what am I supposed to do with this dame? he thought as he looked at the bridesmaid who made it clear to him and everyone at the reception that she wanted more from him than a smile. He had to be gracious. But he’d have preferred to paddle her for her lack of discretion. To worsen matters, she was an American, and the locals probably thought her behavior de rigueur for African-American women.
“Look,” he said to her when her cloying behavior annoyed him to the point of exasperation. “Cut me some slack here. I’d like to get to know some of the Ghanaian people.”
When she put her hands on her hips in a feigned pout, he walked away and a Ghanaian man immediately detained him. “I’m John Euwusi. We want to build a modern shopping mall here, and Ladd tells me you’re the man to talk to.”
Drake extended his hand. “He told me about you. I have to leave tomorrow afternoon, but we could speak in the morning, if you like.”
“Good. I’ll send my driver for you.”
At the end of their conversation the following morning, Drake agreed to discuss the matter with his brothers, for he didn’t work alone, but as a part of the Harrington, Inc. team. He hoped they could make a deal, because he wanted to get back to Ghana and see the country, including the old forts and castles associated with the slave trade.
As the Boeing 737 roared away from Kotoka International Airport, Drake glanced at the aisle seat across from his and nearly spilled the rum punch on his trousers. There sat Selicia Dennis, the bridesmaid who had attempted to hook her long pink-and-green talons into him. He liked assertive women, but the kind of aggression she displayed irritated him. He decided to behave as if he didn’t know she was there. And she wasn’t there by accident, he knew. In that circle, getting information about his departure and seat number was a simple matter. With the right influence, you got whatever you wanted.
He decided to focus on his seatmate, a man who bore the trappings of a gentleman, and introduced himself. “I’m Drake Harrington. Are you traveling all the way to the States?”
The man extended his hand. “Straight from London to San Antonio. I’m Magnus Cooper.”
They spoke at length, and Drake learned that the man was a Texas rancher, as well as a builder.
“How’s that?” he asked, when Magnus told him that he’d be in Baltimore at an undecided date to tape a program for his cousin’s TV news show. “People don’t seem to know that ranchers come in colors,” he added. “In Texas, you’ll find a number of hyphenated American ranchers—Spanish, Italian, black, Scottish, you name it.”
Drake mulled that over for a second before laughter rippled out of him. “I’m in Baltimore frequently. Who’s your cousin?”
“Pamela Langford. Her mother and my father are sister and brother. You know her?”
“I sure do.” He let it go at that and didn’t budge, not even when both of Magnus’s eyebrows went up and stayed there.
They spoke amiably until the plane landed at London’s Heathrow Airport. They exchanged contact information and agreed to talk soon. Drake was transferring to Delta and headed for his flight’s gate, but to his chagrin, when he arrived, Selicia Dennis stood to greet him. Having no acceptable choice, he took a seat and wished for something to read other than the International Herald Tribune that he carried in his briefcase.
“I live in Washington, D.C.,” she began. “How far are you from there?”
He told her he didn’t know, and she asked what state he lived in.
He folded the paper, put it back in his briefcase and faced her. “Miss Dennis, I don’t see the point in this. I don’t want to be rude, but you and I have absolutely no basis for a friendship of any kind, so let’s stop with the small talk. It’s a waste of breath.” He folded his arms, closed his eyes and managed to give the impression of someone asleep. He heard the call of a flight to Washington, and immediately she gathered her things and left. He walked a few paces down the corridor, bought a bag of fish-and-chips and a bottle of lemonade, went back to his seat and relaxed. Beautiful, sure of it and shallow. The kind of woman he avoided.
Maybe he didn’t sufficiently appreciate Pamela. Not once had he been bored in her company. He could talk with her for hours and not know how much time had passed. If she would only accept his need to grow a little more. If she’d wait until he reached his goals… He stared at the bag of soggy chips for a second before throwing them into the refuse bin. And what if she wouldn’t wait, but found another guy? A woman who looked like her could have just about any man she wanted, and with her charm, gentle manners and…well, intelligence and competence, she was choice. And sexy. He’d never known another woman who got next to him as she did.
He ran his fingers through his silky hair. So where the hell was she when she was supposed to be having dinner with me?
“Flight 803 to Baltimore now boarding first-class passengers and passengers with small children or who need assistance.” He heard the announcement, got up, went through security a third time and took his seat in the first-class section. He had six hours to think about what he wanted for himself and Pamela…provided she wanted anything from him at all.
Six hours and twelve minutes later, he walked into the Baltimore/Washington International Airport terminal, looked around and saw Russ walking toward him. As usual, after any of the brothers returned from a trip, they embraced each other. “That sun must really be something,” Russ said. “You were there less than three days, and you look as if you stuck your face in an inkwell. I saw Pamela in the market this morning.”
Drake stopped walking, a habit that annoyed Russ, but so what. “Did you speak with her?”
“Yeah. She asked me about Velma, but that’s all. She was as beautiful as ever, but downcast. I didn’t see any of that easy charm that I associate with her.”
He tried to hide his response to that kick in his gut, but he wasn’t sure he managed it, for Russ asked in his usually candid manner, “Something gone wrong with you two?”
“Let’s just say we’re not in touch right now.”
“Her choice or yours?”
“I’m not sure.”
Russ raised an eyebrow. “If it was her choice, she made it because you weren’t behaving the way she wanted you to. She was not a happy woman this morning.”
His heartbeat accelerated, and he had to breathe through his mouth. He didn’t want her to be unhappy; at least, he didn’t think so. But for what other reason was he experiencing such relief, almost a sense of glee? He threw his bag into the trunk of Russ’s Mercedes and got into the car beside his brother.
“When did you realize you loved Velma enough to marry her?”
Russ was in the process of starting the car and suddenly stripped the gears. “What? Oh. A long time before I admitted it to anybody, including Velma. Something happens, and suddenly you know. You just know it’s right.” He moved the car into the traffic. “Is that what you’re going through?”
“I don’t know. I was planning to tell her we shouldn’t see each other for a while, but while I was in Accra, I couldn’t for the life of me remember why I felt that way.”
Laughter rumbled in Russ’s throat. “Seems
