Love Takes Time (4 page)

A Diamond in Plain Sight

“B
eautiful!” Emmanuel shouted while clicking away with his 35 mm camera. “Now tilt your head just a little more to the right.”

Expertly, Alyssa followed the renowned photographer's direction with effortless ease and grace. It had taken years to master holding a bright or even sexy smile while frolicking on a beach in freezing weather.

“Aw. That's it. That's it,” Emmanuel praised. “Give me a little more shoulder. Yes. Yes. Beautiful.” It was the second time Alyssa and the celebrity photographer had worked together and just like before,
both experienced a wonderful chemistry that was raw and unique in such a hard, jaded business.

A wicked chill raced down Alyssa's spine, but with steel determination, she kept her teeth from chattering. Though her modeling had taken her all over the world, this was her first photo shoot on Paradise Beach in beautiful Mykonos, Greece. She could just do without the late fall weather.

“All right. Take ten,” Emmanuel shouted, and then gave Alyssa an encouraging wink.

The crew broke into immediate applause. The men, both gay and straight, showered her with praise while the women were polite but a bit standoffish. All in all, it was the way the business operated. Ever since Alyssa first began her modeling career, people approached her with their own preconceptions of what she was all about: shallow, vapid and vain. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

Alyssa popped out of the water and welcomed the large towel offered to her by one of the assistants like it was a life jacket. In many ways it was. It had become impossible to stop her teeth from clacking together.

“You were wonderful,” the young assistant assured her. “Everyone is going to be buzzing about these photos when they come out. No doubt you'll get the cover of Sports Illustrated this year.”

“Thanks,” Alyssa said. She'd made the highly coveted cover last year and was just pleased to have been asked again to pose. Still, there was no denying that the cover had accelerated her already rising
modeling career and despite shoots like this, she loved every moment of it.

“Here. This should be better.” Tangela, Alyssa's best friend and solo entourage, raced over with a warm bulky coat she'd kept near a portable heater and draped it around Alyssa's shoulders.

“Aww. Tangie, you're the best.” Alyssa said, closing her eyes in near ecstasy.

“Just doing my job, taking care of you.”

Thank God,
Alyssa thought. She honestly believed that her life would've been much harder without at least
one
person she could trust unconditionally—one person that wasn't jealous of her success.

Alyssa and Tangela walked behind the tracking lights and ignored the buffet table, loaded down with high calories and sugary temptations. As usual, her stomach growled loudly in protest.

“Oh, I brought some carrots,” Tangela offered. “You want some?”

Carrots. How appetizing.
Her stomach gave another long winding growl and Alyssa quickly realized that something was better than nothing. “Give me the carrots.”

Tangela, as always, laughed at Alyssa's diet grumpiness and quickly rummaged through her knapsack for the boring, crunchy snack while Alyssa's ears perked at the sound of something ringing.

“Do you hear that?”

Tangela looked up. “Hear what?”

Riiiinnng.

“Oh. Your cell phone is in the coat pocket,” Tanglea said.

Alyssa shoved her hands into her pockets and scooped out her BlackBerry. She read the ID screen and smiled. “Hello, Daddy.”

“Hey, baby girl. How are you? I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?” he asked gruffly.

“There's never a bad time for you,” she said and meant it. Despite the distance and her fewer and fewer visits home, they had a close and special relationship. In fact, she considered him more of a best friend than her girl, Tangela. “So what's up?”

Tangela held out the small bag of carrots and Alyssa reached over and grabbed a few.

“Well, I was wondering if you were free this weekend?”

Alyssa frowned at the question. “Well, I don't know, I'd have to check my calendar. Why, is something up?” She chomped down on her carrot and pretended that it was a piping hot, glazed doughnut. When her father didn't immediately answer, her hackles rose. Was there something wrong? Was he sick? “Dad?” Her heartbeat quickened. What would she do if something happened to him? He was the only family she had.

“Actually, baby girl…I'm getting married.”

Silence.

“Ally? Are you there?”

She blinked, swallowed and choked on that pesky carrot.

“Ally?”

Dropping the phone, tears surfaced and streamed, sufficiently ruining Alyssa's makeup.

Tangela sprang into action and started whacking Alyssa on the back. “Are you all right?”

Married? Did he just say that he was getting married?
Feeling her spine about to snap in half, Alyssa flailed her hands to ward her friend off. “All right. All right. I'm okay.”

“You're supposed to chew before you swallow,” Tangela said as if she needed reminding.

“My phone. Where is my phone?” Alyssa glanced around and spotted it in the white sand and snatched it up.

“Ally? Ally? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I'm here.” She moved away from Tangela, trying to figure out what to say. “Um, this is um…wow.”

Her father chuckled. “I know this may come as a surprise.”

That's an understatement.
“I didn't even know that you were seeing anyone,” she admitted and tried to ignore her bruised feelings. “Anyone I know?”

“Well, yeah. I, um, you met her long time ago. Estelle Sullivan.”

Alyssa shook her head, not placing a face to the name.

“She, um, used to teach at Springfield Elementary.”

The name suddenly clicked. “Ms. Sullivan—my second grade teacher?”

“See. I knew you'd remember her.” His voice perked with pride.

Alyssa glanced back over her shoulder at Tangie, who in turn, mouthed the inquiry, “What's wrong?”

My father has lost his mind,
she wanted to say.

“So, do you think you'll be able to come? Mister Hinton said that we could have the wedding right here on the property. After that, well, I'm retiring.”

Whoa.
This was a lot of new information at one time. How long had she been trying to get her father to quit his job as the Hintons' personal chef?

“Baby girl?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said, still struggling with the proper way to respond. “Well, wow. This is
big
news. Really big.”

“It is,” he admitted. “But I gotta tell you…it's been a long time since I've been this happy. This…complete.”

Alyssa closed her eyes at the raw emotion she heard in her father's voice.

“I love her, baby girl.”

Her smile returned. “Then I love her, too, Dad.”

“So does that mean that you'll come?”

“It means that I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

 

“A paper, please,” Quentin said, walking up to one of the many New York newsstands in the middle of Times Square.

“Which one,” the brusque vendor asked, gesturing toward a variety.

“Times,”
Q answered, shoving his hand into his pants pocket to dig around for some change, but from the corners of his eyes a magazine cover caught his attention. He turned his head and leaned forward. The tall beauty that stared back at him from the glossy page had the effect of a steel punch to the gut. He couldn't remember ever seeing a woman with such magnetic and soulful eyes—and those curves and long limbs.
Good Lord, have mercy!

The vendor cleared his throat.

Q jumped and returned his attention to the man.

“Will there be anything else?” he asked.

“No.” Quentin shook his head. There was no way he was about to buy
Vogue.
He didn't want to give the vendor the wrong idea. He paid for his paper but before strolling off he gave the magazine a quick final glance. Minutes later, he arrived at his favorite morning eatery, Diamond Dairy. Not surprising, his brother Sterling was already there and waiting for him.

“Would it hurt you to be late for something once in your life?” Q asked, plopping into the chair across from his brother.

“Would it hurt you to be
on time
for something once in your life?” Sterling volleyed without blinking an eye.

“Now why in the world would I want to do something like that?”

“Morning, boys.” Tabitha, their usual waitress, greeted them with a piping hot coffee pot. “What will it be?”

“The usual, Tabby,” Q answered, as he peeled open his newspaper. He went straight for the crossword puzzle and pulled out a pen from his pocket.

“Same here,” Sterling said, and retrieved the rest of the paper. “I don't know how you can do that thing. I can never get more than a couple of answers.”

“That's because
I'm
the genius in the family,” Q taunted. Years ago, to everyone's disbelief, Quentin had scored a 170 on his IQ test, higher than both his brothers, who were successful in business—a fact that he never let anyone forget.

Sterling shook his head and fingered his tie. “Too bad that you don't use that big brain of yours to get a job.”

“C'mon. Not that again. I got a job once, remember? After we got Jonas hitched to Toni. I put in my six months at Hinton Enterprises and now I'm on vacation.”

“That was
years
ago.”

“And I'm still traumatized.”

Sterling laughed and shook his head. “I called you this morning.”

Q's eyebrows crawled up his forehead. “Oh?”

“New girlfriend?”

“Change the subject,” Quentin said. “You know I never kiss and tell.”

“Since when?”

“Since now.”

“But aren't you supposed to be—I thought you and Dad had made a deal?” When Quentin didn't
answer, Sterling shook his head. “I swear. You'll never change.”

“That's the goal,” Q boasted.

“Well, try not to hit on any of the bridesmaids this weekend. It would be considered bad form.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mom didn't call you?”

Tabitha returned and placed two western omelets in front of the brothers.

“What, is Mom seeing a new psychic or something?” Q asked, grabbing his fork.

“No. Alfred is getting married this weekend.” Sterling sipped at his coffee. “And we've been invited.”

“Get out of here!” Q laughed. “Alfred's jumping the broom? That old dog!”

Q exhaled and pushed back in his chair. “Jeez, I haven't been home in a long time.”

Sterling's smile returned. “Yep. He's a good man. I'm happy for him.” He took another sip of his coffee. “It's good to find love at any age.”

“Guess that means you can hit the senior circuit and pick yourself up a wife before she wheels away.”

Sterling scowled. “I'm only a year older than you.”

“But you act twenty years older.”

“Not funny.”

Q snickered and then spotted a woman at the next table, holding up
Vogue
magazine. The cover model pulled at him again. Why did that face seem so familiar?

“What is it?” Sterling glanced around to see what caught Quentin's attention.

“Nothing,” Q assured him with a shake of his head. “My mind is just playing tricks on me.” What else could it be? Surely, he couldn't have known the woman on the cover of
Vogue.
No way he could've
ever
forgotten such a face.

“B
aby girl, you made it!” Alfred threw open his arms as his daughter raced from her luxury rental car and flashed him with her million-dollar smile—her mother's smile. When her slight weight pressed against him, he wrapped his long thick arms around her and rocked her from side to side in his exuberance. “I'm so happy to see you.”

Alyssa eased back to look into her father's eyes. “You look so good.”

Her father's smile brightened. “That's because my favorite girl has finally come home. Everyone is waiting for you inside.” He released her from his embrace. “Let me help you get your bags.” Alfred rushed over to the trunk of her car. “Oh hey, Tangela.”

He gave the young woman a quick hug, as well. “I'll get those for you,” he said, taking the luggage from her hands.

“Thank you, Mr. Jansen.”

“Don't mention it.” Alfred loaded his arms with their luggage and escorted them to Alyssa's old bedroom in the servants' quarters.

“I don't believe it,” Alyssa said, looking around. “You haven't changed a thing.” The thought both surprised and pleased her. Her gaze took in the soft pastels, the Laura Ashley collection, and the hundreds of stuffed animals she'd collected over the years. It was truly like stepping back in time.

“It's your room. It never felt right packing any of this stuff up,” her father said, setting the luggage down.

“But you're going to be leaving the Hinton estate soon, aren't you, Mr. Jansen?” Tangela asked. “You and your new wife aren't going to continue to live here.”

Alfred shook his head. “No…we, um, bought a place in Atlanta.”

“
Atlanta
?” Alyssa and Tangela echoed.

Alfred nodded. “Estelle has some family there.”

He's marrying into a whole new family?
“That's nice,” Alyssa lied.

Her father walked over and draped his arms around her small shoulders. “Don't give me that look. My marrying Estelle doesn't mean I'm going to stop being your father. Nothing will ever stop that.”

Alyssa wasn't embarrassed by her jealousy. “I know that.”

“Good.” Her father pressed his lips against her right temple. “Now what do you say we head on over to the kitchen where I can whip you girls up something to eat? You need to put a little more meat on those bones.”

“Well, actually—”

“Don't tell me you're on another crazy diet,” her father said. “There's a no-diet rule when you come to see me, remember?”

Tangela looked as though she was ready to kiss him. “Then we need to visit you more often,” she joked.

Laughing, Alfred escorted the ladies toward the main house, while describing a mouth-watering clam and mussels dish. When he had finished, both Alyssa and Tangela's stomachs growled in unison.

“Oh my God! Alyssa, is that you?”

Before she could turn all the way around, Alyssa was crushed in a pair of strong arms. “I can't believe it. Let me get a good look at you!” The woman stepped back, holding Alyssa's shoulders at arm's length.

“Ms. Beatrice,” Alyssa declared, beaming a radiant smile at the older woman. “How good it is to see you.” There were considerably more wrinkles in the woman's kind face and her once salt-and-pepper hair was now completely cotton-ball white.

“Stunning,” Beatrice praised. “Absolutely stunning.” Her arms looped around Alyssa's waist. “Didn't I tell you that you'd fill out one day? I bet
you can hardly get the men off you. How many are you juggling? Two? Five? Twenty? I want details.”

Alfred cleared his throat. “I'm still standing here, you know.”

The women laughed.

Alfred shook his head and turned toward his stove.

Beatrice herded Alyssa and Tangela toward the long servants' table at the end of the gigantic kitchen. “I want to hear everything,” she insisted. “The glamorous life of a supermodel.”

“I don't know about glamorous, but it's certainly hectic.”

“The parties are fun, though,” Tangela tossed in. “Whenever I can get Alyssa to go.”

“Still a homebody, eh?” Beatrice said with a note of disappointment. “Honey, if I was you, I'd be living it up before those perky breasts head south and that small waist of yours expands.”

Again, Alfred cleared his throat.

“Don't even pretend that you don't know what I mean,” Beatrice chided. “Or you wouldn't be marrying someone fifteen years younger than you.”

Alfred fell silent.

Alyssa and Tangela shared a look. Clearly Beatrice disapproved of Alfred's engagement.

“Well, I think love knows no age,” Alyssa said, standing up for her father. “All that matters is how two people feel toward each other.”

“So tell me,” Beatrice said, returning her attention to Alyssa. “Stop stalling. Talk.”

Suddenly tongue-tied, Alyssa shrugged. The image of her supermodel job didn't exactly match up with reality. Before she could start playing catch-up, the kitchen door swung open. Jamie and Lidi, the estate's two maids, entered, trailed by James, the gardener, and Antonio, the butler.

“There she is!” Jamie shouted.

“I told you I saw them pull up,” James exclaimed.

Alyssa was instantly surrounded and pulled from one embrace to another. Everyone marveled and praised her for how much she'd transformed from the skinny knock-kneed little girl who raced around the estate and climbed everything that stood still.

“Oooh. I can't wait until Quentin gets a good look at you,” Lidi cooed. “You'll finally have him eating out of the palm of your hand.”

Jamie and Beatrice elbowed her.

“What?” Lidi asked, innocently.

Alyssa perked up. “Q's coming?”

“Oooh, there's that look,” Lidi said, smiling. “I told you she still had a thing for him.”

“No. That's not true,” Alyssa said. “I was just curious.”

“Even I don't buy that one,” her father said, pouring white wine into the pot of heated olive oil.

“No. I mean it,” she insisted. “I know I used to have a
minor
crush on him, but that was years ago. I've outgrown it.”

“Minor?” Beatrice barked as her whole body
shook with mirth. “That's putting it mildly. Anytime he came home, you sneaked around the property like Nancy Drew.”

“I did not,” Alyssa lied, feeling her face flush with embarrassment.

“I caught you crawling around the main library when he was in there once,” Beatrice reminded her.

“And I discovered you climbing the trellis outside his bedroom a couple of times,” James chimed.

Alfred looked up from chopping garlic. “What?”

“Mr. James!” Alyssa gasped.

“I—I wasn't trying to look into Q's room,” Alyssa stammered. “Billy Dee Williams had climbed up on the roof that time. Don't you remember, Mr. James?” She widened her eyes and mentally willed him to play along.

James laughed. “I've never known of any of Mrs. Hinton's pampered Chihuahuas climbing up the roof.”

Traitor.

“What about the time you stole away in the trunk of the limo?” Antonio asked. “You said that you were going to sneak into Quentin's luggage and fly with him on one of his trips. Now
that
was hilarious. I think Mr. Sterling found you that time.”

“Alyssa!” her father snapped. “Tell me you didn't.”

“Thanks guys for ratting me out,” Alyssa said, rolling her eyes. “My Christmas list is going to be a lot shorter this year.”

“Aww. You know we love you,” Antonio said, kissing her on the cheek and stealing another hug.

“We just aren't buying that you're really over Mister Quentin.”

“Yeah,” Beatrice added. “I'll believe
that
when I see it.”

 

Quentin slept during the flight to South Carolina. It was either do that or drink every one of those cute little bottles the airline attendant had stocked on the flight. That was always the choice when flying back to his parents' estate—or more to the point, when it came to seeing his father. Luckily these visits were few and far between.

The problem was that he and his father never saw eye to eye. Usually when they spent time together, one could set their watch by how long it would take before they were embroiled in a heated argument. No doubt this trip wouldn't be any different, especially now that he'd struck a deal with the devil.

The moment the airplane touched down, Quentin opened his eyes and stretched in his seat.

“Welcome back to the living,” Sterling said, pulling out his BlackBerry from his breast pocket. “I had to endure quite a few complaints about your snoring while you were knocked out.”

“I'm sure you were able to handle things like you always do,” Quentin answered, unfazed. “Why else do you think I keep you around?”

“I wonder about that myself,” Sterling said, cracking a half smile.

Quentin turned his head and noticed a woman
across the aisle clutching the current issue of
Vogue.
Good Lord, was that magazine stalking him?

The plane rolled slowly up to the gate and minutes later the passengers jumped out of their seats and popped open the overhead bins. After bumping into bodies and joining in the mass exodus, Sterling and Quentin made their way toward baggage claim.

Before they reached their destination, Antonio, their father's lifelong driver, stood before baggage claim with a placard that read: HINTONS.

“Mister Quentin and Mister Sterling,” Antonio greeted. “How wonderful it is to see you.”

“Likewise, my man,” Sterling returned, slapping a hand against the man's back. “Imagine my surprise that Alfred is actually going to beat you back down the aisle.”

“What can I say?” Antonio said, blushing. “He got lucky.”

The men laughed and then saw to the bags getting loaded into the limo.

“Do you know if Jonas and Toni are flying in?” Quentin asked, leaning toward the minibar.

Sterling frowned as he once again pulled out a stack of papers from his briefcase to work on during their ride to the estate. “They're flying in on Saturday morning.”

“Good. Good. I haven't seen them since Jonas packed up his company and shipped them out to Georgia.”

“They have planes that fly to Georgia, too, you know.”

“Yeah, but I don't want Jonas thinking that I'm finished with my vacation so he can put me back to work.”

“Issues.” Sterling buried his face into his paperwork once again. “I may be moving back to my Atlanta office myself. I need a slower pace for a while.”

“Fine. I guess I'll have to come visit
both
of you.”

Quentin finished pouring his drink and then settled back in his seat. “I
am
going to work one of these days…as soon as I settle on the career I'd like to pursue. You always said that I should pursue something I enjoy.”

“You mean now that your days of being a gigolo are over?”

“I prefer the term
connoisseur of women,
” he said, smiling and then glancing out of the window. “It takes a special kind of man to really appreciate women—the incredible artistry God creates in the curve of a woman's hip, the size, weight and warmth of a good, firm breast. And their scent…” He swirled the amber liquid in his glass and remained thoughtful. “Did you know that every woman has their own unique scent?”

Sterling glanced up from his papers.

“It's true,” Quentin insisted. “It's faint, buried beneath their perfume, soft baby powder and fruity lotions. But it's there and it's intoxicating—every one of them.”

“Well, I'll be damn,” Sterling sighed. “You're a poet.”

“Connoisseur,” Quentin repeated. “And damn proud of it.

“I don't know how I'm going to survive this arrangement. Monogamy is not in my DNA.”

Minutes later, the limo turned onto the Hinton estate. A sea of lush green grass surrounded the long spiraling driveway. Quentin caught sight of two women out by the stables. Though he couldn't identify who they were, his interest was piqued at the sight of thick ebony hair billowing in the wind. He hit a button on the door and his window slid down in time for him to hear the sound of women's laughter floating on the air.

Maybe this trip won't be so dull after all.

Antonio rolled the limo to a stop and a second later, Quentin and Sterling rustled through the main house's eight-foot mahogany doors and into the grand foyer with its classic black-and-white marble and four angled 12-foot-tall archways.