Faith nodded. “I hope there’s enough fabric in my gown to let it out in the waist and hips.”
“How much weight have you gained?” Tessa asked her cousin.
“Three pounds.” Simone and Tessa shared a look. “What was that all about?” Faith asked when she glared at the sisters.
“Faith Whitfield-McMillan I doubt if you’re going to blow up in the next month,” Tessa chastised in a patronizing tone.
“But I’m eating like a horse.”
Simone placed her hand over Faith’s. “That’s because you’re pregnant.”
“How did Ethan react when you told him that he was going to be a father?” Tessa asked.
A scowl marred Faith McMillan’s beautiful face. “He acted a fool, then told me that he’s not going to make love to me until after my first trimester. He read somewhere that the first three months are when most miscarriages occur, so he’s going to play it safe and abstain.”
“You mean to tell me that he’s not going to make love to you—”
“You heard what I said, Simi Whitfield,” Faith countered angrily. “I truly want to hurt the man, because now that I’m pregnant I’m as horny as a mink in heat.”
“Why don’t you take cold showers?” Simone teased.
“I’m not you, Simi.”
“What’s that suppose to mean?” Simone snapped. She hadn’t bothered to hide her annoyance.
“Aren’t you the one who hasn’t had sex in ten years?”
“It was eight years, thank you very much.”
Tessa’s gaze narrowed. “Was?”
Simone suddenly realized she’d used the wrong verb tense, but it was too late to retract it. A rush of heat suffused her face as she picked up her water goblet and took a long swallow.
“You did it, didn’t you?” Tessa whispered. She doubted whether Micah or Rafe could hear her from the kitchen.
Faith blinked once. “She did what? What did you do, Simi?”
The seconds ticked off as Simone gathered her thoughts into some semblance of order. She didn’t want to lie to her sister and cousin, but then again she didn’t want to divulge too much because she didn’t want a repeat of her doomed relationship with Tony.
“I’m going to tell you, but on one condition.”
“What’s that?” they asked in unison.
“I want you to promise that whatever happens between Rafe and me, it will not become a hot topic.”
Faith looked confused. “Am I missing something here?”
Simone remembered she hadn’t told Faith about her protective status. Leaning across the table, she told her everything about the day that’d changed her life. The pastry chef clapped a hand over her mouth as her eyes widened.
“Oh, damn!” she whispered between her fingers. She lowered her hand. “I thought he was someone you were dating.”
Simone shook her head. “You know I’m not into blonds. He’s more your speed,” she added.
“It’s not my fault that I attract men of all races,” Faith said in defense of her dating men who weren’t only African-American. “It didn’t take long for me to realize that a frog is frog regardless of his skin color.”
The three women shared a smile. Faith had dated so many losers that she’d begun referring to them as frogs. However, her string of bad dates ended when she met and married Ethan McMillan after a six-week courtship.
Propping an elbow on the table, Tessa peered at her sister over the rim of her glass of a cherry-cranberry concoction. She’d prepared a main dish of grilled tuna to accompany a white bean and charred onion salad and penne with pancetta, and spinach with a buttery crumb topping.
“Now, we want to hear everything about your sexy bodyguard.”
Simone demurely lowered her gaze. Although she’d earned a reputation of being very vocal and at times vociferous, she was just as private about her sex life. It was only recently that she’d admitted that sex with Tony hadn’t been that great.
“I’m embarrassed—”
“What are you embarrassed about, Simi?” Faith cut in. “You’re an adult and so is Rafe, so what’s there to be ashamed of?”
“I’m not ashamed, but we’ve been together less than a week.”
“Since when is time a deciding factor when two people are attracted to each other?” Tessa stated.
Faith nodded. “I married Ethan six weeks after meeting him for the first time.”
“And I slept with Micah after a week of meeting him for the first time,” Tessa added. “You and Rafe are technically living together, so I’m certain that added to the sexual tension. Officially, he may be your bodyguard, but in reality it’s goes a lot deeper than that.”
Simone gave Tessa a questioning look. “What do you mean?”
“Open your eyes, Simone. The man’s got it real bad. He can’t take his eyes off you.”
“Hel-lo, Tessa. It’s his job to watch me.”
“Not the kind of watching he’s been doing,” Faith mumbled behind a napkin. “You’ve closed yourself off from reality because you kept hoping and praying Tony would change, Simi. Raphael Madison is reality and then some.”
Simone’s gaze shifted from her cousin to her sister. “I’m not going to make the same mistake with Rafe that I made with Tony. First of all, I’m not in love with Rafe and secondly, I’ve learned how to let go. I don’t know how long Rafe and I are going to be together, but I plan to enjoy it.”
Looping an arm around Simone’s shoulder, Faith kissed her cheek. “Good for you. Now you sound like a real Whitfield woman.”
“On that note, I’m going to brew some coffee and serve dessert,” Tessa announced as she pushed back her chair.
“I’ll take herbal tea if you have it,” Simone said, also coming to her feet. “Don’t you dare move,” she ordered Faith when she reached for plates to clear the table. “This past Saturday was the last time you’re going to stand on your feet to cook for us. Whenever we meet at your place, we’ll bring everything.”
“Simone’s right, Faith. You’re working much too hard. You’re on your feet for hours at the shop, then you work yourself into the ground baking for your private clients.” Tessa held up a hand when Faith opened her mouth to defend herself. “I don’t want to hear it, Faith,” she continued angrily. “Get your priorities straight and think of that baby you’re carrying.”
Simone wanted to throw her arms around Tessa and kiss her, but managed to conceal her delight. Tessa was always able to get Faith to listen to her without the explosive confrontations she’d had with her first cousin.
A hint of a smile softened Faith’s lips. “I hear you, Tessa, but you can save the rant because Ethan has been nagging me about the same thing,” she said quietly.
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I’ve decided to sell Let Them Eat Cake.”
“What!”
“I don’t believe it!”
Simone and Tessa had spoken in unison.
“But…but when did you decide this?” Tessa sputtered.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I didn’t say anything, because I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Finding out that you’re going to have twins is a surprise,” Simone said.
Faith rolled her eyes. “Bite your tongue, Simi Whitfield.”
She told the sisters about her husband having sold all but one of the Harlem properties he inherited from his physician aunt and uncle to finance the startup of his private car and jet service.
“He surprised me with a wedding gift of an East Harlem brownstone. Ethan had the contractor put in an industrial kitchen on the first floor for Signature Cakes. We’ve decided to use the second and third floors as our living quarters.”
Simone gave Faith a dazzling smile. “Ethan is truly a prince.”
“He’s the best,” Faith confirmed. “Now, Miss Divas, do I have your permission to cook when it’s my turn for our get-togethers?”
Tessa looked sheepish. “I guess so, now that you wo
n’t have the responsibility of running the shop.”
Rising, Faith bowed gracefully. “Thank you, Divas.”
“Have you told Ethan about selling the shop?” Tessa asked.
Faith shook her head. “I’ll let him know tonight.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” said a deep voice at the entrance to the kitchen, “but may I come in and put up a pot of coffee?”
Simone wrinkled her nose when she saw Rafe standing behind Micah. He’d removed his jacket and the hem to his shirt hung outside his waistband. Honey-blond fell over one eyebrow, making him appear devilishly rakish.
“What’s the matter, dudes? No coffee in the man cave?” she teased.
Micah exchanged a look with Rafe. “Brother, your woman has some mouth.”
“I know, but there’s not much I can do about it,” Rafe remarked, deadpan.
“Micah!” Tessa whispered. “Leave it be.” She didn’t want her fiancé and sister to get into a verbal exchange because Simone would give the assistant district attorney a run for his money. Simone had honed her debating skills in high school when she led her school to the state’s semifinals. “I’ll bring the coffee.”
Simone cleared the table and stacked dishes and pots in the dishwasher while Tessa brewed coffee and tea. Faith was left to sit and watch the activity going on around her. She didn’t know why everyone was treating her as if she were an invalid, but decided to enjoy the inactivity because when the baby came she would appreciate doing absolutely nothing.
Rafe and Micah joined the women in the kitchen as they drank coffee and devoured every morsel of the tiramisu Faith had baked earlier that morning.
Ethan arrived as Rafe and Simone were leaving. She whispered in his ear that Tessa had read his wife the riot act, to which he gave her a thumbs-up sign. She knew he would be overjoyed once Faith revealed her intent to sell her business.
Rafe said his goodbyes, then waited at the door for Simone as she hugged and kissed her family. He escorted her to his truck, then maneuvered away from the curb in one smooth motion.
Simone pressed the back of her head to the headrest and closed her eyes. She’d eaten more in the past three days than she’d eaten in a very long time. Not only was she full, but also sleepy. The motion of the vehicle lulled her into a state of complete relaxation as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Rafe stole a quick glance at the woman sitting beside him. Micah was right about her mouth. She was outspoken and brutally honest, traits he admired in a woman because of his mother’s passivity. He’d never heard his schoolteacher mother challenge her husband, not even when she knew he was wrong. Esther Madison had taken a vow to obey her husband, and she had.
The reason he’d found himself intrigued with Simone was because she was so vocal. However, he’d gotten her to understand why he insisted she not go against his orders because he’d been instructed to protect her, with his life if necessary.
He drove back to Westchester County with the sound of Mozart’s “Requiem” filling in white noise. It wasn’t rap or hip-hop, but a religious-inspired classical opera. As much as he tried, it was almost impossible for Rafe to escape his staid upbringing.
* * *
He pulled into the driveway leading to Simone’s house and parked. Not wanting to wake her, he did something he’d never done before. He carried her into the house without checking it first. She stirred in his arms, but didn’t wake up as he climbed the stairs to her bedroom.
Placing her on the bed, he undressed her, his penetrating gaze taking in every detail of her body that he hadn’t seen the night before. He hardened quickly when he stared at the fullness of her breasts. She’d accused him of being a pervert, but the reality was he never tired of staring at her—with or without her clothes. He covered her nakedness with a sheet and lightweight blanket, turned off the bedside lamp and then, turning on his heels, walked out of her bedroom when he wanted nothing more than to lie with her.
Rafe retreated to the bathroom where he washed his face and brushed his teeth. Walking into his bedroom, he slipped the handgun off his waistband and placed it on the night table, then folded his body down to the rocker and stared out the windows.
Midnight was two hours away, the beginning of another day, and with it came Ian Benton’s scheduled arraignment; it was about to begin and it brought him one day closer to when he would have to leave Simone Whitfield. Leaving her was something he couldn’t afford to think about. Staring out the window at the star-filled sky, he lost track of time as he willed his mind blank. He didn’t remember when he closed his eyes or fell asleep, but something startled him and he came to his feet. Within seconds he was reaching for the gun.
“Rafe?”
The husky sound of Simone’s voice stopped him as his fingertips grazed the grooved handle. “What’s the matter, baby?” He didn’t realize how fast his heart was beating until he turned on the lamp. His hand was shaking.
Simone stood in the doorway dressed in a delicate white nightgown that made her look fragile and virginal. Her hair flowed around her face in sensual disarray. She was staring at him as if he were a stranger.
“I don’t know whether I imagined it, but I heard a noise.”
His fingers tightened around the butt of the gun as he pushed it into his waistband. “What kind of noise?”
She shook her head, a cloud of curls moving with the motion. “It sounded like breaking glass.”
Taking two steps, Rafe caught her upper arm and pulled her forcibly out of the bedroom and into the bathroom across the hall. “Stay in here until I come for you,” he ordered after he closed the door to the closet concealing the shower stall.
The questions whirled in his head as he made his way down the darkened hallway. Had someone leaked the name of the government’s witness to Benton’s people? Had they sent another assassin to make certain she’d never appear in court to testify against their hired killer?
He counted the number of the steps it took to reach the top of the staircase. The only illumination came from the soft green night-lights Simone had placed in the many outlets. Grateful that he’d chosen to wear a dark shirt and slacks, Rafe blended into the shadows. He reached for the gun and pressed it against his thigh. Moving silently, he checked each and every window on the first floor, finding them all intact. He checked the alarm. The red light indicated it was armed.
Then, he heard it. It hadn’t been Simone’s imagination. Someone outside the house was breaking glass. Rafe weighed his options: call the White Plains Police Department and report a trespasser or contact the team of marshals guarding Judge Fischer’s house to inform them that someone was attempting to get to his witness. The latter was preferable because he didn’t want to involve the local police in a matter out of their jurisdiction.
There came a pounding on the front door, then a man’s voice calling Simone. “Open the door, Simone. It’s Tony! I need to see you.”
He smothered a savage curse. Simone’s ex-husband was screaming her name as if he were auditioning as Stanley Kowalski in Tennessee Williams’s A Streetcar Named Desire. Simone told him that it’d been six months since she last heard from Anthony Kendrick, but like bad luck he was back.
Punching in the code on the keypad, Rafe disarmed the alarm and opened the door. Kendrick didn’t have time to react when he found his throat in a chokehold.
Rafe nearly lifted him off his feet. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Anthony Kendrick clawed at the fingers around his throat. “Let me go,” he gasped.
Rafe eased his grip. “Not until you tell me what you’re doing here.”
“I came to see my wife.”
Shaking him much like a mastiff would a toy poodle, Rafe curbed the urge to hit the man who’d inflicted untold emotional pain on the woman whom he knew he was falling in love.
“She’s no longer your wife.”
Anthony, buoyed because the hold on his throat had eased, felt a rush of bravado. He squinted at Rafe through
a beer-induced haze. “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my wife’s house?”
“I ask the questions, buddy,” Rafe drawled.
Anthony swayed slightly then righted himself. “I don’t have to say anything to you.”
“Yes, you do. Either you talk to me, or talk to my friend.” Rafe raised his left hand for the first time. Light from the porch lamps glinted off the lethal weapon. He gestured with the gun. “Inside.”
Flicking on lights, Rafe directed Anthony into the kitchen. “Sit down,” he ordered once they were in the kitchen. Anthony obeyed like a child, sitting down at the smaller of the two tables.
Concealing the gun under his shirt, Rafe picked up the wall phone and dialed 911. He gave the operator his name, the address to Simone’s house and the reason for the call.
Three minutes later, he left two White Plains police officers in Simone Whitfield’s kitchen with her intoxicated ex-husband and went to get her.
Knocking lightly on the door, he called her name. “It’s all clear.”
The door opened and Simone emerged with wide eyes. “What was it?”
“Put something on over your nightgown and come downstairs.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Rafe?”
He ran the back of his hand down her cheek. “Please, baby, just do as I ask.” She nodded.
Rafe waited until Simone covered up her revealing nightgown with an oversize nightshirt and then escorted her downstairs.
“Oh, sweet….” The words died on her tongue when she recognized the man sitting in her kitchen with two White Plains police officers. Shock gave way to rage. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”
Simone almost didn’t recognize Anthony Kendrick. He’d lost a lot of weight, his eyes were sunken and from the fumes wafting in the air, she knew he’d been drinking.
She glared at the dissipated man, unable to believe she’d loved him despite his shortcomings. At first she’d been caught up with his Billy Dee Williams’ good looks; then it was his intelligence. But unfortunately his lack of ambition proved a detriment to their sharing a future.
Anthony pointed a finger at Rafe. “He pulled a gun on me.”
“I’m licensed to carry a gun,” Rafe said quickly when the officers turned in his direction.
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