The Sweetest Temptation

by Rochelle Alers

  Looping her arms around Ethan’s neck, Faith pressed a light kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m going to have to say good-night because I have to get up early.”

  “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

  She shook her head. “No. The shop is closed on Sunday and Monday.”

  Lowering his head, Ethan kissed Faith’s forehead. “Try to relax.”

  “Yes, Doctor,” she teased, smiling.

  “On that note, I think it’s time I take my leave. Good night, Faith.”

  Faith’s smile was still in place after she closed and locked the door. Their brief encounter had gone well, and she’d promised Ethan that she would go out with him.

  Unknowingly Ethan McMillan had earned another check as a prince.

  CHAPTER 7

  Faith eased a pair of jeans over her hips, pulled up the zipper and buttoned the waistband. Surprisingly they fit. She’d bought the pair six months before, and after washing several times, discovered they were too tight. There was no doubt that she’d lost weight she could ill afford to lose. Tessa had remarked about her weight loss, and her explanation was that whenever she was stressed or overworked she neglected to eat. This year she’d made only two resolutions: to take better care of her health and not to date any frogs.

  She’d gotten up earlier that morning and gone into Let Them Eat Cake to bake desserts to take with her to Franklin Lakes, New Jersey. Tessa had called to inform her that Edgar and Rosalind Sanborn had invited their guests to join them for a festive Super Bowl party; they’d also extended the invitation to include spending the night to join in celebrating Dr. Martin Luther King’s birthday the following day. Her cousin had disclosed that Micah’s parents met for the first time as law school students when they’d joined thousands of other students traveling south to march and sit-in at segregated lunch counters, bus and train depots.

  Walking over to the window seat, Faith sat down and pushed her feet into a pair of black leather low-heel boots. She glanced around her apartment, mentally noting if she’d forgotten anything. She’d charged her cell phone; her overnight bag sat by the door; boxed cakes and cookies and her purse were on the dining-area table. The downstairs bell buzzed noisily like an annoying insect and she glanced at the clock. It was exactly nine o’clock. Crossing the room, she pressed a button on the intercom.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Tessa.”

  Faith pushed another button, disengaging the lock on the downstairs outer door. Reaching for a waist-length wool jacket, she slipped her arms into the sleeves. She put a hand into one of the pockets, making certain she had her wool cap. If she was to play football in the dead of winter, then she wanted to make sure she was dressed for the below-freezing temperatures.

  She opened the door to Tessa’s knock and came face-to-face with Micah Sanborn for the first time. There was something so inherently male about the district attorney that she found herself staring and holding her breath at the same time. His large, deep-set eyes took in everything in one sweeping glance. Faith noticed his close-cropped hair was flecked with a few gray strands at the temples. To say he was tall, dark and handsome was definitely an understatement. And Simone was right when she’d referred to him as a manly man.

  She smiled. “Please come in.”

  Tessa turned, smiled at her fiancé, extending her hand. “Pay up, darling.” Reaching into the pocket of his sheepskin-lined bomber jacket, Micah Sanborn took out a dollar and placed it in Tessa’s hand.

  Faith rested her hands on her slim hips. “Would you mind telling me what you’d made wagers on?”

  Tessa approached Faith and hugged her. “I told Micah that you would make something to take to his parents’ place.”

  She glared at her cousin. “Tessa Whitfield, you know good and well that we were raised not to go to anyone’s house empty-handed.”

  “You’re right, cousin. I’m sorry, but I’m forgetting my manners.” Taking two steps, Tessa reached for Micah’s hand. “Micah, this Faith Whitfield. Although we’re cousins, we think of ourselves as sisters. Faith, Micah Sanborn.”

  Faith extended her right hand, but Micah ignored it as he swept her up in a strong embrace. “Welcome to the family,” she gasped, as he kissed her cheek.

  “Thank you. Welcome to my family,” he said softly. He released Faith, smiling. Grooves in his lean jaw made him more attractive with the gesture. “What do you want me to take downstairs, Faith?”

  “You can take the boxes on the table. Be careful not to tilt them too much.”

  He stared at the boxes. “How on earth did you transport my sister’s wedding cake from New York to New Jersey without it ending up in a mess of crumbs?” Micah asked as he stacked one box atop another.

  “I packed it very carefully, then assembled it once I got to your parents’ house. What also helps is that I use a delivery company that utilizes special bins and crates to transport fragile items, so even if the driver hits a bump the cake is still protected.”

  Tessa picked up the overnight bag on the floor near the door. “What else do you need to get?” she asked her cousin.

  “That’s everything.” Gathering her keys and purse, Faith locked the door and followed Tessa and Micah down the three flights of stairs and out to the street. Their breaths were visible in the cold air as a light rain began falling. She caught up with her cousin. “I hope it snows,” she whispered, sotto voce.

  Tessa quickened her pace and gave Faith a sidelong glance before she stared at her fiancé loading the rear of her SUV with the boxed desserts. “I listened to the Weather Channel this morning, and they’re predicting a snowy mix,” she said low enough so that Micah wouldn’t overhear their conversation. “When Micah asked why I couldn’t stop grinning, I didn’t have the heart to tell him about the weather forecast. You’d think watching the Super Bowl should be enough football for one day.”

  Faith rolled her eyes upward. “Girl, please. You’re preaching to the choir. One thing I’m not is a fan of football.”

  Without warning, Micah turned and looked at the two cousins, successfully concealing a smile behind an expression of indifference. He’d overhead them complain about playing touch football, which had become a Sanborn Sunday-afternoon tradition. It permitted everyone to get together after brunch for an hour of noncompetitive physical interaction.

  He stared at Faith Whitfield, silently admiring her natural beauty. Although she and Tessa did not look alike, there was something inherent in them that indicated they were related. However, there was no doubt that Tessa and Simone were sisters.

  “Did Tessa tell you about our Sunday-morning football game?” he asked innocently.

  Faith went completely still, wondering whether Micah had overheard her talking to Tessa about not wanting to play football. “Yes, she did.”

  His expressive eyebrows lifted slightly. “Are you ready to play?”

  “No.”

  “No?” Micah repeated, his eyes widening in disbelief.

  “I’ll help with cooking and cleaning, but no football.” She’d use any excuse she could to get out of rolling around on the ground.

  Opening the side door to the second row of seats, Micah assisted Faith into the vehicle. The first time he’d invited Tessa to his parents’ house she’d also complained about playing touch football. It was apparent the Whitfields were girly girls.

  “We’ll see,” he mumbled under his breath after he’d closed the door. He helped Tessa up into the passenger-side seat, then rounded the SUV and sat behind down behind the wheel.

  Once he left New York and crossed the state line for New Jersey the rain turned into snow. Glancing up into the rearview mirror, he smiled at Faith. “It looks as if you got your wish.”

  “What’s that?” she asked, staring at the back of his head.

  “It’s snowing.”

  “Don’t tell me you heard me?”

  Glancing quickly over his shoulder, Micah gave her a smug look. “Yes, I did.”

/>   A wave of heat swept up Faith’s chest, settling in her face. “You must have ears like a bat.”

  Micah rested his right hand on Tessa’s knee. “I’ve told Tessa that I have special powers, but she doesn’t believe me.”

  Tessa emitted an unladylike snort. “You wish.”

  Faith closed her eyes, pressed her back to the leather seat, listening to the easy banter between Tessa and her fiancé. She had no doubt that falling in love with Micah had changed her cousin. She now appeared less guarded, and her laughter was spontaneous, not forced.

  The gentle motion of the vehicle and the heat coming through the vents lulled Faith into a state of complete relaxation where she forgot about her coffee-table book, the two Valentine’s Day wedding receptions and her “brief encounter” with Ethan McMillan until Micah activated a button on his visor’s remote to open the iron gates to the Sanborns’ Franklin Lakes property.

  * * *

  Faith recognized Simone’s truck parked behind several SUVs and minivans, which meant her parents, aunt and uncle had arrived before them. The first time she’d come to Franklin Lakes it was to assemble the four-tier cake for Bridget Sanborn and Seth Cohen’s wedding.

  Simone had come the day before and decorated the living and dining rooms and ballroom with baskets filled with white calla lilies, cosmos, orchids, gardenias and deep magenta roses that were repeated in Bridget’s bridal bouquet. And in the time it took to assemble the cake, a team of workers had arrived to set up tables and chairs for eighty-three wedding guests, while the catering staff filed into the larger of the two kitchens as she climbed into the rental van to return to New York.

  Faith had celebrated the beginning of a new year cloistered in her apartment, watching television as the ball dropped in Times Square. She’d been invited to several parties, but had elected to stay home rather than put up with the crowds of raucous partygoers who’d believed it was all right to overindulge because it was New Year’s Eve. Her parents had invited her to go to Mount Vernon to celebrate the holiday with them and her other relatives, but she’d also declined their invitation because she found that she wanted to be alone to reflect on the course her life had taken. At thirty, she’d revised her wish list for the next decade. It’d become a practice for her to update her wish list every ten years.

  Micah, balancing the boxes in one hand, opened the door to the three-story manor-style house, and she and Tessa walked into a great room with a ceiling rising upward to three stories. The massive chandelier, floor and table lamps were aglow, offsetting the shadowy gray light coming through the many tall windows.

  A teenage girl with a fall of black curly hair caught up in a ponytail and earbuds in her ears skipped down the winding staircase. “Grandma, Uncle Micah and Aunt Tessa are here!” she screamed at the top of her lungs as she crossed the marble floor and launched herself at Micah, who fortunately had placed the cake boxes on a table in the entryway.

  Micah stared at his niece as if she’d taken leave of her senses. Reaching for the thin white wires, he removed them from her ears. “Dial it down, Marisol.”

  She placed a hand over her mouth when Rosalind Sanborn came to see what the shouting was about. “Sorry about that,” she mumbled in apology.

  Rosalind’s face lit up when she saw Micah with his fiancée and her cousin. Arms extended, she hugged and kissed Micah, Tessa and then Faith. Eyes the color of brilliant blue topaz crinkled attractively. Casually dressed in a pair of running shoes, sweatpants and shirt with a fading college logo, she looked nothing like the elegantly attired woman who’d been mother of the bride three weeks before. Although petite and slender, there was something about the woman with the coiffed short silver hair that radiated a strength that didn’t compromise her femininity. Even without makeup her porcelain complexion was flawless.

  “Welcome, Faith,” Rosalind crooned softly.

  “Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Sanborn.”

  “It’s Rosalind,” the older woman admonished softly.

  Faith nodded. “Okay, Rosalind.”

  “Where’s everybody, Mom?” Micah asked.

  “They’re in the kitchen.” She motioned to her granddaughter. “Marisol, take Tessa’s and Faith’s bags up to Bridget’s room.” Smiling at Tessa, she said, “I hope you don’t mind sharing the room with Simone and Faith.”

  Tessa shook her head. “No, I don’t mind.” She’d lost count of the number of times she, Simone and Faith had shared a bedroom when growing up. And even now in their thirties they still had occasional sleepovers.

  Rosalind pressed her palms together. “I’ll show you where you can hang up your jackets.” Turning on her heel, she followed Micah to the kitchen. “The men have volunteered to do the cooking today.”

  Faith shared a knowing glance with Tessa. Malcolm and Henry learned to cook when their parents opened one of the first take-out-only restaurants in the Mount Vernon–New Rochelle Westchester County communities, and they’d continued the reputation of concocting the finest Southern-inspired cuisine when they established Whitfield Caterers for weddings, family reunions, sweet sixteen and retirement celebrations. One year they had the distinction of catering a high school prom. Although their fathers owned a catering establishment, the brothers hadn’t cooked in years because they’d hired and trained a staff of talented chefs whose culinary skills had become legendary throughout Westchester County.

  She and Tessa stored their jackets in a large closet off the kitchen. When they walked into the kitchen they were met by a cacophony of voices competing to be heard as three generations of Sanborns mingled comfortably with two generations of Whitfields.

  Faith’s father, Henry Whitfield, wasn’t only identical to Malcolm, but also a mirror image. Henry was right-handed to Malcolm’s left-handedness. Tall and slender, both men had affected salt-and-pepper trimmed mustaches and goatees. The facial hair added character to their khaki-brown faces, and with close-cropped curly graying hair and hazel eyes they presented as handsome middle-aged men.

  The brothers, along with Micah’s father, a former judge who now taught courses at Princeton Law School, all wore white bibbed aprons. When Tessa had told Faith about Micah’s mixed-race, multicultural family, she’d found the information intriguing until Tessa had explained that Rosalind’s inability to have children of her own led her and Edgar to adopt children who were abandoned, born to drug-addicted mothers and one with a physical disability. With an infinite amount of patience and love the Sanborn offspring had thrived and excelled far beyond anyone’s expectation. Micah had become a lawyer and Bridget a children’s book editor; one brother had become a biblical historian and the other a pharmacist.

  Reaching for Faith’s hand, Rosalind turned to Tessa. “Please introduce Faith to everyone.”

  As if on cue a swollen silence filled the enormous kitchen and Faith saw curious and familiar stares directed in her direction. She smiled when her father winked at her. Tessa began with Edgar Sanborn, who with his rich baritone voice and mane of patrician salt-and-pepper hair could’ve passed for an aging matinee idol. Smiling and repeating the appropriate “my pleasure,” or “nice meeting you,” she was introduced to Micah’s brothers William and Abram, his sisters-in-law Melinda and Ruby and his identical-twin, ten-year-old redheaded nephews Isaac and Jacob. She continued with fifteen-year-old Marisol and lastly two-year-old Kimika, who clung to Simone’s neck as if she were her lifeline.

  Marisol approached Faith once the introductions were over. “I’ll show you where you can wash up.” Leading her to a half bath off the kitchen, she closed the door. “Mommy and Daddy promised to give me a sweet-sixteen party next year. With my uncle marrying your cousin we’re going to be family and…” A rush of color darkened her face, and, seemingly embarrassed, she let her words trail off.

  Turning on solid brass faucets, Faith adjusted the water and soaped her hands with a vanilla-scented soap gel. She smiled at the spontaneous adolescent. “You want me to make your cake.” Her query was a statemen
t.

  Marisol bit down on her lower lip as she struggled to contain her enthusiasm. “Will you?”

  “Of course I will.”

  Pumping her fists, she spun around on her toes of her running shoes. “Yes!” Throwing her arms around Faith’s neck, she pulled her head down and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Aunt Faith.”

  I’m not your aunt, Faith mused as Marisol slipped out of the bathroom. If the two families were joined when Tessa married Micah, then she and Marisol would become cousins through marriage.

  She rejoined the others in the kitchen. Her mother, aunt and Rosalind were carrying plates and serving pieces into the formal dining room. Although the table in a corner of the kitchen seated ten, it still wasn’t large enough for the eighteen who would sit down for Sunday brunch. William and Abram were chopping ingredients for omelets, while Ruby and redheaded, freckle-faced Melinda rolled out dozens of chive and cheddar biscuits.

  One of the twin boys patted Edgar’s arm to get his attention. “Grandpa, can you make green eggs and ham?”

  Edgar, who was cracking eggs into a large aluminum bowl, stopped and exchanged glances with Henry and Malcolm, both of whom lifted their shoulders.

  “You can make them with chive butter,” Faith said in a quiet voice. Isaac and Jacob, who’d inherited their father’s olive-brown coloring and their mother’s curly red hair, cheered loudly, while Kimika patted her chubby hands in response to the cheering.

  Simone rubbed noses with the toddler. “Do you want green eggs and ham, too?”

  Throwing back her neatly braided head, Kimika shrieked, “Kimmie want eggs!”

  Faith smiled at Simone’s antics, and suddenly it hit her. Simone had married a man she thought was the love of her life, but unfortunately Anthony Kendrick was either too spoiled or too lazy to work, so their union ended before it could begin. And Faith knew Simone wanted a child. Seeing her usually sullen cousin with Kimika made it all the more apparent.