Glorious Sunset (17 page)

Violet looked at the worry lines between his brows, the pinched look on his strong face. It hurt her to see him so troubled and she drew her eyes back to the road so he couldn't see the effect he had upon her.

“But know, as well,” he continued, his tone hardening, “no living man had ever attempt to pull flowers from your hair that I have placed there, not while I live and breathe. Not while I am conscious and alert. Not if he expects to continue living and breathing, himself. With everything in me I would defend you, Violet. I was not able to save my wife. I will not let that happen again. I will not allow a woman I care about to be hurt like that again. I will not shame my family, my title, or my people ever again. I will not let you down in that way. That is my word.”

Violet knew his words were heartfelt. She knew they were true to the depths of her soul. And despite knowing that the woman he had loved came to an untimely end, she couldn't help a little jealousy toward the woman who held his heart. No one had ever loved her so completely. Not even close.

“Taka, I don't know what happened all those years ago, but I tell you without a doubt you are the best man I know. If you loved your wife half as much as I believe you do, you have nothing to be sorry for or ashamed about. You keep talking about what you lost; what about what she lost in you? I imagine to a woman loved by you, losing you would be the worst torture she could endure. No woman loved by you could lose that love lightly. That's more important than anything you think you didn't do or couldn't do. If you loved her, she knew it. If you loved her, she could never forget it. A woman knows these things. If you loved her, she was the luckiest woman on earth, no matter what came later. But that's just my humble opinion.”

She couldn't look at him but it wasn't long before she felt his hand rest softly upon hers on the wheel. Hands as strong and gentle as any she'd ever felt. Hands of a man who had been hurt soul deep. Hands of a man she cared about more than a little. A genie, a king . . . a friend. Hands of a man more special than anything the real world had to offer. Hands of a man she knew she'd never have. And that fact finally caused her eyes to tear up.

She let go of the wheel for just a moment, just long enough to grasp his hand tightly, before letting go to clutch the firm certainty of the steering wheel.

“You know I hate this place a little more every time I walk through the door. I mean, look at it,” Violet said, opening the door to her apartment and tossing her purse on a table. “This is no home. I don't even want to put pictures on the wall. I hate it here. I'm an interior decorator and I have no desire to make this place even remotely appealing.”

Taka looked around, finally noticing the starkness of the room. “You are right. It does not have your sparkling personality.”

“No, it doesn't. I'm waiting, Taka. Waiting for enough money to buy the house I want. And I will get it, too. Believe me.”

“I do believe you.” He sat down beside her.

“Hey.” She turned to him. “You want to see my work? I've won awards, you know. I was in a magazine last year for some work I did for this woman on the north side. Want to see?”

She had such an open look of excitement—her face an open invitation where before she had been closed off and defensive—Taka could not help but agree. “Certainly.”

Violet popped up, walked over to a table, and picked up a photo album, bringing it back to sit beside him again. She placed it on the coffee table and opened it.

“I keep photos of every job I do.” She turned a page and showed him snapshots of different rooms in different houses. As she described each, her finger moving over the page, her face grew more animated with each photo. Taka watched her intently. He noted how excited she was describing her designs, recognized the hunger in her eyes as she spoke because he'd seen it in the eyes of his men after each battle. He knew it was in his own when, after each win, he would glow with esteem and pride, filled with an indescribable sense of accomplishment. He was seeing the same in her. It was just as Ani had said: her kingdom was her company.

“And this one I did for a congressman. And this one is the one I won for.”

Taka pulled his eyes from her face to look down at the album and a full, glossy photo of a room. The colors were striking: golds, reds, purples, and violets. Accents of beads and stones. Pillows embroidered in lush velvets and silks. Tapestries with bold prints, splashes of orange.

“The colors . . .” he started hesitantly. He wanted to scream for joy. The colors were the same that had filled their home. He reached out and flipped quickly through the pages at the photos he hadn't paid attention to, and back to the award-winning design. “The rooms are all so . . . warm. So inviting.”

Violet blushed with pleasure. “Yes. I believe in the use of color. So many designers today use color only as an accent. I think color shouldn't be an accent to life; color
is
life.”

Taka looked at her deeply now, seeing so much more. Her face was so open and vulnerable, when she turned to him her eyes were so full of pleasure he wanted to gasp. He wanted to reach out to her and call out, “Zahara, are you there?” For only Zahara knew that he had asked for her hand in marriage under a sky blooming with the colors of that photo. Only Zahara knew that he'd had the fantastic brooch fashioned for her because after accepting his offer she'd looked up at the setting sun, pointed to the sky, and said, “Look, Taka. The sky has given us a ribbon of scarlet.”

He'd looked up and did indeed see a strip of bright red in the midst of a panel of pink in the sky. The red was the color of the ruby contained in the brooch that would be his vessel. The red and pink intertwined, ending in a stroke of brilliant blue.

“And there, have you ever seen such a beautiful color in all the world? It is a gift to us, my king. The sky is celebrating our love.”

Taka choked down his emotion as he remembered the other color, so beautiful and rare it did not have a name; and he didn't even attempt to find a gem to match it. He remembered this now as he looked deeply into the face of the woman who held his wife's spirit.

“It is . . . breathtakingly beautiful,” he said today.

“Thank you,” Violet responded, finally pulling her gaze from the photo to look into his eyes.

Taka felt his heart pound as he recognized a glimmer of awareness in the depth of her eyes. He felt something in her reach to him, he saw something in her open toward him; but, then, just as quickly it disappeared and she closed herself once again. He felt a sharp sliver of disappointment as she shifted uncomfortably.

“Goodness, King, for a moment there you almost did me in with those eyes of yours. Do you seduce every woman who rubs your stone?” she asked.

Taka straightened as well, looking deeply into her eyes. She was going to shut him down over and over again. Every time he got close she closed her heart to him. Well, if he only had one day left, he would darn sure say his name. She would hear it loud and clear so that forever it would ring in her ears, live in her dreams. He would say it so her soul would recognize and rejoice even if she couldn't.

“Hear me well. My name is Taka Olufemi. Not genie, not King; Taka. If I am seducing you it is your fault, you enjoyed rubbing my stone so much you did it twice. I am only a man. Even I do not know how to resist double provocation.”

Across town, a distraught Brenda sat at a table in a restaurant with Jerome. She fidgeted with her water, nervously. “Thank you for coming. I appreciate it.”

“What's this about? I don't have a lot of time. What, you thinking about hooking up with me or something? That's something that can be arranged.” He smiled.

Brenda's head pulled back in confusion. “What are you talking about? I'm here about Violet.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

“She's lying to you. Just like she lied to me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Lying about what?”

“She told me she was happy for me and what does she do? She goes out and steals my account. My account!”

“You mean that big money deal? Wow.”

“It was as good as done and she goes behind my back and convinces Bickman to hire her company. How low is that? She didn't even have the decency to tell me. Her secretary told me!”

“Well, what can I say, Brenda? It's not like you didn't stab her in the back too. You stole her technique and passed it off as yours.”

Brenda turned a withering glance to him and hissed, “Don't get all high and mighty with me. Oh, I bet you're feeling pretty smug thinking about all that money you're going to get when you're married. Don't get too happy. She already told me she's gonna write up a prenup. And don't think she'll be free with her money when you're married, either. She's gonna dole it out to you like a pimp to a trick.”

Jerome's face fell. “Hey.”

“And you shouldn't even be thinking about marrying her anyway with what she's doing.” She looked away slyly knowing he would fall into the trap.

“What are you talking about?”

“I would have told you sooner but she swore me to secrecy and I thought she was my friend. But that man staying with her, he isn't related to her. She's just got that tall, fine man staying with her, and lying to you about it.”

Jerome stiffened. “What you talking about? Who is he?”

“I don't know. And she didn't know him until yesterday,”

“Naw, you don't know what you're talking about. She spent last night with me.”

“Okay then, if you say so. If things are good between you and Violet and you have no doubts at all, then I'll leave it alone. All I have to say is, whatever happened last night, she went right back to her stud this morning.”

She took a sip of water, knowing that her words were making their way through his brain. She didn't know how things were between Violet and Jerome, but she'd taken a stab that all was not right. She saw his face darken with anger and knew she'd gambled right.

“Wait a minute! Tell me exactly what she told you about him. She told you she was stepping out on me?”

“Worse. She was playing games. Told me she met this guy who was making all her wishes come true. Tried to make out that he was a genie or something but I saw right through that. He's a genie all right. A genie in bed. She's not at work because I called over there. She's back at her apartment right now, I bet, working that genie out of his lamp, if you know what I mean.”

“Son of a b . . .” He stormed out of the restaurant and Brenda sighed.

She'd done it. She'd gotten back at Violet. She'd done exactly what she'd set out to do. Though as she sipped her water she felt an odd, empty feeling where satisfaction should have been.

Violet was on the sofa, in a cautious mood, and she blamed Taka for it.

Everything had been going along fine until he'd done the bum-rush on her. One second they were talking about her designs, and the next second, wham! Her emotions raced through her when she saw the intensity in his eyes. She'd never in all her days been privy to such a look. It was one of those looks they have in movies, so ridiculously intense you know it's fake. But it wasn't fake with him. And it pissed her off!

Clearly an effort to intimidate her, throw her off her game. Clearly designed to make her question every look she'd ever received by any man at any time in her life. She knew she would never in a thousand years forget that look. It would have been so easy to simply allow her lips to meld with his, to taste those lips, to outline the provocative curve with the tip of her tongue.

But, finally, Violet had come to her senses. There was no way in the world she was going to get involved with this man. No matter what his name was he was a genie, for God's sake! Of course, he'd had to have the last word, making a flippant reply about double provocation. First, that was a tease if ever she'd heard one. Second, who even talked like that? Third, how was it he could make the corniest things sound sexy?

She sat glaring at him from under hooded lids as he looked through a newspaper, his face serious in contemplation. Oh, sure, now he was trying to play hard to get. Talking nonsense about some foot trip he'd taken earlier, asking about jobs. Boy, he was good. She kneaded a throw pillow with vigor.

“I don't know why you're stressing over all this,” she said. “What kind of job can you hold being out of your rock three days at a pop? And why would you want to work at all?”

“I do not know. Maybe someday I will be able to live as a normal man again and I should be prepared. I miss work. I miss being useful.”

“You're useful, I guess. If you ask me, giving wishes is one of the best jobs in the world. You just have to learn how to actually make them happen and you'll have it made.”

At his further look and eye roll Violet laughed. He could eye roll her all he wanted; she'd made two wishes and had yet to see a return.

“You would not like granting wishes,” he said. “It is never as easy as it seems and when people are not clear they can do untold damage to themselves. Besides, if it meant you could not run your business and live the life you want, it would lose its appeal. And then you would resent it. Maybe even resent the people you are trying to help.”

Violet looked at him sideways. “Like you resent me? Is that why you're trying to make things difficult for me?”

He folded the paper closed. “You have no need to be suspicious of me.” He stood and walked back over to sit beside her in the danger zone. Violet immediately grew hot around the ears, exacerbated when he took one of her hot hands in his equally hot one. “I am not your enemy. I am doing all I can to protect you.”

Violet watched the back of her hand as he used his other to stroke it, making little squiggly lines and circles on it. She listed toward him as she watched, fascinated by the flight pattern of his fingertip. Hypnotized by his earthy, spicy male scent and the sheer size of his massive hand caressing hers.

She swallowed hard. He was starting again. She didn't know what to do. A day ago she would have snatched her hand away, but a day ago she would never have thought the big man could be so gentle. And now that she knew he wanted to get into her pants, that put a whole new spin on things. Heck, she was tempted to sleep with him just to win their little battle of wills and show him who was running things.

The phone rang and Violet jumped to reach for it over the sofa, happy to break contact. “Yeah, hi, Carol. No, not today. I just don't feel like it, that's why. What? What do you mean she found out? You told her? Who told you to do that? Who do you work for, her or me? Never mind.” She hung up, and then reached over to turn off the ringer. Her face alternated between glee and horror. “That was my assistant. I got the account I bid for this morning. I took it back from Brenda. She stole it from me and I stole it right back.” Smile. “And Brenda knows.” Frown. “Crap.”

“She was bound to learn sometime,” Taka said.

“Yes, but I wanted to decide how she found out. You're right; I should fire that sneaky secretary of mine. But the good news: I'm loaded, or at least I'm in the process of becoming loaded. Not only is he happy with my designs,
InStyle
called already. I'm getting a spread. Oh, and the press is already calling because the word is I've got the contract for his hotels, too. I'm going to have to call Tracy to confirm, but not right now. I just want to enjoy this for today. I'm set, Taka.” She sat stock straight, only her hands fidgeting and her head shaking slightly with shock. “Oh my God, I can't believe it.”

Her heart was too full to allow her head to think straight. So many years she'd dreamed of just this moment. She'd always wondered who would be by her side to share her success when it came. She'd assumed it would be Jerome. A silly assumption since they rarely spent downtime together and when they were alone they didn't have that much to talk about. She was surprised at how happy she was that it was Taka sitting next to her.

“I am glad to see you happy,” he said.

“Aren't you proud of me? I worked hard for this.”

Taka's mouth pinched, he hesitated, but then continued. “Did you? Is this an accomplishment you worked for?”

“What do you mean? Of course I worked for it. I've been trying to get something like this for years, I told you, and . . .” She stopped, her smile fading. Elation dropped as quickly as a sinking stone; her eyes falling from his quickly so he could not see the hurt he'd caused. “Oh, you think you did this?”

“You did not have this one day ago,” he said simply.

“So you don't think I'm good enough to pull this off on my own?”

“You did not pull it off on your own so I can only deduce if I had not come along you would still be in the same shape as before, chasing your friend around trying to beat her at her own game.”

“That's low, King. That's really low. I've worked hard for a long time; you have no idea how hard. The only reason she got that contract was because she stole it from me.”

“I do not fault your resourcefulness or your talent, Violet. I only wonder why it is you chose to play such a dangerous game at all. You are too good to be in the mud, messing your talent with the taint of trickery.”

“You sound like you think the fact that Brenda is a witch is my fault. Never mind. Just forget it.”

How could she have allowed herself to be lulled into forgetting what a pompous, judgmental jerk he could be? Her previously hot flesh chilled down to arctic weather and the cold front ushered in a gust of good sense on the northerly front, with a few sprinkles of lingering disappointment.

“Why did you even come anyway?” she continued. “You told me I had three wishes and every time I make one you fuss at me. If this is what you're usually like no wonder you only get out of your rock for a few minutes each time. I know you're a decent person under all this distemper but no one would ever know because unless you want to get into their pants, you would never lighten up enough for them to see it. Who could tolerate your nagging without an upside?” She walked into the kitchen, reaching for a bag of potato chips. She opened it and pulled a chip out to crunch in her mouth, stopping mid-chew at his stare. “What?”

The frustration on his face would have been laughable had she been in the mood. She could see him burning like a volcano to spew another round of unwanted lecture her way. The man had no self-control when it came to giving her unwanted advice.

Instead he shook his head, grinding out, “I am hungry, and you have nothing but play food to eat.”

Talk about avoidance and denial. Just like a man. Just because she told him to shove his advice he had to start whining and pouting like a baby.

She tilted the bag his way and he gave her a dirty look. She slapped the bag on the counter and put her hands on her hips.

“There is plenty of food here.” She jerked open the freezer to prove her point. “Look: Salisbury steak, fried chicken, enchiladas, what more could you want?” she asked, pulling each frozen dinner out of the freezer as she mentioned it and watched his face scrunch in disgust.

“There is ice covering those boxes. If there is food inside it cannot be edible. First, eggs covered in hot peppers to break my fast. Now, shattering chips from a bag and boxes of items frozen over from the tundra. I am a warrior; I cannot eat soft-man gruel. Are you trying to kill me, woman?”

“Your problem, genie, is that you're just a prima donna,” she told him. “All this griping and it's only . . . My goodness, is it really five?” Then she sighed. “Okay, look, I promised you pizza this morning, didn't I?” At his silence she followed with, “That's a large piece of dough with some sauce and—”

“I know what a pizza is but somehow I doubt what you will feed me will be comparable to the pizza I have eaten at the table of my Roman friends, so I respectfully decline.” He might as well have crossed his arms and poked out his bottom lip.

“You said you didn't want to eat out, King.” Her voice sounded grave with warning, even to her. “What do you want? Do you want me to take you to the store or something so you can pick out your own frozen meals?”

“The market?” He brightened immediately. “I would like a healthy piece of fish. A green vegetable, maybe. I can cook it myself. I am an excellent cook, I told you.”

What a pain he was being. Violet didn't know why she cared what he ate. She was tempted to serve him the frozen two-year-old enchiladas after the way he'd insulted her, but never let it be said Violet Jackson wasn't a compassionate soul, when she wanted to be. And maybe if he got something he liked he'd be easier to live with.

“Well, I suppose it can't hurt.” She looked him over, giving in to the momentary surge of generosity. “You drive.”

Taka's brows went up. “Me?”

“Why not? If you screw up we're both in trouble, so you better watch yourself, genie. I'm too pretty to go to prison.”

The idea of having a decent piece of fish and getting behind the wheel were apparently too much for him to resist because before she knew it he said, “Let's go. Yes, I will drive. Do not worry, I shall be very careful.” He pulled on his coat, reached in the pocket, and pulled out some money, looking at it in amazement. Ani had giving him a fraction of a fraction of currency. It wasn't all the riches of his village but it was enough, he hoped, for a good meal. “Come. Today we will dine and celebrate your good fortune and the day. I am happy for you, Violet. Truly. And I am happy to spend this time with you and I am glad to know you.”

Boy, what a little freedom, a few bucks, and promise of a good meal could do to a man.

And so in minutes Violet found herself sitting in the passenger seat of her own car, strapped in, wondering if her insurance would cover her if this maniac drove them into a tree. Good thing she was going to be rich and could cover the property damage.

Amazingly, his lessons from yesterday had stuck like glue. He drove the car surprisingly well and didn't speed once, despite her impatience at the way he adhered to the limit.

Violet blew air up her bangs in frustration. Bull pucky. She was more anxious at the way he followed the law than she would have been if he'd been doing doughnuts in the middle of Livingston Avenue. She was likely to croak from a burst blood vessel due to stress of trying to get to the friggin' market with a genie at the wheel.

“For God's sake, you were moving faster when we were driving over that patch of dirt yesterday. You moved faster when you ran to the car this morning. Can you pick it up a little, grandpa?”

“You mock me to coerce me to move faster.”

“Well, is it working?”

“Does it feel like it is working?” Taka gave her a patronizing look and continued to inch his way along, taking special care to stop a mile short of red lights and pedestrians. If anything, they might have been moving even slower. She could be wrong, but she thought they were going backward. The police threw people in the pokey for that, too.

Finally, after what seemed like hours later to Violet, they pulled into the lot in front of the North Market. She undid her seat belt and moved to get up. He looked at her, his expression stopping her. “What?”

“May I go alone?”

Violet noticed the eagerness on his face. The man wanted some freedom. He'd had a little of it and now he was fiending like an addict, loving the taste and feel of it. She almost felt like her baby bird was testing its wings. Only her baby bird was close to seven feet and could flatten anything in his path with little effort. Her baby bird had shoulders as wide as the Olentangy River and skin the color of a coconut husk. Her cold front thawed as a tropic breeze rolled through.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Fine, fine.” She waved away his concern with her hand. “Look, you go on. I'll stay here. No biggie.”

Taka gave her a look of such pure gratitude she almost flinched. Then he reached over and laid a hand on hers, pulling it up to his lips to press a kiss against the back. “I shall be back shortly, okay?” he said. Then he left the car, leaving her doubly flushed inside.

His use of the word “okay” made her smile. She was obviously a good influence on the man. She was modernizing him but good. One day out of the stone and he was driving like a pro, using modern vernacular, and asserting his independence. All on her watch. She was a genius. Then why was she feeling that niggling finger of doubt?

Because she was an idiot!

In a day and age where a good woman couldn't keep a man to save her life, here she had a great man, and she as good as gave him the tools to get away from her. And she was a little less good than some women she'd known. Even now, he was probably chatting up single women in the market, impressing them with his modern vernacular and tales of his superior driving skills. And she could only imagine if he could drive a car that well, what he could do with that superb body of his. Women would be all over him like pit bulls on sirloin!