Platinum Promises. Zuri Day
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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