Rolling off her body, he parted the netting, scooped her off the bed and carried her into the bathroom. She’d asked that he accompany her to her family reunion in August.
He would go to Atlanta with her, while she would finally get to meet Debbie. When his sister had questioned Kumi about not being able to reach him at his cottage one night, he’d smiled at her, saying he had been occupied elsewhere.
Debbie had followed him around, taunting him until he finally blurted out that he had a friend. Flashing a smug smile, she sweetly invited him and his friend to come to the B and B.
Deborah had let go of some of her anxiety that Maxwell’s B and B wouldn’t open on its projected date, after Kumi hired the third assistant chef. Only one of the three had more than six years’ experience working in a full-service kitchen. The other two were recent culinary school graduates. Kumi had offered to act as executive chef if he hadn’t hired one with more than ten years’ experience by opening date. He was scheduled to meet with the new hires to plan dinner menus.
Veronica waited for Kumi to come around the Lexus and open the passenger-side door for her. She hadn’t realized her pulse was racing until she saw a woman standing on the wraparound porch of a magnificent Victorian house, waving at Kumi.
Veronica had given special attention to her appearance. She blew out her hair, and then pinned it up off her neck in a chic chignon. Her dress was a simple sleeveless black silk sheath that barely skimmed the curves of her body, while Kumi had elected to wear a pair of black tailored linen gabardine slacks, jacket, and a banded collar white silk shirt. He looked incredibly handsome with his freshly shaven face and neatly brushed hair.
Veronica liked Kumi’s sister on sight. She was tiny—barely five-two—and very pretty. Her delicate features, large dark eyes, and quick smile made her appear almost doll-like.
Arching eyebrows lifted in a face the color of rich cinnamon, she peered closely at Veronica. “Now I see why my brother needs a pager to monitor his whereabouts. You’re absolutely gorgeous.”
Veronica couldn’t stop the flush darkening her cheeks. Pulling her hand from Kumi’s loose grip, she extended it. “Thank you, Deborah. I’m Veronica Johnson.”
Deborah shook her hand, smiling up at the taller woman. “My pleasure, Veronica. Please, come in.” Still holding Veronica’s hand, she pulled her into the large house.
Pushing his hands into the pockets of his slacks, Kumi followed the two women, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Bubbly, spontaneous Debbie could get the most uptight person to relax. She would be the perfect hostess for Maxwell’s. His smile was still in place as he headed for the kitchen.
Veronica was awed by the interiors of the proposed bed-and-breakfast as Deborah led her in and out of every room on the first and second levels. Highly waxed bleached oak floors gleamed under the brilliance of chandeliers, windows framed in stained glass sparkled from bright sunlight and walls were graced with patterns of wallpaper made popular at the beginning of the last century.
Veronica ran her fingers over the smooth surface of a desk in the sitting room of one of the larger bedroom suites. “This piece is exquisite.” There was no doubt it was an original.
Crossing her arms under her small breasts, Deborah gave Veronica a curious look. “You have a good eye for antiques.” Veronica nodded, her fingers tracing the outline of one of the five leaf-and scroll-carved cabriole legs ending in hairy paw feet.
Turning, she stared at Deborah. “And you have exquisite taste in decorating.”
It was Deborah’s turn to nod. “And you have wonderful taste in men.”
Veronica lifted an eyebrow. “I assume you’re talking about Kumi?”
“But of course.”
“It doesn’t bother you that I’m older than he is?”
“Does it bother my brother?”
“Not in the least.”
“Then it’s fine with me. I’m five years older than Kumi, and I had always assumed the responsibility of protecting him from my father. But then Kumi went away, and when he didn’t come back after his tour with the Marine Corps I blamed myself.
“Dad was consumed with Kumi becoming a doctor because my two older brothers were better suited for careers in business. Larry is an actuary and Marvin is branch manager of a local bank. We all knew Kumi was gifted when he was able to read at three. Dad used to brag to his colleagues that his youngest son was able to solve mathematical and chemical equations in his head even before he entered high school.
“There’s been a Dr. Walker in our family for three generations, so the responsibility fell on Kumi to continue the tradition. I’m certain he would’ve gone to medical school if Dad hadn’t been so controlling.
“I kept saying I should’ve done more, said more.” She shrugged a shoulder, exhaling audibly. “I beat myself up for years until Kumi made me realize that we can’t change people, and if they don’t change, then you accept them for who they are.
“Dad’s not too old to change, it’s just that he doesn’t want to change.” Dropping her gaze, Deborah bit down on her lower lip. “I know that I’ve been running off at the mouth. I said all that to say that if Kumi wants you in his life, then who am I to question his decision? He’s never spoken or written to me about a woman before, therefore, you must be very special for him to introduce you to us.”
Veronica flashed a warm smile. “I’m very fond of Kumi.”
Deborah gave her a skeptical look. “Fond?”
“Yes, fond.” She didn’t know Deborah well enough to bare her soul to her. She had to know that she and Kumi were sleeping together, therefore, Veronica decided to let Deborah draw her own conclusions.
Deborah glanced at the watch on her wrist. They’d been gone for almost three quarters of an hour. She grinned mischievously. “Mom should be here now.”
Veronica recoiled as if she’d been punched in the stomach. “Kumi didn’t tell me he wanted me to meet his mother.”
“He doesn’t know I invited her. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“What about your father?”
“He went fishing with a few of his retired friends. He’ll be away for at least three days.”
Deborah clasped her hands together. “We’d better get back downstairs.” She winked at Veronica. “Your boyfriend has offered to do the cooking.”
She followed Deborah across a carpeted hallway and down a staircase with a solid oak banister and massive newel posts. She was certain Kumi would be surprised to see his mother, but Veronica wondered how Mrs. Walker would react when he introduced her to his friend.
Chapter Nine
Veronica walked into the dining room, her footsteps muffled in a thick forest-green carpet as she met Kumi’s gaze over his mother’s shoulder. His near-black eyes burned her face with their intensity. She stopped less than three feet away, her arching eyebrows lifting in a questioning expression. He had changed from his jacket and shirt into the white tunic favored by chefs. All he was missing was the toque blanche for his head.
Smiling, Kumi placed both hands on his mother’s shoulders, turning her around. “Mother, I’d like you to meet a good friend of mine, Veronica Johnson. Ronnie, this is my mother, Mrs. Jeanette Walker.”
Veronica successfully bit back a knowing smile when she registered the older woman’s stunned expression. Walking forward, she offered her hand. “I’m honored, Mrs. Walker.”
Jeanette placed a tiny manicured hand over her throat. Recovering quickly, she shook the proffered hand. “It’s nice meeting you, Veronica. How long have you known my son?”
This time she did smile. Now she knew from whom Kumi had gotten his direct in-your-face attitude. “A month.”
Jeanette glanced over her shoulder at her son, who stared down at her with a pair of large dark eyes that m
irrored her own. “Oh, really…that long?” Her tone was soft and accusatory.
Curving an arm around Jeanette’s narrow waist, he kissed the top of her head. “Come along, Mother.” He winked at Deborah. “We can sit down to eat now.”
Kumi extended his free hand to Veronica, leading her and Jeanette to the only table covered with a snowy-white linen cloth. Place settings for four were set with fine-bone china, monogrammed silver bearing a bold M, and crystal, along with bottles of white and red wine, as well as sparkling water. He seated his mother, Veronica and finally Deborah.
“Where’s Orrin?” Jeanette asked Deborah after Kumi retreated to the kitchen. Deborah’s husband was missing.
“He went to Waynesville to pick up several quilts I want to use as wall hangings.” She glanced at her watch. “He called me from his truck about an hour ago, saying he was going to stop and look at some vintage doorknobs at Hargan’s Hardware.”
Veronica studied Kumi’s mother. She estimated Jeanette to be in her late sixties, but her natural beauty hadn’t faded with age. And despite bearing four children, her body was still slender. Her naturally wavy stylishly coiffed short silver hair was elegant and sophisticated, her face a smooth red-brown, while her large dark eyes were bright, alert. It was only when she smiled that attractive lines were visible around those penetrating eyes.
Jeanette cocked her head and smiled at Veronica, who returned it with a warm one of her own. She was more than curious about the woman whom Jerome had invited to meet his family. It was apparent she was older than her son, but what she had to reluctantly admit to herself was that Veronica Johnson was perfectly turned out: from her sleek hairstyle, subtly applied makeup to her choice of attire. Her musings were interrupted when her son returned, balancing a large tray on his left shoulder.
“I’ve sampled everything Kumi’s prepared thus far,” Deborah announced proudly.
“What are we eating, Jerome?” Jeanette asked.
He placed several serving dishes on the table. “You have a choice between noisettes d’Agneau, coquilles St. Jacques or entrecôte Bercy. The salad is salade frisée aux lardons.”
“Everything looks delicious, but will you kindly translate what you just said, Jerome?”
Placing the tray on a nearby table, Kumi sat down opposite Veronica. “Ronnie, will you please translate for my mother and sister what I just said.”
She smiled and said, “We have lamb cutlets sautéed in butter and served with mushrooms and an herb-and-garlic butter.” She pointed to another dish. “These are sea scallops cooked in a little butter. Their orange tails, containing edible roe, are delicious. Over here is rib steak cooked in a white wine sauce. And of course the salad, which is made up of endive with diced fried bacon.”
There was a stunned silence until Deborah asked, “You speak French?”
Veronica smiled across the table at her lover. “Not as well as your brother, but I manage to get by.”
“Don’t be so modest, sweetheart,” Kumi crooned. “You speak it beautifully.” The endearment had slipped out so smoothly that he hadn’t realized its import until he saw Jeanette’s startled look.
Picking up her napkin, Jeanette placed it on her lap, while staring at her son under her lashes. Seconds later she redirected her penetrating gaze on Veronica. She hadn’t missed the sensual exchange when they shared a secret smile. It was a look she was familiar with—one she’d shared with Lawrence Walker more than forty years ago.
She didn’t know who this Veronica Johnson was and where she’d come from. But it was apparent she made Jerome happy. And that’s all she’d ever wanted for her brilliant son since he was a child—peace and happiness.
The soft sound of music from a mini stereo system in the sitting room and flickering votives on a table created a magical backdrop for the two lovers sharing the king-size bed.
Veronica lay in Kumi’s protective embrace, her back pressed to his chest. She placed her hands over the larger pair resting over her belly.
“Your mother is very charming,” she said in a quiet voice.
Kumi chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his wide chest. “My mother is a snob.”
Tilting her chin, she glanced up at him over her shoulder. “How can you say that? I thought you loved your mother.”
“I do love her, but I can say that because I know Jeanette Walker née Tillman. It was you who charmed her. You said all of the right things, but more than that you exemplify what she considers a proper young woman. The way you styled your hair, your dress and jewelry were perfect in her eyes. You’re educated, well traveled and speak more than one language. All that aside, you’re stunningly beautiful, so what is there not to like?”
Turning over, Veronica pressed her naked breasts to his chest. She couldn’t quite make out his expression in the darkened bedroom. The afternoon she’d spent with Kumi’s mother and sister was perfect. They’d sampled the dishes Kumi had prepared, finding each one more delicious than the other. Orrin Maxwell arrived a quarter of an hour after they’d sat down to dine. He quickly showered, changed his clothes and joined them in the dining room.
Veronica had liked Orrin immediately. He was friendly and unpretentious. He was a tall, light-skinned slender man who was eight years older than his wife. She’d noticed he was still quite formal with his mother-in-law even though he and Deborah had recently celebrated their twelfth wedding anniversary.
“Are you saying I passed inspection?”
Kumi’s fingers tightened slightly on her shoulders, pulling her up until her face was level with his. “It wouldn’t have mattered what my mother thought of you, because you’re the one I love. The day I left home for the Marine Corps I stopped seeking my parents’ approval. All that matters is what—”
Veronica’s explosive kiss stopped his words as her tongue plundered the moist recesses of his mouth. Everything that was Jerome Kumi Walker seeped into her, and she writhed against him like a cat in heat.
Her hands were as busy as her mouth, sweeping over his chest, down his arms and to his muscled thighs. Raising her hips slightly, she searched for and cradled him in her hand. He hardened quickly with the stroking motion. Flipping her quickly onto her back, he entered her without his usually prolonged session of foreplay.
The outside world ceased to exist as they used every inch of the bed, each drawing from the other what they’d never given another living, breathing person. Kumi withdrew from her moist heat long enough to kiss every inch of her velvety body from her head to her feet.
Veronica reciprocated, her rapacious tongue wringing deep moans from Kumi as she took all of him into her mouth. His head thrashed from side to side while he gripped the sheets, pulling them from their fastenings. It all ended as she slid up the length of his moist body, rubbing her distended nipples against his chest while kissing him fully on the mouth. Then she straddled him, his hands cupping the fullness of her buttocks, and established a rhythm that he matched stroke for stroke. He rose to meet her, she taking every inch of him into her body as she rode out the storm sweeping over them.
“Yes, Kumi. Oh, yes,” she chanted over and over, her husky approval drowning out the soft strains of music. Their breathing quickened, and Veronica did not know where she began or where he ended. She was transported to another time and place as she surrendered to the hard pulsing flesh sliding in and out between her thighs.
Kumi was offering her what Bram had given her—love and protection. But then he’d given her something her much older husband wasn’t able to elicit—sexual fulfillment.
Burying her face against the column of his strong neck, she closed her eyes and melted all over him as he climaxed, his body convulsing violently as he left his hot seed buried deep in her womb.
Kumi stroked Veronica’s damp hair as he lay, eyes closed, completely awed by the display of raw, uni
nhibited sensuality he’d just shared with the woman in his embrace.
He loved her, more than his own life. He felt hot tears burn the backs of his eyelids. He couldn’t leave her. Not now, because he knew he could not return to Paris without her.
Before meeting Veronica Johnson he knew exactly what he wanted and where he wanted to be, but all of that had changed the moment he shared her bed.
He opened his eyes, determination shining from their obsidian depths. A confident smile tilted the corners of his strong male mouth as he made a silent vow that Veronica would become a part of his life, whether in the States or in Europe.
The weeks sped by quickly with Kumi caught up in a surreal world of complete enchantment and fulfillment. He spent every night at Veronica’s house, leaving by eight the following morning, but only after they’d shared breakfast.
He had finally hired an experienced chef for Maxwell’s. He conducted six-hour, four-day-a-week cooking classes for the three men and one woman, checking and rechecking their efforts when they prepared the classic French dishes he had decided to serve the inn’s guests. He’d also set up accounts with green grocers, butchers and vendors who sold the finest wines, cordials, imported cheeses and olive oil.
Veronica had accompanied him when he drove to New Orleans to confer with a fishing establishment who had built their impeccable reputation on shipping freshly caught seafood overnight to restaurants along the East Coast.
They spent two nights in New Orleans, taking in the sights and sampling the dishes that had made the city famous for its gastronomical opulence. The sweltering heat and oppressive humidity did not dampen Veronica’s enthusiasm as they stayed up well into the night, visiting several of the popular jazz clubs. They’d returned to North Carolina exhausted and a few pounds heavier.
The Blackstone Promise Page 23