Before the Storm (The Cochran/Deveraux Series Book 9)

by Melanie Schuster

  She’d changed into a lounging outfit that was like a long-sleeved T-shirt with a deep scoop neck. It was made of a silky material in a luscious shade of orchid and it had long slits on both sides so he could see her shapely, sexy legs. As he watched her high, firm butt move with unconscious seduction when she walked across the room, he knew for a fact that he was the one in trouble of the deepest kind. He was falling in love.

  Mac finished shaving and washed the lather from his face. He patted his face dry and finished up with an aftershave balm. He leaned into the mirror and trimmed a few stray hairs from his moustache and finally decided he was finished. He went into the adjoining bedroom to get dressed while he thought about the rest of the evening with Ruth. They’d decided to sit on the floor and eat from the coffee table instead of using the table provided for dining. It was intimate and sweet; the two of them feeding each other roast chicken and asparagus spears, followed by big strawberries with a wildly delicious sauce in which to dip them.

  They talked for hours, about everything under the sun. Mac asked her about her sister, and she was happy to tell him everything she could remember about her.

  “Lillian was the most wonderful person in the world. She was ten years older than me, so I always looked up to her and adored her. When our parents were killed in a boating accident, she took over my care. She became like my mother, Julian. If it wasn’t for Lillian I don’t think I would have made it through college. And she took care of me in other ways, too. We had a trust fund and she made sure that on her passing her money came to me, not her children. She knew that I’d always take care of her children no matter what, and besides, she knew they would be cared for financially by her husband. She also had a life insurance policy for me, just so I’d have an extra cushion, something to fall back on.

  “Lillian taught me everything that counts about being a woman, Julian. How to be a friend, how to keep my word, to be a good steward over my finances and she even taught me how to dress. That’s important, too, you know. Through the darkest days of my life, she was always there for me. And through the best ones, too,” she said with tears glistening in her eyes. “I always said that when I had a daughter I would name her Lillian, after my beautiful sister.”

  Mac leaned over and kissed the tears away from the corners of her eyes, then held his arms open so she could rest her head on his shoulder. “This is where I get really nosy, darling. I can’t understand why you never had children. Why didn’t you ever get married? As beautiful and wonderful as you are, how in the world could you not be someone’s wife?”

  He was shocked when her response wasn’t fast and sassy. He fully expected a quick quip of some kind and he was stunned to see big tears form in her eyes. He rose to his feet and pulled her up with him, sitting down on the sofa and enfolding her in his arms. ‘Talk to me, honey. Tell me about it,” he said softly.

  She took refuge in his arms for a while, rubbing her soft hair against his shoulder. Finally she began to talk, in a soft voice very unlike her normal speech.

  “I was supposed to be someone’s wife. I was engaged to a wonderful man named Jared Brandeis. We met in college. I’m from Pennsylvania, you know, and we went to Penn State—Jared was getting his master’s degree in education and I was majoring in nursing. I had a work-study job in the library and that’s how we met. We were so young and idealistic, we thought true love could conquer all,” she said with a shaky sigh.

  “Back in the seventies when everyone’s ideas were changing about everything, when our generation thought we could make a difference in the world. My friends protested Vietnam, fought for civil rights and stood up for women’s rights and we really thought if we challenged the system with passion and purpose the end result would be some kind of utopia,” she said with a trace of bitterness. “I was so naive, Julian, and so was Jared. My family was fine with our relationship. Lillian thought he was just right for me and she supported us fully. His parents were artistic and liberal and they loved me, too, despite the fact that they hadn’t really planned on having a black daughter-in-law,” she said with a sad, wry twist to her mouth. “And yes, Jared was white,” she told him before he could ask.

  “As a couple on campus we just kind of blended in, I guess, because no one gave us any flack, at least not that I can remember. Maybe I was just so in love I wasn’t paying any attention to the signs. Jared never mentioned anything about any racial comments, either. Now that I look back on it, I think we were just blind, just stupidly blind about the whole thing. We had no business being together, none whatsoever.”

  Max continued to hold her close, stroking her high cheekbone with his thumb and giving her soft kisses on her temple while rubbing his face against her sweet-smelling hair. “Why would you say a thing like that, honey? Why shouldn’t two people in love be together, regardless of the color of their skin?”

  A choking sound came from Ruth as she struggled to answer him. “Because he was walking me back to the dorm one night and a gang of drunken fraternity boys jumped us. He died a week later from the injuries he sustained in the attack. I was beaten pretty badly, too, but I survived.” The pain in her soft voice was hard for Mac to listen to—it was breaking his heart. “If I’d stayed away from him it wouldn’t have happened. He was a gentle, kind and very gifted man, and he shouldn’t have died like that. It was all my fault, Julian. I’m the one responsible for his death.”

  Mac’s arms tightened around Ruth as he maneuvered her body closer to his. Kissing her tear-streaked face over and over, he talked to her in reassuring tones. “Honey, you weren’t responsible. It wasn’t your fault that a bunch of misguided racists went crazy. How can you think that? It wasn’t you, honey, it was all them. You couldn’t have known it was going to happen.”

  Ruth couldn’t answer for a moment. She wiped the tears from her face and sighed. “I could have stayed away from him,” she said slowly. “I could have pretended I didn’t know he was flirting with me, I could have ignored the fact that we found each other attractive, I could have done so many things and he wouldn’t have died so young. He’d be married and happy and have lots of kids and grandkids if it hadn’t been for me,” she whispered.

  “Honey, you can’t know that. He could be miserable, married to some horrible nagging wench with drug-addled, ungrateful kids trying to bleed him dry,” Mac said frankly. “You were probably the best thing that ever happened to him. He died tragically, that’s true, but he died loving you and protecting you. He died like a man, Ruth, and in the end that’s all any of us can ask for.”

  Ruth rested her head on his shoulder and warned him, “I’m going to cry some more. I try so hard not to think about this or talk about it. It hurts, even after all these years.”

  “Well, you go ahead and cry if you need to. And when you get through I’ll still be here holding you, how’s that?”

  Ruth gave him a shaky smile and stroked his face. “That will be just perfect, Julian. It’ll be just what I need.”

  Mac held her tenderly, holding his growing passion at bay as he comforted her until she fell asleep in his arms. Finally he stood up, carried her into her bedroom and put her in bed, covering her gently and kissing her lightly before turning off the lamp. He sat in the big chair near the bed and watched her sleep for a long time before going into his own bedroom.

  It had been one of the longest nights of his life, but one of the most meaningful. After hearing the story of her lost love, he was even more sure than before that Ruth Bennett was a woman he wanted in his life—permanently. He finished with his grooming and donned the thick terry robe provided by the hotel. He went into his bedroom and was preparing to get dressed when a knock sounded on the door. With a smile on his face he went to open the door, hoping Ruth had slept as well as he had.

  Chapter 7

  Ruth awoke in great spirits. She’d slept like a child, snug and secure, even though she had no clear recollection of how she got into bed. She had an idea that Mac had put her under the covers and instead
of being embarrassed about it, she felt cherished. After showering and shampooing her hair, she blew it dry, curled and styled it, and dressed casually, in a pair of sleek-fitting jeans, a rose-colored merino wool turtleneck and her favorite walking shoes. They were imported leather slip-ons that cradled her feet and would allow her to walk for hours without discomfort. She added a wisp of makeup, just a basic foundation to protect her skin from the pollutants in the city air, a dab of coppery eye shadow and a little black mascara. A final dab of bronze lipstick, a spritz of Goldleaf and she was good to go.

  Her only jewelry was her diamond studs and a pair of gold hoops. She ordered coffee from room service and she had just finished dressing when she heard them at the door of the suite.

  After tipping the server, she poured a cup for Mac and took it to him, tapping lightly at his bedroom door. When he opened the door she had to stifle a gasp. He was wearing a bathrobe and she could see the thick, silky hair on his chest. He had no right to look that sexy at this hour of the morning, she decided.

  “Good morning. Here’s some coffee for you,” she said sweetly. “Do you want breakfast in or out?”

  He took the cup from her hands and leaned down to give her a quick kiss. “Out, definitely. I was thinking Zabar’s, does that suit you?”

  Ruth knew about the legendary delicatessen and agreed it sounded perfect. “See you in a few,” she said as he turned to finish dressing. She got a good long look at his long, muscular legs that were also covered with black hair and almost passed out. She was fanning herself rapidly with one hand as she went to fix her own cup. Dangerous man, very dangerous, she thought, but she didn’t believe it for a minute. Aside from her sister, Sylvia and Capiz, she’d never talked to anyone about Jared, yet she’d poured her heart out to him as if they’d known each other for years. He was so darned easy to talk to, she mused. There was something comforting about him that made it amazingly easy to confide her innermost thoughts to him. As close-mouthed as Ruth was by nature, that alone made Julian unique and irresistible. That and the fact that he kissed like he had an advanced degree in oscillation; no man, including her beloved Jared, had ever made her knees go weak like he did.

  After they were seated in Zabar’s eating deliriously decadent chocolate croissants and drinking big caramel lattes, Ruth’s face lit up in a smile as she thought about those kisses. She almost spat a mouthful of coffee across the table when Mac casually announced he knew what she was thinking about.

  “You’re thinking about kissing me,” he said matter-of-factly. When he saw her cheeks turn the same color as her sweater he took one of her hands in his own. “Aww, honey, don’t look like that. I’m thinking the same thing so there’s no need for you to be embarrassed. You have the softest lips in the world and they taste just like honey, sweet, warm and spicy. I could kiss those lips all night,” he said with those maddeningly seductive eyes caressing her face.

  Ruth just sat there with her mouth open slightly, looking like she was ready to be kissed again. She was more than happy to leave the deli, because she needed some fresh air. While they were strolling and holding hands, she took a good look at Mac, who was dressed as casually as she was, in well-pressed jeans, a gray cable knit sweater and the leather jacket that made his fedora look even more dashing. She stared at him for a moment, and then squeezed his hand. “You don’t believe in holding back, do you?”

  He smiled down at her and returned the pressure on her hand. “No, darlin’, I don’t. I don’t see the point, do you? We’re both way past grown and we pretty much know what we want out of life, so I see no reason to be coy. If you want someone who’s going to play games and try to manipulate the relationship, you’re going to have to find someone else. Is that acceptable?”

  Ruth returned his smile. It was impossible not to, he had a smile of infectious joy and purity. “That’s perfectly acceptable, Julian. I’m not much for playing games, either. So are you sure you want to go shopping? There’re a lot of other things we can do, you know. Most men don’t like to shop,” she pointed out.

  “I keep telling you, I’m not like most men. I like shopping, mostly because of my children. I used to be totally indifferent to my attire. I liked to fish and hunt and roughhouse with the kids and I couldn’t have cared less about clothes. I’d buy my suits from Sears and JC Penney and not think anything about it. Ginger, my wife, was real bohemian and she was not a slave to fashion, so she didn’t care, either.

  “But some years after she passed I was featured in a local magazine as the worst-dressed lawyer in Louisiana,” he admitted. “I’m not kidding, honey. There was a picture of me in a courtroom when I was district attorney, and I was wearing a light blue polyester suit looking like a black Ben Matlock. The boys were so humiliated they refused to go to school,” he laughed.

  Ruth laughed, too, but hers was one of disbelief. “Julian, I don’t believe you! What did Paris say about this?”

  By now they had reached their destination, Barney’s, that icon of good taste and high prices. Mac laughed even louder. “Ask Paris about the plaid jacket. I had a madras sport coat that I was real attached to, like an old friend. I used to wear it to church a lot, with tan chinos and a yellow shirt. I think I had a matching plaid belt, too. Paris despised it and begged me over and over to get rid of it, but I never would. It was my pal, something comfortable and familiar. After that article, though, I reached for it one Sunday morning and she had cut it to ribbons and hung it back up in the closet with a note attached. The note read ‘The seersucker suit is next.’

  “I figured if my most obedient child was driven to those lengths it was time for me to clean up my act and ever since then, I’ve paid a lot more attention to how I look. Paris swears the change in my appearance was one of the reasons I was appointed to the Supreme Court. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I do like to shop now.”

  “So what are we looking for?” Ruth asked curiously. “Anything in particular?”

  “Not really. Just meandering around until we find something we can’t live without. Like those earrings,” he murmured. “Those would look perfect on you,” he said as he indicated a stupendous pair of tourmaline briolette teardrops dangling from a diamond bow.

  Before Ruth could utter a protest, a chic-looking salesperson slithered up out of nowhere. “Your husband has exquisite taste, madame,” she cooed.

  Ruth was wearing a beret and leather gloves that matched her sweater, so her ring finger wasn’t visible.

  “We’re not married,” she said hastily, only to be interrupted by Mac.

  “Oh, sweetheart, please stop saying that. We agreed to a trial separation but you know I can’t live without you. When are you going to take me back, my love?”

  Ruth’s laughter started in her toes and worked its way through her entire body until it burst out merrily in the relative quiet of the jewelry department. She was laughing so hard he finally had to take her out of there. They spent the rest of the morning going from store to store, enjoying each other’s company; they even relished the brisk February weather. Suddenly it occurred to Ruth that she hadn’t brought anything especially dressy with her.

  “Julian, are we doing anything special tonight? I don’t think I have anything really fancy with me,” she said thoughtfully.

  “Ever hear of the Rainbow Room? I thought dinner and dancing there would be a nice evening,” he said innocently.

  “Oh, shoot! I have to do some power shopping right now,” Ruth said with a frown. “How could you not tell me we were going there, of all places?”

  Mac grinned with no remorse whatsoever. “It’s called a surprise, honey. If I told you about it in advance, how could you be overcome with joy later?”

  Ruth made a face at Mac and looked at her watch. “Your turn is coming, mister. In the meantime, I’ll meet you back here in an hour,” she said sternly. They were standing in front of Bloomingdale’s and Mac was still chuckling over the look of consternation on her beloved face. She got him back, though
, giving him a sudden swat on his firm backside, saying, “Don’t be late, cowboy, or I won’t be waiting.”

  A few hours later she was still tickled by the look of shock and desire on Mac’s face when she gave his hard buttock a good squeeze. Serves him right, pulling a fast one on me, she thought. In the end, though, she felt she had the upper hand right now. She’d taken off to the after-five department of Bloomie’s at the speed of light, looking for something stunning to wear. There were any number of dresses from which to choose, but she wanted to knock his socks off. She wanted to make him look at her as if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life, audacious as that notion was. It wasn’t ego that spurred her on; it was a deep-seated yearning to please him, to make him as happy as he was making her. She didn’t even want to think about how much the weekend spree was costing him, but she knew he was dropping a bundle, just to make sure she was having a wonderful time. Now it was time for her to turn the tables on him, and she was pretty sure this delicious confection of a dress would do it.

  A little sales associate had attached herself to Ruth as soon as she entered the department and although Ruth had done her best to shake her off civilly, the young woman clung to her like a limpet. She brought her frock after frock, all of which Ruth deemed unsuitable. Too frilly, too ingenue, too daring, they were all too something. The young Asian woman, who was named Alison, kept bringing her outfits, and kept her bright smile beaming during the whole ordeal. She had one number she wanted Ruth to try on, something that just didn’t seem right for Ruth. It was sheer and black, that’s about all Ruth could discern as she kept waving it away. Finally, after trying on number twelve in an unending series of fancy dresses, Ruth had to acknowledge that Alison was the most patient and good-natured associate she’d ever encountered.