Long Time Coming
Page 17
“Darling.”
The light changed and Micah shifted into gear and sped off. “Darling, dear, sweetheart or dearest. They’re all the same.”
She stared out the windshield. Micah calling her “darling” meant absolutely nothing to him, while if he were any other man, it would’ve signified a deeper, more meaningful emotion. Tessa had to ask herself if she wanted more from him. Did she want him to love her? Could she afford to fall in love with him? The questions nagged at her as she settled back to enjoy the ride and the comforting presence of the man beside her.
* * *
“You like living in the woods, don’t you?”
Micah gave Tessa a quick glance. “Staten Island isn’t the woods,” he countered, maneuvering into the enclave with sprawling single-family dwellings claiming two-and three-car garages.
“How did you find this place?”
“It found me.”
“Explain, Micah.”
“I bought a two-bedroom condo in the Bronx overlooking the Throgs Neck Bridge a couple of years ago. When Bridget starting complaining about the amount of time it took for her to commute between Franklin Lakes and Manhattan, I told her that she could stay at my place several nights a week. It worked out well until she met Seth.”
“Did he move in?” Tessa asked.
“No. But there were times when he spent more nights with Bridget than at his own place. I didn’t mind the weekdays because I was up and out early and there were times when I didn’t come home until after they’d gone to bed. It was the weekends that bothered me, because after dealing with BS all week I wanted to kick back and relax without bumping into my sister or future brother-in-law, their friends and colleagues.
“I didn’t want to tell Bridget to leave, so I left. I heard through the station grapevine that the grandmother of a cop who’d lost his life on 9/11 was looking for someone to rent a room in her house, so I took her up on her offer. Living in Staten Island works out well for me because I’m closer to Brooklyn than I’d be living in the Bronx.”
“Does Bridget like living in the Bronx?”
“She and Seth love the location and the views of the water and bridge. That was the reason I bought the place.”
“Are you going to move back after Bridget’s married?”
Reaching up, Micah pressed a button on one of the devices attached to his car’s visor. The door to a three-car garage lifted silently. “No. She and Seth have offered to buy it from me.”
“Where are you going to live?”
“I’m thinking of buying a house around here. Don’t move,” he ordered in a soft tone.
He parked beside the tarpaulin-covered race car that had belonged to his landlady’s late grandson, got out and came around the car to assist Tessa. He retrieved her overnight calfskin bag from the space behind her seat. One second she was standing before he swept her up in his arms and headed for the steps that led up to his apartment.
Tessa pounded his shoulder. “Put me down, Micah.”
“Hush, darling. You’re going to wake up the neighborhood.”
With eyes wide, she clamped a hand over her mouth. “I can walk,” she said between her fingers.
Punching in a code on a keypad beside the door, Micah waited for the light to change from red to green. “I know you can walk, Miss Whitfield. In fact, I watched you execute some very fancy footwork tonight.”
She sucked her teeth. “Don’t tell me you’re back to that. The band was incredible, and it’s been a while since I’d had the opportunity to dance mambo and merengue, so there was no way I was going to sit out dancing while you were running your mouth.”
“I was networking, Tessa.”
She rolled her eyes again as he pushed open the door. “Is that what you call it? Well, I was also networking, because I managed to exchange business cards with the bandleader.”
“Damn, Tessa, are you ever not working?”
“Not when an opportunity presents itself. Remember, I’m coordinating a quinceañera. I need a versatile band that can play mambo, merengue and hopefully flamenco and mariachi.”
Bending slightly, Micah set Tessa on her feet. He turned on the lamp on the table behind the sleeper sofa, and the soft golden glow warmed the space. He’d complained to Tessa that his studio apartment was small but only when compared to his Bronx condo. There he had enough room to move around comfortably even after Bridget had moved in with him. What he couldn’t abide were the hordes who invaded his home on the weekends. There was no doubt his sister and brother-in-law would do a lot of entertaining.
Tessa stood in the doorway, a slow smile parting her lips. “I love it.”
Micah shook his head in amazement. “You like it?”
She took several steps and stood in the middle of what was Micah’s living room. His studio apartment, constructed above the garage, was more spacious than he’d proposed it to be. A utility kitchen with Formica countertops, a two-burner stove, stainless-steel sink, portable refrigerator and oak cabinets took up one wall. An alcove held a bistro table and chairs. The living area claimed a leather sofa and a table spanning its width. Books and magazines were stacked on a leather-covered bench positioned under a trio of casement windows. An oak armoire shared another wall with a racing bike attached to a rack.
Her smile was dazzling. “It’s charming, Micah. It’s the perfect bachelor hideaway, except that it’s much neater than I’d thought it would be.” Every item was in its own place and there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere.
Moving behind her, Micah removed Tessa’s shawl and tossed it onto the sofa. Looping both arms around her middle, he pulled her back against his body and nuzzled the side of her neck. “That sounds like a sexist remark, Miss Whitfield.”
Tessa tilted her chin, resting the back of her head against Micah’s shoulder. “It is,” she crooned. “Most of the men I’ve known use the floor as their hamper and forget about dirty dishes in the sink.”
“A laundry service and paper plates are on my must-have list.”
“I don’t eat off paper plates, Micah Sanborn.”
“Snob,” he drawled.
“Hell, yeah,” she countered. “My aversion to paper products began many years ago, when the paper plate I was carrying gave way and the front of my white shorts was splattered with barbecue sauce. And, of course, the boy whom I had the biggest crush on thought that I had my you know what and…” Her words trailed off when Micah’s low, sensual laugh resonated close to her ear.
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
“Was he your first crush?”
“Yes. I was okay until he started pointing and laughing. Then I lost it. I ran into the house and refused to come out for the rest of the day. And that’s when I realized there was a very thin line between love and hate. I managed to get my revenge when he asked me to the senior prom and I turned him down, then asked his best friend.”
“Ouch! Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
Turning in his loose embrace, Tessa smiled up at Micah, her gaze moving slowly over his distinctive features. Meticulously groomed, he was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome.
“You don’t have to worry about getting on my bad side because I don’t like conflict. In fact, I avoid it at all costs.”
He smiled, displaying his perfectly aligned teeth. “That’s good because I don’t make a practice to get into it with women.”
“What about men?”
“That’s different because at least we have a level playing field.”
She went completely still for several seconds. “Don’t tell me you like brawling?”
“Look, baby, why are we standing here talking about arguing and fighting when we’re supposed to be partying?”
“Why are you changing the subject?”
He traced the outline of her jaw with a finger. “Because I’d rather do this than talk,” he whispered seconds before his mouth covered hers in an explosive kiss that sucked the oxygen from her lungs.
Micah had sparked a need, a thirst that only he could assuage. Her physical need was akin to an addiction she never wanted to get enough of or slake. Why him and not some other man? she’d asked herself. How and why had she felt no shame when she lay with him, a man who was still a stranger? It was as if she’d stepped outside of herself whenever they came together, and she hadn’t recognized the woman she’d become at that time.
Pulling back to catch her breath, Tessa stared at his throat. “I need to change into something more comfortable.”
His fingers tightened around her upper arms. “Not yet, baby.” Micah picked up a remote device from the bistro table, pushing a button. Within seconds the soft sounds of music filled the space from concealed speakers. “You owe me at least three dances.”
“Fast or slow?” she teased.
“Slow, of course,” he whispered in her ear.
Tessa lost herself in the sensual mood created by the sexy man holding her so close she felt the contours of his body molding to the curves of hers. Their dancing together was akin to foreplay, where they communicated silently emotions neither would’ve openly verbalized.
I’m falling in love with him. The realization shook her to the core. Closing her eyes tightly, Tessa tried eradicating the thought as one would erase a chalkboard, but it lingered because everything she thought she wanted in a man she found in Micah Sanborn. He was mature, intelligent, well-groomed and mannered. To say he was the total package was an understatement.
She’d thought herself in love with Bryce, but once she ended their liaison she realized she’d agreed to see him because his busy schedule had permitted her time to grow her business. Now her bridal and event-planning business was synonymous with elegance and professionalism, so she felt herself ready for a long-term serious relationship. And who better to share it with than Micah? He wasn’t looking for marriage and neither was she.
A secret smile parted her lips as she exhaled.
* * *
“Go home, Micah,” Tessa ordered softly, pushing him toward the door. “Tomorrow is a workday and you’re going to have to get up early.”
Closing the distance between them, Micah pressed Tessa’s back against a wall, his gaze lingering on her hair. The curls were back. They’d shared several showers, and when he’d held her head under the flowing water to kiss her, the heat and moisture had tightened the waves the stylist had so painstakingly blown out. “What if I play hooky tomorrow and spend the day with you?”
“You can’t!”
It was her turn to host the bimonthly Monday-night get-together for her sister and her cousin. She’d admitted to Faith that she had slept with Micah, and Simone had to know there was something more between them than just a business connection, but what Tessa didn’t want was for the focus of their meeting to revolve around her relationship with Micah.
Lowering his head, Micah kissed her forehead. “Don’t panic, darling. I can’t take off even if I wanted to. I’m scheduled to drive up to Albany for a meeting that will probably last all day.” He angled his head and brushed a light kiss over her mouth. “I’ll call you in a few days. Don’t forget—I’m taking you out for dinner and a movie Friday night.”
“I’ll put it in my planner. And don’t you forget that I’m taking you to the opera at Lincoln Center the day after Thanksgiving.”
He rolled his eyes upward. “And if I forget, then I’m certain you’ll remind me.”
She smiled. “You’ve got that right.” Reaching up, Tessa rested her hand along the side of his stubbly jaw. “Drive safely.”
Turning his face, he kissed her palm. “I will. Good night, darling.”
“Good night, Micah.”
The door opened and then closed. Tessa sighed again as she set the alarm and prepared to go to bed. She had to get up early, clean her house, then decide what she wanted to prepare for Faith and Simone.
The past three days had become a blur. She’d spent Friday night with Micah, who’d greeted her Saturday morning with breakfast in bed. He’d driven her back to Brooklyn, where she’d picked up her vehicle for a drive to Manhattan to meet with an Argentinian diplomat to plan his daughter’s quinceañera. The girl’s parents had set aside a budget of twenty thousand dollars for a tradition that dated back to the 1500s. It would be another ten months before the girl celebrated her fifteenth birthday, but the event normally took a full year of planning.
She’d called Micah to let him know she was on her way back to Brooklyn, and he’d been waiting for her when she drove up. Switching vehicles, leaving his in her space at a nearby indoor garage, they’d returned to Staten Island in her Highlander. Sunday morning, instead of breakfast in bed, he’d taken her to a local diner that offered grits with shrimps served up in a savory cream.
A steadily falling rain had preempted the Sanborns from playing football. Tessa had been introduced to Seth Cohen and been completely charmed by the young man who’d won Bridget Sanborn’s love. A mop of dark curly hair and flashing chocolate-brown eyes and an outgoing manner were the perfect foil for the mathematical genius who was purported to calculate complicated equations in his head.
Bridget had changed her mind again when she’d finally selected an oyster-white satin strapless ball gown with a trapunto-stitched crisscross belt with an opulent cascading train. She’d also decided on a rectangular-shaped sheer tulle cathedral-length veil. Tessa had set up an appointment with the bride to bring her maid of honor for a fitting for a gown in a similar style but in black satin. Rosalind had purchased her mother-of-the-bride ensemble: a black silk organza A-line skirt with a white obi sash, a white Mandarin blouse and a jacket with black silk frogs.
The three women had gone over the seating arrangements, involving Seth only when necessary. He had to be literally forced from the media room for input as to where he wanted his relatives seated. His “whatever Bridget wants” had become his mantra whenever he was asked a question.
When Tessa had finally sat down to dinner with the Sanborns she’d felt as if she were on a roller coaster with the various conversations going on at the same time. More than half the responses to the invitations had come in, everyone indicating they would attend. Gifts had also begun arriving, and Rosalind had set aside space in her sun parlor for the gaily wrapped packages.
She’d fallen asleep during the ride from New Jersey to Brooklyn, waking up when Micah shook her gently to let her know she was home. She’d spent three incredible days with a man, two in which they’d slept and showered together, and not once had he attempted to make love to her.
Walking into her bedroom, Tessa flopped down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. She’d fallen hopelessly and inexorably in love with a man who was her client’s brother.
And what she felt for him had nothing to with sex.
It was about trust.
CHAPTER 16
Tessa heard the soft chiming that indicated someone had opened the front door. She smiled when she heard her sister’s and her cousin’s voices. Both of them had keys to her home and she to theirs.
“Hello!” Faith shouted.
“Are you decent?” Simone asked with a hint of laughter in her voice.
“Come on back!” she shouted. “I’m in the kitchen.”
The two women walked into the kitchen. Simone, cradling an enormous bouquet of exotic orchids in colors ranging from white, coral-pink and jade to a sensual purple-blue in clear cellophane, placed the flowers on the countertop. Faith followed suit with a white box stamped with the name of her bakeshop. Both were bundled up against the cold weather.
“Where did you park?” Tessa asked her sister as she hugged her, then kissed her chilled cheek. She repeated the gesture with Faith.
Simone pulled off her gloves and knitted cap, then fluffed up her wealth of curly hair with her fingers. “I used your garage. It’s going to cost me a grip for a few hours, but it’s worth not having to walk at least ten blocks in the cold.”
Tessa nodded. “One of the drawbacks of living in the city is a scarcity of parking spaces.”
Faith sucked her teeth loudly. “That’s why I don’t have a car. Whenever I need one I rent it.” She removed a stylish mink cloche before slipping out of a matching tuxedo-style jacket.
“That’s not the only drawback,” Simone said as she took her cousin’s hat and coat. “What folks pay here for rent is double or maybe even triple what I pay in mortgage.”
Faith headed for the half bath. “It’s the same difference when you factor in property taxes.”
“It’s not the same, Faith,” Simone retorted, following her cousin. “You pay as much for your tiny Greenwich Village studio apartment as I do for a four-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath house in the suburbs. Not only do I have lots of living space but also enough land to build—”
“Give it a rest,” Faith drawled as she gave Simone a warning look that communicated silently that she didn’t want to argue about something she had no intention of changing. She loved living in the city and couldn’t believe her good fortune when she found the studio apartment in a charming building in the West Village. The location was perfect because it was within walking distance of Let Them Eat Cake. The two women washed their hands before making their way back into the kitchen.
Faith, resting her hands on slim hips, peered over Tessa’s shoulder as she checked a wide pan with shallow sloping sides. She was making paella. “That smells incredible.”
Tessa smiled up at her. “I got the recipe from the mother of a friend who uses chicken broth instead of bottled clam juice and achiote oil rather than saffron to color and flavor the rice.”
“You’ve turned out to be a very good cook. Now you can get married,” Faith teased, repeating what their paternal grandmother told them after they mastered her unique recipes.
“Yeah, right,” Tessa countered.