Diamond Dreams. Zuri Day
of Jackson still consumed her. She’d never had her head spun like this, not even when Jamal Pendergrass had kissed her outside the skating rink—her first smooch at the ripe old age of thirteen. What just happened? Diamond didn’t understand. As a woman who prided herself on self-control and was known in the dating world as being “hard to get,” she was less than enthused that she’d almost made a fool of herself in the workplace. As it was, when she saw her father, in general, and Donovan, in particular, she knew she’d have some ’splainin’ to do! Her older brother’s knowing smirk hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Determined to put Jackson and what had happened behind her, she took a deep breath, reached for her purse and headed into the executive offices. She pasted what she hoped was a nonchalant look on her face, took another calming breath—where was the yoga mat when she needed it?—and opened the door to her office.
Kathleen looked at her always cool, calm and collected superior and immediately sensed something amiss. “What’s wrong?”
“Does it look like something’s wrong with me?” Diamond snapped. So much for the calm, nonchalant facade.
“You forget how well I know you,” Kathleen replied, nonplussed. “Plus, I know a tight mouth when I see one. Come on, darlin’. Out with it. Did one of those pieces of man candy get you all hot and bothered?”
Diamond didn’t respond.
Kathleen clapped her hands with glee. “That’s it! Which one? No, don’t tell me, let me guess. Is it that tall, strapping man with the tattoo across his chest?”
The “tall, strapping” description definitely fit Jackson, but Diamond didn’t remember a tattoo. “Step into my office,” she said over her shoulder to Kathleen as she left the common area to enter her more private domain. Maybe talking about this weird attraction would help her get rid of it.
Kathleen hurried behind her, closing Diamond’s office door once they were both inside. Her green eyes glittered as she took a seat in one of the tan suede chairs that framed the large ebony desk. Diamond walked behind it, threw down her purse and slouched into the large leather executive chair.
“First of all, nothing is wrong. And, for the record, you’re right. There are a lot of attractive men down there.”
“Anyone in particular catch your fancy?”
Diamond shrugged. “Not really.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. “I was given a partial tour by the supervisor while Taylor handled a call.”
“And…”
“And nothing, Kat. Jeez! He’s tall, but then so are several of the men. Plus, he was wearing a T-shirt.” Much to her chagrin. “I don’t remember a tattoo.”
“The one I’m talking about stands a head and shoulder above the rest. He’s a hunk of burning love,” Kathleen said dreamily. “I don’t see him every day, but the few times I have, he’s left quite an impression. Oh, to be young and single again. I bet his legs aren’t the only things that are long and strong about him.”
“Kathleen!”
“Oh, come now,” Kathleen said, her eyes still twinkling. “You don’t think I became a mother of five by singing ‘Yankee Doodle,’ do you?”
“Ha! I guess not. The man who showed me around is really tall.”
“Handsome?”
“He looks all right. His name is Jackson.”
“Dear, you’re trying really hard not to sound impressed, which means he must have knocked your socks off.” Kathleen leaned forward. “So when are you guys going out?”
“Out?”
Kathleen clucked. “Out…as in on a date? Really, Diamond, sometimes I wonder if you’re twenty-nine or only nine.”
“We’re not going out,” Diamond responded, ignoring the older woman’s jab. “I don’t date men from the workplace.”
“He’s hardly that,” Kathleen insisted. “He doesn’t work for Drake Wines, and he’s not in these offices. I think you should go out with him,” she went on, despite Diamond’s scowl. “If nothing else, it will rid you of the persnickety mood you’ve had of late. You know I love you, Diamond, but in the past few months, you haven’t been your charming, gracious self.”
“Careful, Kat,” Diamond drily replied, turning on her computer and reaching for the mouse. “You’re talking to the woman who signs your paychecks.”
“Technically, my paychecks are signed by your father and the CFO. But you’re the boss, so I’ll button my lip and head back to my desk.” Kathleen reached the door and turned. “But I still think you should go out with him. Who knows what that might lead to?” Her tinkling laughter followed her out of the room.
Diamond couldn’t help smiling as she clicked on her task bar and checked out what was left on the day’s agenda. Kathleen was Diamond’s assistant, but having worked in various capacities at the vineyard for twenty years, she was family, too. She’s right, Diamond acknowledged, as she scrolled down the page. I haven’t been too charming lately.
And Diamond knew why. It was the lack of testosterone in her life and, more specifically, in her bed—a problem she didn’t see being resolved anytime soon. Even as she shifted from her task bar to her calendar and the evening’s obligation—a fundraiser for at-risk youth sponsored by the San Diego Arts Association—she pondered her predicament and Kathleen’s earlier comment. How long was she going to let Benjamin Carter, the ex-fiancé who’d strung her along before breaking her heart, ruin her life?
Abruptly cutting off her computer, Diamond reached for her purse and strode toward the door. Kathleen was right. Benjamin’s refusal to marry her after their long engagement had affected her more than she dared admit. She had buried herself in work and put her life on hold because of it. She’d gone on only a couple dates in almost a year and was probably setting herself up to be an old maid. But no more! “It’s time to get back in the game!” she hissed. Maybe she’d meet someone tonight to play with.
Moments later, Diamond had lowered the top of her convertible and was zooming down the tree-lined roads of Drake Vineyard, soon to be known as Drake Wines Resort & Spa. As she neared the construction site, Jackson’s handsome face and knowing smile drifted into her mind. She remembered the feel of his hand on her waist, and her body reacted, muscles in certain nether regions clenching at the mere possibility of surrounding someone else’s, well, muscle. In spite of her determination not to do so, she eased off the gas, slowing down as her eyes scanned the sweaty bodies still hard at work under the dimming sun. She didn’t see him. She told herself that was a good thing and realized that lying to oneself was not cute.
Diamond reached for her phone and called her hair stylist, who was located in San Diego. “Lecia, it’s Diamond.”
“And let me guess,” Lecia said, as she sewed a track of hair into the head of her current client. “You need to see me ASAP, and I’m supposed to fit you in.”
Diamond laughed. “Something like that. But it’s an emergency. I need a makeover.”
“Oh, Lord. Sounds serious. What time can you be here?”
“In about an hour, hour and a half?”
“You’d better be glad I consider you a friend.”
“Plus I tip well.”
“Ha! That, too. Which I appreciate, since some of these fools hand me an extra dollar and call it a day.”
“You hook me up, and I’ll make it worth your while. See you soon.” Diamond ended the call and was soon speeding down the boulevard to the estate where the entire Drake family still lived. Initially, she’d not been looking forward to a night of gowns and tuxes and rich men trying to impress her with their portfolios. But a certain assistant had suggested change, and a certain well-built construction