Decadent Dreams. A.C. Arthur

stop being perfect for just one minute, he added, though he kept that part to himself. Because Malik was sure the perfect routine was one tiring job.

      “I don’t see how relaxing is going to make a difference in the man I choose to go out with.”

      “I’m not saying it’ll make a difference in your choice of men, only you can make that change. But sometimes it’s good to just get away from all the pressures of life. How about this? I pick you up tonight at seven. We’ll go out and have a fun-filled evening at which time you will not think about what’s-his-name that didn’t have the good sense God gave him. You will not think about this bakery and what orders we have for tomorrow. You will not think about the competition that’s coming up or what you can do to contribute for us to win. Deal?”

      * * *

      First of all, Malik Anthony had always been too damned fine for his own good. As if it wasn’t enough that his body was perfectly toned, tall and sculpted like the basketball player he used to be. No, his honey-colored skin had to be smooth and enticing. His always-close-shaved head and dark brown eyes were like dangling a carrot in front of every female rabbit. The tattoos he had on each of his biceps should have been a turnoff and yet Belinda had always found the scorpion on his left bicep, which represented his zodiac sign, as well as the justice scales on his right bicep, which represented his mother’s zodiac sign, heartwarming instead of offensive.

      His laid-back demeanor and almost-always-positive mood tended to give her a headache more often than not. Nobody could be in a good mood all the time. It just wasn’t possible. Life wasn’t that good. Especially not for him, Belinda presumed. Having his dream collapse and ending up here could not have been easy for Malik. But watching him move around this bakery, laughing and joking with Carter and working just as hard as the rest of them, she couldn’t tell he was suffering. Sure, it had been years and he’d probably gotten over the cruel hand fate had dealt him, but Belinda was positive he harbored some resentful feelings. He had to, right?

      “I can’t go on a date with you. Besides we both have to be back here first thing tomorrow morning. We have a heavy schedule,” she told him matter-of-factly.

      “We’re not the only staff members that work here. Besides, I’m not talking about keeping you out overnight. We’re just going to go out for a few hours and have a little fun.”

      “I don’t need you to show me how to have fun,” she said defiantly.

      “I didn’t say I was going to show you. I said we’ll have some fun. Meaning both of us. Stop analyzing it to death. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

      “What if I say no?”

      “You can. I’m not desperate either, you know. I won’t beg to take you out,” Malik said in that casual tone

      of his.

      Why did that hurt her feelings? She didn’t care if Malik didn’t want to take her out. Why should she?

      Rolling her shoulders, Belinda took a deep breath. This was silly. Malik was like family—even though his wide smile and infectious laugh often did things to her that neither Carter’s nor Drake’s ever had. Spending an evening with him wouldn’t be that big of a deal. She’d done it before when they’d worked late nights, or at family dinners. There was no reason to expect that tonight would be any different. And yes, she could use a reprieve.

      Earlier this week when she’d gone out with Patrick Masterson of Masterson Wholesale Foods, she hadn’t been relaxed at all. And by the end of the evening she’d been ready to wrap her hands around Patrick’s scrawny little neck and squeeze until the shrill sound of his voice stopped completely. He was an annoying, self-centered man who thought the sun rose and set on him. And he had the audacity to call her stuck-up because she’d declined a third date.

      The first date had been a favor to her mother, who was on some committee with Patrick’s mother. The second time had been because she feared she hadn’t given him a fair shot the first go-round. After an hour and a half on Monday night and hearing about Patrick’s latest accomplishments which centered around his new shipment of veggie burgers and other organic meats, she’d deduced that a third date would be the type of torture she did not deserve.

      “I know you’re not desperate, Malik.” She took another deep breath and used the inside of her arm to wipe her forehead. “You can pick me up tonight at seven. We’ll go out and have some fun, because you think that’ll make everything in my world better. And we’ll be back here tomorrow for work as usual.”

      Malik looked as if he were going to say something else. Instead he only nodded and continued to work on applying the fondant to the lower layer of the Ricardo wedding cake.

      Hours later after they’d both worked themselves to the brink, Belinda drove herself back to her apartment. She stripped out of her work clothes, switched on the faucet in the tub and poured in a generous amount of bubble bath. She couldn’t wait to sink down into the water. Heading into her bedroom she grabbed a book from her nightstand. These were Belinda’s only indulgences—hot baths and reading. They were her only support system in a life she feared was spiraling out of control.

      Just as she was almost out of the bedroom, the phone rang and she circled back to the nightstand to grab the cordless device. She said hello, continuing on her trek into the bathroom.

      “I didn’t get a chance to ask when I saw you earlier. How was your date with Patrick?” Shari asked. The preschool had called Shari earlier this afternoon and she’d had to leave straight from her delivery to pick up Andre. So Belinda hadn’t seen her since this morning’s meeting. Of course she thought about her cousin’s reaction to the contest announcement—more aptly about how Shari really felt about Dina English and this upcoming competition. Shari had said she was fine with it, but Belinda hadn’t believed her. The grudge between Shari and Dina had been going on for years now, but as far as Belinda knew, neither of the women had ever confronted each other or had any reason to be in the same place at the same time. A live competition on national TV probably wasn’t the best setting for a reunion, but there wasn’t much they could do about that now.

      “It wasn’t worth talking about this morning and it’s definitely not worth talking about now,” was Belinda’s reply to Shari’s question.

      “But you two look so good together,” Shari said excitedly. “And just think, if you hook up with him, we could probably be a featured bakery in their store. You know those warehouse stores get lots of traffic. They usually make and sell their own baked goods. But what if we could work out some type of distribution with them? We could use that publicity.”

      This was only a small sample of the pressure Belinda always felt weighing on her shoulders. Ever since she could walk and talk, expectations of her had been high. In elementary school she had to be the cutest, the smartest. By middle school her parents had encouraged—she wouldn’t say “forced,” out of respect—her to join the spelling club, which had her traveling for nationwide competitions. At the same time she needed to be well-rounded, so three years in gymnastics and four years of piano lessons were also prescribed. High school was the Debate Club, the Honor Society and every honors class she could enroll in. College was more committees and activities, but by that time, Belinda had begun to tune out more than she absorbed.

      “You sound more and more like Drake every day,” she said. “I’m not going to pimp myself out, even for the sake of making Lillian’s a household name.”

      “Come on, you know I would never suggest that, girl. I was just saying that would be a perk. Of course you would have to feel something for him, as well. Which by the sound of your voice I’m guessing you do not.”

      “Then you would be guessing correctly,” Belinda said as she sank down into the tub, loving the soothing feel of hot water as it touched her skin, and the chamomile fragrance of the bubbles that permeated the air.

      “He’s a pompous ass. And he had the audacity to call me names when I said I wouldn’t go out with him again. How childish.” Even though Belinda had to admit the fact that she was still bothered by his