All Up In My Business (11 page)

“But this gold and purple design looks more regal and would complement the overall color scheme. This,” she said, picking up the cream-colored paper, “might be too bland.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Candace Renee Livingston, where is your mind, darlin’? Because it certainly isn’t on Jack or Jill. Never mind, I know what it’s on, or more specifically, who it’s on. I made some sweet potato ice cream earlier, with a pecan crunch topping to go with it. You want some?”

“Sweet potato?”

Diane walked the few feet from the dining room to the kitchen and kept talking. “Yes, from the Neelys cooking show. Girl, you know I love me some Pat and Gina. I think I’ve TiVo’d every show they’ve done and am trying to get in touch
with them regarding our bid for a spot on the Food Network. Anyway, I was watching their show one day, and when I saw them whip up this dessert, I couldn’t get into the kitchen fast enough. It took me a few tries to put a Livingston spin on it.”

“Ha, you know how we do!”

“You know I had to add my creative flair.”

“What did you do different?”

“The pecan crunch topping. They topped theirs with caramel syrup.” Diane returned to the table with two bowls of ice cream topped with a generous helping of the pecan crunch.

“Oh my goodness!” Candace exclaimed after her first spoonful. “Girl”—she took another bite, and closed her eyes as she savored the flavors—”this needs to be on the menu, ASAP!”

“You think? Can we do that? Since I got the recipe from watching
Down Home with the Neelys?”

“Unh-unh-unh.” Candace didn’t say anything further until she’d finished the last bite in her bowl. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and sat back in the chair. “I don’t know what we have to do, but, baby? That situation right there”—she pointed to her empty bowl—”needs to go on the menu! Girl, that ice cream was so good it almost made me forget about Victoria.”

“Is she coming to the gala?”

“Nobody knows what Victoria is doing these days. On any given day she’s a piece of work and now with pregnancy hormones kicking in? Lord have mercy.”

“Has she called you lately?”

“That child don’t want to talk to me—hasn’t called since we met almost two weeks ago. I know she don’t like what I told her, but the truth is the light. The way this whole pregnancy situation went down was wrong on so many levels that when I got ready to talk to her, I barely knew where to start. Lying about being on the pill.”

“You mean she wasn’t?”

“Not regularly, if at all. Then, on top of that, to lie about it, get pregnant, and hide the fact—behind a church and a Bible,
I might add—until it was too late to have an abortion. That’s some kind of nerve. Not that I would have wanted that, don’t get me wrong, but she knows it’s what Malcolm would have demanded, which is why she didn’t tell anybody until she was sixteen weeks.”

“How is Malcolm?”

“Still seething. He was thinking about moving out of the house, but thank God Adam talked him out of it. You know how our clique gossips, and that story would be front-page news before the sun went down. Be thankful for what you and Ace have, Diane,” Candace said as she fiddled with the spoon in the empty bowl. “Y’all’s marriage looks like the Neelys—happy and secure.”

“Honey, you and Adam have been married longer than we have. We could probably take a page out of y’all’s marriage manual. You want some more?” When Candace shook her head, Diane reached for the bowls. “I’ll fix you a bowl to go.”

We could probably take a page out of y’all’s marriage manual
. Diane’s words repeated in Candace’s head. She and Adam could probably write a book on staying together and raising kids. There was no doubt that their love was still there: strong, steady. It was this love that she banked on, hoped would remain, beyond her recent decisions. In a way, what she was doing was for her family, so that they could continue to see the vibrant, satisfied woman they’d always known. So far, her choice had proved everything she’d hoped and more. And for that, she was vibrantly satisfied.

A
lexis was nervous, which was unlike her. She’d revealed her finished work to clients much bigger than Toussaint Livingston. Her talents had been requested and then applauded by people from the sports world to the hip-hop community. She’d designed rooms for political aficionados and some of the elitist members of black society—in Atlanta and elsewhere.
So why am I trippin’? You weren’t even this nervous around Tyler Perry
. “What is wrong with you?” Alexis whispered to the empty room. She was acting as if she didn’t know why she was edgy. But she knew.

Toussaint checked his look in the rearview mirror before getting out of the car. He didn’t know which had him more excited—seeing his new living/dining showcase or seeing Alexis. As he turned his elevator key and pressed the penthouse button, he decided it was the latter. The elevator reached his floor, and he strode purposefully to the new, cherry-red door Alexis had had installed. Something about feng shui, Toussaint remembered. He opened the door, and his heart stopped. Before him was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen. And the remodel he’d spent ninety thousand dollars on looked good too.

“Hello, Toussaint.”

Toussaint stared at Alexis another moment before stepping farther into the room and looking around. The living/dining masterpiece he’d requested had been delivered, and then some. His home now looked like a spread right out of
Architectural
Digest. “Alexis, this is fabulous.”

Alexis smiled and walked to where he was standing in front of the living room’s best feature—the fireplace. “I just love how this turned out and am glad you trusted my judgment on the color of the mosaic inlay.” The traditional red brick had been replaced by a sleek wall of marble in warm earth tones. The raised fireplace was now surrounded by a water feature that cascaded from the ceiling and disappeared into grooves on the floor base. Colorful mosaic tiles were inlaid just above this base and matched the floor-to-ceiling, large glass blocks that now served to separate the living and dining areas. Their vibrant shades, which included burgundy, gold, and turquoise, provided a punch of color to the subdued gray / navy blue / black color scheme and brought Alexis’s whimsical signature style to the room.

“The controls have all been stored here,” Alexis said, pushing a panel hidden in the heavy black steel mantel. She turned to the wall opposite the fireplace and pushed a button, and an Afrocentric picture, designed by local Atlanta artist Stuart McClean, receded into the wall to reveal a sixty-inch flat-screen television. She continued to point various details out to Toussaint as they walked around the room. Recessed lighting abounded and emphasized Alexis’s smart use of wood, stainless steel, leather, and textured fabrics to design a look that was at once sophisticated and inviting. The dining room, with its expandable table that could seat up to ten people, reflected the living room’s colors and textures, and the modern, square chandelier, gleaming with Swarovski crystals, rivaled the living room fireplace for wow and pizzazz. The curtains and floor-to-ceiling glass doors that shielded the patio now opened electronically,
and the patio, filled with hearty plants and seasonal flowers, was now a true outdoor living space. “These vines will fill in and eventually give you complete privacy.” Alexis motioned to the English ivy growing at the base of the four-foot trellis. Her tour of the new living and dining areas was complete. “However, if you want to take in the view, this entire fence is on a pulley and can be pulled to each side of the balcony.”

“Beautiful,” Toussaint whispered again. But he wasn’t looking at the furnishings or the beautiful downtown skyline clearly visible from his balcony. He wasn’t even commenting on the deep blue September sky or the leaves tinged with yellow, hinting at autumn’s imminent arrival. He was looking at Alexis.

“I’m glad you like it,” Alexis said. She turned, and her heart jumped. Toussaint’s eyes were boring into hers, and when he unconsciously licked his lips, her eyes were drawn to them like moths to a flame.
Was he always this handsome? Did he have that slight mustache the last time I saw him, and were his lips this full and succulent-looking? Of course he was!
Suddenly she was all too aware of how well his tailored suit fit his broad shoulders, how nicely the light wool fabric flowed over his lean hips and long legs. Alexis performed this once-over in seconds, although the image would stay branded in her mind for days. She tried to look at him with a casual, yet businesslike stare. What she didn’t know was that the obvious desire she saw when she looked into Toussaint’s eyes was exactly what he saw as he looked into hers.

Toussaint took a step toward Alexis. She took a step back. “I want you to see my bedroom,” he whispered. “Toussaint, I—”

“For ideas on how you’d redecorate it … that’s what I meant. And my guest bedroom too.”

Alexis let out a long, silent breath. She was hot all over, and while she’d so far resisted Jon Abernathy’s advances, she wanted
nothing more at the moment than to be in Toussaint’s arms,
and
in his bed. “I already have my next client lined up,” she said, a bit too breathy for someone trying to sound businesslike.

“I’ll wait.” Toussaint allowed his eyes to travel and take in Alexis’s long, disheveled locs, the perfectly fitting pantsuit that hugged her breasts and her booty, and the manicured toes visible in jeweled sandals. He imagined sucking those toes, one by one. His manhood leaped to attention. Toussaint quickly turned and walked from the outdoor space back into the penthouse. He didn’t stop until he was behind the small and classy bar area located between the living and dining areas. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked, just to calm himself before his burgeoning erection embarrassed them both.

“I really should go.”

“A glass of champagne to celebrate what a fabulous job you’ve done. And then I’m taking you to dinner.”

“Oh, no, Toussaint, I couldn’t …”

“Did that sound like a question, woman?”

“No, but …”

“But what? Do you have an appointment or a meeting?” Toussaint continued before Alexis could respond. “Cancel it. For the moment, I am not your client. So I am taking you out for an evening of dining and dancing. And you might as well take the pout off that beautiful face of yours, Alexis St. Clair. You’re mine tonight. And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

T
oussaint wasn’t the only one not taking no for an answer. Neither was Quintin Bright, owner of Q’s Bodybuilding & Workout Center and Candace’s personal trainer. “Push, Candace,” he barked authoritatively. “Two more minutes.” He stood in front of the stair climber, urging her on.

“My legs are burning,” Candace panted, willing her legs to press down on the pedals. “I. Can’t.”

Q stepped closer and placed his mouth right next to Candace’s ear. “You can and you will, do you hear me?” he growled. “I don’t train quitters. Now, come on. Let’s go!”

“Argh!” New beads of sweat popped out on Candace’s forehead as she gritted her teeth and bore down. Q had continually increased the tension on the device, making her work harder and harder to push down. Right now it felt like hell. But there was no doubt her thighs were toned.

“Thirty more seconds. Don’t stop now. I’ll do these last few with you.”

Q hopped up on the stepper next to her, with resistance twice that of hers, and pushed down with no problem. His thigh muscles bulged, and pecs rippled as he executed the moves. He’d toned his body to perfection, and it showed. He looked over at Candace, whose eyes were squeezed shut with
the effort of finishing her task. “Keep your arms tight. Two more.”

Candace finished and wobbled off the machine. Quintin reached out and caught her. “Good job, Candy. Abs next.”

Candace bent over, panting heavily. “I can’t, Q. Not right now. Just give me a minute.”

“I’ll give you the time it takes to walk over to the ab board. Drink some water. You’re all right.”

Candace rolled her eyes. “You’re a slave driver,” she hissed, taking a long drink from her water bottle.

“Wait, not too much. Short sips, woman. You know better than that.”

The two walked over to the ab bench where he changed the incline to once again push Candace further into perfect fitness. She knew it would be pointless to argue, so instead of doing so, she simply lay on the bench and waited for his count to begin.

Q lightly spotted her as they began. He placed two fingers on her abdomen so that he could feel the muscles tighten. “Good, Candy, keep using your abs. Relax your shoulders. Lift from the core only. That’s right … nineteen, twenty.”

After two more repetitions on the ab board, Candace’s workout was over. She lay on the mat where Q stretched her muscles, ensuring that they’d remain lean and not cramp. He raised her leg up and over her head, something that Candace couldn’t even imagine three months ago. He sat in front of her, legs spread; he placed his feet on her ankles and pushed gently, and when she moaned, “Q, that hurts,” he pushed a little more. Finally, Q mouthed the words she longed to hear, the music to her ears at the end of each workout.

“We’re done, Candy. Get ready for next time.”

Forty-five minutes later, Candace walked into the master suite she shared with Adam. He came out of the master bathroom at the same time. “There you are.”

“Yes, baby.” Candace walked over and kissed Adam on the cheek. “Were you looking for me?”

“As a matter of fact, I was.”

“You know I work out every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.”

“I know. I had an appointment over by that gym, so when it was finished, I stopped to see if you were there.”

Candace’s heart stopped. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I saw your car but couldn’t find you.”

There was a reason Adam saw Candace’s car at the gym. She kept it there as part of the cover-up.

“Hmmm, that’s strange. Did you ask the person at the desk to look for me? I was probably in the shower. Or I might have gone to the juice bar a couple doors down from the gym. Did you look there?”

“No.”