Rafe decided the topic of antiques was preferable to arguing with Simone. Whenever she talked about something she liked, the sound of her voice changed. The register deepened to where it resembled a sensual textured husky timbre.
His eyes widened appreciably as he took in everything about her in one, sweeping glance. She was a cat—a sensual, purring feline with her reddish-brown hair and glowing eyes. He’d grown up with an assortment of farm animals, but it was the cats, he discovered, that were the most elusive and unpredictable. They’d climb up on his lap wanting to be stroked, then without warning either flee or sink their claws into his flesh, leaving him wondering what he’d done to deserve their sudden aggression.
“Where do you shop for your antiques?”
“I usually go to Cold Spring. It’s close enough so I don’t have to leave the state,” Simone added when he shot her a curious look.
A slight frown creased Rafe’s smooth forehead. He’d caught her innuendo. “You’re not on parole or house arrest.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I was just checking, Warden.”
He wanted to tell Simone that what she’d witnessed was hardly a joking matter. Ian Benton and the people he worked for wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate her as easily as swatting an annoying insect. He realized she had to make light of her situation or she wouldn’t be able to function normally from day to day. Working out of her home complicated logistics, because if she hadn’t been self-employed she would’ve been put up in a hotel or safe house where her every move would be closely monitored. But on the other hand, her house had an added advantage: it was built on a rise that permitted an unobstructed three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of everyone coming or leaving.
“I’m not your warden, and if you cooperate with me then there’s no reason why you should feel like a prisoner.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh! How would you like to change places, Rafe?”
There came a lengthy pause. Simone was physically everything he wasn’t: female, petite, dark-haired with dusky brown skin. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and if he’d met her under other circumstances he would’ve made that known to her. She was as beautiful and delicate as the flowers she cultivated.
“Maybe we can—after I complete this assignment.”
For the first time in a very long time, Simone was at a loss for words. It was she, not her brother or sister, who was constantly grounded because she didn’t know when to stop challenging her parents, her mother in particular. Lucinda Whitfield put up with a lot of things, but wouldn’t tolerate sass from any of her children.
Rarely a week passed when she hadn’t been banished to her room to think about what you’ve just said. Most times she didn’t see what the fuss was all about because she was merely exercising her First Amendment right of free expression.
Lowering her gaze, a wealth of lashes touching the top of her cheekbones, Simone shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She’d enunciated each word.
“Whatevah,” Rafe drawled.
A smile lit up her face. “Oh, no, you didn’t go there.”
His smile matched hers as he exhibited a set of perfect white teeth. “Yes, I did.” Rafe winked at Simone. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
Her delicate jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe his arrogance. “What did you eat this morning? A bowl of ego?”
“No. Froot Loops. Speaking of cereal, do you have any?”
Simone angled her head, not wanting to believe he’d just mentioned Froot Loops. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
“Don’t you think you’re a little too old to be eating a kiddie cereal?”
He affected an expression of innocence. “No. I just happen to like Froot Loops.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, because I don’t have any in my pantry. However, I do have oatmeal and Grape-Nuts.” Rafe made a face as if he’d caught a whiff of something. “Well, if you want Froot Loops, then you’re going to have to go to the supermarket.”
Reaching for her hand, Rafe cradled it gently. “Let’s finish up with the other rooms on this floor before I check outside. Then we’ll go to the store.”
* * *
Rafe was amazed at Simone’s transformation. She’d changed out of her baggy clothes and into a pair of jeans, a yellow tee and a pair of navy blue leather mules that added several inches to her diminutive height. The profusion of hair that had framed her face was pulled into a single braid, the curling ends secured in an elastic band.
“Is that you, Simone Whitfield?”
Rafe moved quickly, stepping in front of Simone and sandwiching her between his body and the shopping cart. “Don’t move.” A rush of adrenaline had all of his senses on high alert.
“I can’t,” she whispered. Bracing her hands against his broad back, Simone tried moving him, but to no avail. She tried peering around his shoulder. “Will you please let me see who’s calling me?”
A hand resting on his holstered weapon concealed under his shirt, Rafe took a step; his gaze lingered on a tall, slender, middle-aged woman with feathery coiffed silver hair that flattered her porcelain complexion. She appeared harmless enough, but when it came to witness security he couldn’t afford to trust anyone.
Simone smiled when she recognized the woman who’d called her name. “Good afternoon, Miss Jennings.” The retired high school teacher had put her Mount Vernon home up for sale and moved to Tarrytown to live with a widowed sister.
Corrine Jennings offered Simone a warm smile. “I thought that was you. How’re your folks doing?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“What are they up to?”
“Mama and Daddy are in Bermuda, celebrating their thirty-eighth wedding anniversary.”
“When will they return?” Corrine asked. “I’d like to call and drop in on your mother to chat.”
“They’re due back next week. How’s retirement?”
She didn’t want to tell her former literature teacher that her father and uncle planned to close Whitfield Caterers at the end of the summer. The identical twin brothers were currently negotiating with the city’s planning board to open an upscale bowling alley in an area of downtown Mount Vernon slated for gentrification.
The older woman’s dark eyes sparkled like polished onyx. “To say I’m enjoying it is an understatement.” Her gaze darted between Simone and the tall man standing beside her. “Aren’t you forgetting your manners, Miss Whitfield?”
Simone paused before glancing up at Rafe, who lifted his eyebrows questioningly. Leaning into him, she put an arm around his waist. “This is my friend, Raphael Madison.”
Corrine studied Rafe thoughtfully. “I don’t remember you as one of my students.”
“That’s because I didn’t go to school in New York,” he said.
“We met years ago in Virginia Beach during spring break,” Simone added quickly, knowing it was a lie she would repeat before her association with Rafe concluded.
Corrine Jennings smiled at the attractive couple. “It’s nice meeting you, Mr. Madison. Well, you two have fun.”
“We will,” Simone and Rafe chorused.
“Now, that was easy,” he crooned when Miss Jennings made her way down the wide aisle. “All we have to do is tell the same story and no one will suspect we aren’t friends.”
Dropping her arm, Simone backed away from Rafe. She wanted to remind him that they weren’t friends and would never be friends. Raphael Madison was a stranger and interloper who’d insinuated himself into her life.
“I don’t like lying.”
“You really didn’t lie,” he countered.
“Why would you say that?”
“I did spend one spring break at Virginia Beach.”
She knew she didn’t have to tell him that she’d spent several spring breaks at Virginia Beach. Even when it wasn’t spring break, she could be found at the beach studying or relaxing. It was one of the reasons she’d decided to at
tend Hampton University.
“Where did you go to college?” There was a long silence, which Rafe didn’t seem inclined to break. “Now you know how I feel when you ask me my business,” she chided in a tone pregnant with contempt.
Rafe glared at her in disbelief. Like quicksilver, Simone had come at him like a hissing cat because he refused to answer her question. He much preferred her soft and purring. Leaning closer, he pressed his mouth to her ear. “When we get back to the house we’ll talk about us.”
Simone resisted the urge to push him away. She wanted to tell him that he was wrong because there was no us. “Are you finished shopping?” she asked instead.
Her protector’s idea of grocery shopping was going to a supermarket warehouse. She’d given him the directions to a Sam’s Club in nearby Elmsford, where he’d filled a shopping cart with fresh fruit and vegetables, peanut butter, meat, fish, poultry and dairy products. When they’d gone down the cereal aisle he’d selected the largest box of Froot Loops available.
“I need to pick up some milk, then we can leave.”
Two young women, both with toddlers seated in the front of their shopping carts, slowed, turned and stared openly at Rafe. His hair had dried and flowed down around his strong neck like sun-streaked wheat. Lifting their eyebrows in approval, they shared knowing glances. Without warning, their smiles faded when they noticed Simone standing a short distance away.
“Do you think he’s here with that?” one whispered.
“Yes, he is,” Simone spat out recklessly. Both women blushed noticeably with her comeback. Under another set of circumstances, she wouldn’t have said anything, but it was the first time someone referred to her as if she were an inanimate object.
Rafe turned when he heard Simone’s voice. “Is something wrong?”
“No, darling. I’m good.” Her smile was as sweet as the words dripping facetiously off her tongue. The women raced down the aisle as if in a timed supermarket shopping competition.
Rafe placed a gallon of milk into his cart. “What was that all about?” he asked Simone.
Tucking a wayward curl behind her left ear, she affected an expression of unadulterated innocence. “What are you talking about?” She’d answered his question with one of her own.
Rafe studied the large hazel eyes staring up at him, enthralled by what he saw. “Do you make it a habit of talking to strangers?”
“No.”
“Do you know those women?”
“No,” she repeated. “And they don’t want to know me. I hope you’re ready to leave because I have to take care of some paperwork.”
Eyes narrowing suspiciously, Rafe knew something had gone down between Simone and at least one of the women, but it was apparent she’d defused whatever it was before it got out of control. What he didn’t want was for her to draw attention to herself before she was to appear in court. Once the trial began, the proceedings were certain to draw a lot of media attention.
Simone sharing her home with him was nothing compared to how her life would change, not only drastically, but also dramatically, the moment he escorted her into the courthouse. The government’s lead attorney had begun building a case against Ian Benton, while taking the necessary steps not to leak the name of their witness until the trial.
* * *
Half an hour later, Rafe maneuvered into the driveway of Simone’s home. When she’d shown him around the outside of the house, he hadn’t known what to expect. It certainly wasn’t the enclosed back porch that was perfect for a gathering at any time of the year. The space was filled with wicker furnishings and a natural-fiber rug that set the tone for a gardenlike romantic setting. There were an assortment of floral and red-and-white striped throw pillows, vases of fresh flowers, potted plants and dwarf lemon trees.
She’d added an expansive deck that led from the back porch out to a distance half the length of a football field on which sat a Victorian-style gazebo with a cozy settee, white wicker chairs, a small round table and flowering plants positioned on a periwinkle-blue and white rug. A gas grill, picnic table and chairs were protected from the weather by custom-made, heavy-gauge waterproof fabric. He hadn’t been able to conceal his surprise when seeing the hot tub with a maintenance-free redwood cabinet.
Two large, barnlike greenhouses, the life’s blood of Wildflowers and Other Treasures, were erected on the southeast end of the three-acre property. The structures were clearly visible from his bedroom window, not that he planned to let Simone work there alone. He intended to stick as close to her as a permanent tattoo.
Shutting off the engine, Rafe reached over and caught Simone’s wrist. “You’re not to get out of the car or go into the house until I give you an all-clear signal. And please don’t ever leave the house without me.”
“Rather than checking in with you, I’ll give you a printout of my schedule for the next two weeks,” she volunteered. Simone knew she had to go along with whatever Rafe proposed or he was certain to make her day-to-day existence a living hell.
Smiling, he nodded. “That’ll do.”
She resisted the urge to salute him. “I’m glad you approve.”
Rafe stared out the windshield. “It’s not about you getting my approval, Simone. It’s about making my job and your life less stressful.”
“That’s not going to happen until Ian Benton’s locked up for the rest of his life.”
“Let’s hope that’s sooner than later. And another thing…” His words trailed off.
“What is it, Rafe?”
His head swung around and his indigo-hued eyes bore into her. “Don’t call me darling unless you mean it.”
“And don’t you flatter yourself, Raphael Madison,” she countered as he opened the door and stepped out of the truck. Smiling broadly, he winked at her over his shoulder seconds before he closed and locked the SUV with a remote device.
Arrogant pig! Simone fumed silently. She hadn’t meant to call him darling, but once the endearment slipped from her lips she hadn’t been able to retract it. Slumping against the leather seat, she grunted softly. There was no way Rafe would ever become close to what she considered her darling.
CHAPTER 3
“I’ll put the groceries away,” Rafe told Simone in a no-nonsense tone while at the same time giving her a don’t-challenge-me look. He’d unloaded the government-issued Yukon Denali.
What Rafe did not know was that Simone didn’t want to challenge him or anyone. During the ride back from Elmsford, all of her spirited spunk had dissipated. Although the images were still as vivid as they’d been hours before, she hadn’t wanted to believe what she’d become involved in. She knew she was in denial, because like so many who lived in suburban neighborhoods, she believed crimes like this don’t happen here. Not only had she witnessed a heinous assault, but she was also drawn into circumstances not of her choosing.
In a moment of weakness she wanted to tell Rafe to drive her to Mount Vernon, but then remembered that her parents were in Bermuda, celebrating their wedding anniversary. She needed their reassurance that she would cope with this crisis as she had when the man with whom she’d fallen in love and married turned out not to be who she’d wanted him to be. The only difference was it wouldn’t take sixteen years to resolve the case of U.S. v. Ian Benton.
“I’m going to print out my schedule for the next two weeks before I go upstairs and lie down,” she told Rafe.
“Are you all right?”
Simone gave him an incredulous look. Of course she wasn’t all right. Would he be all right if he’d seen someone nearly get murdered? “Yes,” she said instead, walking in the direction of her office.
What she didn’t want or need was his sympathy or pity, because she’d lost count of the poor Simones or isn’t it too bad she wasted her life with a man who was so wrong for her when her marriage fell apart. A few times she had to tell off a few folks when they spoke as if her life were over and that she would never find another man. She would celebrate her thirty-fourth bi
rthday in September and she certainly wasn’t too old to remarry or have children.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Simone had entered her schedule from the planner to the PDA, downloaded it into her computer and printed a hard copy for Rafe.
“Do you need help?” she asked, strolling into the kitchen.
Rafe glanced over his shoulder at Simone as he dried his hands on a paper towel. “No, thanks. I think I have everything under control.”
Closing the distance between them, Simone placed her schedule on the countertop. “That’s my schedule for the next two weeks.”
He quickly scanned the top sheet. “What’s happening in the Bronx tonight?”
“I’m in a bowling league.”
“Who do you bowl with?”
“Cops.” She smiled when he gave her a stunned look. “My sister and her fiancé, who’s a former NYPD lieutenant, are in a bowling league with a group of officers from a Bronx precinct.”
“Do you bowl every Wednesday?”
“Yes.”
“What about Englewood Cliffs Saturday night?”
“I’m having dinner with my cousin and her husband.”
“Can you cancel it?”
“No!”
Rafe reached for the cordless wall phone, handing it to Simone. “I suggest you call your cousin to let her know that you’re bringing company. It’d be in poor taste for me to show up unannounced.”
A flicker of apprehension swept her as she processed what she’d been instructed to do. She wouldn’t be able to go anywhere, see or talk to anyone without Rafe being present. Her life as she knew it was no longer hers.
She closed her eyes, struggling with the gamut of emotions shaking her confidence. Whenever her sister and cousin wanted to do something daring, it was always Simone Whitfield who accepted the dare and came out a winner.
She was the Whitfield girl, not Faith or Tessa, who preferred hanging out with the boys, climbing trees, hopping fences and playing baseball. It was she who had mixed it up with the boys in their Mount Vernon neighborhood, and it was she who had never run from a fight, even if her opponent was older or bigger.
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