The next day her theory was put to the test as she had lunch with Ruth. When Paris blithely brought up the subject of Ruth coming to dinner when Mac Deveraux was in town, Ruth said no, politely but emphatically. She had to laugh at the look on Paris’s face. “Don’t look so stricken, darling. I just don’t do blind dates, that’s all.”
They were having lunch in the nicely appointed dining room in the complex. Ruth had come at Paris’s invitation to watch a taping of the show and stay for lunch. Today’s show had included a segment on exotic animals and a keeper from the Atlanta Zoo had brought several creatures to the set. Ruth adroitly changed the subject from blind dates back to the ease with which Paris had handled the animals.
“I still can’t get over you with those snakes! The way you let that thing wrap around your wrist and crawl up your neck! Eww!”
Paris laughed as she speared another piece of avocado from her Cobb salad. “It’s like I told the zookeeper. I grew up in Louisiana with four brothers; I have no fear of snakes, lizards, spiders, frogs or any other kind of slimy thing. You either learn how to deal with critters or your brothers will make your life a misery.”
“I take it you learned how to deal because the way you handled that tarantula was amazing. I don’t even like to look at the creatures, much less touch one.” Ruth looked appraisingly at the younger woman. “How did your father handle your being the only girl? Did you have to become the little woman of the house, the surrogate mother of your siblings?” Her eyes were full of curiosity and concern.
“Oh, no, not at all,” Paris answered earnestly. “My daddy was way ahead of his time as far as that was concerned. He hired a housekeeper to keep everything in order. Just because I was a female he wasn’t about to enslave me. I had no more chores than anyone else. We all had to keep our rooms clean, feed the pets and things like that and that was about it. I learned to cook from Aunt Lillian because the housekeeper did all the cooking and she didn’t want us underfoot.”
Paris paused to sip iced tea. She had a far off look in her eyes when she spoke again. “My mother was a real individualist. She wasn’t the typical southern bride, she was tough and independent and very smart and my father wanted me to be raised in her spirit. So he let me run wild with my brothers and get feminine with my aunts. First it was my mother’s sister Gertrude,” she said, making a dreadful face. Then she smiled. “But after a few summers with Gertie, I got to spend my summers with Aunt Lillian and Angelique, thank God. I’d be a big burly tomboy if she hadn’t intervened.”
Paris laughed to herself while Ruth looked out the window with a thoughtful expression. She turned back to Paris with a smug grin on her face. “Tell you what, darling. I’ll be more than happy to have dinner with you and your father on one condition.”
“Of course, anything you say,” Paris agreed eagerly.
“You have to invite Titus Argonne, too.” Ruth sat back with a satisfied smile and watched as Paris turned hot pink with shock.
***
Titus took a final look in his bedroom mirror before leaving his condo. He decided he looked at least presentable. He was anything but vain and paid a minimal amount of attention to his appearance, but he did like to look nice. He was wearing a cashmere crew neck sweater in a shade of blue that really brought out his eyes and charcoal gray trousers with a pair of black Italian loafers on his feet. The only jewelry he wore was his watch. He’d never admit it, but he was looking extra sharp in a casual sort of way. Turning off the light in the bedroom, he went to the hall closet and got out his full-length black lambskin coat, putting it on and picking up his black leather gloves from the console by the front door. He exited the condo and went to the Hummer, once again bypassing the Chrysler 300. He started the SUV and waited a few minutes before pulling out of the parking lot. While the Hummer warmed up he selected a mellow CD and wondered again what had possessed Paris to invite him to dinner.
She’d called him at his office on his private line and without any preliminaries, issued a perfunctory invitation without a hint of cordiality.
“Titus, this is Paris. If you don’t have any plans I’d like you to come to dinner on Saturday. My father will be in town and I’m cooking for him.” She didn’t say anything else, waiting for him to respond and giving him the distinct impression that she wanted him to refuse. Titus wheeled the Hummer through the early evening traffic and smiled as he recalled how crestfallen she’d sounded when he said he’d be happy to come.
“Oh. Okay, fine. Saturday at eight. See you then,” she’d said dully, and then hung up the phone.
He turned into the parking lot of his favorite wine shoppe. He selected two bottles of very fine vintage champagne, reasoning that champagne went with anything, including dessert. In addition, it was the only spirit he’d ever seen Paris consume. She just wasn’t a big drinker, but then again, neither was he. Other than an occasional glass of good wine with a fine meal, Titus didn’t indulge much either. He stepped out into the cold night and looked down at the small shopping bag in his hand. For some reason it seemed inadequate; it didn’t seem good enough for Paris. He looked across the street and spied a small flower shop with the name Blossoms by Betty on the striped awning. Miraculously, it was still open. He quickly crossed the street and entered the shop, which had an old-fashioned brass bell that tinkled to signal the presence of a customer. Titus went into a kind of sensory overload as soon as he crossed the threshold.
The shop was pretty and charming, even to Titus’s untutored male eye. It looked like a miniature jungle with plants of every description and exotic blooms of rich and rare color. There was a wonderful scent in the air from the flowers as well as from the scented candles and incense that were sold in the shop. A large white parrot in a brass cage whistled at Titus and a big black cat sprawled on the counter, enhancing the atmosphere. Titus looked around with doubtful eyes, growing uneasy at the prospect before him. He was completely out of his depth here. He’d sent virtually no flowers in his dating life; his brand of courtship didn’t dictate that kind of behavior. He was pretty sure he was totally inadequate to make a good selection. Maybe he should just forget his ill-advised impulse and take his chances with the wine. He was about to leave when a voice stopped him.
“When in doubt, carnations are always nice.”
Titus turned to the source of the remark and faced a tall older woman with a spectacular head of hair that may or may not have been hers. It looked almost too perfect to be her real hair, but she was so attractive it was hard to believe it was faux. She looked at him over the top of her reading glasses and smiled. ”I could fix you up a nice selection of carnations I’m sure your young lady would enjoy. We have several different colors, what do you think she’d like?”
“Ah, umm, I’m not sure,” Titus muttered. He stared helplessly at the glass fronted refrigerated units that housed the cut flowers.
The smiling woman gave him a knowing look and stroked the big black cat as she asked Titus another question. “What kind of flower is she?” Titus stared blankly at the woman, who chuckled quietly. “All women are like flowers, you know. We all have an essential nature that’s evocative of a specific bloom,” she told him kindly. “So I ask you again, if she were a flower, what would she be?”
“A rose,” he said without any hesitation. “Definitely a big pretty rose.”
The woman’s smile got even bigger. “Well, then. What color?”
“Something warm,” he answered. “Pink or something like that, but not that pasty-looking kind. Something very feminine and romantic, but really sexy at the same time.” He felt his face grow warm at the deeply personal response, but he stood by his answer.
The lady gave the cat a last long caress and moved around the counter. She walked to the unit and opened the door. Reaching into a vase, she took out a rose of an unusual color, a deep bronze with a pink undertone.
“This is a cinnamon rose. How about I make up an arrangement of these with a few lighter ones for contrast and some n
ice greenery? And what about a nice vase? If she’s making dinner for you she might not have time to look for something to put these in. How does that sound?”
Titus nodded, even as he wondered how the woman knew Paris was making dinner for him. He didn’t have time to dwell on it too much as the black cat took a great interest in him and walked down the counter to begin a minute inspection of Titus’s hands, which were resting there. The parrot added several comments in French, which would have compounded his unease but in mere minutes the woman was finished. The end result was so beautiful even Titus could see it for a work of art. He thanked the woman effusively and assured her it would be much appreciated as he handed her one of his platinum cards with which to pay for it
“Thank you, dear. When you need anything else, stop and see me again. I’m Betty and I have a feeling I’ll be seeing a lot more of you in the near future,” she said with a soft, pleasant laugh.
Titus wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that this was a spur of the moment thing, a one-time occurrence, but she looked so pleased he didn’t want to burst her bubble. He just nodded and made his escape. As he was crossing the street, Betty watched him go. She looked at the cat and said “Pyewacket, I believe I’ll be doing a wedding for that young man.”
The cat meowed in agreement and even the parrot chimed in. “True love, true love.”
“You’re so right, Penelope. He may not realize it yet, but that man has the look of love all over him. Now let’s lock up, shall we?”
***
Despite her vows to remain calm and wittily sophisticated this evening, her heart jumped when she realized it was Titus at the front door. It had to be Titus, since her father had arrived on Friday afternoon. Ruth was also already there as she had come over at seven to help, even though Paris had protested she didn’t need any assistance. She was actually glad of Ruth’s presence for a couple of reasons. For one thing, Paris had seen a light go on in her father’s eyes that she hadn’t seen since her mother died. As young as she’d been when that tragic event occurred, she could remember vividly how much in love her parents had been. They had been warm and affectionate with other every day and Paris could remember them kissing all the time, although she couldn’t remember a single argument. The looks on Mac and Ruth’s faces when they met was something Paris wasn’t going to forget for a long time and she’d see to it they remembered, too. Aidan might scoff, but Paris just knew when a couple was meant for each other, even though she’d been totally wrong about Titus.
When Ruth had arrived, Paris had opened the door and greeted her, complimenting her on her appearance. Ruth looked fabulous in a dark green merino jersey dress that fit her body like a glove and barely skimmed her knees, leaving her long legs on display. It brought out the clear jade green of her eyes, but she didn’t look too dressy, thanks to the very chic and expensive leopard-printed leather flats on her feet. Then Mac walked into the living room to greet the new arrival. Paris made the introductions and Mac took Ruth’s hand in his for what was supposed to be a handshake but neither one of them seemed to want to let go. They started a conversation that showed no sign of ending and at the moment Ruth was snuggled into one end of the sofa while Mac sat on the other end regaling her with his wit while he stole glances at her slender, shapely legs.
Paris was so happy that her plan seemed to be working that she momentarily forgot they were expecting a fourth until the doorbell sounded. Now she stood in front of the big oak door with her heart in her mouth, wondering again what had possessed Ruth to force her to invite Titus. She tucked her hair behind one ear, took a deep breath and opened the door. There he was, looking better than he had any right to, with shopping bags in both hands. “Hello, Titus, come on in out of the cold,” she said with a forced smile.
He entered, towering over her in a way that made her want to scream. The sheer size of him drove her mad, she always felt so dainty next to him. She offered to take the bags from him and he shook his head no. He set the smaller of the two bags on the floor and handed her the large one, a dark green one with the words Blossoms by Betty in a stylized gold script on the front of the bag. “Is that for me?” she asked softly.
“Of course it is. Open it,” he said patiently.
Paris set the bag on the round table next to the front door and gasped when she took out the contents. There was a round amber bowl like a fishbowl filled with the most amazing looking roses, all bronze except for a few ivory ones and a dusky pink one in the center. There were feathery green ferns and the combination of the greenery and the unusual spicy scent of the flowers temporarily rendered Paris speechless. She stared at the bowl in her hands, and then at Titus, who was looking at her with an expression that was difficult to read. If it had been anyone else she would have said her was looking at her fondly, but that was just crazy. Still, looking into those eyes of his made her remember her manners.
“Titus, what a lovely surprise. Thanks so much,” she murmured. “I’m going to put these in the living room so we can all enjoy them. Do you mind hanging up your coat? I seem to have my hands full,” she said with a smile. Her words were somewhat superfluous as he was already removing his coat and heading for the closet, since he knew where it was. Paris tried hard not to gape at him as she gazed at his mighty shoulders encased in the fine knit of the sweater, but it was darned hard not to, he looked like a fashion spread in a men’s magazine. She tried to maintain her equilibrium as she led him into the living room, bearing her floral treasure. Carefully placing the bowl in the center of the coffee table she reintroduced Titus to her father and Ruth.
“Daddy, you remember Titus Argonne, don’t you? Titus, this is my father, Julian Deveraux. And of course, this is Ruth Bennett, Benita’s aunt. I think you may have met her a time or two,” she said.
The older couple greeted Titus, with her father reminding him to call him Mac. “Nobody calls me Julian,” he said. “I’m so used to being called Mac or Judge, I don’t know if I’d answer,” he joked.
Ruth looked disappointed. “That’s too bad. I love the name Julian,” she said with a little sigh. “It suits you so well,” she added.
Mac turned a glazed look on her. “You can call me anything you like, Ruth. Whatever pleases you.” They smiled at each other and for a moment Paris could have sworn her father was purring, and then she realized it was Merlin who was draped across the back of the sofa basking in Mac’s aura.
“Daddy, Merlin really likes you. And he doesn’t like many people, so you should be flattered,” she told him.
“Merlin smells Bojangles, that’s what he likes about me,” Mac said. He explained to Ruth that Bojangles was a cat who’d been abandoned by the courthouse and who had adopted Mac, going home with him and taking over the house. “Now he rules the premises with a paw of iron. No decision of any importance is made without his approval. Luckily he’s a benevolent despot and allows me the illusion that I’m still the master of my fate.”
Just as Paris asked Titus what he wanted to drink, Merlin caught sight of him and hissed. Paris scolded the big cat.
“Merlin, stop that. He’s not a date, he’s just visiting, and you don’t have to go all territorial on him.” She said she’d be right back with the drinks and left the room without noticing the look on Titus’s face. Ruth excused herself to help Paris and left the two men alone.
***
They sat in silence for a moment while Merlin decided to escalate the hostilities between him and Titus. Made bold by the presence of his new best friend, Mac, Merlin slithered down from his perch on the back of the couch and presented himself before Titus. He sat up in front of the big man like an Egyptian deity and trained his large green eyes on Titus’s blue-gray ones, emitting a low vibrato. It was one of the strongest weapons in his arsenal, the one that unnerved even the most stalwart of Paris’s dates. Titus leaned forward and whispered, “Boo”. Merlin jumped straight in the air and flew out of the room while Titus leaned back in his chair and collapsed in laughter.
Mac laughed as well, but then he addressed Titus with utter seriousness in his voice. “You’re good at keeping cats at bay, but how are you with humans? Are you sure you can keep my baby girl safe? She’s my only daughter; I can’t get another one and wouldn’t want one. I wouldn’t trade my baby for her weight in gold. Paris is very, very precious to me and to her brothers. I need your assurance that you can protect her,” he said with a lethal calm.
Titus sat up straight and gave the older man a steely look of confidence and commitment. “I’d lay down my life for Paris, sir. I have the best investigative staff in the country and I want you to understand that we’re going to find the person who’s making these threats before they escalate into something else. However, you have to know that no one is going to touch her, not while I’m alive to protect her. If she were my daughter I’d probably be just as concerned as you are, but you have my personal assurance that no one can harm Paris and continue to live. You have my word on that.”
Mac seemed to relax slightly after hearing those words. “Tell me the truth, son. What’s really going on here? Has anything happened other than someone sending a couple of crank letters to the studio?”
Titus nodded his head. “Yes. There have actually been seven letters sent; three that Paris isn’t aware of and I want to keep it that way. I brought photocopies of them for you to see, sir, I had a feeling you’d want to be more aware of the true situation,” he said. “I’ll be right back,” he added, rising from the chair and going to the hall closet. He retrieved the copies from his coat pocket and handed them to Mac.
“I have to warn you, sir, they’re graphic in the extreme. This is what got Aidan’s attention in the first place; he recognized them as being the work of a sick mind and moved in here with Paris to protect her.”
The Closer I Get to You (Cochran/Deveraux Series Book 8) Page 10