He took a step and pulled her close. “In case you weren’t aware, I was ready to make love to you, but all you’re concerned about is grass stains on your shirt. And what if there are grass stains? Would you sneak back into the house and change before someone figured out what we were doing?”
Rage made it difficult for Simone to draw a normal breath. “You’re wrong, Rafe.”
“No, I’m not wrong, Simone,” he shot back angrily. “I wasn’t wrong when I said you were a prude. What the hell did your ex do to you? Or were you a prude before you married him?”
Simone’s eyes narrowed as she took a step. Rafe caught her around the waist, lifting her above his head. She screamed as tears filled her eyes. He knew she was afraid of heights.
“Let me down. Please,” she pleaded.
Easing his hold on her body, he set her on her feet. They stood motionless, glaring at each other. “I like you better when I have you on your back,” Rafe said in a quiet voice.
Simone rolled her eyes at him. “Bully.” Lifting her chin in a haughty gesture, she headed back to the main house.
Smiling, Rafe stared at the curve of her hips in the fitted denim. “Sexy wench.”
Stopping, Simone turned and faced him, her hands resting on her hips and a smile tugging at her mouth.
“Tormentor.”
He took two steps, bringing them inches apart. “It takes one to know one, because not only have you tormented me, but thinking about you has turned me an insomniac.”
Simone blinked once, as she processed the lawman’s erotic confession, hard-pressed not to laugh. “If that’s the case, then you should think about taking an OTC sleep aid.”
“I don’t need a sleep aid.”
“What do you need?”
“SIW.”
Simone knew he was referring to her initials: Simone Ina Whitfield. She moved closer, her breasts flattening against his hard chest. “You will not get a piece of me until I decide whether I want to give up my goodies.”
Rafe stared at her from lowered lids, the nostrils of his nose flaring with each labored breath. He’d forgotten to tell Simone that she unwittingly had become a tease—a very sexy tease. “That’s all good,” he drawled.
She went completely still. “It is?”
His expression was closed, almost somber. “Yes, Simone. I’ve never had to beg a woman for her goodies, and I don’t intend to start now.”
Her eyebrows flickered. “You’re really a piece of work. Do you actually believe I’m going to beg you to make love to me?”
Time stood still when Rafe’s steady gaze bore into Simone, as if he were attempting to commit everything about her to memory. And memories were all he’d be left with when this assignment ended.
“No,” he said after an interminable silence. “What I’m hoping is that you’ll want me as much as I want you right at this moment.”
Simone was too startled by his confession to offer a comeback. She did want Rafe, yet was too much of a coward to be as openly candid. Curving her arms under his shoulders she held on to him, feeding on the strength that made him so inherently and supremely confident. She smiled when his arms went around her waist. “It’s going to come, Rafe.” I don’t know when, but it is going to come, she added silently.
Burying his face in her hair, he pressed a kiss to the fragrant curls. “I know, baby.”
“We should head back or people will begin to talk.”
“Let them talk, Simone. It’s been a long time since I’ve cared about what other folks think or say about me.”
“You may not care, but I do. These people are my family. I’ll have to deal with them long after you’re gone.”
He didn’t want to think of leaving her, yet he was realistic enough to accept the inevitable. He would leave her and she would continue her life as planned. Although he would walk out of Simone Whitfield’s life, Rafe knew he would never forget her.
“You’re right. Let’s head back.”
CHAPTER 10
Simone recognized Abram and William Sanborn’s SUV and minivan parked near the garages as she and Rafe approached the house. “Micah’s brothers are here.” There was a slight tremor in her voice. She’d wanted to get to the house before they’d arrived.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Rafe asked when he reached for her trembling hand.
She gave him a bright smile. “Of course I’m all right. Let’s go in.”
They walked into the smaller of the two kitchens where the Sanborns had gathered. Simone’s gaze shifted from her sister, sitting on a high stool at the countertop sipping coffee, to Micah, handing his mother a mug, and then to Bridget, who massaged her husband’s back as he sat at a table, cradling his head in his hands.
“Oh, there you are, Simone,” Rosalind announced when she saw her future daughter-in-law’s sister.
Simone went completely still when she saw countless pairs of eyes staring at her and Rafe. She smiled at Micah’s mother. A retired family court judge, the mother of four and doting grandmother of four, Rosalind Sanborn was blessed with a smooth, flawless peaches and cream complexion and brilliant topaz-blue eyes. The sixty-something matriarch was not only elegant, but unabashedly stylish.
“We went out for a walk.” She chided herself for sounding like a child who was expected to explain her whereabouts.
Setting down her cup, Rosalind walked over to Simone. “I wanted to wait so you could introduce your young man to everyone. And I also want to thank you for the champagne. We’ll be certain to open it for a special family occasion.” Her husband had discovered the case of premium wine in the entryway with a tag reading: From Simone and Rafe.
Looping her arm through Rafe’s, Simone met his amused stare. “This is my very good friend, Rafe Madison. Rafe, this is Micah’s mother, Rosalind. The man wearing the Kiss The Cook apron is Edgar Sanborn, and his grandsons Jacob and Isaac are wearing Cook In Training aprons. The twins belong to William and Melinda.” William nodded, while Melinda stared slack-jawed at Rafe.
Rafe nodded to Rosalind, then offered his hand to Edgar. “Thank you for offering your home.”
Edgar Sanborn, who’d left the bench to teach law courses at Princeton, bore an uncanny resemblance to the late leading man Clark Gable. He patted Rafe’s shoulder. “As Simone’s friend, you’re always welcome in our home.”
Redheaded Melinda Sanborn stepped forward, her clear brown eyes sparkling like newly minted copper pennies, and extended her hand. “Hello, Rafe. Please call me Lindy.”
All gazes were fixed on Melinda, whose flushed face was only a shade lighter than her dark red hair. William Sanborn cut his eyes at his wife. It didn’t take a genius to discern that the mother of his children was gushing over Simone’s boyfriend like a starstruck adolescent. He forced a polite smile. “How’s it going, Rafe?”
“It’s all good, William.”
“I’m Isaac and this is my brother Jacob. We’re going to be eleven tomorrow,” William and Melinda’s sons announced proudly.
“I’m older than he is,” Jacob stated, pointing at his identical freckled-face, curly-red-haired twin.
Simone continued with the introductions as Rafe exchanged greetings with Abram and his very pregnant wife, Ruby.
“That’s Bridget and her husband, Seth, sitting at the table.”
Bridget Cohen glanced over her shoulder, smiling. Her hand stilled as she stared numbly at Rafe. Her green eyes widened appreciably in her freshly scrubbed face. “Nice meeting you. I apologize for my husband, who’s not feeling well. He thought it was cute to indulge in tequila shots at a friend’s bachelor party. What makes it so pathetic is that Seth is not a drinker.” A scowl followed her acerbic explanation.
Rafe angled his head and a thick lock of honey-blond hair fell over his forehead. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, deadpan.
Seth waved his hand, but didn’t turn around. “Thanks, man.”
“Forgive me for not getting up,” Ruby apologized, “but I’m m
oving a little more slowly nowadays.” She rested a hand over her distended belly. Her neatly braided hair showed off her very rounded dark brown face to its best advantage.
“Mama, Mama!” screamed a toddler, running into the kitchen. “Mari afta me!”
“Marisol, stop teasing that child!” Melinda scolded softly.
The toddler tried crawling up on her pregnant mother’s lap, but was thwarted when Rosalind picked her up. “Was Marisol bothering Grandma’s baby?” Rosalind crooned as she kissed Kimika’s moist cheek.
Thirty-month-old Kimika pointed at her teenage cousin. “She afta me, Grandma.”
“It’s af-ter, Kimmie,” Ruby said softly, correcting her daughter. Rosalind glowered at her daughter-in-law, but held her tongue. Her motto was: “Let the children breathe.”
A wide smile split Marisol’s face when she spied Simone. But it faded quickly when she saw the tall, blond stranger. “Please don’t tell me that Brad Pitt is standing in my grandmother’s kitchen.”
Rafe bit back a smile, while shaking his head. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m definitely not Brad Pitt.” Everyone laughed at the teenage girl’s crestfallen expression.
Marisol gave him a suspicious look. At fifteen, the teenage girl had begun attracting the attention of boys from her neighborhood and school, much to the chagrin of her overprotective father. Her olive coloring, long, black, curling hair and delicate features made her a standout among her peers.
She came over and hugged Simone. “He’s hot,” she whispered in Simone’s ear.
“I think he’s hot, too,” Simone whispered back.
Edgar reached into a drawer under the countertop, took out an apron and extended to Rafe. “Do you cook?”
Rafe stared at the older man, wondering if he was being set up. “I do some cooking. Why?”
“Today the guys are cooking, so if you’re going to be a part of the family, then you’re expected to pitch in.” He pointed to a door at the far end of the kitchen. “You can wash up over there.”
Rafe took the bibbed apron, slipping it over his head and tying it at the waist. He wanted to tell the Sanborns that he wasn’t going to become part of the family because once he was reassigned, he would never see them again. However, he didn’t mind sharing in the cooking duties. After all, he’d sat sipping Jack and Coke and watching a ball game while Simone and Tessa helped Faith.
“What are we cooking?” he asked Edgar.
“First there’s brunch, then later this afternoon we’ll sit down to dinner. I took a vote and everyone agreed to eat outdoors. We’ll fire up the grill, crack open a few beers and enjoy the afternoon, but I’ll need a couple of volunteers to go into town and pick up a few tanks of propane.”
“I’ll go, Dad,” Micah said.
“And I’ll go with you,” Rafe offered.
“Hey, Rafe,” Abram called out across the kitchen, “are you into playing some tag football? It looks as if we’re going to be one man short. Unfortunately my brother-in-law is in his cups.”
Rafe nodded. “Sure. I’ll play.”
“We can’t drink beer, Grandpa,” Jacob announced proudly, “because Daddy says we’re not legal.”
Edgar ruffled his red curls. “I know that, champ. The beer is for the adults. All, but Seth,” he added quietly.
Bridget glared at her father. “Daddy!”
“Don’t ‘Daddy’ me, princess,” Edgar countered. “I wasn’t the one downing shots last night.”
Rosalind set Kimika on her feet. The toddler ran over to Simone, raising her arms to be picked up.
“I think Seth would feel better if he went back to bed,” Edgar said.
Pushing back his chair, Seth shuffled out the kitchen, Bridget following closely behind him. His curly, dark hair looked as if he combed it with his fingers.
“That wasn’t nice, Edgar,” Rosalind said.
“What’s not nice is him coming home to my daughter loaded. But I will give him credit for not driving himself home.”
Rosalind frowned at her husband of more than forty years. “What you fail to realize is that your daughter is not a little girl. She’s a married woman and no longer your responsibility.”
Ruby pushed herself off the chair and, holding a hand to the small of her back, duckwalked to the refrigerator. “I’m sorry, but I need to eat something.” She and Abram shared a surreptitious wink. Pleading hunger had successfully defused what could have become a heated debate about the elder Sanborns’ only daughter.
Even before she’d married Abram, she’d heard that Rosalind accused Edgar of spoiling Bridget, while he accused her of being partial to Abram. The truth was Rosalind loved all of her adopted children equally.
Simone picked up Kimika and they greeted each other by rubbing noses. “Did anyone tell you this morning that you’re beautiful, Kimmie?”
She’d fallen in love with the little girl on sight. Her velvety skin was the color of whipped mocha, and her soft fuzzy hair was always neatly braided into styles that complemented the tiny face with doll-like features.
Kimika smiled, showing off her tiny white teeth. “My dad-dee.”
Simone rubbed noses with the toddler again. “Your daddy is a very smart man.”
Rafe stared at Simone cradling the child in her arms as he headed for the half bath off the kitchen. She looked so natural holding Kimika that he wondered why she hadn’t had children of her own. Then he remembered the reason why she’d divorced Anthony Kendrick. If the man hadn’t been willing to support his wife, it stood to reason he wouldn’t support his children.
Rafe washed and dried his hands in the charming bathroom and returned to the kitchen to find it filled with Sanborn men of various ages wearing aprons. He wasn’t a Whitfield or a Sanborn, but strangely enough he felt a bond with the unconventional family he hadn’t been able to experience with his own.
Two hours after the conclusion of brunch, everyone gathered on the lawn for the regularly scheduled Sunday football game. Rafe and Micah had returned with the propane, Seth had recovered enough to get out of bed, but had elected to sit out the game with Ruby and Faith, who, as promised, had come with Ethan. Once Faith made her condition known, Marisol was recruited to play with the adults for the first time. This left Kimika, Jacob and Isaac to sit on the sidelines as cheerleaders.
The teams were divided by gender: Edgar, William, Rafe, Micah, Abram and Ethan faced their female counterparts in Rosalind, Melinda, Simone, Tessa, Bridget and Marisol.
Rosalind gathered the women in a huddle, explaining the rules and the boundaries. “I’ll guard Edgar. Lindy, you cover William, Simone, Rafe, Tessa, Micah, Bridget, Abram, and Marisol, you will guard Ethan.” Her blue eyes sparkled like topaz when she smiled at the women on her team. “Does everyone understand what they’re supposed to do?” Five heads nodded. She extended her hand, and one by one the hands covered the one above their own. “Well, let’s do it!” they shouted seconds before breaking the huddle.
The men won the coin toss and when Edgar threw the ball to Rafe, Simone scooted in front him, intercepting the pass. She was fast, but he was faster. She hadn’t taken more than three steps toward the end zone when he took her down. The first play set the stage for the lopsided score routing the women.
Animated rookie player Marisol scored the only point for her team and was honored when her father and uncles hoisted her on their shoulders for a victory lap for her gutsy play.
Simone made it into the house with the others to shower and relax before dinner. When she walked into the bedroom she’d shared with Tessa, she found Faith asleep on the bed and Ethan standing with his back to the window. He was still in his grass-stained sweats.
“Is she feeling all right?” Simone asked Ethan. She’d noticed that Faith had disappeared before the end of the game.
He nodded. “She tires very easily.” He moved toward the bed. “I’ll get her up.”
“No—please don’t,” Simone insisted. “You stay with her. I just need to get
my things.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll just hang out with Rafe.”
The routine for Sundays at the Sanborns was the adults usually retreated to their bedrooms to rest up after the football game, while the younger children gathered in the theater room to watch movies before sitting down to dinner.
“Are you sure, Simone? I don’t want to put you out.”
“You’re not putting me out. Besides, we both know that my cousin works much too hard.”
An expression of concern came over Ethan’s face. “Perhaps you should tell her that, because she refuses to listen to me.”
She smiled at the former U.S. Air Force officer who now piloted elite clients around the world in his private jets. “I’ll tell Tessa to talk to her. She’ll listen to her before she’ll take my advice.”
Ethan smiled, flashing deep dimples. “Thanks, cousin.”
“You’re welcome, cousin.” Simone gathered her clothes and personal grooming items, placed them into her overnight bag and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
She made her way to the third floor, knocking on the door to Rafe’s bedroom. The door opened and before she could blink, he’d pulled her inside. His gaze caught fire when he saw her bag.
“Moving in?”
“I need to use your bathroom, because I gave up my room to Ethan and Faith. She’s resting.”
“Is she all right?”
Simone heard the concern in Rafe’s query. “She tires easily now that she’s pregnant. Do you mind if I shower first?” she asked, changing the topic.
Rafe combed his fingers through his damp hair. If Simone had come to the door one minute later, he would’ve been in the shower. “No, I don’t mind. I’m going downstairs to see what the kids are watching.”
“It’s probably something rated G or PG. Edgar and Rosalind are very strict about the movies their grandchildren watch.”
“The three Shrek films and The Polar Express are my personal favorites,” Rafe admitted.
Simone smiled. “I’m partial to E.T. The first time I saw it, I cried when I thought he was dying.”
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