The Trouble with Luv'. Pamela YayeЧитать онлайн книгу.
reply. “There is a time and place for everything, Ebony. A time to work and a time to play. A time to be serious and a time to have fun. It won’t kill you to attend the banquet. Your work isn’t going anywhere,” she pointed out, the exasperation in her voice evident. “It will be there when you go into the office on Monday.”
That’s what I’m afraid of, Ebony thought, forcing herself to sit up and face the day. Going back to sleep was out of the question now, because when aunt Mae got started on something, there was just no stopping her. The sharp-witted Southerner had never been to law school or taken the bar exam, but she could argue a point better than O.J’s illustrious Dream Team.
“…that’s why you don’t have a man, chile. Work. Work. Work. Who lives like that?” Mae queried, her tone one of incredulity.
Ebony didn’t answer. She didn’t expect her aunt to understand. Fifty years ago, single women aspired to be wives and mothers, not career women. Of course she thinks I’m a workaholic! I should be tending to a husband and breast-feeding babies, not running my own business. Ebony chose her words carefully. The last thing she wanted to do was affront her aunt. They had an excellent relationship and she appreciated her guidance and wisdom. But not when it came to her career. “You don’t know how much time and energy goes into running a successful business, Auntie.”
“Maybe I don’t,” she conceded, “but I do know that you’re working yourself too hard. You eat, breathe and sleep work. When you’re not at the office you’re driving there. You have a beautiful house you barely spend time at, a fancy sports car you hardly drive and piles of money you don’t spend. What kind of life is that? It’s sickening what you’re doing to yourself, Ebony. Just sickening!” Mae did nothing to conceal the contempt in her voice. She didn’t want her niece to get mad at her but this had to be said. “Working fourteen hour days, six days a week is not healthy for anyone, Ebony.” After pausing to ensure her words sank in, she added, “Even George takes a break from time to time. He goes down to that little ranch of his and rides horses and fishes and—”
“George?” Ebony frowned at the phone. “Who’s George?”
“The president of the United States! He was reelected, remember?” Mae’s voice reached an ear-splitting pitch. “See, you’ve been working yourself so hard you’ve forgotten who your president is!”
Ebony burst into laughter. Mae was a hoot. She had enough fire in her five-foot frame for five women and a tongue on her that would make her church friends blush. Upsetting aunt Mae was never a good idea, but Ebony had to make it clear that she wouldn’t be attending the banquet. “Maybe next time, aunt Mae. I have a lot to accomplish today, and when I get home from work I’m going to prop my feet up on the coffee table and watch a good movie. Dressing up and socializing with a bunch of church-folk after putting in a full day at the office is the last thing I’d want to do.” Smothering a yawn with her hands, she tossed off the sheets and crawled out of bed.
Ebony glanced at the wall clock, amazed at how early it was. On the weekends, she rarely got out of bed before noon. From now on I’m going to turn the ringer off the phone before I go to bed, she thought, stretching her hands leisurely above her head. This was the third consecutive Saturday she had been stirred from her sleep by the insistent ringing of the phone. Aunt Mae was like a mother to her, but unless she was calling to tell her she won the state lottery, she didn’t want to hear from her before noon.
“Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” A short pause, then, “There’ll be good-looking men there, Ebony. Doctors. Lawyers. Engineers. Professional people like you. Won’t you come, suga? I really want you there.”
Ebony didn’t miss the disappointment in her aunt’s voice. But if she wavered, even for a nanosecond, Mae would pounce on her like a fox on a squirrel. She had to remain strong. “The truth is, Auntie, I’m just not the churchgoing type.”
“‘I’m just not the churchgoing type,’” she mimicked. Ebony could see her aunt shaking her head and rolling her tongue over her lips like she was prone to do whenever she was about to lose her patience. “Hogwash! That’s plain ole’ nonsense, chile. Everyone is the churchgoing type!”
Mae smacked her forehead with her hand. Now I understand. How could I have missed it? It’s staring me right in the face! Setting out to resolve the “situation,” she stood and bustled into the bedroom. She flung open the closet door and combed through her church clothes. Her hands stopped at a polyester green two-piece. Too flashy. She continued on with her search. “I know what this is all about, Ebony. You don’t have anything to wear! No worries, chile. I can lend you one of the new outfits I picked up at Lane Bryant. Got them for fifty percent off and I was able to use my senior discount card, too,” she said, sounding proud.
Mae took out a modest-looking pink dress from the back of her closet and inspected it. Holding the outfit at arm’s length, she spoke as if Ebony were in the room rather than on the phone. “I know this frock is too big in the chest and has a loose fitting waist, but I’ll pin it from the inside and nobody’ll be the wiser.”
Ebony chuckled. She would swim in one of aunt Mae’s size twenty dresses.
Mae went on as if the matter had been settled. “If you don’t want to wear one of my outfits that’s fine, but wear something appropriate to church. Don’t come to the house of the Lord dressed in one of your party getups,” she warned, her voice stern. “My friends from the Lakewood Bingo Hall will be there and I don’t want them laughing at you.”
The phone beeped.
“There goes my other line. Looks like I have to run.” Mae spoke at a rapid pace. “The banquet doesn’t start until six-thirty so that gives you the entire day to laze around in bed if you so please.”
“But—”
“Enjoy what’s left of the day!”
“But I—”
“Don’t be late picking me up!”
“I’m not go—”
“See you at five!”
Before Ebony could object, the phone line went dead.
Where were the “good-looking” men aunt Mae said would be here? Ebony thought, as her eyes scanned the well-dressed crowd. She saw short and pudgy, tall and lanky, seedy-looking and average, but no good-looking men anywhere.
Then she saw him. The light-skinned man with the sexy dimples. He was nothing short of gorgeous. Oblivious of the lovesick expression on her face, she trailed him with her eyes around the room like a lost puppy in search of its owner. His vanilla colored suit, matching silk tie and designer shoes confirmed that he had good taste and a strong sense of style. Ebony loved handsome black men who moved with confidence, and Mr. Man was swimming in it.
Licking her lips aggressively, she shifted in her seat to get a better look at him. Dimples are hot! Nice smile. Perfectly shaped head. Size twelve feet, maybe thirteen. And those eyes!
Ebony was eyeballing him so hard, she feared she might pop an eye vessel. But she didn’t have the power to turn away. It was as if his eyes were reaching across the room and seizing her attention. And he had other impressive physical attributes as well. A cocoa butter complexion that looked as smooth as a baby’s bottom. Well-rounded chin. Thick eyelashes. And a traffic stopping smile that set hearts aflutter.
Over the next thirty minutes, Ebony watched the gorgeous stranger move around the room, socializing with the other guests. His classic good looks garnered him the attention of every single woman in the room, and a few who were taken as well. A constant stream of ladies had been approaching him since his arrival, but he didn’t seem the least bit impressed in what any of them had to offer.
The lusty grin on Ebony’s face slid away when a model-thin woman with feline features cornered him near the men’s washroom. She watched them shake hands, contemplating whether or not to go and rescue him from the woman’s clutches. He looked trapped and the terse expression on his face suggested the conversation was not