She couldn’t hide it anymore, not after that lustful stare she gave him.
#
Seeing her opportunity, Della used her garden as an excuse to leave Anthony and Mariah alone. She didn’t need to check it– just like she didn’t need the lawn mowed today – but her absence would give those two a chance to chat.
When Anthony called yesterday, he was checkin’ on her, like he always did, lookin’ to pick her brain ‘bout Mariah, too. She knew Mariah was visitin’ today, so she figured throwin’ them together was for the best.
Della adjusted her hat and knelt down to inspect a light red tomato. She saw the way Mariah glanced at Anthony when she thought no one was lookin’, and Anthony was drawn to Mariah from the first.
She had to pull some strings. Life was short and she wanted to see some great-grandkids before she died.
#
Inside, Mariah set her dish, glass, and fork in the drain rack next to the sink. She stared out the kitchen window, a thoughtful shimmer in her eyes. Images of Anthony, built, glistening and nude from the waist up dominated her thoughts, and even though he wasn’t shirtless anymore, his potent energy was indisputable… irresistible. The attraction began the moment she laid eyes on him and grew stronger ever since.
“Are you okay?”
Mariah gave him a startled look over her shoulder to find him standing close, watching her. She was so wrapped up in her reverie that she didn’t hear him push the chair back and move in her direction. Mariah swallowed, aware of the strength and warmth of his flesh. “Yes. I was…just thinking.” She took an abrupt step back from him.
Anthony placed his empty plate, fork, and cup in the sink. He rested his hands on his hips, and his T-shirt stretched taut around his shoulders. “About?” He stared back in waiting silence.
“Apologizing to you.”
“Really?” he managed, keeping his voice bland.
She exhaled. “For the way things ended…the last time…at Allegra’s. I know – in your own way – you were only trying to help.”
Anthony drew his lips in, turned on the faucet and started washing dishes. “As a cop,” he added after about fifteen seconds, his raspy voice gliding over her like callous fingers, “you have a short period of time to size up a situation, make a decision, and take action.” He placed the dish, fork, and glass next to the ones she had just washed, then caught and held her eyes. Mariah nodded back at him without speaking. He said in a dry tone, “Good thing you were just thinking about apologizing.”
Sudden annoyance lit Mariah’s eyes. Though his expression was neutral, a hint of amusement filled that ocher-tinted gaze, staunching anything she was about to say. She nodded her head. “Okay, I get it. I’m sorry,” she indulged, and realized that Anthony Caine did have a sense of humor.
Gran D walked in then. “Ya’ll alright?” She pulled her glasses down and her eyes shifted between Mariah and Anthony.
“We’re fine, Gran D. Why?”
Gran D pushed her glasses back up and shrugged. “Just wondered.”
A few minutes later, Mariah kissed Gran D goodbye and Anthony walked Mariah to her car. “How’s the packing?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “I haven’t started. I’ve healed pretty fast.” She held up her still-bandaged wrist. “It’s the idea of going in Allegra’s room and getting rid of all her stuff that’s so…daunting.”
“Maybe it’ll be less overwhelming if you have some help.”
Mariah stopped a foot away from her car. “Are you offering to lend a hand?” Hope sparkled in her eyes, not because he’d be close – which was a plus – but because she really needed assistance. She couldn’t ask Mom or Gran D. They couldn’t handle it, and Kevin had to work. Her only other option was Solé, but she and Mark left for the Bahamas two days ago. Out of the three women, Solé was the best choice, because she had the least emotional attachment to Allegra.
Anthony paused for a moment, stroking his chin and raising his eyes skyward as if contemplating the mysteries of the universe before returning them to her face. “I guess I’ll be there tomorrow around three, since you asked so nicely.”
#
That night, it rained and Mariah turned in early. Because her mind was on tomorrow, and Anthony, she found it hard to sleep. After an hour of listening to the rain hit the window, she went to the kitchen.
She didn’t need to flick the light switch, because the glow from the nightlight by the sink was enough. After the incident with the rock, Mariah bought nightlights and plugged them in around the house. It was a small thing, but they made her feel a little more secure.
Mariah prepared some chamomile tea and went back upstairs. When she realized she forgot a spoon, she let out an exasperated sigh and head back down to the kitchen.
Spoon obtained, Mariah closed the drawer and turned away.
She had no idea that a shadowy figure lingered outside, with a bare hand pressed to the kitchen door window.
#
The next day, Anthony surprised Mariah when he arrived at the house an hour early. Mariah turned off the alarm, opened the door and tried to still the fluttering in her chest. “Hi.” She blinked, stepping back to allow him entrance despite her astonishment. He wore the usual, a crew neck T-shirt, well-fitting cargo pants and sneakers.
“Hi. I figured we could use a good lunch before we started. What about Golden Corral?”
“No Golden Corral, please.” She shook her head and grimaced in good humor, closing the door behind him.
“What?” The corners of his mouth almost tilted upward. “You don’t like the Corral?”
She rolled her eyes. “I would inhale the Corral, but I don’t need a big meal right now. I won’t get anything done when we come back.”
“I’ve always admired a woman who’s not afraid to eat.” His voice was playful, but it held an undercurrent of something deeper that skimmed along the edges of Mariah’s awareness.
Oh, goodness. The man brought her long-dormant senses to life, and he hadn’t even kissed her yet. “Okay.” Mariah swallowed and cleared her throat. “I’ll uh…be right back.”
As she headed upstairs, Mariah could’ve sworn his eyes were boring holes in her butt. Although she was flattered, Mariah didn’t look back. He’d already caught her staring at him once, and a large part of her was afraid that if she did look back, Anthony would see the same desire mirrored in her eyes again.
#
Mariah was right; Anthony was staring. The pants she wore stopped just above the ankle and shaped to the contours of a well-rounded behind that reminded him of an onion.
Anthony gave himself a mental pat on the back. He took a chance and it paid off. He showed up early to catch Mariah off guard, and now she was going to lunch with him.
He was finally making progress.
#
Mariah changed into a pair of black capris, a pink tank top and black sneakers. As she dressed, she couldn’t resist a check in the mirror. Mariah couldn’t believe she had agreed to go to lunch with Anthony. She settled the strap of her black purse over her shoulder. “This is not a date,” she told her reflection, her voice firm, her gaze steady. “It’s not.”
As they drove, she tried to convince herself that going out with Anthony wasn’t a date, but deep down, she couldn’t control the thrill that coursed through her. She had not dated for a long time; she hadn’t wanted to, until now.
But her excitement started to dwindle the second she and Anthony walked into one of his favorite restaurants. It felt as though time came to a halt as people stopped and stared at him.
The waitress who served them was the worst offender.
She addressed Anthony first, and her eyes kept straying toward him as she talked. He ordered and she graced him a heartfelt grin before turning her attention to Mariah, and then her smile became more artificial.
Mariah knew what that smile meant, had seen it many times from other women when she was with Terry, and what little elation she had vaporized like a dr
op of water on a hot skillet.
Coming here was a bad idea.
#
Coming here was a bad idea.
Anthony would give the waitress a decent tip, because she had a hard, thankless job that didn’t even pay minimum wage – not because she was super attentive. He tapped a finger on the table as they ate. The more the waitress stopped by their table, the more nonchalant Mariah became, and the less she ate. Conversation between him and Mariah was lukewarm now, different from the chat they’d had in the car.
Mariah’s walls were back up, and he would have to work harder to get break through them.
#
Painful memories of her ex-husband arose as Mariah watched the pretty waitress gush over Anthony. When Mariah could eat no more, she asked the waitress for a takeout box, then stepped to the ladies’ room while Anthony waited for the check.
As she washed her hands, Mariah stared at herself in the mirror and didn’t like what she saw. Her expression was stiff and the look in her eyes was distant. Mariah had gone back into Terry Mode, something she did when her ex-husband flirted with other women, and the other women were always more attractive than she was. Pretending she wasn’t hurt by his actions in public was the only way she knew how to fight back.
But Anthony didn’t disrespect her, a voice reminded her. He treated the waitress with polite disinterest. That fact improved Mariah’s mood.
When Mariah returned to the table, Anthony rose out of the booth. Mariah’s eyes dropped to the table, taking in the number left behind and the tip. His gaze followed hers then returned. “Ready?”
She nodded and a kernel of delight bloomed inside her.
As they walked out Anthony put a large hand to the middle of Mariah’s spine, providing guidance even though she didn’t need it. The touch was solid and persuasive and Mariah’s heartbeat throbbed in her ears, but she didn’t resist.
When she didn’t flinch at his touch, Anthony readily slid his hand down further, fitting into the small of her back. This time, a delicious shudder heated her body, but Mariah didn’t protest.
#
Anthony felt Mariah shiver at his touch, which meant all wasn’t lost.
One corner of his mouth pulled into a slight, satisfied smile that she couldn’t see. She was warming up to him. But he had to move carefully, or else he’d scare her away. He couldn’t afford to lose her now, not when her response to his touch let him know that she was open to more between them, and not just sex.
He thought about the next step, inviting her to dinner at his house.
He hoped she liked dogs…
#
Allegra’s room was fit for an empress with a pencil post, king-sized bed and armoires made of dark merlot finish. Bottles of expensive perfume, cosmetics and other skin products were lined up on a Candice vanity according to function. Her bathroom was half the size of the bedroom with a deep, oval tub, a shower with a dappled glass door, and the double sink had a vibrant French gold finish.
The walk-in closet was enormous and organized by outfit. Formal wear was on the left, semi-formal and semi-casual were in the middle, and business clothes was on the right. Three rows of shelves – filled with numerous folded sweaters of different fabrics and colors – lined the walls in a U-shape from one end to the other. On the floor against the center wall were four stacked rows of shoe cubbies. Allegra had at least ten pairs of each type of footwear. Against the right wall was a nightstand with cinnamon finish.
“Let’s start with her clothes.” Before they returned to the house, Mariah and Anthony stopped at a nearby department store so she could buy a few rolling storage bins. It took almost two hours to clean out a portion of the closet because they were mindful of Mariah’s injured wrist, and they folded the clothes instead of haphazardly tossing them into the bin. A separate bin was used for shoes. If not for the creep factor and the fact that her clothes and shoes didn’t fit, Mariah would’ve gladly taken much of her sister’s wardrobe for herself. But Allegra’s attire wasn’t Mariah’s style. She preferred more casual, understated fashions.
Mariah opened the nightstand and found a two-drawer jewelry box. It was handmade of beautiful woods and traditional designs. She reached in to withdraw the first item that came into view, a pair of Tiffany solitaire earrings in platinum. “These must be worth a thousand, easy.”
She returned them to the box, examining the other contents. Mariah liked jewelry, but not to this degree. “Look at all this. Platinum, gold, diamonds, sapphires and emeralds. I could give them to Mom and Gran D but…”
“Ms. D. would never take them.”
“I know. She’s never been into expensive things like this and Mom…these would just be heartbreaking reminders.”
“Her heart is breaking, no matter what.”
Mariah nodded, closing the box.
By the time they finished, it was nearly seven.
Mariah sighed as she sank down on the bed, her sneakers dangling several inches off the floor. “I am done for the night.”
Anthony leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll come back again. Just let me know.”
“Thanks. There’s so much more to get rid of, enough for Mimi’s Closet.” Mariah peered around the room.
“What’s Mimi’s Closet?”
“A clothing store.”
“Why don’t you just put them in one of the clothing donation boxes, or give it to a church?”
“I was.” She shook her head. “But Allegra’s final wishes clearly stated that she wanted me to take them to Mimi’s.”
“Why there?”
“Because they pay for clothes and shoes up front, especially brand names. A few years ago, she told me that she wanted people to pay good money for her quality possessions after she died.”
“Are you serious?” Anthony lowered his arms and pushed away from the wall. “She wanted to sell her stuff for money that she couldn’t touch with her cold, dead hands, rather than to let struggling people have access to good clothes for free?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I forgot how we got on the subject of donating clothes, but we got into an argument about her comment. I thought she was selfish; she thought otherwise.”
Anthony shook his head in disbelief. “Allegra was worse than I thought.”
Mariah didn’t know how to respond, so she said nothing. But her stomach chose that precise moment to rumble. “Oh, no,” she mumbled self-consciously. She put a hand to her stomach.
Mariah’s reaction seemed to amuse Anthony, and lighten the mood. “You want some Italian?”
“Oh, no, I wasn’t trying to get you to buy me dinner, too.” Her eyes widened.
“It’s okay.” Mariah didn’t play games. He liked that about her. “I’ve got some lasagna at home.”
She was about to say no, but her stomach let out another rumble, a stronger one this time. “Okay, okay,” she gave in. “You win.”
Anthony didn’t know if Mariah was talking to him, or her stomach, but he was happy to have the victory. It just gave him more alone time with her.
#
How did I get into this? Mariah asked herself as she dismounted from Anthony’s SUV and followed him into his home.
“Do animals bother you?” he asked carefully before unlocking the door.
Mariah sensed this was important to him, even though he appeared unconcerned. “Not at all. We had a cat when I was kid. Ter- I just never had time for a pet. I’d like to get another one. I just haven’t had time,” she replied. Shut up, Mariah. You’re rambling.
Something in Anthony seemed to ease. “Okay.” He inserted his key and turned the lock, pushing the door open and turning off his alarm. The scent of cinnamon greeted Mariah, and her uncertainty lessened as the prettiest dog she’d ever seen came into view. It was medium-sized and compact with well-developed muscles. Its fur was red on top and buff-colored on the lower part of its face, underneath its chin, the underside of its body, and the inside of its legs. Deep-set, tria
ngularly-shaped brown eyes were rimmed with black and slanted upwards, a thick tail curled toward its back and foxlike features gave the animal a distinctive appearance. A silver collar that resembled a chain dangled from the dog’s neck.
The dog barked once in a welcoming manner and wagged its tail happily as it approached Anthony, the chain jingling. “Hey, Ming.” Anthony bent down on his haunches.
Ming accepted a few pets from Anthony then turned his attention to Mariah, his dark eyes guarded.
Mariah knelt down, stretching her arm out, palm upward.
Ming advanced without hesitation, the chain clinking. He sniffed her, his cold, black nose tickling her palm and Mariah couldn’t suppress a little giggle. Deciding that she was okay, Ming ducked his head under her palm, giving her permission to stroke him.
Mariah caressed his fur a few times, marveling at its texture. “Aren’t you a beauty?” She raised her eyes to find Anthony watching her. “What kind of dog is he?”
“A Shiba Inu.”
“Shiba what?” Confusion skipped across her face even as she scratched behind one of Ming’s triangular-shaped ears.
“Shiba Inu. It’s Japanese for ‘brushwood dog.’”
“His coat is so stiff and straight on top, but soft and thick underneath. You can’t tell unless you touch it.”
“Helps him stay waterproof.”
“I’ve never seen his type before.”
Anthony lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. “They’re not very popular around here.”
“How old is he?”
“A year.”
Mariah pushed herself into a standing position and Ming looked a little forlorn when she stopped petting him. He turned and dashed into the den. “He’s quite well-behaved, and clean.”
“Shibas are like cats when it comes to bathing and climbing. They were bred to flush out game, birds, sometimes boars, so the prey drive is strong. That’s why people shouldn’t keep smaller animals around. They’re runners, too, so you need to keep them on a leash or have covered outdoor runs. Once they get away, they’re gone.”
“He looked kind of fierce at first. Is he’s your guard dog?”
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