The Closer I Get to You (Cochran/Deveraux Series Book 8)

by Melanie Schuster

  Paris opened the door and stepped inside, taking off her cashmere overcoat and putting it away in the hall closet. She turned to Titus and held out her hands for his leather coat. He started to say he’d keep it on, and then realized that would be slightly ridiculous. He took off the full-length lambskin coast but hung it up himself while Paris watched with a remote expression on her face. She led the way into the living room and sat down in a comfortable looking chair, indicating Titus should do the same. He was about to take a seat when something thudded down the stairs and flew past him, landing in Paris’s lap. It was a large shorthaired cat in the weirdest color Titus had ever seen on a cat. The big feline was blue, a deep velvety blue, and its fur was tipped with silver that gave it a sort of iridescence. It was beautiful, no doubt, but without question it was the most unusual cat Titus could remember seeing. The creature leapt onto Paris and she giggled madly as he put one paw on each of her shoulders and stuck his nose in her ear.

  “Thank you, Merlin. That was a lovely hug. Did you have a nice day? Did you sleep on Aidan’s bed all day or mine?” she asked as she scratched his ears.

  Titus watched the scene with amusement. Having been to Paris’s house several times, he knew this cat wasn’t hers. It had to be the property of her temporary roommate, Aidan, although the cat was obviously fond of Paris. The fondness didn’t seem to be universal as the cat took one look at Titus, hissed and fled the room. Paris smiled apologetically.

  “Merlin doesn’t take to strangers much,” she said. Suddenly her smile vanished. “Okay, you’re here. So what did you have to see?”

  Titus responded in a calm, professional voice. “I need to take a look at the layout of this place to see if there are places where you might be vulnerable.” He tried to soften his words when he saw her scowl. “Let me just take a look around, okay? Then we’ll talk.”

  The house was well-lit and airy, with multi-paned windows all around and French doors that led out to the patio and garden. Even now, in January, he could see that the flowerbeds were laid out precisely and the perennial plants were neatly prepared for winter, the rosebushes and other delicate plants wrapped in burlap. He was walking around the perimeter of the house, looking for places where an intruder could conceal himself, or where it would be easy to gain access. He could see Paris watching him through the kitchen window, and he could only imagine what she was thinking. She wasn’t going to like what he had to say; of this he was perfectly aware. But it was better to err on the side of being too cautious rather than risk her coming to harm in some way. He retraced his steps and went back into the kitchen through the French doors. Paris was standing near the work island in the middle of the room, looking at him with borderline hostility. Rather than letting her anxiety build, he wiped his feet thoroughly on the mat and suggested they go through the rest of the house.

  Paris dutifully led him from room to room, although she had a comment. “It’s not like you haven’t been here before,” she said acidly.

  Titus didn’t answer at first; although he thought about the times he’d visited Paris while they were dating. He’d always enjoyed coming to her home, the décor reflected her warm and loving personality and it was a pleasure to bask in her hospitality. Seeing how tensed and uneasy she was now he had to say something. “Yes, Paris, and you always treated me like royalty. I don’t know if I ever told you how much I liked coming over here.”

  Paris looked utterly shocked by his words. “All we did was watch DVDs and talk,” she pointed out.

  “Some of the best conversations I’ve ever had,” Titus said, his deep voice warm and caring. And some of the best kisses I’ve ever tasted in my life, he thought, remembering the sweetness of her lips and the fragrant warmth of her body. He had to remind his libido who was the boss and with great effort pulled his head back into the here and now. It wouldn’t do to remember the last time he and Paris and been alone here, sitting on the big comfortable sofa with her curled up next to him. They would make a cursory effort to watch a movie, but they always ended up doing more talking than watching and eventually, more kissing than talking. Titus liked kissing Paris more than any of the women who’d preceded her. Her lips were soft and sweet and her mouth tasted like roses and strawberries, for some reason. It was like being a teenager again, without the angst. It was just so satisfying, so sensual…

  And there I go again, he thought with irritation. What was it about this woman that made him so crazy? He forced himself to pay attention to the rooms Paris was showing him, embarrassed that he’d lost focus. Again.

  “This is the kitchen,” Paris said briskly, waving her hand at the brick walls, the high, multi-paned windows and the French doors that led to the patio. The room was accented with dark green and had tall cupboards with glass fronts. There was a work island in the center of the room and a small table with two chairs in front of the biggest window. The stove was stainless steel, as was the Subzero refrigerator which was decorated with a magnetic poetry kit. It consisted of little rectangles in white with black printing and each one had a different word on it. The words could be arranged to form poetry and Paris loved playing with it, writing whimsical little poems, some of which were actually quite good. Titus frowned as he took in the lack of curtains in the room but didn’t comment. He indicated a wooden door next to the patio doors. “Where does that lead to?”

  Paris followed his gaze. “The pantry and the laundry room,” she said, walking over to the door and opening it. There were shelves of canned and boxed foodstuffs neatly arranged on shelves, along with an array of oversized pots and pans and things like slow-cookers and woks that weren’t used very often. The laundry room was entered through the pantry and it was small and unremarkable except for another door, which Titus inquired about. “That leads into the garage, but it’s always locked.”

  Titus said nothing, but walked over and tried the doorknob, frowning as it door came open at once. Paris blushed bright red, mumbling, “How did that happen?” She tried to save face by leaving the laundry and heading back to the dining room. It was another bright and airy room with French cream walls and the mahogany Duncan Phyfe table Paris had inherited from her grandmother. Chippendale chairs with thickly padded seats upholstered in a pretty floral chintz surrounded it. There was a matching buffet with a china hutch filled with part of Paris’s collection of fanciful teapots. Paris had been collecting teapots and water pitchers in unusual shapes and colors for years and the evidence was in this room, as well as the living room. Titus always smiled when he saw a teapot because it immediately reminded him of Paris. She didn’t see his expression soften as she was still conducting him through the house like a tour guide.

  “Now we’re back in the living room,” she said tonelessly. “The sofa and chairs are Vera’s but the other stuff is mine. Nothing much to see, really.”

  Titus looked around and disagreed mentally. This room like the dining room, kitchen and the solarium where they had spent a lot of time watching the sunset and smooching, was full of the plants Paris had grown and nurtured so carefully. She had a real way with plants; even the most delicate thrived under her care. They were lush, green, and full of vigor, they looked positively sensual as well as imparting an earthy fragrance to the air. There was also a curio cabinet full of her water pitchers in crazy shapes like a rose, a toucan, a pineapple and even a leopard. They added a touch of whimsy to the room, just like the family pictures lent an air of warmth and charm. Titus took in everything about his surroundings, especially the solarium doors that led to the patio and the fact that there were no window treatments in that room, either.

  Without a word he went to test the solarium doors and heard Paris’s little sound of triumph when he found the doors really were locked. The triumph turned at once to a gasp of dismay as he gave the handle one good shake and it released at once, letting the cold winter wind into the house.

  “I guess a locksmith is in order,” Paris said without meeting Titus’s eyes.

  “That and a few
other things,” he answered in a dry voice. “So much for downstairs. Let’s go to your bedroom.”

  “Excuse you?” Paris looked at him then, her eyes full of indignation, which turned promptly to fury as Titus laughed in her face.

  ***

  Paris entered the back door of Clay and Bennie’s house, walking into the kitchen with a smile on her face that disappeared as soon as she saw her cousin. Making a great show of ignoring Clay, she hugged his wife Benita tightly and told her truthfully how good she looked. Benita, or Bennie as almost everyone called her, was not only a raving beauty; she was the epitome of grace to Paris. Nothing seemed to bother her; she was a calm, happy and very loving woman whose greatest loves were Clay and her children. She hugged Paris back, and then stepped back to take a good look at the younger woman.

  “Poor Paris. I know this is isn’t easy for you, but you know they love you or they wouldn’t be going through all these changes.”

  Paris sighed resignedly as she acknowledged the truth of Bennie’s words. She went to the kitchen sink and washed her hands so she could help Bennie get dinner on the table. Drying her hands on a dish towel she turned around and leaned on the sink. “I know my cousins love me and I love them, too, but Bennie, if you knew what Titus Argonne is putting me through you’d feel the same way I do, which is miserable!” She glared at Clay who was smiling down at her from his towering height. “This is all your fault,” she said with a frown. The frown disappeared and she dissolved in laughter as Clay, ignoring her accusation, wrapped his arms around her and rocked her back and forth, saying ‘poor baby’ over and over in his deep, gravelly voice.

  “Poor little Paris, I’m sorry I got all up in your business, but you’re my baby cousin and I can’t let anything happen to you,” he crooned.

  Paris hugged him back and tried for a stern look at which she failed miserably. “I understand Clay, I really do. But you have no idea what that man is doing to me!” She pulled away from his arms and started counting off the various indignities to which she was being subjected.

  “I can’t drive my car, for one thing. And you know how much I love that car; Daddy and the boys gave it to me when I got my MBA. Titus says it attracts too much attention. He says it’s like baiting a bear, whatever that is. He says it’s like having a big red arrow pointing at me wherever I go, so until this whole thing is wrapped up he says I have to ride to work with Aidan or he’ll send a car to pick me up. He put outdoor lights and motion detectors all around Vera’s house, and he replaced every single lock in the place. He also had me put up curtains in the kitchen and the solarium; he says I’m too exposed without them. He has someone reading all my mail at work and he has people going through The Closet, tracking the origin of every single thing that comes to the studio and I’m pretty sure he has someone following me!” she said indignantly. “It’s bad enough that I’m going to have to drive that ol’ granny-looking company car on the few occasions I’m allowed to drive anywhere, but to have someone tailing me is just too much.” Paris tried to take a stack of plates into the dining room, but Braxton, the Deveraux’s handsome and capable house manager waved away her help.

  “You just relax, I’ve got this. Sounds like you’ve had a really rough day,” he said kindly.

  Paris gladly accepted his warm sympathy. “You’re right, Braxton, I have. I’m trying not to be a spoiled brat about this, but I’m beginning to feel trapped. I just hate it, I really do.”

  Bennie went to Paris and hugged her again. Keeping her arm around Paris’s shoulder, she led her into the family room.

  “Paris, I know how you feel. I’d hate being in your position. And yeah, they’re probably overreacting, but you know how your cousins are. They protect their own. Imagine what your daddy would do if something happened to you.”

  By now they were sitting on the extra long sofa that sat in front of the huge window. Paris made a face before answering. “It’s not Daddy I’m worried about, it’s the boys. My father is an elegant and civilized man, but my brothers are primal life forces, you know that.”

  “Elegant and civilized? Sounds like my kind of man,” a teasing voice said. Paris turned her head and smiled as she saw Aunt Ruth entering the room. She jumped up from the sofa and went to give the older woman a big hug.

  “What are you doing here? It’s so good to see you,” she said, as they held onto each other in a tight embrace.

  “I’m just visiting for a few days. I love to travel and I do a lot of it since I retired. And I don’t get to see enough of my favorite niece and her beautiful family so here I am.” They sat down on either side of Benita, who couldn’t resist teasing her aunt.

  “Umm, I’m your only niece, Aunt Ruth, or did you forget that little fact?” Bennie said with a smile.

  “Of course not, darling, that’s why you’re my favorite,” Ruth answered with a wicked grin. She looked at Paris with concern. “How are you doing? Benita told me what’s been going on. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Can you make Titus Argonne disappear? I’d like that a lot,” Paris admitted. “And can you keep my daddy in New Orleans? I called him to let him know what was happening and he reacted quite well, considering. He agrees that the boys need not be informed of anything at this point, but he insists on coming here this weekend to make sure I’m okay. That’s like the last thing I need in this life, another overprotective male hanging over me. How am I supposed to enjoy the wild debauched lifestyle appropriate to my age group if I’m surrounded at all times?”

  All three women laughed and the sound of their merriment brought the Deveraux children into the room. Marty and Malcolm, the twin boys, came in, followed by Trey, the oldest son. Trey had one of his little sisters on his hip and the other one was holding his hand. Kate and Bella were twins, too, and very fond of their big brother. Paris was both touched and amused by their devotion to him; they followed him around like little kittens and he was always sweet and patient with them. They gladly let go of Trey to give Paris big wet kisses because they loved her almost as much as they did their idol. Bennie smiled as she watched them shower their cousin with affection.

  “So when is your daddy coming to town? You know you miss him,” she said gently. “I’m the only girl in a big family, too, so I know how that is. No matter how grown you are, you’re always the baby girl. And I’m the oldest child, too,” she said shaking her head as the little girls made their way to her lap for more hugs. She’d been born five minutes before her twin brother, so technically she was the leader of the pack.

  “He’ll be here this weekend,” Paris sighed. “It’ll be wonderful to see him, it seems like Christmas was such a long time ago although it really wasn’t. I just don’t want him to start worrying about me. Daddy needs to start living for himself. He needs more in his life besides his family and the law. He needs something more,” she said thoughtfully, watching Ruth who was now sitting on the floor romping with Marty and Malcolm. She looked happy and relaxed and at least ten years younger than her real age. Daddy definitely needs something more in his life and so does Ruth. This could be the perfect. Absolutely perfect, she thought with a smile. Something good is going to come out of all this after all.

  Chapter Nine

  After the dinner at Clay and Benita’s house, Paris put her plan into action. She loved nothing better than seeing deserving people get the love and happiness they desired and had quite a reputation as a matchmaker. She even referred to herself as ‘Martha May Matchmaker’ and no one was safe from her desire to make suitable couples, including Aunt Ruth. As she had explained to Aidan that night, it had suddenly dawned on her that Aunt Ruth would be perfect for her dad. Aidan had come in late that night after having dinner with an old friend from college. He stuck his head in her bedroom to say goodnight and she regaled him with her plan for putting the two of them together. He had to smile even as he was shaking his head no. “Woman, why do you do these things? Why can’t you let people alone to make their own mistakes instead of trying
to put these perfect couples together? It’s getting to be an obsession with you,” he scolded her playfully.

  Paris was sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed writing in her leather bound journal. She was wearing long-sleeved flannel pajamas in a soft pink plaid and she looked like she was about sixteen. She gestured with her ink pen as she waved away his objections.

  “I have an excellent track record in these matters,” she reminded him. “Look at Marcus and Vera. If I hadn’t interceded they might not be together today and look how happy they are. And they are the perfect couple; even you have to admit it. Daddy needs someone like Ruth. She’s smart, funny, energetic and gorgeous, besides being age-appropriate. And he’s a good match for her, too. He’s kind and caring and absolutely brilliant. And I might be biased, but he’s still got it goin’ on.”

  Aidan nodded absently because it was true; Mac Deveraux bore a startling resemblance to the late Adam Clayton Powell, another charismatic and very handsome man. “Okay, I can admit they’d certainly make a striking couple. But what makes you think they want to be paired up with anybody, much less each other?” He grunted as Merlin, who’d been attacking Paris’s toes, suddenly launched himself off the bed and cannoned into Aidan’s arms. Paris finished writing with a knowing smile.

  “Daddy needs someone in his life. Whether he admits it or not, he’s been a lonely man since Mama died. He goes out once in awhile, but he’s never had a real relationship with anyone. And I think Aunt Ruth is tired of being a nomad. I think she’s ready to have some stability in her life, the kind that comes from having a wonderful relationship in her life. You just wait and see. She’s going to think it’s a great idea.”