Long Time Coming

by Rochelle Alers

  And when he did see her again—this time in the full sunlight—it was as if someone had punched him in the gut, knocking the breath out of him and rendering him speechless for several seconds. Unknowingly Tessa Whitfield had charmed him as no other woman had.

  He released Tessa, watching as she rinsed her cup and placed it in the dishwasher. He picked up a camel-hair swing coat off the back of a stool and held it for her as she slipped her arms into the sleeves.

  Reaching for her keys and handbag, she winked at him. “I’m ready.”

  Tessa was ready, but was he ready for her? He was no schoolboy when it came to women, yet there was something about the wedding planner that made him feel like a gawky adolescent. He’d found her a chameleon. There was Ms. Whitfield, wedding planner extraordinaire who was formal and the consummate professional, and there was Tessa, smiling, teasing, soft and undeniably feminine.

  What Micah had to decide was which one he liked or wanted. He respected her as a businesswoman but wanted the woman without with the professional attitude and trappings that surfaced when he least expected.

  He hadn’t asked Tessa to go upstate with him on impulse, because Micah Sanborn had never made an impulsive move in his entire life. He’d asked her because spending the day together away from all that was familiar would tell him whether he should pursue her or retreat honorably.

  He waited for her to activate the alarm and lock the door, then, reaching for her hand, he led her down the stairs of the brownstone to where he’d parked his car. Using the remote device, he unlocked the vehicle and waited until she settled on the seat. He closed the door with a solid slam and rounded the sports car and got in beside her. They exchanged a smile before he put the vehicle in gear and maneuvered away from the curb in a smooth burst of power.

  “Thanks for keeping the car warm,” Tessa said, pressing her head against the headrest and closing her eyes. The heat from the vents and the soft jazz coming from the speakers lulled her into a state of total relaxation.

  Micah gave her a quick glance. “If it gets too warm, let me know.”

  She shook her head but didn’t open her eyes. “It’s good.”

  “Why don’t you try and take a nap. I’ll wake you up when we stop for breakfast.”

  A dreamy smile crossed her delicate features. “Thanks.”

  * * *

  “Tessa, wake up. We’re stopping here to eat.”

  She heard the deep voice but was loath to open her eyes. She was past being tired—she was exhausted. Her lids fluttered wildly as she struggled to surface from what had become the best sleep she’d had in days.

  When they’d left Brooklyn, the sun hadn’t come up, but now light came in through the windshield. Rolling her head from side to side, she let out a soft exhalation of breath.

  “How long have I been asleep?”

  Resting his right arm over the back of Tessa’s seat, Micah stared at her enchanting profile. “Not long.”

  “How long is not long?”

  “You zonked out before we left Brooklyn. You weren’t kidding when you said you were tired.”

  Tessa glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was ten o’clock. She’d been asleep for four hours. “I feel better now.”

  “Are you ready to eat?”

  “Bring it on,” she said, grinning. She was rested and hungry.

  Micah had stopped at a diner that resembled a railroad boxcar and had been appropriately named The Boxcar. The family-owned restaurant had achieved landmark status in the tiny hamlet boasting a population of less than three thousand. The ongoing joke was that the census would be less than two thousand if the residents didn’t count the dogs, chickens, sheep, cows and goats and horses, all of whom they considered family.

  Cornstalks tied to lampposts, pumpkins carved with happy and macabre faces and inflatable ghosts and skeletons decorating the area surrounding the historic eating establishment were a constant reminder that Halloween was only days away.

  He helped Tessa out of the car, wrapping an arm around her waist. “It feels like snow up here.” His breath was visible in the colder air.

  Tessa looked up at him. “Will I still be able to go apple picking?”

  “Not in the snow. Even though it is close to the end of the season for apple picking, you can always buy them from farm stands.”

  “I’d like to pick up some Granny Smiths. They’re perfect for pies and cobblers.”

  “After we eat breakfast, I’ll stop at a farm stand that’s not too far from my place.”

  Micah opened the door to the diner, and the distinctive smell of coffee, bacon and eggs wafted to Tessa’s nose. “Oh, that smells divine.”

  The diner was crowded with the usual locals, and Micah managed to find an empty booth that’d just been vacated by an elderly couple. Waitresses in flower-sprigged pink uniforms hoisted trays laden with dishes, while a busboy worked feverishly to clear away the remains of meals and set the tables for waiting customers.

  The teenage boy came over to the booth, his blue eyes widening before crinkling in a smile. He extended his hand, giving Micah a loud, slapping handshake before snapping his fingers.

  “How’ve you been, Lt. Sanborn?”

  Micah waved his hand. “I’m no longer a lieutenant, Bobby. I retired this past spring.”

  “My dad says he’s retiring next year.” Bobby glanced up at the clock. “He should be getting off in a couple of hours, so he’ll be in later on. I’d better clean up this table before Grandpa yells at me.”

  “Hey, Bobby, you’re needed over here!” shouted a male voice above the din of rattling dishes, waitresses calling out orders to the short-order cooks and the blare of music coming from a colorful jukebox.

  Bobby rolled his eyes. “See what I mean.”

  Tessa exchanged a smile with Micah as Bobby quickly cleaned off the table, put out place settings and gave each a plastic-covered menu. Her gaze lingered on Micah’s lean face, noticing the flecks of gray in his close-cropped hair. Light from an overhead fixture slanted over the ridge of his prominent cheekbones, giving him the appearance of a carved African mask. He lifted his expressive eyebrows questioningly, and she lowered her gaze, pretending interest in the menu in front of her.

  A knowing smile tilted the corners of Micah’s mouth as he stared at the length of lashes casting a shadow on Tessa’s cheeks. She hadn’t worn any makeup other than a soft rose color on her lips, and he found himself enchanted with the freckles dotting her satiny face.

  “You’re gorgeous.”

  Her head jerked up. “What!”

  Leaning forward in his seat, he whispered, “I said you are gorgeous. I can’t be the first man who’s told you that.”

  Tessa stared at Micah through her lashes, unable to meet his penetrating gaze or stop the rush of heat flooding her face. “No, you’re not,” she said truthfully, “but men have said things to me for different reasons.”

  “What would they be?”

  Resting her arms on the table, she gave him a direct look. “Most of them wanted to get into my panties.”

  Micah’s jaw slightly dropped before he recovered enough to say, “Are you always so blunt?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Why shouldn’t I be? Some of them just came out and said they wanted to sleep with me. A few others tried to cloak it with an offer of friendship, but after a few dates I had to fight them off or threaten to dial 911 if they didn’t leave.”

  “It sounds as if you’ve been dealing with losers.”

  She affected a cynical smile. “I’ve had more losers than winners.”

  Resting his elbow on the table, he cradled his chin in his hand. “It isn’t that much different with men and women. I’ve had more losers than winners.” Tessa’s eyes widened until he could see pinpoints of gold in the soft brown depths. “You think women have a monopoly on picking up losers or crazies?”

  “You don’t hear men complain about there’s not enough good women the way we do. And if we do find a good ma
n, then he’s afraid to commit.”

  “How are you interpreting the word good, Tessa?”

  “One who’s faithful, truthful, loyal, respectful and ethical.”

  “Are you saying that if he’s unwilling to commit, then he’s not good?”

  “I’m not talking about committing to marriage, because not everyone is suited for marriage. What I’m saying is that if he’s in a relationship, then he should be committed to his woman and their relationship. Some men claim they love a woman even when she’s his baby mama, but they continue to sleep with other women because as long as he’s not married to his baby mama, then he’s not cheating. That’s a load of BS.”

  “I agree with you.”

  “You do?”

  Reaching out, he captured her hands. “Yes. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

  “I don’t know, Micah. I’m not used to a man agreeing with me on the topic of relationships.” She glanced over his shoulder. “Have you ever been in a committed relationship?”

  He nodded. “I’ve been in a few. You?”

  Tessa closed her eyes and the image of Bryce Hill came to mind. “I’ve had one.”

  “Only one?”

  She opened her eyes. “Yes.”

  Tessa tried to pull her hands away, but Micah tightened his grip on her slender fingers. “What happened?”

  “I ended it because it was based on lies and deception.”

  “That’ll do it every time.”

  A waitress wearing a champagne-pink bouffant-style wig and blinking skeleton earrings approached the table carrying a coffee carafe. She nodded to Tessa. “Mornin’, missy. Long time no see, Micah. Bobby, I need mugs over here!” she shouted, not pausing to take a breath.

  Releasing Tessa’s hands, Micah straightened against the back of the lipstick-red booth. “How’s the family, Helen?”

  “Fair to middling. I can’t wait until my youngest leaves home. He’s driving me batty. Bobby! I need mugs!” she screamed again.

  Tessa brought up her hand to cover a cough, concealing the laugh struggling to erupt, before she picked up her menu, pretending interest in the typed selections. More than a dozen varieties of muffins were listed under breakfast favorites.

  Bobby jogged over with two large mugs. “Sorry about that, Miss Helen.” He set them on the table, then scurried away to pick up a plastic bin overflowing with dirty dishes.

  “Do you know what you want or should I give you a few minutes?” the waitress asked.

  “We’re going to need a few minutes,” Micah said, reaching for his menu.

  Waiting until Helen walked away to wait on another table, Tessa glanced up to find Micah staring at her. “What?” she whispered.

  He blinked as if coming out of a trance. “Nothing.” His gaze shifted to the menu. “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Yes.”

  “Try the blueberry-cream-cheese streusel coffee cake.”

  “What are you going to have?”

  Micah perused the menu he knew like the back of his hand. “I think I’m going to try the carrot cake loaf with pistachios.”

  Tessa smiled. “That sounds yummy.”

  Micah wanted to tell her that she looked and smelled yummy—yummy and good enough to eat. He wanted to sample her lips, then work his way down her body to her toes before reversing his exploration to return to her luscious mouth. Brushing his mouth over hers just served to whet his appetite for more, much more.

  The erotic musings exploded in his head like lightning bolts, leaving him shaking from the aftermath of the realization that he was no different from the other men who’d found themselves enthralled with Tessa Whitfield.

  Did he want to sleep with her?

  Yes, said a silent voice.

  But did he want more than a physical relationship?

  Yes, it said again.

  However, old doubts and trepidation lingered. Could he, Micah wondered, put aside his dread of trusting a woman completely to experience the joy and satisfaction of a normal relationship for the first time in his life?

  He closed his eyes and whispered a silent prayer for strength, and when he opened his eyes and stared across the table at Tessa Whitfield he believed that she was the one—the one woman who would help to overcome his fear of abandonment.

  She wanted what he wanted—a relationship based on friendship and honesty and free of encumbrances. She was beautiful and intelligent, and he enjoyed talking to her, unlike other women with whom he’d found himself involved.

  His sister would marry in eight weeks, and eight weeks was more than enough time for him to ascertain whether whatever he would share with Tessa would continue beyond the new year.

  CHAPTER 10

  Fortified with a sumptuous breakfast that included a spinach-and-feta-cheese omelet with a rasher of crispy bacon and a cream-cheese-and-blueberry muffin, all washed down with two cups of steaming coffee, Tessa could barely get out of the car when Micah stopped at an enclosed farm stand several miles from what he’d referred to as his vacation retreat.

  The patrons at The Boxcar had been as memorable as the food. Micah told her that The Boxcar offered family discounts for Saturday-and Sunday-morning breakfasts in an attempt to reinforce the family-ties motto adopted by the local school district. Young children had come in wearing Halloween costumes for the various all-day parties hosted by local churches and civic organizations.

  “I’m so full I can’t walk, Micah,” she groaned as he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. Bending slightly, he swept her up in his arms and made his way from the parking area toward the clapboard building. Tessa pounded his solid shoulder. “Put me down.”

  He stopped, grinning at her. “You said you couldn’t walk.”

  “Don’t be silly. It was only a figure of speech because I’d eaten too much.”

  Micah took a step. “You hardly ate anything. You left half your omelet and I finished up your muffin.”

  “That’s because I’m not used to eating that much in the morning.”

  He smiled as he continued walking. “Well, I am. Didn’t your mother teach you that breakfast is the most important meal of the day?”

  “Yes, she did. But that has nothing to do with overeating.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re dieting?”

  “No!”

  “Well, I had to ask because nowadays it seems as if every woman is on one diet or another.”

  Tessa pushed against his shoulder. “Put me down, Micah!” He complied, setting her on her feet. “I’d thought you’d be different from the other men I’ve met.”

  “Different how, Tessa?”

  “You lump all women into one category, then you come out of your face with some stereotypical—”

  “Stop it, Tessa,” he said, cutting her off. “Don’t say another word.” His voice, though low, dared her to refute him. “I’m neither a sexist nor a misogynist. Statistics show that if you ask ten women from any racial group if they’ve ever dieted or are currently on a diet, nine of ten will say yes. I don’t know anything about you other than what little you’ve told me, and because I’m not a mind reader I had to ask. Will you forgive me?”

  Tessa and Micah stared at each other in what had become a stalemate. Neither was willing to concede. It was only their first date and they realized they shared an obvious negative personality trait: stubbornness.

  She nodded “What do you want to know about me?” she asked, ending the impasse.

  “Everything you’re willing to tell me.”

  She nodded again. “Okay.”

  The tense lines in Micah’s face eased. “And I’ll tell you about me, but first let’s go and buy your apples.”

  “If they’re going to be my apples, then I suppose that means I don’t have to share the pie with you,” she teased.

  Reaching for Tessa’s hand, he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I will throw down for some pie.”

  A hint of a smile found its way across Tessa’s upturned face.
“I suppose I’ll have to make the pie and see who…” Her words trailed off when particles of ice pelted her forehead. “It’s sleeting.”

  Micah led her toward the farm stand. “We better buy what we need and get up to the house before the roads get icy. I’m going to stop at another store to pick up something to eat for later on, because if the sleet turns into snow we’re going to be stuck until the roads are plowed.”

  Tessa stopped short, causing Micah to stumble, but he regained his footing quickly. “What if we’re snowed in?”

  He saw the wariness in her eyes. “Do you have anything planned for tomorrow?”

  “No. But when I agreed to come up here with you I hadn’t expected it to snow before the end of October.”

  He eased her forward. The sleet was falling faster, the icy pellets slashing exposed skin like tiny razors. “Some years there’s hardly a trace of snow, and others accumulations can go as high as sixty inches.”

  “I agreed to have dinner with you, Micah Sanborn, not spend the weekend snowbound.”

  Reaching over her head, Micah pushed open a solid oak door. “If I had to get snowed in with someone, I’d pray she looked like you.”

  Tessa rolled her eyes at him. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  “I know one thing I’m going to get from you,” he whispered close to her ear.

  Going completely still, her heart pounding a runaway rhythm, Tessa turned and stared up at Micah as if she’d never seen him before. Please don’t let him be like all of the others, a silent voice pleaded.

  “What’s that, Micah?”

  Dipping his head and pressing his mouth to her ear, he whispered, “Some apple pie.”

  A wave of relief bubbled up in her chest and came out like a schoolgirl giggle, causing several people close enough to hear her titter smile. His low chuckle joined hers.

  “You thought I was going to say your panties, didn’t you?” She sobered quickly, her mouth forming a perfect O. “Yeah, you did,” he said, teasing her. “Why, I believe you’re blushing.”

  “I don’t blush.”

  He pulled her gently along with him to the rear of the large clapboard building. “Come on, beautiful, and pick out what you want.”