Taken by Storm

by Rochelle Alers

  After they entered the ballroom to rousing applause, it took less than half an hour for Simone to develop a healthy respect for her sister’s profession as a wedding planner. She had to make certain the servers refilled trays and platters of food favorites: shrimp, lobster, sushi and tempura. Tessa had hired a band and a DJ. Recorded music would play during the cocktail hour and dinner, and the band would perform for dancing.

  Simone noticed several men in business suits lingering, while not eating or drinking. Walking over to her father, she tapped his arm to get his attention. “Daddy, who are the men standing around doing nothing?”

  Malcolm gave his daughter a slight smile. “Ask your boyfriend.”

  “I will.” Turning on the heels of her silk-covered stilettos, she searched the crowd for Rafe, finding him sitting at one of two tables for single guests. A very attractive young woman with short black hair clung possessively to his arm. His bored expression spoke volumes.

  Simone, having removed her hairpiece, lifted the hem of her flowing gown with one hand. She caught Rafe’s gaze, and he rose to his feet.

  “May I please have a word with you?”

  Rafe nodded to the woman who’d latched on to him as soon as he sat down. “Excuse me, please.” He escorted Simone a short distance away.

  “Who are the guys in the black suits?”

  “They’re my men,” Rafe admitted. “I wanted a little extra manpower because of the number of people here.”

  A slight frown furrowed her smooth forehead. “It’s a bit much, Rafe. The NYPD’s police commissioner and several high-ranking department officials are scheduled to arrive at any moment, so I don’t believe anyone would attempt anything with all the police personnel.”

  “Assassins have shot presidents despite all the precautions taken by the Secret Service.” His expression hardened. “The men will stay until the end.”

  She knew arguing with him would yield nothing. “Okay, but you should let them get something to eat. The head chef outdid himself tonight.”

  A hint of a smile softened Rafe’s mouth. “When are you going to eat? Right now you should be sitting at the bridal table eating.”

  “I have to make certain everything’s running smoothly.”

  “Wrong, Simone. Your father and uncle have owned and operated a very successful catering establishment for the past twenty-seven years, making certain everything runs smoothly. Now, go sit down, eat and enjoy your sister’s special day. Everything is perfect.”

  “You think?” she teased.

  He smiled. “I know.” Without warning, he sobered. “I’d like you to save me one dance.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “You dance?”

  “Yes, Simone Whitfield, I dance. You think I’d only do the Cotton-Eyed Joe or the Texas Two-Step?”

  A slight blush touched her cheeks. “Are you ever going to let me live that down, farm boy?”

  “Never, city girl. Just remember to save a dance.”

  “Just one?”

  He nodded. “We can share another one when we get back to White Plains.”

  “What we have to do is talk, not dance.”

  “We’ll talk and dance.”

  Simone nodded. “Now, please tell your men that they can eat and drink.”

  Rafe resisted the urge to salute Simone. “I will.”

  She returned to the dais and found Micah standing off to the side with a very dark and drop-dead gorgeous man wearing an exquisitely tailored suit that had to have been made to measure expressly for his tall body.

  Micah beckoned to her. “Simone, I’d like you to meet my law school mentor, Kyle Chatham. Kyle, this is my sister-in-law, Simone Whitfield.”

  Simone extended her hand. “It’s nice meeting you, Kyle.”

  She remembered from the seating arrangement chart that Kyle was seated at one of the singles’ tables. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his angular face with chiseled cheekbones, deep-set, slanting, catlike, warm brown eyes and close-cropped black hair with a sprinkling of gray that looked like diamond dust.

  Kyle’s eyes took in everything about Micah’s sister-in-law in one, sweeping glance. Cradling her hand in his much larger, well-groomed one, he raised it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “The pleasure is mine, Simone. May I call you Simone, Miss Whitfield?”

  A rush of color darkened her expertly made-up face. There was no doubt Kyle Chatham was flirting with her and she liked it. “Yes, you may, Kyle.”

  Kyle let go of her hand. “Will you save me a dance? A very slow dance,” he added, smiling and exhibiting a set of perfect white teeth.

  He was the second man within minutes that had asked her to save him a dance. “I’ll save you one, but I don’t know how slow it’ll be.”

  He winked at her. “I’ll take my chances.”

  Simone gave the gorgeous man a polite smile. “Please excuse me. I have to get something to eat.” Two waiters were assigned to see to the needs of those at the bridal table. Tessa preferred buffet to sit-down because it made for a more relaxed dining atmosphere. Guests were permitted a wider array of choices, and they could refill their plates as often as they wanted. Rolling bars were positioned strategically for beverage orders.

  “I’ll bring you what you want,” Kyle volunteered smoothly.

  Simone met his gaze. She knew he was interested in her, and there was no doubt she would’ve been into him if she hadn’t been so in love with Raphael Madison—a man who’d confessed to loving her.

  As a thirty-three-year-old woman, she was beyond playing games. She and Rafe had reached the point where their relationship had to be resolved.

  * * *

  Rafe watched with narrowed eyes as the impeccably dressed man leaned in a little too close to Simone to be polite. There was no doubt the man was interested in or flirting with her, but it was all for naught. Simone Whitfield was still a single woman, but he prayed she wouldn’t be much longer. He planned to propose marriage and put a ring on her finger—but only if she agreed to marry him. If she claimed she didn’t love him, then he would give her all the time she needed to come to love him as much as he loved her.

  Have your fun now, because it’s me she’s going home with tonight. Rafe took one more lingering glance at Simone and the man cheesing at her, then made his way to his fellow marshals to give them permission to eat.

  Voices lowered appreciably when the band members took their places. As soon as the octet launched into a soulful rendition of Marvin Gaye’s “Got To Give It Up,” couples crowded the dance floor.

  Rafe watched Simone dance with her father, brother and Micah’s brothers, waiting his turn. When the male lead singer took the microphone to sing Marc Anthony’s “I Need You,” he crossed the dance floor with long strides and tapped the shoulder of the man who’d hovered a little too closely to his woman.

  “Excuse me, but my date did promise me this dance.”

  A stunned expression froze Kyle Chatham’s even, masculine features. “Your date?” he asked Simone.

  Smiling, she nodded. “Yes. We’re living together.”

  Taking a step back, Kyle bowed elegantly to Rafe. “You’re a lucky man.”

  Rafe inclined his head. “I know. And thank you.” Taking Simone’s hand, he led her out to the area set aside for dancing.

  Folding her close to his body, he pressed a kiss to her hair. “I’m glad you told him that we’re living together.”

  “It’s not as if I lied,” she said quietly. “He’s very nice, but I didn’t want to lead him on to make him believe that I’d be available to date him, given my current situation.”

  “What is your current situation, baby?”

  Leaning back, she stared up at Rafe. “I’m living and sleeping with a man who picked the wrong time and place to tell me that he was in love with me.”

  “Why was it wrong?”

  A mysterious smile parted her lush lips. “Because he didn’t give me time to tell him that I’m also in love with him.”

&n
bsp; Rafe missed a step, but caught himself as he spun her around and around, the flowing skirt of her dress sweeping around his trousers. He hummed, then sang along with the vocalist, “Girl I really need you, need you. Babe, oh baby. Won’t you marry me. Won’t you marry, marry me. I love you. Oh, I need you.”

  Simone pressed her face to his shoulder, fighting not to break down and cry. “Don’t do this to me, Rafe. Not here.”

  “Then where, baby?”

  “Let’s go somewhere and talk.”

  Rafe caught the eye of one of the marshals as Simone led him out of the reception hall and into her father’s office, the officer following and standing outside the closed door.

  A table lamp provided the only illumination in the small space filled with photographs of the many clients who’d used Whitfield Caterers for their special celebrations. Rafe sat on the edge of the desk and pulled Simone to stand between his legs.

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Us, Marshal Madison.”

  Rafe tried not to smile. “What about us, Miss Whitfield?”

  “What’s happening with us, Rafe? We’ve done everything we weren’t supposed to do. In other words, we’ve broken all of the rules.”

  A dazzling smile brightened his face. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

  “You tell me, darling.”

  He angled his head. “I love you and you claim—”

  “Claim! I told you that I love you.”

  “Okay. I stand corrected. I love you and you love me, and because we’re living together and fornicating, I believe it’s only right that we get married.”

  She patted his chest. “Oh, no, you didn’t say fornicating.”

  “Yeah, I did,” he said, laughing softly. “When do you want to get married?”

  Her jaw dropped. “How are you asking about a date when you haven’t asked me whether I’d like to marry you?”

  He went to knees while holding her hands. “Will you, Simone Whitfield, marry me?”

  Simone felt as if she were drowning in twin pools of sapphire as she saw something in Rafe’s gaze that hadn’t been there before: love. She’d recognized passion, but not love.

  Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled not to cry. Tough girl Simone Whitfield was not prone to tears, but she was close, very, very close, to breaking down completely.

  “Yes, Raphael Madison, I will marry you.”

  Coming to his feet, he pulled her close and kissed her with all the emotion he could summon at that moment. With Simone, he would right all the wrongs, realize his dreams and look forward to a future he never would’ve imagined.

  “You know I’m going to have to talk to your father to get his permission.”

  “But…but you’ve already asked me. Isn’t that enough?”

  Rafe shook his head. “Don’t forget that I’m a simple farm boy who was raised the old-fashioned way.”

  “Don’t forget country.”

  “Hey! Ain’t nothin’ wrong with country.”

  “Sure, you right,” she teased.

  “Now who’s country?”

  Stepping back, Simone swirled around gracefully. “Not me. You’re getting a city girl, darling, and don’t you forget it.”

  “I’ll talk to your father later on tonight, then tomorrow we’ll hit a couple of jewelry stores to buy you a ring.”

  Putting her arms around his waist, Simone kissed his warm, tanned throat. “I’d like to have a winter wedding.”

  “What about a Christmas Eve wedding?” Rafe suggested.

  “I’d love a Christmas wedding. Wherever we have it, I want my wedding flowers to be white poinsettias. What about children, Rafe? Do you want to wait a year or two or begin trying as soon as we’re married? And what about your job? Are you—”

  “Enough, baby,” Rafe crooned, then covered her mouth with his in an explosive kiss that sucked the air from her lungs.

  Eyes bright, lips slightly swollen from his rapacious kiss, Simone nodded numbly. “Okay.” It was the only word she could think of as Rafe escorted her out of the room, nodding to the man standing off in the shadows.

  They returned to the reception as Tessa and Micah were cutting the cake Faith had designed. It was an exquisite Asian-themed four-layer rectangular creation featuring Chinese symbols for love, luck, happiness and prosperity—all of the things Simone would have as Mrs. Raphael Madison.

  CHAPTER 19

  Three days after Simone Whitfield officially announced her engagement to Raphael Madison, they’d returned from their early morning walk to find a man sitting on her front porch.

  “It’s all right,” Rafe said when Simone moved behind him. “He’s my supervisor.”

  She was grateful she and Rafe hadn’t been holding hands. But then she couldn’t remember a time when he’d been less than professional whenever they were out in public.

  The tall, spare man rose to his feet with their approach. He wore a dark blue windbreaker over a white shirt and dark slacks.

  He nodded to her. “Miss Whitfield. I’m here to see Deputy Marshal Madison.”

  Simone walked to the far end of the porch, staring out past the sloping lawn to the landscape across the river. Something told her that the strange man’s presence did not signal good news. As much as she tried, she wanted to shake off a feeling of foreboding.

  Not now, she thought. Not when her life was as perfect as she could’ve imagined it to be. Rafe had had a lengthy talk with not only Malcolm, but also Lucinda, reassuring her parents that he would love, comfort and provide for their daughter and the children he prayed they would have together. He’d also discussed the risks that came with being a marshal, but when he told them of his plan to attend law school they appeared visibly relieved.

  Later that afternoon, they’d gone shopping for rings, and Simone had selected an exquisite square-cut emerald surrounded by near-flawless diamonds instead of the ubiquitous diamond solitaire.

  When she’d called Faith to give her the news, her cousin had offered her East Harlem brownstone for the wedding and reception, claiming the third-floor ballroom was projected for completion by summer’s end. She would have to wait to tell Tessa her good news because her sister and new husband were honeymooning in the Greek Isles.

  Simone didn’t have to wait long to uncover why the man had been waiting for Rafe when he came around the porch to get her. “Yes, Rafe.”

  Cradling her face in his hands, he gave her a sad smile. “It’s over. Benton decided to take a plea.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The federal prosecutor offered him a deal of twenty-five to life in lieu of a trial.”

  Her eyes grew wild. “Are you telling me the government bargained with a murderer? That he’ll spend twenty-five years in prison, then get out to murder again? How old is he, Rafe?”

  “Forty-two.”

  “He’ll get out when he’s sixty-seven. And that’s certainly not too old for him pick up where he left off. You used me! The government used me! All the talk about putting him away for life meant nothing.” She pounded Rafe’s chest with her fist. “Nothing!” she shouted.

  Holding her wrists firmly, Rafe pulled her up close. “Even if he gets out in ten years, he won’t be able to hurt you.”

  “And why not!” she spat out.

  “Because he’s losing his sight. He’s been diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa. It’s a progressive degenerative eye disease marked in the early stages by night blindness. That’s why Benton’s attacks were always committed during the day. By the time of his release, if he makes it, he’ll be blind. He’s being transported to a supermaximum security federal facility as we speak.”

  Simone closed her eyes, trying to slow down her runaway pulse. “Where?”

  “Illinois.”

  She nodded. Illinois was far enough from New York where she wouldn’t have to keep looking over her shoulder. “What happens now, Rafe?”

  “I have to go, but I’ll be back.”

  “W
hen?”

  “Give me a couple of weeks.”

  “You promise?”

  “Yes, baby, I promise. I’m going inside to pack my things. Now, I want you to go inside the kitchen and stay there until I leave.”

  She blinked once. “Why?”

  The seconds ticked off slowly as they stood staring at each other. Holding out his hand, he gave her the keys to the house. “I want you to walk away from me, because right now I can’t bear to walk away from you.”

  Curbing the urge to kiss the man to whom she’d pledged her future, Simone rounded the porch and unlocked the front door. She didn’t see the man standing on the top step waiting for Rafe. She couldn’t see more than a foot in front of her face because of the tears distorting her vision.

  She lost track of time as she sat at the table in the dining nook, waiting and listening. She couldn’t hear Rafe’s footfalls on the staircase or the soft click of the door closing behind him. What she did hear was the sound of his SUV when he started up the engine. Then there was nothing—no sound and no movement.

  The house appeared abnormally empty. It was the way it’d been before Raphael Madison had walked arrogantly through her front door. Light coming through the trio of windows reflected off the precious stones on her left hand. Seeing the ring was a reminder of the promise he’d made when he’d slipped it onto her finger. A promise she knew in her heart he would honor forever.

  * * *

  The rain began at two that afternoon, coming down in torrents before subsiding, only to start up again. With the onset of the intense summer heat Simone had begun relaxing on the front porch. The smell of the rain-soaked earth was an aphrodisiac that heightened the fragrance of the flowers she’d planted around the front of the house.

  She slept in Rafe’s bed the first night he left, the second, third…and now it’d been more than two weeks and she hadn’t returned to her own bed. She closed her eyes, listening to the gentle patter of rain on the roof. Simone didn’t know how long she’d slept when something woke her. She opened her eyes to stare at a broad back under a black T-shirt. A man sat on the top step of the porch, legs outstretched, staring out at the rain. Her heart was beating so fast she feared moving or it would stop beating entirely.