Twice the Temptation

by Rochelle Alers

  The glow of loving and being loved had lingered long after she’d forced herself to leave the bed where she and Rhett had spent most of the night making love. He’d kept his promise to give her a massage, followed by slathering her supple body with a scented cream. She’d fallen asleep under his sensual ministration, and when she’d woken hours later she’d returned the favor; it had been her mouth and not her hands that had left Rhett pleading for mercy. The impasse had ended when he’d managed to free himself from her rapacious mouth to ride her until spent.

  Denise’s smile grew wider. The delicate circle of diamonds on Geraldine’s hand sparkled. Her future mother-in-law was now a married woman.

  Geraldine Russell glanced around Rhett’s shoulder, her gaze meeting and fusing with the young woman who’d enthralled her son in a way no other had before or after her. Denise Eaton had changed. It wasn’t the longer hair, but something else, something that wasn’t discernible at first glance.

  When she approached Denise, who’d straightened from her leaning pose, she saw determination in the dark eyes that didn’t waver. She hadn’t only matured, she’d grown up. She extended her arms, and she wasn’t disappointed when Denise moved into her embrace. “Welcome back—daughter.”

  Denise hugged Geraldine tightly, kissing her soft cheek. “It’s good to be back—Mother.”

  Easing back, Geraldine smiled at the girl she’d always wanted as her daughter-in-law. “He loves you so much, Denise,” she whispered.

  Denise’s gaze shifted to Rhett, who was unloading the trunk of his mother’s car, then back to the older woman with chemically straightened hair, parted off-center chin-length blunt-cut ends. “He loves me and I love him.” A beat passed. “This time we’re going to get it right.”

  “We’ll talk later,” Geraldine whispered as if they were coconspirators.

  The rains had stopped completely, the sun had dried up the moisture soaking the earth and the afternoon temperatures were climbing steadily to the low eighties. Brooke Andersen arrived at the house at three and minutes before a pickup truck bearing the logo of the florist emblazoned on the side doors parked behind her white Escalade. The caterer, waitstaff and DJ weren’t expected to arrive for another two hours. The printed invitations had read: cocktails at 6:00, dinner at 7:30 and fun until ???

  Denise and Geraldine walked a short distance from the house to keep out of the way of the workers who’d come to erect the tent and set up tables and chairs. Rhett had remained behind to oversee the setting up. The two women sat on a stone bench flanked by large stone planters overflowing with a profusion of sweet pea and peonies. Leaning back on her hands, Denise stared at the calm surface of the water. There was a comfortable silence until Geraldine exhaled a sigh.

  “When Garrett asked me to come with him to see this property I thought my son had taken leave of his senses. The house was large, but falling apart. And there were so many weeds I was afraid to walk anywhere because I didn’t know what I would step on. He was so excited about buying a house that I didn’t have the heart to tell him he was throwing away his money. I was wrong and he was right—as usual.”

  Denise leaned forward. “As usual?”

  Geraldine turned to stare at Denise staring back at her. “When you and Garrett broke up…” Her words trailed off. “When you left my son,” she continued, “I was afraid Garrett was going to hurt himself.”

  Denise felt her heart sink like a stone in her chest. “You…you’re not talking about suicide?” Much to her surprise, Geraldine laughed.

  “No, Denise. Garrett loves life much too much to take his own. I’m talking about physical pain. He’d become an insomniac. If he wasn’t working he was studying. And when he could find the time, he was seeing women—a lot of women.”

  Denise felt as if someone had put their hand around her throat, squeezing and cutting off oxygen to her lungs. Rhett hadn’t mourned their breakup, but had replaced her with what probably had been a long line of nameless, faceless women.

  “Everything came to a head when he had a problem with one of his supervisors,” Geraldine continued. “What he hadn’t realized at the time was it was a blessing in disguise. He left Philly, moving back to D.C., where he stayed with me for about three months. During this time he spent countless hours in the library and on the Internet learning everything he could about the real estate market. After he purchased a foreclosed house, he secured a loan to rehab it and eventually sold it for a three hundred percent profit. It was, like the kids say, on and poppin’. He claimed buying and selling real estate was like crack cocaine. It was that addictive.”

  She sighed again, this one louder and longer. “I’m going to tell you about Garrett’s father. It’s something I’ve never told anyone—not even Garrett, and I want you to swear you won’t tell him.”

  Shaking her head, Denise closed her eyes for several seconds. “I can’t do that, Mother. I’ve been given a second chance with Rhett and I’m not going to jeopardize our future together by keeping secrets. If you don’t intend to tell Rhett, then please don’t tell me.”

  Geraldine crossed her outstretched legs at the ankles, staring at her toes painted a flattering raspberry shade pushed into a pair of leather thongs. She’d carried the secret for almost thirty years, and she wanted to unburden herself. A wry smile parted her lips. “I can see why my son fell in love with you, Denise.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You’re loyal, caring and selfless.”

  Denise placed an arm around Geraldine’s slender waist. “I love Rhett. I think I fell in love with him at first sight. We’ve had our ups and downs like most couples, and even when we were apart I never stopped loving him. If you love Rhett as much as I know you do, then give him some peace. Please tell him about his father.”

  Resting her head on the younger woman’s shoulder, Geraldine nodded. “I know I’m going to have to do it.”

  “Please do it before we officially announce our engagement on my birthday.” Denise and Rhett had discussed a timeline for their engagement and wedding, deciding three months was long enough for an engagement for a couple who’d met for the first time ten years ago.

  “That doesn’t give me much time, but I suppose I’ll work up enough nerve before then. Maybe I should give him a special birthday present when I reveal who his daddy is.” Her son would celebrate his twenty-ninth birthday August fifteenth. “I’d offered to come and stand in as Garrett’s hostess before I realized you were going to do it,” Geraldine said, deftly changing the topic of conversation.

  “You can still do it,” Denise teased, laughing.

  “Nope. If I’m going to do any hosting, then it’s going to be for me and Maynard. As soon as my husband returns from his conference, I want you and Garrett to come for a visit. I’m taking cooking lessons, so I promise not to treat you guys as guinea pigs.”

  “What have you learned to cook?”

  The two women spent the next forty-five minutes talking about food. Denise revealed the number of meals that had ended in disaster before she’d been able to complete one that was palatable. It had taken her a while to come to the conclusion that she would never surpass Paulette Eaton’s culinary expertise, who’d been taught by her mother, and was resigned that she’d become a competent but not a fabulous cook. She was a lot more creative when it came to planning a menu for entertaining. She’d planned the menu Brooke had passed along to the caterer.

  Denise had become the consummate hostess, standing alongside Rhett as they greeted their guests with handshakes and welcoming smiles. A black and white silk faille striped, sleeveless dress, nipped at the waist and ending at her knees and a pair of black patent-leather Louboutin slingback stilettos complemented Rhett’s black linen Hermès suit and white shirt he’d elected to wear outside the waistband of his slacks. He’d also foregone a tie for the evening. She tamed her curly hair with a gel, while brushing it until she was able to pin it into a loose twist behind her left ear.

  Brooke Andersen flit
ted around like an anxious stage mother waiting for her child to be auditioned, making certain the waitstaff saw to the needs of Rhett’s guests. Her husband ignored her antics as he and a group of men discussed their golf handicaps.

  “You look beautiful, Mother,” Denise whispered to Geraldine. A light coat of makeup highlighted her attractive features. A narrow headband made from peacock feathers held her hair off her face, while a black silk man-tailored blouse, white silk slacks and black ballet-type slippers flattered her tall, slender frame.

  Geraldine flashed a demure smile. “Thank you, Denise. If I’d harbored any doubts about the woman who Garrett would end up with, they were dashed tonight when I saw you with my son at what will be the first of many gatherings the two of you will preside over.”

  A slight frown found its way between her eyes before Denise replaced it with a slow smile. Geraldine had said preside over as if she and Rhett were heads of state. Was that, she mused, how she’d thought of her son? Was he the issue of some prominent black Washingtonian?

  What she couldn’t understand was why Geraldine was so willing to divulge Rhett’s father’s identity to her and not to him. Of course she wanted to know who’d fathered the man she planned to marry, but not if he didn’t know.

  Her eyes lit up when she spied Rhett’s approach. He was carrying a flute with a sparkling liquid; she recalled the bottle of champagne he’d ordered the night they’d reunited at The Lafayette.

  Rhett handed Denise the flute, his eyes roving appreciably over her body before coming to rest on her face. He found her perfect from head to toe. The four-inch heels were sexy and showed off her curvy calves and slender ankles to their best advantage.

  “I had the bartender fix that for you.”

  Hoisting the flute, Denise saw a dollop of dark syrup in the bottom. “What is it?”

  “It’s called a kir royale. It’s made with crème de cassis and champagne. The cassis is made from black currants,” he explained when seeing her puzzled expression.

  She took a sip, holding the liquid in her mouth for several seconds before letting it slide down the back of her throat. “This is good.” The cassis was a sweet contrast to the dry champagne. She took another sip. “I think I’ve finally found a cocktail I like.”

  Rhett leaned in closer to her. “Don’t let the fruity drink sneak up on you.”

  Denise brushed a light kiss over his mouth. “I’m not driving, so I figure I can have a couple of these babies.” She kissed him again. “Will you save me a dance, darling?”

  Rhett angled his head, smiling. Seeing Denise totally relaxed, smiling and outgoing filled him with a pride he hadn’t known existed. She’d become the perfect hostess and assuredly a perfect wife and mother. Even Brooke had complimented him on Denise’s menu choices. She’d selected buckwheat blinis with sour cream and caviar, spicy shrimp crostini, fresh salmon tartare croutes and spicy pork empanadas with a chunky avocado relish. Asian-inspired hors d’oeuvres included fresh herb and shrimp rice paper rolls with peanut hoisin dipping sauce, sushi rice, wonton wrappers with herbed prawn and a tangy lime dipping sauce and salmon caviar sushi rice balls.

  A carving station with rib roast, turkey breast and grilled plank salmon, along with grilled vegetables and salad greens, had been set up for buffet-style dining. The dessert menu included tiny chocolate cups filled with white chocolate mousse, mango and mascarpone cream, kiwi raspberry and lime mousse and sweet tartlets with fillings ranging from cherry and almond, citrus ginger cream and summer berries.

  Entertaining on the terrace under the tent created a fairy-tale atmosphere with baskets of colorful flowers. The view of the Chesapeake in the foreground was awe-inspiring. Japanese lanterns, suspended from the poles holding up the tent, would be lit at sunset.

  “I’ll save more than one dance,” he whispered in her ear.

  Denise found it odd that she and Rhett were the youngest couple in attendance, most of the others ranging from their mid-thirties to fifties and possibly sixties. Again, when he mentioned those he wanted as groomsmen in their wedding party the men were older than him. She didn’t know his D.C. social circle, but she was willing to bet they, too, were older than Rhett by at least a decade. And it wasn’t for the first time that she wondered if he connected with older men because he was looking for a father figure.

  Couples had set down their drinks and tiny plates with hot and cold appetizers to dance to the monster Black Eyed Peas hit “I Gotta a Feeling.” Denise and Rhett exchanged smiles and winks, then joined the others. The DJ alternated upbeat tunes with slower ones, allowing those wishing to dance a respite to eat and drink. It was only when everyone sat down to eat that the music changed to softer relaxing instrumentals.

  It was close to midnight when guests reluctantly took their leave, thanking Rhett and Denise for their generous hospitality, while reminding them to keep their weekends open during the summer so they could return the favor.

  Geraldine had retired to her first-floor bedroom, pleading fatigue because she’d gotten up hours before dawn to drive her husband to the airport two hours before his scheduled flight.

  Denise, standing barefoot in the bathroom slathering cream on her face before she removed it with a damp cloth, saw Rhett’s reflection in the mirror over the vanity. “It was a wonderful party.”

  He came closer. Droplets of water shimmered on his wide shoulders from his shower. “You were wonderful.”

  Lowering her head, she splashed water on her face, nearly choking when she felt his erection pressing against her hips. “Can’t you wait for me to wash my face and take a shower?” she asked, patting her face dry.

  “You don’t need a shower, baby.”

  “No, Rhett!” Her protest came too late when he picked her up, carrying her back into the bedroom.

  Everything became a blur when Rhett made love to her with an intensity that stole the breath from her lungs. His tongue journeyed down her body, tasting every inch of flesh while branding her as his. She opened her arms and her legs when he moved up over her, welcoming him inside her. Denise struggled, but was unable to hold back the moans of erotic pleasure that became screams of ecstasy when she stiffened with the explosive rush of orgasmic fulfillment. The screams faded to surrendering whimpers of physical satiation as she closed her eyes and reveled in the rush of Rhett’s release bathing her still-throbbing flesh.

  They lay together, limbs entwined until Rhett pulled out, rolled over and gathered her against his body. Minutes later they slept the sleep of sated lovers.

  Chapter 14

  “Mom, will you please stop crying.”

  Paulette, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a tissue, narrowed them. “Are you getting married because you’re pregnant?”

  Denise threw up her hands. “No, you didn’t say that,” she whispered not to be overheard by those at a nearby table at her mother’s favorite D.C. restaurant.

  She’d called her mother to let her know she was driving up to Philly to see Belinda and Griffin’s infant son, but Paulette had informed her she and a few of her sorority sisters were going to New York to attend a Broadway show and take in the sights. She’d promised to come to Washington to visit with her before returning to Philadelphia.

  Sitting up straight in a huff, Paulette squared her shoulders. “Well, are you?”

  “No, Mother. I am not pregnant.” Denise had punctuated each word. “I’m not getting married until December. If I were pregnant, I wouldn’t wait that long.”

  Eyelids fluttering wildly, Paulette smiled brightly. She pressed her palms together. “I hope you’re going to ask your father to do the officiating.”

  Reaching in her handbag, Denise removed an envelope, pushing it across the table. “I’ve written down some things I’d like to incorporate into the ceremony and reception. Rhett and I will officially announce our engagement on my birthday and will exchange vows New Year’s Eve. Because most catering halls will probably be booked for the holiday, I thought having it at the house wou
ld be the perfect venue to combine a wedding while welcoming in a new year.”

  Paulette rested her hands over her heart. “Thank you, my darling. You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear you say that. Your father keeps complaining that the house is too big for two people, that he wants to downsize and moved into a townhouse like Dwight and Roberta. But I’m constantly reminding him that we’re the only Eatons in Philly with a house large enough to accommodate the family whenever they get together. Now that Belinda and Griffin have a new baby I doubt if they’re going to be doing that much entertaining. By the way, did you get to see the baby?”

  Denise nodded, smiling. “I did. Oh, Mom. He’s adorable.”

  “He looks just like Griffin.”

  “I agree,” Denise said. The baby boy, who’d been named Grant in honor of Griffin’s late brother, was all Rice. It appeared as if the only thing Belinda had done was carry the boy to term. When she’d asked Belinda if she was going back to teaching in September, the history instructor still hadn’t decided whether she wanted to stay home and raise her son and nieces or hire a nanny to care for the baby. Although Griffin worked from home there were occasions when he had to go out of town on business.

  “All I can say is that in another twenty years he’s going to break a lot of hearts. Now, when are you going to shop for wedding gowns?”

  Denise didn’t think she would ever get used to her mother jumping from one subject to another without taking a pause. It was as if her brain functioned faster than her mouth.

  She indicated the envelope, which Paulette hadn’t bothered to open. “It’s all in that envelope. But to answer your question, I’ll probably start looking in November. I’m not going to deal with countless alterations and fittings if I gain and lose weight over several months.”