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.
