The Sweetest Temptation

by Rochelle Alers

They’d discussed their living arrangements and agreed to stay in Greenwich Village during the week and in New Jersey on the weekends. Once she sold the patisserie and set up a professional kitchen where she could cater to her private clients and Bridal Signatures, then she’d give up her apartment and relocate to Englewood Cliffs.

  “You don’t want to wait before we start a family?” Ethan could’ve bitten off his tongue the instant the query came out, but he wanted to be certain that Faith wanted what he wanted.

  “No. Besides, you’re graying at an alarming rate, and I don’t want our son or daughter teased when other kids mistake you for their grandpa.”

  “Oh, hell no,” he drawled. “You didn’t call me grandpa.”

  Faith didn’t have time to react when Ethan flipped her effortlessly onto her back and straddled her. Within seconds her nightgown lay on the carpet and he parted her legs. His hand moved up between her thighs to find her slick and wet. She was as ready for him as he was for her.

  Ethan pushed into his bride’s tight, hot, pulsing flesh as a deep groan came from the back of his throat. He felt as if he’d waited an eternity to experience flesh against flesh, and this time he wouldn’t be forced to pull out before releasing his passion inside her. He alternated quickening and slowing in order to prolong bringing them to climax.

  Faith bit down on her lower lip to stop the moans of ecstasy from slipping through her lips as the involuntary pulsing took her higher and higher until her muscles clenched in a violent spasm of explosive pleasure that made her feel as if she’d stepped outside of her own body.

  As she lay drowning in floodtide of pure pleasure, Ethan’s climax overlapped hers, his growl of satisfaction and heavy breathing keeping pace with the beating of her runaway pulse. His body melted into hers where they’d become one—in the literal and figurative sense.

  CHAPTER 19

  Faith sat in the kitchen in what was now her Englewood Cliffs house, listening to the voice-mail message. She’d called her parents twice before, but each time got the recorded message. Exasperated, she punched in Simone’s number, sighing in relief when she heard her husky greeting.

  “Hey, Faith. What’s up?”

  “I’ve been trying to reach my parents, but I just get their voice mail.”

  “They went away.”

  “Where, Simi?”

  “Our dads surprised our moms with a seven-day Windjammer cruise for Valentine’s Day.”

  Faith couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face. “Where did they go?”

  “They mentioned touring the British Virgin Islands and also the French West Indies.”

  “Good for them.”

  “What did you do for Valentine’s Day?”

  Taking a deep breath, Faith let it out slowly. “I got married.” The scream that came through the earpiece nearly shattered her eardrum.

  “I don’t believe it! You married your prince?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, I’m so happy for you, Faith. When am I going to see you and Ethan?”

  “I was hoping to come over Sunday, but I guess we’ll wait until our folks get back.”

  “I’m supposed to pick them up at the airport Saturday afternoon. I’ll have something at my house on Sunday instead of Monday.”

  “Are you cooking?” Faith teased.

  “Very funny, Faith—whatever your new name is.”

  “It’s Whitfield-McMillan.”

  “Good for you. You kept your name.”

  She’d decided to hyphenate her last name as much for retaining her identity as for professional reasons. “Do you want me to bring a dish?”

  “No. I’ll order food from El Sabor.” The restaurant was renowned for serving the best Caribbean food in Westchester County.

  “Now you’re talking. We’ll see you Sunday. What time should we come?”

  “Three. We’ll have an early dinner. After that we’ll sit around and talk.”

  Faith hung up without bothering to ask Ethan whether he’d be available Sunday to meet her family since as the boss he didn’t have to request time off from work. The man she’d married was nothing short of an enigma. He’d admitted that he never would’ve considered going into the transport business if it hadn’t been for WJ, who’d put up the collateral for the loans for Ethan to purchase three Town Cars for his car service. She made another call, this one to Tessa, whose reaction was similar to Simone’s. Instead of screaming, she cried—sobbing loudly until Faith rang off. She was still sitting on the stool at the cooking island when Ethan walked in carrying a monogrammed leather bag.

  “I’m ready,” he said, smiling.

  Hopping off the stool, Faith approached her husband, arms outstretched. He dropped the bag and she went into his embrace. They stood in the middle of the kitchen, silently communicating their love for each other. Then, as if on cue, they pulled apart. They’d become a couple—officially and legally—in and out of bed.

  * * *

  Ethan swung into the circular driveway behind two vehicles, coming to a complete stop behind a car that was the same make, model and color as the one he drove. “Someone has excellent taste in cars.”

  Faith gave him a sidelong glance. “That’s my father’s Benz. The Lincoln belongs to my uncle Malcolm. It looks as if we got here before Tessa and Micah.”

  “It looks as if my father-in-law and I have something in common.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We both love you.”

  Unbuckling her seat belt, Faith felt a warm glow flow through her. She hadn’t been married a week, and every day she discovered something new about the man to whom she’d pledged her future. He admitted to praying before taking off and landing an aircraft, worked out several times a week at the gated community’s on-site health spa and didn’t eat organ food. And she didn’t think she would ever get used to him declaring his love for her.

  “My family’s going to love you, Ethan.”

  “We’ll see,” he said skeptically as he got out and came around to help her out. The lightly falling snow that’d begun at daybreak had intensified, blanketing roadways, lawns and rooftops. Ethan smiled at Faith as she tilted her head and stuck out her tongue to catch the falling flakes. He found the gesture both childishly endearing and ardently provocative. The vivid image of what her rapacious tongue had reduced him to their first night together in Punta Cana would stay with him forever.

  Light blazed from the front windows of the white and navy-blue-trimmed two-story farmhouse-style structure. A wreath of dried lavender encircled a heavy brass door knocker shaped like a lion’s head.

  Mounting the three steps that led to an expansive wraparound porch, Faith rang the doorbell. The door opened and on the other side stood Simone Whitfield with a wealth of gold-tipped hair floating around her face and shoulders, grinning broadly. Light from a table lamp in the entryway fired the brilliant green in her large hazel eyes.

  Her arms went around her cousin’s neck as she pulled Faith’s head down to kiss her cheek. “Congratulations!”

  “Simi, please stop. You’re strangling me.”

  Simone released her, seemingly embarrassed when she saw Ethan staring at her. “Sorry about that.” She extended her arms to her cousin’s new husband, and wasn’t disappointed when he stepped forward to hug her. “Welcome to the family.”

  Smiling, dimples winking attractively, Ethan returned the kiss she’d pressed to his jaw. “Thank you, Simone.”

  The doorbell chimed melodiously throughout the house. “Either that’s Tessa or the food,” Simone said as went to answer the door. “Go on back. Everyone’s in the kitchen,” she said over her shoulder.

  Faith extended her hand to Ethan. “Give me your jacket and I’ll hang it up.” He was casually dressed in a pair of gray flannel slacks, matching pullover cashmere sweater and black suede wingtips. Ethan had wanted to wear a suit to meet her parents for the first time, but she told him family get-togethers were always informal. Events held at the catering ha
ll were the only exception.

  She hung her coat and his jacket in a closet, then reached for his hand and led him through the living room, down a hallway and into the kitchen. Faith saw her father as he rose slowly to his feet, a slow smile parting his lips until it was a full grin. His normally tawny-brown face was several shades darker as the result of his recent Caribbean cruise.

  “Hi, baby girl,” Henry Whitfield said, reaching for his daughter and forcing her to let go of her husband’s hand. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he lifted Faith off her feet, kissing her forehead as he’d done when she was a little girl. “Congratulations, princess.”

  Faith met her father’s misty-eyed gaze. It wasn’t often she saw Henry Whitfield get emotional, but it was apparent her becoming a married woman had him fighting back tears. She kissed his smooth sun-browned cheek.

  “Thank you, Daddy.” Her arms tightened around his neck. “I’m not going back on my promise to let you walk me down the aisle to give me away in marriage.”

  “Thanks, princess,” Henry whispered, setting her on her feet. He stared at her back as she went over to her mother and aunt, extending her left hand to show them her wedding rings. He turned his attention to Ethan. What he saw he liked, and it was apparent his daughter had chosen well. Extending his hand, he smiled. “Henry Whitfield.”

  Ethan took his hand, feeling the strength in the older man’s handshake when he tightened his grip. He found Henry elegant and imposing. Tall and broad-shouldered, the middle-aged man claimed a solid body that confirmed he was in peak condition. Close-cropped curly salt-and-pepper hair, brilliant hazel eyes and a trimmed mustache and goatee made for a very arresting face.

  “I’m honored, sir. Ethan McMillan.”

  Henry’s eyes narrowed. “Are you military, son?”

  Ethan cast his gaze downward. “I was.”

  “Which branch?” Malcolm asked.

  Turning slightly, Ethan stared at Henry’s identical twin brother. It was nearly impossible to tell them apart. “The Air Force.”

  Smiling, Malcolm angled his head. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? My niece has married herself a flyboy.”

  “That she did,” Ethan confirmed, his tone filled with supreme confidence.

  Lucinda and Edith Whitfield exchanged amused glances. It was apparent their husbands were going to have Ethan McMillan run the Whitfield gauntlet before giving him their seal of approval. Simone’s ex-husband had failed miserably, but that hadn’t stopped her from marrying Anthony Kendrick. However, within seconds of Ethan McMillan walking into the kitchen with Faith they’d given each other a barely perceptible thumbs-up sign.

  Malcolm stood up and offered Ethan his hand. “Malcolm.” His dark eyebrows lifted slightly when he felt the grip of fingers on his hand. “What can you fly?” he asked.

  Realization dawned, and Ethan wanted to kick himself for falling into the Whitfield brothers’ trap. Although he and Faith were legally married, her father and uncle felt compelled to put him through an inquisition. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared at Henry, then Malcolm.

  “I’ve flown an F-15 Eagle, an F-16 Fighting Falcon, an F-22 Raptor, a Gulfstream C-37A, and as of late a Gulfstream G550 business jet.” Ethan was hard-pressed not to laugh when the brothers’ eyes widened in shock. “Even though the F-16’s official name is Fighting Falcon, we flyboys call it the ‘Viper,’ after the Battlestar Galactica starfighter.”

  “Which one is the best?” Henry asked.

  Faith rolled her eyes at her father. “Daddy, please.”

  “All your husband has to do is answer the question, princess.”

  “I didn’t bring him here for you to interrogate him.”

  Henry trained his gaze on Ethan. “Can you answer the question, or is it classified?”

  “I’m not privy to what is classified because I’m no longer in the military. But, to answer your question as to what’s the best, it would all depend on the mission. If flying a reconnaissance mission, then it would have to be the F-22. It’s a stealth air superiority fighter.”

  Edith rose gracefully to her feet. It was time to end the nonsensical chatter about fighter jets. “Faith’s right, Henry.” She cut her eyes at her husband when a frown creased his smooth forehead. “Ethan didn’t come here to discuss the specs of military aircraft, but to meet her family.” Closing the distance between her and her new son-in-law, she kissed his clean-shaven cheek. “Please call me Edith. Welcome to the family.”

  Ethan hugged and kissed his mother-in-law. He knew exactly what his wife would look like in another twenty-five years, because Faith was an exact replica of her stunningly beautiful mother.

  “Thank you, Edith.”

  Lucinda moved off her stool at the cooking island and extended her arms. “And I’m your Aunt Lucinda.”

  Ethan hugged the petite woman. “It’s nice meeting you…” His words trailed off when Simone walked into the kitchen.

  “The caterers are setting up the food in the dining room.” She smiled at Ethan. “I hope you’ve met everyone?” He nodded. “Good. After we sit down to eat we’ll discuss your and my cousin’s wedding. You are going to have a real wedding, aren’t you?” Simone asked when Faith and Ethan exchanged a glance.

  “Do you think I’m going miss out becoming a Signature bride?”

  Edith reached for her daughter’s hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “We have a lot of planning to do.”

  The doorbell rang again. “That must be Tessa and Micah,” Simone announced.

  Ethan was introduced to Tessa Whitfield and her fiancé, Micah Sanborn, wondering if Micah had gone through what he’d just experienced with the bookend Whitfield brothers, and how he had fared. What Henry and Malcolm failed to realize was that he’d been tested to the limits of breaking as a cadet and then again in flight school. He’d flown into battle with enemy aircraft rockets missing his jet fighter aircraft by mere inches and he hadn’t veered from his intended target.

  It didn’t matter what the Whitfields felt or thought about him, because the fact remained that Faith was legally his wife.

  * * *

  Faith walked from the bakeshop to her apartment building, enjoying the lingering warmth of the setting sun. Springtime in New York City was her favorite time of the year, and in another two weeks she would exchange vows in the church where she’d been baptized, made her first communion and confirmation. Friends and family members had received wedding invitations with a proviso that in lieu of gifts, donations be sent to the United Negro College Fund. Despite the request, gifts and envelopes were beginning to pile up in a spare room at her parents’ home.

  Ethan had called her to let her know that he wanted to take her out to dinner before going to New Jersey to start the weekend a day earlier than usual. Her first impulse was to decline his offer, but she changed her mind because she needed a change of pace from the frenetic activity that made up her days and nights. Living in Manhattan during the week proved advantageous because it gave her time to decorate cakes for her book project. Peter Demetrious had e-mailed her that he was coming to New York at the beginning of the week for ten days and wanted to photograph as many cakes as possible. She’d returned his e-mail to let him know that he could set up a shoot for her cakes, because, with Ranee’s assistance, she was six weeks ahead of her June thirtieth deadline.

  Faith met Ethan’s family for the first time at Easter, bonding with his sisters, brothers-in-law and their rambunctious young children who took delight in calling her Aunt Faith. Her reunion with Billy Raymond was strained at first until he asked to see her alone where he apologized for his less-than-polite behavior during their initial encounter.

  Ethan regaled her with stories about his grandfather, James Ethan Macmillan, who’d worked as a coal miner for one of the most infamous coalmine companies in Marshall County, West Virginia. Instead of being paid in currency, the owners paid their employees in script that was only honored at the company store. After a series of mine expl
osions James Macmillan met secretly with union organizers to address the mines’ hazardous conditions. The mine bosses discovered his clandestine meetings and hired goons to beat him senseless. James recovered, found one of his attackers and retaliated in kind, escaping under the cover of night to Pennsylvania. Once there he changed his surname from Macmillan to McMillan. However, family members referred to him as Mac rather than Mick, and the tradition continued with Ethan.

  If she and Ethan were to have a son, Faith wondered whether he would be called Mac, too. She didn’t consciously think about a baby until her menses revealed she would have to wait another month. Realistically she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle being pregnant while preparing for her own wedding and spending long hours on her feet decorating cakes. In the past two months she and Ethan had gambled with making a baby. Their efforts hadn’t borne fruit. But now she wasn’t as certain. Her period was late, and when she’d gotten out of bed earlier that morning the room spun dizzily before her feet touched the floor.

  I’ll wait another week before taking a home pregnancy test just to be certain, Faith mused as she climbed the staircase to the apartment.

  * * *

  Ethan sat across the table from his wife in the upscale restaurant on the second floor of a brownstone off East Harlem’s Fifth Avenue. The venue featured live jazz on Friday and Saturday and various gospel groups for Sunday brunch. He wasn’t certain whether it was the flattering glow from the candle, her lightly made-up face or her longer curly hair that framed her face, but Faith’s beauty was surreal.

  He pointed to the goblet of fizzy water at her place setting. “Are you certain you don’t want something stronger than water?”

  Faith smiled, nodding. “Very certain. Anything alcoholic is certain to put me to sleep, and what kind of company would I be if I fell asleep on my incredibly charming dining partner?” What she didn’t tell her husband was that she suspected she was carrying his child, because if there was one thing she could count on it was her menses. It always came on time.

  Attractive lines fanned out around Ethan’s eyes when he returned her smile. “Who have you been hanging out with?”