Ebony to Ivory Love

By C. Ann Miller

Can an individual remain true to a decision not to fall in love with a person based solely on pigmentation? African-American Ambrie Kent believed so, until her twenty-year marriage to the love of her life faced destruction, plunging her into a cocoon of depression.

Ambrie is now a year divorced, and its her best girlfriend Bobbee Right to the rescue. Within hours Ambrie meets the love of her life number two. She finds herself taken with the kindness and adoration of Paul Daye, an arrestingly handsome man. Although she mentally battles her desires for this dashing figure of a man, she falls for the blond-haired, blue-eyed dream. However, Ambrie has her work cut out for her as she tries to enhance their relationship by moving it to the next level.

Ambrie is about to embark on an extraordinary second chapter in her life

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 23, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469198132

Book preview

113222-MILL-layout.pdf

C. Ann Miller

Copyright © 2012 by C. Ann Miller.

Library of Congress Control Number:      2012906579

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, or journal.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

113222

Contents

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

To Bobby Baby, my adoring husband,

Thank you for believing that I could spread my wings and soar.

To my children, family, and friends,

Thank you for being my safety net lest I fall.

I love you all.

Acknowledgments

Giving praise foremost to Jesus Christ, who blessed me with

my gift of writing and for continuously blessing me.

Thank you!

C. Ann Miller

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Chapter One

Here I am, Ambrie Kent, at three thirty in the morning again on another cheerless Saturday. This makes six times in the past two weeks, nineteen times in the past thirty days that I’ve watched over my husband, making sure he doesn’t choke on his own bile or pass out and drown himself in the toilet. Most of the time while toilet bowl sitting, I daydream about the good times we used to share a long time ago.

Kalem Kent—he’s the only man that I’ve ever loved. When I married him, I was twenty years old. I’ve been with only one man physically, so Kalem’s touch is all I’ve ever known. It’s in my upbringing, which I’m really thankful for. It made our wedding night more glorious than I ever could have imagined.

Now at the age of forty and Kalem ten years my senior, life has become unstable. Our age difference has never been an issue with us; besides, no one could ever tell that there was an age difference. Kalem’s always been able to pass for ten years younger than his age.

He’s the type of black man that black females like me used to dream about building a life with. You know, Mr. Right? Kalem was him, the blueprint—intelligent, financially secure, an incredible personality, and so fine, I can’t stress that point enough.

He possessed, and still does to this day, features that will make bodies quake and hearts miss a beat or three or five. All heads turn when he enters a room. Both males and females hesitate as he comes into view. I kid you not; I know for a fact. Shoot! I tell you what, he stole my heart the first time I laid eyes on him. We hadn’t met or spoken yet, and I was smitten. As I watched him from afar at my job, he seemed charming enough and, like I said, so fine.

I figured if I planned on trying to meet that hunky beefcake specimen of a man, I was going to have to do some background-checking and find out a little something about him.

Way back in the day, we gals wanted to get the scoop on a choice stud before we locked our sights on a guy. For that we had our walking-talking directory when we wanted to gain male info. We always sought out the insight of my best girlfriend, Bobbee. I bet that woman could give the down low on any man within a thousand-mile radius. She could probably even tell you if they preferred silk or cotton boxers.

Some twenty-odd years ago, as we were frequenting our favorite hangout, a small scone/tea/coffee house, we claimed to have discovered it and put it on the map. Nobody had heard of it until we put the word out, and about a depth of their coffee cups ran, and then there were the scones that were so flaky; if in the same room with one of those famous scones and you breathed too intensely, they’d crumble.

Anyway, this particular day, I casually tossed Kalem Kent’s name out there to see if Bobbee would bite. It didn’t even take half a minute before Bobbee chimed in with a mountain of facts.

Hot damn, if that isn’t one hell of a tall dark delicious roasted cup of man right there, I don’t know anything. And everybody knows that would be a false statement. Girl, mmm yum-yum, I don’t blame you for wanting to get you some-some of that yum-yum.

Bobbee, must you?

All of a sudden, I felt flushed. Bobbee has a way of making me feel as if there’s a Peeping Tom peering at me from behind my own eyes.

I bet if a female were inclined to take one little, bitty, miniature sip from that man’s chocolate lips, a sis-ta would be bouncing off the walls like a super ball for a couple of days. Goodness! I’m on a caffeine high thinking about him. Would you look at me? I’m sweating. Touch my forehead. Come on, touch my face and tell me. Do I have a fever?

Bobbee fanned her face with a cloth napkin.

You are such a drama diva, though I can’t help giving you your due. You can always get me to laugh even when I fight it. You can still get me to chuckle. Let’s not talk about the fact that you write your own material that happens to be leaning more toward the crusty, stale side of humor. At least it’s original.

Brie, please, will you give me a break? I know that I’m a comedian. You know it too. Hey, there’s no use in either of us to try and deny my gift. That’s all there is to it.

Right, you think of it as a gift, but others think of it as some kind of curse.

Oh please. Answer me this, Ambrie Eve. You mean to say that you, Miss Virgin Until She Marries or Dies First, has a thing for one tall cup of Kalem Kent? Oh and then, and then answer me this. Does he make your special pleasure spot hot? I bet you that it’s a sizzling right this minute.

Listen here, Bobbee. Are you sure you couldn’t be any more outspoken and loud? Dang it, Bobbee, quiet down. Lower your voice. And why is it that just because I’m the slightest bit curious about a guy, it has to mean that I have, as you put it, a thing for him.

Brie, Brie, you know that’s the only reason I get asked questions about guys. You wouldn’t be throwing his name into the mix if you weren’t jonesing for the man.

Shut up! I hissed.

She makes me so angry being right so often.

And by the way, my hot spot is exactly that, mine. It is none of your freaking business what does or doesn’t go on with my hot spot.

Whew, a reaction such as that says that I’ve tripped your sensitive breaker and you—

I said shut up, Bobbee! But for your information it’s, I mean, me and mine are very cool, my temperature isn’t tepid, sizzling, or rising, so back the hell off!

First, you better be thankful that we are best buds, or you would be so knocked out. Second, excuse the hell out of me, Miss Snippety!

Bobbee sat twisting her napkin looking like a scolded toddler. She was doing her best to play the so-insulted, you-hurt-my-feelings role.

I love you like a sister, Bobbee, but there are times, there are times you go too far. This time you’re walking pretty close to the edge. You need to learn when to hold your tongue.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. No, I’m not. I take that back. I’m not sorry. You know better than anybody that I’m known as the queen speaker of what’s on your mind. In closing, I have to say just one more time.

No. I’m almost fearful to ask the question. What now? Do I want to hear what else you have on that sly mind of yours?

I know that this Kalem dude makes your hot spot extra hot. Wait a minute, wait a minute. Listen, what’s that noise?

Bobbee giggled as she leaned in, cupping her hand behind her ear.

I don’t hear anything. What am I supposed to be hearing?

You’re listening for the sound of bacon frying in a two-hundred-degree skillet.

Bobbee giggled.

I rolled my eyes at her sad, sad attempt at humor.

What I’m trying to tell you, comedian Bobbee, is that Kalem Kent has made a few—no, strike that—he’s made several visits to the insurance company. You do remember the place that gives me employment?

Sure. Sure. Don’t be so blasted serious all the time. I don’t know how we’ve remained gal pals for so long.

Anyway, as I was saying, he’s walked past my cubicle a few times. I couldn’t help but notice how scrumptious he smells. I’d be nuts not to admit that the smell of him is quite mouthwatering.

Interesting. So tell me, Brie, is he mouthwatering enough for you to take a little nibble?

And then there are those suits.

I ignored that zinger.

He wears very nice, tailored suits. Each time that I’ve seen him, his suits have hung quite nicely.

Oh right, right, nice suits, smells nice—those are usually the first things that I as a female notice. Not.

Yeah well, that’s you. You were born with smut for brains.

Yeah, and you should trade in some of your niceness for a few smutty brain cells. Can you answer this next question? Out of all your sightings, you’ve never paid any attention to his tight body, right, Brie? You haven’t been dreaming about those tight buns underneath that really, very nice tailored suit?

I won’t deny that he’s attractive—what am I saying? He’s fine and has one of the nicest butts I’ve ever seen.

That’s saying a hell of a lot for you.

You’re telling me? Never mind that. Let’s get back to the matter of Kalem Kent. I haven’t had the opportunity to actually meet him per se. So it’s not a big deal if you can’t tell me anything about him. I was kind of curious, that’s all.

Maybe if I play down my interest, she won’t keep being so irksome.

Not a big deal. I was kind of curious, that’s all, Bobbee mimicked.

Well, think about it, Bobbee, we’ve never seen him hanging at any of our favorite hangouts, and we only frequent the best.

What do you take me for, an idiot? Don’t play that I’m-so-innocent card with me, Ambrie Eve. Don’t try to run that sad jive on. Ms. Bobbee Right knows all. My last name’s not Right for nothing.

Enough already. Give up the scoop on the man already, Miss Bobbee Knows It All.

Well, you know, it just so happens that I’ve seen him at my job too. And with me being the second secretary on the totem pole at the shrink office, I know everything that goes on in that joint. You’ll be delighted to know that I have more than just a little scoop on your Mr. Kent. He seemed to be a guy with his head on straight. He’s an entrepreneur. He has his own line of office furniture, artwork, and real cool kinds of decorating stuff for businesses only. The company’s been around for close to ten years, he has eight branch offices, he’s working on numbers nine and ten, and he’s single, never been married. Don’t hold this against me, Ambrie. I don’t have figures on his pay scale. For some reason, that wisdom hasn’t been bestowed upon me as of yet. Don’t fret. Give me a little more time. I’ll get solid numbers for you.

Don’t freak, Bobbee. There’s no need to go out of your way to get the figures. I’m sure his business has to be doing well. Those tailored suits have to cost big bills. Don’t go out of your way.

Don’t go out of my way? Now, Brie, you know me better than that, or you must have forgotten with whom you are speaking.

Bobbee put on airs as she piloted her nose toward the ceiling.

Indeed I do. But how do you figure that I could forget? There’s no way that you, Bobbee . . .

You got that right, sister.

The I way I see this playing out, more than likely you’ll be calling the house with concrete details before I get home. The scary thing about that is it’s only a ten-minute drive from here.

Yes, I am good like that.

You are. Heck, you don’t even have to work on gathering information. It seems to magically find its way to you.

I had to snicker to myself. I know how serious she is about providing the most complete and honest gossip. That’s her trademark.

What can I say? Let’s chalk it up and add one more to my long list of many talents.

You’ve been helpful, Bobbee. I can always count on you. Thank you for sharing your talent with me once again.

Oh wait! Bobbee screeched as I sipped my coffee.

Do you want me to spill all over myself? What is it?

I remembered something, and it’s something big. I was back in the supply room a couple of weeks ago when that one uppity female shrink that I can’t stand—you know the one?—she called your Kalem Kent into her office. Miss Uppity tried to set him up on a blind date.

Go on. Do tell.

She had a colleague for him to meet. She just knew if he had the chance to meet this friend of hers that they would hit it off. Miss Uppity even had the nerve to tell him that after he and her friend do get together, that more than likely the two of them would live happily ever after. Can you believe the nerve of that witch?

I was entranced as I listened to Bobbee’s storytelling. I had to force my eyes away from the hypnotic look that she had on me.

I have to ask. Did you happen to hear Mr. Kent’s response?

Sure did. They didn’t know I was in the supply closet as they spoke so freely. I’ve got to tell you, I was damn surprised when he answered nonchalantly, ‘Absolutely not.’ Next, he told that uppity shrink, when he was ready for a serious relationship, he wouldn’t put that decision in the hands of a matchmaker wannabe. And then he said, whenever the right lady enters his life, he would know, and he wouldn’t need to be told by some busybody.

You don’t say? He said that?

I was entranced by hearing Mr. Kent’s words secondhand.

But I do say, that shrink must have said something mouthy that I didn’t hear. But whatever she said, it was enough to piss him off. He laid into that lady shrink like a heavyweight boxer.

Bobbee threw jabs in the air. I think she must have been visualizing that lady shrink’s face.

Left, right, right, left.

Bobbee, what did he say? Bobbee, tell me!

I was practically panting with excitement to hear whatever it was that intriguing stranger had to say. I decided to take her face in my hands.

Bobbee, will you focus?

What? Oh yeah, Kent, he was so calm while speaking. In a sensual masculine tone, his exacts words were, I’ll be glad to give my all, my life, plus so much more to the lady that steals my heart. When I’m blessed with meeting that special lady, she won’t need to want or wish for anything. I’ll make sure to know her heart, her mind, her body, and her soul better than any other person on earth. Guess what he did next?"

What?

My eyebrows automatically arched high and hid behind my bangs.

He thanked her for the invite and left her standing there dumbfounded. Get this. On top of that, he landed the job at the office. Every single, solitary square inch down to the carpet was decorated by his company.

He’s a pretty good salesman, huh?

Sure, that and the fact that he kind of held the busybody matchmaking thing over her head. You know? It went something like this. He said to her, ‘I won’t ever mention this again, but—’ And that’s where he paused just long enough to grab her attention.

He wanted to make a powerful impact. I get it. Then what’s he do?

I was dying to hear what he said next in hopes that I could feel the impact myself.

Dang, Brie, you act like it’s you hiding in that supply closet.

I squinted at Bobbee. My way of telling her to shush but to also get on with the freakin’ story right now!

All right, getting back to the details right now, Ambrie!

Good, ’cause I don’t want to have to warn you again.

We both laughed, getting a kick out of our own special way of communicating using only body language.

There I was trying not to exhale too loudly for fear of being found out. I almost gave away my hiding place due to the fact that I was laughing so hard. I didn’t want to interrupt Kalem Kent. Miss Uppity needed to be taken down a couple of pegs. I’m glad I was the one to witness the event. He said I could use some help if you’re willing. Of course, she jumped on that invitation. There’s when he reeled her in, and I’ll be if he didn’t walk away with a full order pad for furniture to fill every crevice in that office building.

She hired him?

She sure did. She had to. He mentioned something about harassment. Ambrie, I think you have a strong possibility of being the special female to steal his heart. You should introduce yourself the next time you see him.

No. I don’t want to be known as desperate or a slut. Besides, I’m not good at all when it comes down to putting moves on a guy. Nausea sets in. My vision gets impaired. I was taught at a fairly young age that it’s appropriate to let the guy approach me.

Ambrie, I realize that I’m about to be sorry for the following question, but what the heck! What happens if the guy doesn’t make a move?

Then it’s simple. I don’t get asked out. Not a big deal. I’ll continue to function like always.

Sometimes I think you fell into a deep coma after your tenth birthday and you just woke up from that coma last week.

You act as if it’s a sin if a female doesn’t pounce as soon as she sees a good-looking man. We all aren’t alley cats like somebody I know. Some of us would prefer to carry themselves like dainty women ladies if you will.

Blah, blah, blah! Give it rest, why don’t cha? Do you know what year it is? Let me bring you up to speed, Ambrie, because it’s obvious you don’t have a clue. The world must be buzzing right past you at an unbelievable speed. Listen closely now. Women are wearing pants, miniskirts, and no bras, and they ask guys out for drinks, dinner, and sex for that matter. Amazing, don’t cha know?

Must you always give me a rough time? I’m comfortable with the way I behave.

Yeah, I know that’s your problem. You need to incorporate some misbehavior into your life. Besides, you ooze personality. You have that crown of shoulder-length, jet-black hair, perfect cheekbones, pinched waistline, a face of an angel, plus you have that onion butt back there, which you call a fat ass. I’ll never understand your way of thinking.

"Of course, there’s no way