Long Time Coming

by Rochelle Alers

  Tessa stared at Micah, who nodded. “Please do,” she said when she wanted to say, Oh, hell, no.

  She loved her sister unconditionally, yet tonight she didn’t want Simone or her deadbeat ex-brother-in-law to intrude on her time with Micah because she needed time with him—alone. What she’d shared with him had gone against everything she’d professed to when interacting with a man. He was related to her client, she’d slept with him within a week of meeting him for the first time and her feelings for him went beyond what she’d openly admit.

  Micah beckoned to a waiter to bring two more chairs. He waited until Simone and Tessa were seated before sitting down again. Once Simone and Tony were given menus, he ordered a bottle of wine for the table.

  Simone exhibited the lighter side of her personality, laughing, joking and entertaining everyone with stories about some of her more quirky clients. Tony, enraptured with his ex-wife’s beauty and carefree attitude, shed his normally grim expression and joined in when he and Micah got into a heated discussion about various sports teams.

  Tessa’s annoyance with Simone and Tony’s unexpected intrusion vanished quickly after her first sip of wine while sampling an assortment of appetizers that included a traditional French foie gras served with celery salad and walnuts and carpaccio—thinly sliced beef tenderloin with shavings of reggiano parmesan.

  The two couples shared main courses of grilled black tiger jumbo shrimps, pasta linguini tossed with lobster meat, fresh tomato, thyme, basil with a touch of light red chili and a salad of julienne of hearts of palm and carrots on a bed of crisp lettuce.

  * * *

  Micah pretended he didn’t see Tessa scowling when he settled the bill. Helping her into her coat, he leaned down and pressed his mouth close to her ear. “We’ll talk about it later,” he whispered.

  Tessa compressed her lips tightly, if only to keep the curses building up on her tongue from exploding. She’d asked him out, not the reverse. And she hadn’t wanted him to pick up the tab for her sister and Tony.

  “Later,” she said between clenched teeth.

  Looping an arm around Tessa’s waist, Micah escorted her out of the restaurant and into the narrow alley. He smiled at Simone as she huddled closer to Tony to share his body’s warmth.

  “We have to do this again.”

  “Most definitely,” Simone said cheerfully. “There’s no doubt I’ll see you again before your sister’s wedding.”

  “Have you seen the house?” he asked.

  Simone shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “Tessa and I are going Sunday. You’re welcome to join us.”

  “I can’t. I have to set up the floral arrangement for a birthday brunch.”

  Micah angled his head, his gaze shifting from Simone to Tessa. There was no doubt the two women were related, their natural beauty startling, but there was something about the woman pressed to his side that held him spellbound, ensnared in a web of sensual delight. The seconds ticked off as he visually searched her face in the glow of the lanterns affixed along the walls of the alley.

  “I hate to break up what has been a very enjoyable get-together, but I have to make a stop before I go home,” Simone said softly. She smiled at Tessa. “I’ll see you Monday.” Extending her hand to Micah, she gave him a bright smile. “Again, it’s a pleasure meeting you. And thank you for dinner. The next time it’ll be my treat.”

  Tessa hugged her sister and pressed a light kiss to Tony’s cheek, shocking him with the affectionate gesture. “Take care of yourself.”

  The two couples walked out of the alley, parting at the corner. Cold air stung Tessa’s cheeks as she turned her face into Micah’s shoulder. “Where’s your topcoat?”

  He pulled her closer to his length. “It’s not cold enough for a coat.”

  “If you get sick, then don’t expect me to play Florence Nightingale.” Cupping a hand to his mouth, Micah affected a hacking cough before dissolving into laughter when she landed a soft punch to his ribs.

  “I’m rarely sick.” He’d given the NYPD twenty years, and over the two decades he hadn’t taken more than ten days of sick leave. His admission that he was rarely sick was because he refused to acknowledge when he wasn’t feeling well. Aside from the times he’d run a high fever, he could be found on duty or in class.

  His mother on occasion accused him of being too driven and anal. Rosalind didn’t know that her oldest child had blamed himself for his biological mother abandoning him in a hospital. Perhaps if he hadn’t been so sickly, perhaps if he hadn’t been born, then his mother wouldn’t have had the responsibility of taking care of a child when she could hardly take care of herself. The perhaps, perchances and maybes haunted him for years—and continued to haunt him. The questions and doubts had come back with a vengeance two years ago, the episodes forcing him to seek the assistance of a psychologist.

  Talking about his childhood, his feelings of loss and abandonment, had temporarily put his fears at bay. But Micah knew they would never disappear completely. That was something he’d come to acknowledge and accept.

  “Mrs. Burgess is at her post,” he said when noticing movement at the window in the house across the street from Tessa’s.

  Tessa unlocked the front door and deactivated the alarm. Turning around, she smiled up at him. “Maybe I’ll invite her over for dinner tomorrow.”

  Lowering his head, Micah pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. “That would be nice.”

  “What time do you want me to be ready Friday?”

  “Six-thirty,” he whispered seconds before his mouth covered hers in an explosive kiss that left both fighting for breath. He had to leave before he did something he hadn’t planned to do—make love to Tessa when he didn’t have protection with him. “Good night, baby.”

  There came a swollen silence as Tessa met Micah’s unwavering gaze. “Good night.”

  He was there, then he was gone, melting into the darkness of the cold autumn night. Tessa closed and locked the door behind him, set the alarm and slowly made her way up the staircase to her bedroom.

  Her unease that Simone and Tony had intruded on her time with Micah faded, replaced with a fearful likelihood that her sister might reconcile with her deadbeat ex. And she knew Anthony Kendrick would sweet-talk his way into Simone’s bed and then into her life again.

  Please, don’t let it happen again, she said in silent prayer.

  CHAPTER 15

  Tessa awoke feeling more tired than she had before retiring for bed. Again she’d spent the night tossing and turning, erotic dreams assaulting her mind and body relentlessly. Each time she managed to go back to sleep she was jolted awake again, her body awash with perspiration and an intense pulsing between her thighs that threatened to make her scream aloud. Realizing that sleeping throughout the night was futile, she’d left her bed and showered three hours before dawn.

  By eleven that morning she’d called to reserve a tent for a neighbor who was throwing a surprise birthday party for her husband’s thirty-seventh birthday. Even though it wasn’t a milestone birthday, the event would be significant because he’d been given a clean bill of health once he’d completed his chemotherapy treatment. The heated tent would be erected in the backyard of their brownstone, and the invited guests would share a six-course sit-down gourmet dinner under artificial lights and candles. Tessa had called one of her favorite DJ’s to provide the music for what promised to be a momentous celebration.

  A delivery of fresh flowers arrived from Simone’s greenhouse, the bouquet of red, orange and dark pink orchids and roses adding warmth and color to the foyer. The doorbell rang again, and this time the mail carrier handed her a stack of envelopes and a certified letter. Sorting through the envelopes, she breathed a sigh of relief. If she’d gotten her invitation to Bridget and Seth’s wedding, then there was no doubt those on the guest list had received theirs. After a hastily eaten lunch she retreated to the third floor and lost herself in sewing.

  One day blended into the next, an
d Friday morning Micah called to remind her that he would pick her up later that evening to take her to the dinner-dance. She’d already selected an outfit for the affair and made appointments with her hairstylist and nail technician.

  * * *

  Micah didn’t know what to expect when Tessa opened the door to his ring; he stood motionless, staring at her hair falling above her bared shoulders. The curls were missing, and in their place was a shiny mane of red-streaked waves. His gaze moved lower to a fitted strapless black dress that ended inches above her knees and lower still to her slender, shapely legs encased in sheer black nylon. A pair of matching silk-covered stilettos put the top of her head at his nose. Reversing itself, his gaze lingered on a swell of brown flesh rising and falling above the dress’s revealing pleated bodice whenever she inhaled.

  Without warning—and shockingly—the flesh between his thighs hardened instantaneously, as if he were experiencing the stirring of physical desire for the first time. He stood motionless, stunned at the rush of passion that made it impossible for him to move, talk.

  “I don’t believe it,” Micah whispered when he found his voice.

  Taking a step, Tessa moved closer until her breasts touched the crisp front of his white shirt. “What don’t you believe?” Her query was a whisper.

  He ran a hand through the heavy waves gracing the nape of her neck. “You are absolutely, amazingly and incredibly beautiful.” Pulling her flush against his body, he trailed soft kisses along the column of her neck and permitted her to feel his surging hardness. “I’ve just changed my mind.”

  Vertical lines appeared between Tessa’s eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “Let’s stay home tonight.”

  “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Tessa’s lashes fluttered as she struggled to understand the enigmatic man holding her to his heart. She’d endured the heat from a blow-dryer when she’d had her curly hair blown out—something she rarely did. And she’d chosen a pair of four-inch stilettos—a height she seldom wore—because of Micah’s towering height.

  Resting her hands on her hips, she smiled up at him. “We stay home and do what?”

  Micah tightened his hold on her waist. “We’ll have our own tea party,” he drawled deadpan in a very proper British accent.

  Her hands went to the lapels of his exquisitely tailored dark blue suit. “We can’t make love for at least another three days.”

  A slight frown creased his smooth forehead. He wanted to shake Tessa. Did she not know? When would she realize that what he felt—what they shared—wasn’t all about sleeping together?

  “It’s not about sex, Tessa. That’s something I can get from any woman.” One of her eyebrows lifted with his disclosure. “I’d want to be with you even if we didn’t sleep together.”

  She flashed an attractive moue, drawing his gaze to the vermilion color on her mouth. “Perhaps I should put you to the test. If I don’t give you any, then we’ll see how long you’ll hang out with me.”

  His fingers looped around the nape of her neck. “I’m not going to lie and say I don’t enjoy making love with you, but if you choose not to give me any then that doesn’t mean that I’ll want to stop seeing you.” Lowering his head, he brushed his mouth over hers, careful not to smear her lipstick. “What do you say we have our own private party after we leave the fund-raiser?”

  She smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”

  “Why don’t you go upstairs and pack an overnight bag. We’ll hang out at my place tonight.”

  Disengaging herself from his comforting embrace, Tessa made her way up the staircase, feeling the heat of Micah’s gaze on her back. What she didn’t tell him was that she’d looked forward to going to the dinner-dance, that she wanted to spend time with him. She’d taken him to The Bijoux because she’d wanted to share a quiet, intimate dinner; however, that was thwarted when Simone and Tony joined them. Micah Sanborn seemed so sure of himself and his rightful place in the world. But what he didn’t know was that as charming as he was, she had no intention of permitting herself to fall under his intoxicatingly virile spell.

  * * *

  Tessa stood in the middle of the ballroom of an opulent catering establishment that overlooked Flushing Meadows Park. She smiled and mouthed the appropriate responses whenever Micah introduced her to politicians and law-enforcement officials. Prisms of light from chandeliers competed with the sparkle of precious baubles in earlobes, around necks and wrists of the beautifully attired women in attendance who clung possessively to the arms of their dark-suited escorts. She gave Micah a surreptitious glance as he chatted comfortably with the police commissioner, who chastised him about retiring before reaching his potential with the NYPD.

  The commissioner gave her a friendly smile. “Your boyfriend scored at the top of the captain’s test but retired before he was to be promoted. Our loss is the Brooklyn D.A.’s gain, but what’s encouraging is that we’re still on the same side.”

  Micah lost count of the number of people who’d told him that he’d made a mistake to leave the NYPD. As soon as he received notification that he’d passed the bar on his first attempt he’d put in for retirement.

  Lowering his head, he met Tessa’s amused gaze. She’d come to the fund-raiser as his date, but it was apparent that those who knew him believed they were a couple. They’d seen him over the years with other women, but their reaction had always been indifference. What, he mused, was there about Tessa, other than her beauty and intelligence, that had them believing she was that special?

  But what Micah had to admit was that Tessa was special—special in every way he could’ve imagined a woman to be. And he hadn’t lied to her when he’d told her that he’d changed his mind about taking her out, preferring instead to remain at home. As a retired police officer and past vice president of 100 Blacks in Law Enforcement Who Care, his appearance at this event was merely symbolic. The greetings and introductions continued until he steered Tessa to their reserved table before he made his way to an open bar.

  * * *

  Introductions, speeches and an invocation from a police department chaplain, sumptuous dinner selections of prime rib, roast chicken and tender, grilled flaky salmon with the accompanying steamed vegetables preceded a live band playing upbeat Latin rhythms that had everyone up on their feet. Micah found himself cornered by several community leaders while Tessa danced nonstop. He half listened to the conversations going on around him as he managed to keep his date within his line of vision as she was spun around and dipped, her hips swaying seductively to the pulsating music.

  He experienced an emotion so foreign that it squeezed his heart for several seconds before permitting him to draw a normal breath. Jealousy! It should’ve been him dancing with Tessa. He should’ve been the one holding her to his chest, pressing his mouth to her ear, whispering what he was feeling and what he wanted to do with her. The seething escalated, burning his mind and his chest, and for the first time in his life Micah Sanborn felt as if he were losing control. Why, he mused as he stared at Tessa smiling up at her dancing partner, did he feel like punching the cheesy-grinning man who held her a tad too close for social respectability?

  Resting a hand on the shoulder of an assistant deputy warden from the Department of Corrections, he forced a polite smile. “Please excuse me, Qadir, but I have to take care of something.”

  “Is that something you’re talking about wearing a black dress and dancing with one of my captains?”

  Micah froze. “Is it that obvious?”

  Qadir Sherman smiled. “You haven’t taken your eyes off her. Go get your woman before some vulture swoops down and carries her off.”

  “Never happen,” he countered confidently as he turned on his heels and headed toward his date. He tapped the man on his shoulder before clamping a hand around his neck. “Excuse me, my man, but I need my girlfriend.” His tone was soft, yet his words were edged with steel. He gave Tessa a smile th
at was as intimate as a kiss. “Are you ready to leave, darling?”

  A slight frown touched Tessa’s smooth forehead before fading quickly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d danced so much. “You’re right, darling. It is time we leave.”

  Micah’s expression was a mask of stone as he retrieved Tessa’s fur shawl, then instructed her to wait until he brought the car around. Minutes later, he started up the engine and shifted into gear.

  “What’s with you allowing that clown to slow-grind with you?”

  Her delicate jaw dropped. “Is that what this is all about? You’re jealous because some man was dancing with me?”

  “He was bumping and grinding with you, Tessa.”

  Tessa didn’t know whether to laugh or scream at Micah for behaving like a mistrustful junior high school boy. She sucked her teeth. “For your information, he wasn’t grinding with me. In fact, our bodies weren’t even touching.”

  “It didn’t look that way to me.”

  “You saw what you wanted to see.” She rested her left hand on his right over the gearshift. “If we’re going to continue seeing each other, then you’re going to have to learn to trust me. If not, then we should end what we have right now—tonight.”

  There came a long pause. “I don’t want what we have to end,” Micah said in a hushed tone.

  “Then you must trust me,” Tessa countered.

  “I do trust you,” he insisted.

  “No, you don’t, Micah. If you did, then we’d still be at the dinner-dance and I’d be dancing with you.”

  A hint of a smile found itself through his expression of uncertainty. “I’ll make it up to you, darling, once we get to my place.” He stopped for a red light, angled his head and nuzzled the side of her neck.

  Tessa giggled like a little girl. “You’re using that word rather glibly.”

  “What word?”