When he heard Clay telling Paris her life was in danger, a white-hot rage descended on him with an intensity he couldn’t equate with any feeling he’d ever experienced. As he heard the details about the letters, his anger didn’t dissipate; it merely fused into an intense weapon with the force of a guided missile that lacked a clear focus. The target was whoever thought they could make Paris uncomfortable, much less put her in jeopardy. When he found out who was behind this, they’d pay, that went without saying. Right now his most important job was to make sure Paris was safe because if anything happened to her, if she so much as broke a fingernail, the person responsible would face a lifetime of agony at Titus’s hands. No one in the room could detect this intense rage; at least Titus hoped they couldn’t. No one could know how personally he was taking the situation, to the outside he had to present his usual stoic face that meant he was taking care of business. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, this was another job, nothing more. The fact that he would never do anything more important in his entire life was entirely his own affair.
It had been a couple of hours since Clay’s announcement to Paris and the time hadn’t been kind to her. They were now alone in her private office and she was seated at her desk with her head lowered and her face in her hands. She looked exhausted and the sight of her appearing so stressed and unhappy was tearing Titus up inside but he successfully disguised his feelings with a mask of professional indifference. She wasn’t making it easy for him, though.
“Paris, we can be as discreet as we need to be unless a time comes when the harassment escalates, at which point our efforts will show a corresponding growth,” he said quietly. Paris looked at him with little liking and graciously invited him to sit down.
“Quit hanging over me, would you? You’re working my last nerve,” she said bitterly. “And can you also shut up for a minute? I don’t want to hear about any of this mess for a while.”
Titus recognized the fact that she was close to imploding and he honored her request by sitting down, but he had a few more points to make.
“Paris, I’m sure this is difficult for you, but it has to be done. We can’t afford to let any more time pass on this,” he told her.
“Well, let’s circle the wagons and protect the helpless womenfolk,” she returned with sarcasm dripping from every syllable. The look in her eyes reflected her disdain.
“Titus, how can you expect me to take this seriously? Aidan intercepts a couple of crank letters and all of a sudden I’m in some kind of mortal peril? Come on now, even you have to admit that’s kind of a stretch. I think everyone is overreacting. I don’t think anyone is after me and I certainly don’t think I need anyone standing over my shoulder to protect me from someone who’s not there.”
She sat back and stared at Titus defiantly, waiting for his response. He returned her stared, his glacial eye color suddenly softening to a temperate blue.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Go? Go where? Are you putting me on a tether or something?” she asked, her eyes widening with apprehension.
“Let’s get something to eat, Paris. I’m starving and you look like you are, too. We’ll talk about this over lunch.”
He rose and came around the side of her desk, holding out his hand to her. She stared at it for a long moment before taking it. In minutes they were out of the building and on the way to his Hummer. “Where are you taking me?” she asked.
He smiled down at her for the first time. “Someplace you’ll like. Trust me.”
***
Paris looked around the small restaurant with great interest. It was homey and charming like its name, Aunt Sister’s. The dining room was sweetly old-fashioned, with a pretty floral print on the navy wallpaper, starched white lace curtains at the windows with shades that matched the walls and snowy white napkins and tablecloths. The floors were made of hardwood that looked old, but were buffed to a satiny patina. There were green plants in the windows and on stands throughout the room, and each table bore a small vase of black-eyed Susans and Queen Anne’s lace. Even though the flowers were silk, they were very realistic and enhanced the warmth of the décor. The background music was perfect; Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah Vaughn serenaded them in the nearly empty room. Despite her turmoil, Paris felt herself begin to relax.
She looked at Titus and felt something else, too; her traitorous heart began to melt. She gazed at his handsome face and her eyes locked on his, which had turned back to their usual warm color. Her heart started to do its usual Titus dance, the happy little flip-flip-flip that always started when he was around. Goosebumps sprang up on her arms as a well of common sense overflowed and she was reminded of that fateful night. She didn’t know it, but her thoughts made her face go from relaxed and content to stern and wary. She wanted to say something aloof and scathing to show Titus she was in control of the situation, but she couldn’t trust her vocal cords at the moment. A snit was brewing inside her, predicated by the fact that Titus was being so matter of fact. Obviously, being in her company wasn’t having any effect on him whatsoever. It didn’t seem to register with him that this was the first time they’d been together for more than two seconds since that night. To her it was just more proof that she was right, he couldn’t possibly have any feelings for her, then or now.
Her jaw tightened and her throat constricted as the memory of how he’d touched her, how he’d made her feel came back to her with an unerring accuracy as vivid as it was unwelcome. Her body began its inevitable response to his proximity just as “The Nearness of You” floated out of the hidden speakers. Heat radiated up her spine and down her thighs and she wanted to run out of the restaurant, just get up and leave the big stupid overbearing oaf sitting there. A couple of things prevented this, though. One, she didn’t have a ride back to the office, and two, she wasn’t sure her legs would support her right now. She refused to look into those compelling eyes again and stared out the window instead. A hostile silence began rearing its unsociable head, but the arrival of their meal put an end to it.
Paris brightened at once as their pretty server put their plates in front of them. The food looked and smelled so delicious all thoughts of how much she disliked the man across the table vanished and she smiled for the first time since Clay’s office. She reached into her purse for a small bottle of antibacterial cleanser and quickly rubbed it on her hands. Without thinking about what she was doing, she automatically offered the bottle to Titus, who took it and applied some while she placed her napkin in her lap. Later she decided it was those dratted good manners of her that accounted for what happened next. She held her hand out to Titus and they said grace together, they way they always did whenever they dined. It was such a part of her, so natural that she’d forgotten momentarily that he was the enemy. But by now she was too hungry to care.
Grace over, they both attended to their meals with good appetite. Succulent, golden brown baked chicken with savory cornbread dressing, fresh green beans cooked with shallots and seasoned to perfection, sweet potato fritters crusted with chopped pecans, sliced cucumbers and tomatoes in a tart vinaigrette and piping hot cornbread muffins made for a feast as good to the tongue as it as was to the eye. It was all Paris could do not to moan out loud as she daintily but thoroughly cleaned her plate. She did sigh in repletion as she dabbed her lips with her napkin. After taking a sip of the aromatic iced tea, or “sweet tea” as it was known in all parts of the south, she made herself look Titus in the eye.
“Thank you so much for the lovely meal, Titus. It was absolutely delicious and just what I needed. I feel much better,” she said honestly.
Titus smiled at her and asked if she wanted dessert. “They have a bread pudding here that’s incredible. You want to try it?”
“I couldn’t, I’d pop out of this dress if I did,” she demurred.
“Well, I have a real craving so I’m going to order some. You can taste mine, how about that?”
In minutes he was holding out a spoo
nful of the warm pudding. It was rich, light and smelled deliciously of cinnamon and nutmeg, and was full of chopped walnuts and plump dried cherries. To make it more sinful, it was covered in a heavenly bourbon sauce. Paris leaned forward and allowed him to put the spoon in her mouth, her eyes closing in ecstasy as the flavors oozed down over her tongue.
“Mmm, that’s wonderful,” she sighed. Her tongue darted out and touched the corner of her mouth. “Thank you, Titus.”
Their server approached the table with reverence in her eyes. “Umm, Miss Deveraux, I hate to impose, but I’m a big fan of yours. And my mother is, too. She tapes your show every day. I was wondering if you could sign this for her.”
Paris gave the young woman her best smile. “You bet I will, gorgeous! Thanks so much for watching; I’m glad you enjoy it. I loved my lunch here, this is a wonderful restaurant,” she said warmly.
The young woman blushed and smiled shyly. “Thank you for saying that. This is my family’s restaurant. My mother and her sisters opened it and we all work here. We may have to close in a few months if business doesn’t pick up, but we’re praying that doesn’t happen,” she said quietly.
“Close? This wonderful place? Oh, I don’t think so,” Paris said emphatically. “This place is too good to go out of business. Is your mother here now, or one of her sisters? I’d love to talk to them,” she told the astounded young woman.
She accompanied the girl, whose name was Susy, to the office in the back of the restaurant, leaving Titus at the table. “Susy, if your mother and your aunts don’t mind, I think we could do something to prevent this place from ever closing. Anyplace that serves food like this needs to stay open for a long, long time,” she said confidently.
***
Titus expelled a huge breath of pure relief as Paris left the table. Of course as he watched her lush, shapely body walking away his passions returned fiercer than ever, so it was a very short respite indeed. Paris had been driving him to the brink of madness all afternoon and he needed her to be out of his sight even for a few minutes so he could calm down. Paris looked gorgeous. She always looked beautiful, but today she was especially delectable. She was wearing a wrap dress in a peach color that brought out all the warmth of her skin while making her glow. The dress was really showing off her beautiful curves without being vulgar. It wasn’t low cut, but it made her breasts look spectacular. And it fit her body in a way that showed off her small waist and curved hips, plus it had the added benefit of displaying her legs. She didn’t wear dresses often so it was always a treat to see her legs and Titus took full advantage, staring after her hungrily.
He wiped his hands on the napkin almost viciously. Taking her to lunch seemed a good idea at the time, but it was turning out to be more difficult than he planned. After he’d discovered that Paris had left the hotel, he was furious with himself for mishandling the situation. He knew he’d hurt her and that was the last thing he’d ever want to do. He’d blown up her cell phone, calling her over and over to leave messages, which she ignored. He finally managed to get her and wasted no time in apologizing, an apology she all but ignored. Even today he could recall her exact words to him.
“Titus,” she’d said in precise and final tones, “There’s no need to prolong this. As you so accurately pointed out, you and I made a mistake. We got caught up in the moment and while being together was enjoyable, it was regrettable. But being the mature adults we are, we can live with that, don’t you think? Seeing each other in the future is inevitable and it needn’t be torture. We can just forget anything ever transpired between us and life can go on.”
Titus took a long drink of tea to extinguish the pain those words caused him even now. It didn’t make any sense for him to feel like this because this was the way he wanted it. He was the one who’d set the rules, he was the one who said he was wrong for her and they shouldn’t be together, so why was he tripping because they were of one accord? Why did it bother him so much that she was accepting what he’d said calmly and maturely?
He watched her closely as she returned to the table with two smiling women who had to be the owners of Aunt Sister’s. He could finally admit why her words tortured him even now. Because she said she loved me. With Herculean effort he ignored the twisting pain in the pit of his stomach as he rose to acknowledge the women.
Chapter Eight
Paris was so animated and excited on the way back to the complex Titus didn’t have the heart to reiterate the things they’d discussed earlier. She was full of plans for helping the Summers sisters make a success of their restaurant. The women had come out to the dining room with her while she checked her planner to set up a time for them to come to her office and talk about an appearance on Paris & Company. She had a regular cooking segment on the show and it was the perfect venue for showcasing their incredible culinary skills. Paris hadn’t stopped talking from the time he helped her into her coat and led her out to the parking lot while he seated her in the Hummer. She was like her old self, bubbly, enthusiastic and utterly charming.
“There are three of them, the sisters, I mean. Dorothy is a nurse and Lena and Carmen are both teachers,” she reported. She looked directly at Titus and flashed him her brilliant and familiar smile as she explained the origins of the sister’s names. “They were named after Dorothy Dandridge, Lena Horne and Carmen McRae, isn’t that something? They’re looking for a way to secure some financial independence for their families. Dorothy, they call her Didi, is a widow, Lena’s husband disappeared and Carmen is still single. Lena and Didi have children, though, and they want to be able to provide for them and make sure they go to college and not have to worry about expenses. They all love to cook and they’re very creative, that’s how they came up with this place, which is just wonderful, but they could certainly use some exposure which is where I come in.”
When she finally stopped for air Titus looked at her pretty flushed face and smiled. She looked so pretty it was all he could do to keep himself from leaning over to take her lips in a hot, binding kiss. Luckily, they’d arrived at the complex and there was work to be done. He escorted her into the building and they went directly to her offices. The excitement faded from her face and the look with which he was becoming familiar returned. It was an expression of pure Deveraux stubbornness that meant she wasn’t going to acquiesce to his plans meekly. It was okay, though, he figured he could lull her into cooperation.
While he was helping her remove her coat, he reminded her of the work they had to do. “Paris, I’m going to need one of my people to go through your mail every day, your mail and anything else that you receive here,” he told her.
Paris merely raised a brow. “You might need more than one person,” she said dryly.
Titus asked curiously, “How much stuff are we talking about?”
“Come with me and I’ll show you,” Paris said with a beckoning finger. They left the office and walked down a corridor to an unmarked door.
“Welcome to The Closet,” Paris said as she opened the door. Titus was amazed. It was a large conference room that had been pressed into service as a storage space. Deep shelves lined all the walls and a waist high storage unit with shelves centered the room. The shelves were full of merchandise of all kinds, from shampoo and hand lotion to expensive cosmetics, small appliances and food items.
“What’s all this, Paris?”
She looked embarrassed and wrapped an arm around her waist while she twirled a lock of hair around her forefinger.
“This is the result of me opening my big mouth,” she admitted. “If I mention a certain shampoo, the next day I get a case of it. If I say I use a certain brand of makeup, I get a huge assortment from the manufacturer. Then I get an even bigger supply from their rival in the hopes that I’ll like it better. If I wear an identifiable piece of jewelry, the maker will send me a special design, well, you get the idea. I get gifts from viewers, from sponsors, from everywhere you can imagine. I try really hard to keep a low profile because I don’t want to
solicit this kind of thing,” she said sheepishly.
“We call this place The Closet. I give the stuff away to the staff or to a women’s shelter or anyplace that can use it. During the holidays I let the staff do their Christmas shopping in here and the proceeds go to charity. It’s kind of embarrassing, but it ends up as a good cause, so I deal with it,” she said with a modest shrug.
Titus looked around the room and realized how complicated this particular assignment was going to be. With an influx of goods like this it could be relatively easy for something deadly to get to Paris. This was going to require round the clock surveillance and that would mean keeping several of his agents on site, something he knew Paris would hate. Furthermore, it would mean changing the way she did things, something else she was going to despise. His eyes once again took on a silvery cast as he thought about the alternative. Paris might be right; there could be a chance they were overreacting, that no one was after her. But if there even the remotest possibility that her life was endangered, they had to be prepared.
“Okay, Paris, I get the idea. If you don’t mind being in my company a little longer, I have one more thing that needs to be checked out,” he said without looking at her.
“What would that be?” she asked, barely hiding her irritation.
“Your house.”
***
Titus followed Paris in her sporty little Thunderbird, shaking his head at the personalized license plate. “That’s got to go. The Barbie Dream Car draws enough attention, but the LUVPARIS license plate is just too much. To a sick mind that looks like advertising. Or an invitation,” he said to himself with gruff concern. A pithy bit of profanity escaped his lips as he imagined the look on Paris’s face when he told her she’d be chauffeured to work until it was certain she was safe. “I guess I’ll be on her hate list permanently,” he muttered. They arrived at her brick town home in the Ansley Park area of Atlanta. Paris was renting the house from Marcus Deveraux’s wife, Vera. It had begun life as a carriage house at the turn of the century, now it was a charming two-story house with a small front yard and a spacious backyard. Titus parked in front of the house as Paris pulled into the driveway. He was slightly annoyed that he didn’t get to her in time to open her car door, but he made no comment, a mere tightening of his jaw was the only indication anything was amiss.
The Closer I Get to You (Cochran/Deveraux Series Book 8) Page 8