when he’s been moved.”
The family asked a few more questions, received the doctor’s reassurances and then sat down to wait. Only after looking around the room and then the hallways did Dexter realize that sometime during Dr. Saunders’ explanation, the angel who’d likely saved his great-grandfather’s life had left Loma Linda.
Chapter 9
At midnight the previous evening, after being reassured by the hospital staff that his great-grandfather would sleep through the night, Dexter had gone home. Now, at 5:30 a.m., he was headed back to Loma Linda. When Papa Dee opened his eyes, Dexter wanted to be there.
As he drove, listening to the sounds of Nat King Cole, another of Papa Dee’s favorites, he thought of Faye Buckner. She wasn’t his type, given; definitely not like anyone he’d ever dated before. A study in contradictions. Yes, that was it. Like the bare-faced woman wearing the faded jeans and wrinkled tee compared with the sexy chick who’d shown up at the party in dress and heels with a smart new hairdo that highlighted her high cheekbones and wide, bright eyes. Like the tentative, shy personality who’d barely said three words when he’d first approached her before the party to the self-assured take-charge doctor—doctor!—who’d commanded that he leave his great-grandfather where he lay.
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