Before Farrah could close the iPad, another signal came through, requesting an open line for a video conference. What now, Francine? A wide smile crawled across Farrah’s face when a clean-faced, sloppy-ponytail-wearing, hazel-eyed version of herself popped on the screen. “Well, hey, sis, isn’t this a nice surprise. Is everything okay? I thought we weren’t going to talk about the baby shower again until next week.”
Felicia, the youngest of the Blake triplets, smiled. “Everything’s fine and I didn’t call about Francine’s baby shower. But now that you’ve mentioned it, how are you coming with your search for a location?”
“Well, I’ve been busy working with Trey on the appeal...” Farrah stopped speaking when she saw her sister knit her brow. “What?”
“You haven’t done a thing since we talked about this last week, have you?” she asked, leveling an accusatory glare at her sister.
“Look, sis,” Farrah said, raising her hands in surrender. “We’ve been knee-deep in it around here. Besides, we have plenty of time.”
“Not.” Felicia raised her index finger and turned to address a small Asian woman who handed her a clipboard to review. She quickly scanned the documents, then she fluently exchanged a few words in Korean before signing the papers and turning back to her sister. “Where was I?”
“I hate that you know a language that I don’t,” Farrah said, poking out her lip like an angry child would when they couldn’t get their way.
“Because Spanish and French aren’t enough for you. You’re just nosey,” Felicia shot back.
Both sisters laughed.
“Back to the subject at hand. We don’t have enough time if you want to stick to that winter wonderland theme and have it in December,” Felicia said. “You know how fast things get booked up, and I don’t care how much power or money we have, we’re not bumping another party because you didn’t make a call or refuse to delegate.”
“First of all, that only happened once and that couple was more than happy to move their wedding date.”
“Only after you offered to pay for their wedding,” she reminded Farrah.
Farrah shrugged. “So it was worth it. The Houston Club is where John proposed to Paul. The wedding had to be there.”
“Anyway...”
Farrah sighed. “All right, I’ll ask Paul to look into some locations and if we have to move it to January, so be it. Happy now?”
“Yes. And I’m going to follow up with Paul and make sure you’re on top of things, too.” Felicia picked up her bowl and took a bite of something unfamiliar.
“What are you eating?”
“Fish and rice.”
“For breakfast?” Farrah scowled.
“I’m on the other side of the world, remember? It’s late afternoon. This is my lunch,” she explained. “And it’s soooo good.”
“So if you didn’t call about the shower, what’s so important that it pulled you away from finding a cure for erectile dysfunction for members of the CIA?”
Felicia covered her mouth to keep from spraying her food as she laughed. “Erectile dysfunction, really? We’ve talked about this already, and while I still can’t tell you what I’m working on, I assure you that I’m not having anything to do with the male anatomy. Directly or indirectly.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot, you’re holding out for Mr. Right.”
“Why must you always go there? No, I’m doing my job,” Felicia shot back, taking another bite of her food. “Now can we please get to the real reason why I called?”
“What’s up?” Farrah asked as she began to spread lotion down her arms.
“You know how I’m having Paul handle my mail?”
“And...”
“Well, I received something that came to me through the Chicago office.” Felicia held up a white envelope.
“It was sent to you through the CIA mail? What is it?” she asked.
“A letter from a law office out of Atlanta, an S. Peters. Have you ever heard of him or the firm McCormick and Associates?”
“It doesn’t ring any bells.”
“Do you remember my college roommate Valarie Washington?” Felicia asked. “Well, it’s Valarie Washington-Sawyer now, actually.”
Farrah thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “She had cancer, right?”
“Yes. Well, she died recently and named me as sole heir to her estate.”
“What!”
“I know,” Felicia said, sighing, and her brow puckered. “The letter states that I have to appear in person to stake my claim and hear the terms of the will. The sooner, the better.”
“That’s going to be a little hard, considering you’re on the other side of the world.”
“Tell me about it. But we’ll be wrapping things up here in a couple of weeks, so I can stop in Atlanta on my way home. So can you check them out for me?”
“Me? Really?” Farrah teased. “You mean, you don’t want to get one of your CIA buddies to handle it for you?”
“Now why would I want to do that when my sister is a brilliant lawyer—who graduated at the top of her class and kicks butt on a regular basis—and handles things like this every day?”
Farrah looked amused. “Pouring it on a little thick, aren’t we?”
“I’m sure it’ll end up being something you’ll be handling for me sooner or later anyway.”
“True,” Farrah said, grinning and fanning herself. “No problem. I’ll see what I can find out, so just scan me the letter.”
“Thanks, sis.”
“Anytime.”
“I better go. I know it’s late there, so we’ll talk soon. Sleep well.” Felicia sent her sister an air kiss and ended the call.
“With Robert nearby, that’s not likely,” she said to the blank screen.
Chapter 11
Farrah returned to the living room to find a table set with several silver dome-covered dishes. The wonderful aromas assaulted her senses. Unable to help herself, she lifted the first set of covers. Her breath caught at the sight of each dish: shrimp cocktail, steak sliders, hot wings, French fries and chocolate cake—all of her favorite foods. “He remembered,” she murmured, fighting the emotions that sprang forward.
“Of course I did,” Robert said, his low vocal register and fresh scent snatching her attention. “I remember every single detail about our time together.”
Farrah turned and the sight of Robert stole her breath. He had changed into a pair of low-riding jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt with several silky hairs from his chest peeking out. He was barefoot and leaning against the doorjamb with his hands in his pockets—his face nearly expressionless.
Farrah gave her head a small shake before she spoke. “Thank you...everything looks wonderful,” she said, turning back to the feast.
“Wait,” Robert ordered, walking up behind her, putting only a few inches between them. “I never told you what a great job you did today. And you looked beautiful doing it, too.”
Robert’s large frame and intoxicating scent wrapped around Farrah like a comfortable blanket. Farrah leaned into him at first, and his hands stroked her arms, causing a shock of desire to whip through her body. Suddenly she gripped the table, bringing herself under control. “Thanks,” she whispered.
Farrah felt the immediate sense of loss when he took several steps back. “Want a beer?” Robert asked.
“Sure.”
Robert smiled, handed her a beer and took a seat at the table. “Let’s eat,” he said.
Farrah took the seat across from Robert and studied her selections. “So when we—”
“No,” Robert said, waving his hand in front of his face. “No more business. Not tonight.”
“Well, we’re certainly not talking about our ill-fated relationship.” Farrah placed two ste
ak sliders on her plate. “So what should we talk about?”
Robert added two sliders to the wings he’d already plated. “How about we discuss your latest moves in our Fantasy League?”
“What about them?” Farrah asked with a slider halfway to her mouth.
“You benched a world-class defensive end so a mediocre running back could play.”
“Says you... That mediocre running back is starting this week. I have a good feeling about him.” Farrah took a bite of her sandwich.
“Well, enjoy that feeling. That’s about the only real pleasure you’ll be getting from that experience.” Robert held Farrah’s gaze as he, too, took a bite of his sandwich.
In spite of their differing opinion on the recent NFL trades and the fact that Farrah was kicking Robert’s butt in their Fantasy Football League, they had a relaxing evening just like a real couple.
When that realization hit, Farrah admonished herself for such thoughts. Get it together, girl. This distant, business-only, platonic relationship is what you wanted. Deal with it.
* * *
Robert spent the night fighting his desire for Farrah. He’d nearly lost all control when Farrah had leaned back into him, especially with her soft shoulders and erect nipples calling to him. Robert found the will to step away after he noticed how white Farrah’s knuckles had become as she gripped the table. Seeing how his nearness affected her, too, reinforced his resolve. He had to lose a few battles if he wanted to win the war. The constant arousal he felt when she was near was getting to him, but Farrah was worth the discomfort.
It was a little before noon when they landed at Houston’s Hobby Airport. They made their way through the VIP terminal for private jet owners to his waiting car.
“Thanks, Jimmy,” Robert said to the stocky valet who started loading their bags into the trunk of a black Mercedes.
“Where’s the Porsche?” Farrah asked, rifling her bag for her Chanel sunglasses.
“I had Jeremy bring the sedan and take the Porsche back to my place. I knew we’d need the room.”
“Oh,” Farrah said, giving him the side-eye.
“For the luggage,” he clarified.
Farrah grimaced as she slipped on the sunglasses.
“My mother’s expecting us for lunch. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Your mother?” she asked, returning her eyeglass case to her bag. “And what do you mean us?”
“The woman who raised me,” he clarified.
“You mean your foster mother.”
“I don’t call her that. We’re closer than that. She called last night while you were in the shower to remind me of our standing date,” he explained as he held the door open for her.
Farrah stared up at him and frowned. “Your mother called...about lunch...when I left to take a shower?”
Robert could see that something he’d said confused her but he couldn’t figure out what it could be. “Yes.”
“To remind you of your lunch date,” she repeated.
“Yes,” he replied. “So, will you join me?”
Farrah bit down on her bottom lip as she looked down at her outfit—black jeans, a simple red V-neck shirt and matching black jean jacket. Robert could see indecision flash in her eyes and quickly added, “You look great, and it’s just lunch. No big deal. Momma Penny has wanted to meet the Blake sisters for a while now.”
Farrah released her lip and shrugged. “Sure, why not. Like you said, it’s just lunch,” she conceded, sliding into the passenger seat.
Robert closed the door and made his way to the driver’s side, trying not to smile. He slipped behind the wheel, pulled out of the drive and into slow-moving traffic.
“So where does your foster mother live?”
“About twenty miles outside of downtown,” he replied, referencing the area as he turned off the highway, heading toward the freeway. He moved to the far lane where he tested the boundaries of the city’s speed limit.
“You don’t talk about her or your childhood...ever. The only way I knew you even had family was because Meeks told Francine. Why don’t you ever talk about her?”
“No reason. I just don’t share my private life with many people. Momma Penny is a big part of my life. She’s all the family I have and she’s pretty special to me.”
“That’s great. So, no one’s ever met her before... I mean other than Meeks and your college buddies, right? I remember hearing a few of those stories,” she asked, her eyebrows raised slightly.
Without taking his eyes off the road, he said, “What are you asking me, Farrah?”
“Fine.” Farrah turned her body toward Robert and crossed her arms under her breasts. “How many of your women has she met?”
Robert gripped the steering wheel, but remained silent as he checked his rearview mirror before exiting the freeway. He pulled into a popular grocery store parking lot, parked and cut the engine. Robert took a deep breath and pushed it out slowly before he turned and met her gaze. Farrah continued to glare at him—clearly waiting for an answer. If he wanted her to understand him better and trust that it was possible for him to love and commit himself to someone—to her—he had to open up and share more of himself.
“Penny Hilton, or Momma Penny, as I’d come to call her, was my nanny from the day I was born. In fact, there are photos of her carrying me out of the hospital instead of my parents,” he explained.
Farrah remained silent, her face devoid of expression.
“My parents were very busy people,” he started to explain. “My father was a corporate attorney and my mother was a socialite. I was their only child and they loved me...in their own way. They just didn’t have time for me.”
Farrah’s shoulders dropped; she clasped her hands in her lap but remained silent.
“They died in a boating accident when I was ten.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea you were so young when you lost your parents. That must have been devastating,” she said, reaching over and squeezing his forearm.
“It was hard, but not for the reason you think.”
Farrah’s forehead furrowed and she dropped her hand. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I loved my parents, but I didn’t know them. I hardly saw them.” Robert’s brows puckered as several painful memories flashed through his mind. “I had nannies seven days a week and if not for Momma Penny, I would’ve been shipped off to boarding school on my fifth birthday.”
Farrah’s frown deepened. “Fifth...seriously?”
“Both my parents were only children from wealthy families and that’s the way they were raised,” he said nonchalantly. “My grandparents shipped them off when they were about that age.”
“So how did she stop them?”
“Momma Penny basically agreed to raise me full-time. She took me home on the weekends and agreed to handle anything school-related—from parent-teacher conferences to all social and athletic activities.”
“Unbelievable...”
“Momma Penny didn’t mind.” The corner of Robert’s mouth rose slightly. “By the time I was five, she was widowed in her midthirties, and she’d never had any children of her own. So she thought of me as her second chance. In reality, she was my only chance. My only chance at a real life, anyway, a happy childhood. And she gave me every bit of that.”
Farrah swiped away a single tear.
“So after my parents died, she kept me.”
“You didn’t have any other family that wanted you?”
The slight smile disappeared. “There were a couple of great-aunts and uncles that came forward but after they found out they wouldn’t have access to the money my parents left me—other than the small monthly allowance set aside to help with my expenses—they all walked away, and I became a ward of the state.”
“Until
Momma Penny stepped in, that is,” she confirmed.
“Yep, and she never cared about the money. Not even the monthly allowance she was entitled to, but she had no choice. Momma Penny refused to leave me at the mercy of the state and she didn’t want to have to work so much that she couldn’t raise me right. She made sure we had a good life but more important, that we were always together.” Robert smiled at the memory.
“Wow, she really loves you.”
“She does. And I love her, too...very much. So to answer your question, no, I haven’t brought any women to meet Momma Penny. No one’s been special enough to me. Until now...until you.” Robert leaned over and ran the back of his hand down the side of her face as he stared at her lush mouth.
“Oh...” she gasped, and Robert dropped his hand, faced forward and quickly started the car. He had to get moving before he pulled Farrah onto his lap, kissed her breathless and confessed everything. “Ready?” he asked.
“Yes, I think I’m getting there,” Farrah whispered.
For some reason Robert didn’t think she was just talking about a visit to his mother.
Chapter 12
Farrah watched as they made their way through an upscale neighborhood designed for senior residents fifty-five and older, keeping her focus on the changing landscape. While she was still reeling from all she’d learned about Robert in the last twenty minutes, Farrah took notice of a French country house with a wide wraparound porch, with two large trees and a bed of roses that were so beautiful they didn’t look real.
“Here we are,” Robert said as he exited the car.
He quickly made his way around and opened Farrah’s door. She gifted him with a wide smile and accepted the hand he offered. “Wow, this place is beautiful.”
“I designed and had it built a couple of years ago,” he said proudly. “It was her Mother’s Day gift.”
Farrah opened her mouth to speak but before she could get her words out, the front door opened, which was followed by a high-pitched scream.
“There’s my blue-eyed wonder,” an elegantly beautiful caramel-skinned woman called, standing on the porch. She wore a floor-length, short-sleeve flowered dress, and her long, salt-and-pepper hair had been plaited in a braid that hung across her shoulder. Her skin was practically wrinkle-free and she looked nowhere near her sixty-plus years. Robert was right; his mother is beautiful.
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