“Mama and Daddy like Rafe,” Tessa said as Faith and Simone embarked on what would become a stare-down. The cousins got along just fine until Tony’s name came up.
“That’s because he’s very charming.” Simone didn’t know why she felt she had to validate her lover’s easygoing personality.
Faith’s expression brightened. “Ethan says he’s fun to hang out with.”
Tessa chuckled. “Micah claims if you turn one of your rooms into a man cave, then he, Rafe and Ethan would hang out here every weekend to watch the games while sitting in the hot tub.”
“Oh, heck, no!” Simone sputtered. “I’m not about to turn my home into a sports bar. Let them go to a real sports bar to drink beer and make as much noise as they want.”
“Sorry, Simi, but Ethan doesn’t particularly like beer.”
“Then Jack and Coke,” Simone countered.
Tessa wagged a finger at her sister. “That’s your man’s drink of choice.”
“What do you expect? He does admit to being a little country.”
“A little?” Faith and Tessa chorused.
“He’s real country,” Faith crooned. “Country and fine as hell.”
The sisters nodded in agreement. The three women talked quietly until Rafe walked into the room to inform them that coffee and dessert was ready to be served.
CHAPTER 17
When Rafe turned down the street where the Whitfields lived, the aroma of grilled food hung in the humid air. It’d rained Sunday night, but let up and then stopped altogether for those off from work and school to celebrate the holiday, cooking and dining outdoors.
Simone jumped out of the Yukon as soon as Rafe came to a complete stop. Her brother and his family had arrived the night before, and she couldn’t wait to see her nephews. Each time they returned to New York for a visit, they appeared to have grown several inches. She noticed a number of New Jersey license plates on cars parked along the street. Lucinda and Malcolm had invited the Sanborns to come across the river to celebrate the holiday with them.
Not bothering to go into the house, Simone went around to the backyard where she saw Vernon with Faith’s father. Henry Whitfield, Malcolm’s identical twin, was older by minutes and was quick to apprise everyone of that statistic.
The Sanborn twins, Isaac and Jacob, were hanging upside down from the jungle gym Lucinda and Malcolm had erected for their grandchildren, while Kimika, sitting between Marisol’s legs, giggled uncontrollably as they came down the slide.
“Vern!”
Vernon Whitfield turned at the sound of his sister’s voice. Smiling, arms outstretched, he closed the distance between them. Picking her up, he swung her around as he’d done when they were children. Vernon had inherited his mother’s coloring, dark eyes and hair color, but his father’s height.
Setting her on her feet, he kissed her cheeks. “You look wonderful. I like the short hair.”
Simone, still grinning, ran her hand through the curls grazing the nape of her neck. “Thank you. Where are Yolanda and the boys?”
“I dropped them off at her parents’ last night. Yolie just called to let me know she’s on her way over. What…” Vernon’s voice trailed off when he saw the tall, blond man carrying a large wicker hamper. “It can’t be! White chocolate!”
Simone turned to see who her brother was talking about. All she saw was Rafe with the hamper filled with fresh melons, an assortment of cheese and seasonal fruit. A slight frown furrowed her forehead. “Who are you talking about?”
A wide grin split Rafe’s face. “VW?”
“White chocolate,” Vernon repeated.
Simone’s gaze shifted from her lover, to her brother and then back again. “You two know each other?”
Setting down the hamper, Rafe pulled Vernon Whitfield into a rough embrace. When he’d been assigned to protect Simone Whitfield he never would’ve connected her to Vernon Whitfield. He’d thought the name familiar, but the Vernon he knew had always been called VW.
“Brother Madison.”
“What’s up, Brother Whitfield?”
It was the brother that raised the red flag for Simone. “You two are fraternity brothers?”
“O noble Kappa Alpha Psi, the pride of all our hearts. True manliness, fidelity, thou ever dost impart!” Rafe and Vernon sang at the top of their lungs, their arms over the other’s shoulder.
What, she thought, were the odds that her brother and bodyguard had pledged the same fraternity? Rafe admitted to attending FMU and Vernon was a Tuskegee alumnus, both historically black colleges.
An expression of enlightenment brightened Simone’s face. He’d accused her of being biased and into stereotypes. She narrowed her gaze at him. “Are you really a brother?”
A mysterious smiled tilted the corners of his mouth at the same time he nodded. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
Vernon clapped a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “What are the odds that one of my frat brothers would hook up with one of my sisters?”
Rafe gave him a sheepish grin. “Try a hundred thousand to one.”
Henry Whitfield took his niece’s hand, pulling her gently away from Vernon and Rafe. Ducking his head, he kissed her cheek. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you look so happy.”
“That’s because I am, Uncle Henry.”
“Does your young man have anything to do with it?”
Your young man. She and Rafe had perfected their act to the point where everyone believed they were actually a couple. She’d come to Mount Vernon to share breakfast with her parents before she, Faith and Tessa were measured for their gowns. They were scheduled for a final fitting two weeks before the wedding. During brunch, Lucinda had fussed over Rafe as if he were a rare hothouse orchid. This amused Simone, while her bodyguard took it all in stride.
Raphael Madison was a man who’d sworn an oath to protect his witness, but he was also her brother’s fraternity brother, her lover and, above all, a man she’d fallen in love with, a man who would walk away from her and never look back. That was their agreement.
However, the revelation that he and her brother were Greeks—members of the same fraternity—changed everything. Would Vernon, who’d relocated his family from North Carolina to New York, maintain contact with Rafe?
Simone knew she’d changed, had matured enough not to repeat the mistakes she’d made with Tony with Rafe. It’d taken sixteen years for her to learn to let go of someone who hadn’t changed because he hadn’t wanted to change.
A single incident had shattered her cloistered existence and the result was she was forced to step outside her imagined existence and into the real world. For years she’d affected a “should I” or “shouldn’t I” posture with her ex-husband while denying her femininity with self-imposed celibacy.
Then, Kansas-born U.S. Marshal Raphael Madison swept into her life with the power of a Great Plains twister, protecting her, but also helping her to see who she could actually be—for that she would be eternally grateful. He was able to defuse her quick temper with a warning look and the single word—“enough.”
She enjoyed being Rafe’s temporary girlfriend and lover. She’d come to look forward to preparing meals with him and having him assist her whenever she designed her floral arrangements. What had really surprised her was that her macho lawman actually liked playing house.
“Auntie Simone!”
The sound of her nephew calling her name pulled Simone from her reverie. Before she could turn around she found herself wrestled to the grass as eight-and ten-year-olds tag-teamed her.
“Give up?” the older of the two shouted.
Squirming and flailing, Simone shook her head. “Never!”
The eight-year-old wrapped his arm around her head, applying what he considered a headlock. “Give up, Auntie Simone?”
“I give up!” she screamed as they both applied modified headlocks.
“Nicholas and Quincy Whitfield!”
The two boys, their eyes as big as silve
r dollars, scrambled off their aunt and the grass when they heard their mother’s voice. Yolanda Whitfield’s attempt to glare at her sister-in-law failed when Simone lay on her back, arms and legs outstretched.
“Welcome home, Yolie,” Simone said, grinning. Her sister-in-law had changed her hairstyle—yet again. Her chin-length hair was a mass of tiny twists that flattered her perfectly rounded face.
Yolanda’s dark brown eyes shimmered with warmth and humor. “When are you going to stop rolling around on the ground?”
“Hopefully never.” A shadow fell over Simone as Rafe extended his hand.
“Need help getting up?” She placed her hand in his, and he pulled her up in one continuous motion. “You have grass stains on your shirt,” he whispered close to her ear.
Simone blushed. She remembered another time when she’d asked him if she had grass stains on her shirt—a time when he stated that he liked her better on her back. He’d gotten his wish because she’d lost count of the number of times she’d lain on her back whenever they made love.
She knew she would miss Rafe whenever he left her, but he wasn’t all she would miss. She would miss their passionate lovemaking, because whenever they came together they gave the other all of themselves, holding nothing back.
Her arm went around Rafe’s waist. “Rafe, this is Yolanda, Vernon’s wife and the mother of my two would-be professional-wrestler nephews, Nicholas and Quincy.” The boys had run away to join the Sanborn children in the playground area of the expansive backyard. “Yolanda, this is my very good friend and Vernon’s frat brother, Rafe Madison.”
Rafe smiled and extended his hand. “I’m honored to meet you.”
Yolanda took the proffered hand, her eyebrows lifting slightly. “It’s always a pleasure to meet one of Vern’s frat brothers.”
Vernon walked over and brushed a kiss over his wife’s lips. “I see you’ve met white chocolate.”
Yolanda gasped audibly. “Vernon!” Her shocked expression spoke volumes.
“Yolie, please. Don’t let the blond hair and blue eyes fool you. Brother Madison is a brother and pitched in the majors.”
It was Simone’s turn to gasp, as she wondered how many more surprises she would experience before the day ended. The man she’d been sleeping was mixed race and at one time had been a Major League ballplayer. What was next—a wife and children in Kansas?
Faith walked over to the small group, looking every inch a model in a pair of lemon-yellow slacks she’d paired with a crocheted top with an Empire waist. Her eyes were shielded from the sun by a pair of oversized shades.
“Hello, everybody!” She handed out hugs and kisses to Yolanda, Vernon, Rafe and Simone like a celebrity. She rested a hand on Vernon’s arm. “Cuz, can you and Rafe help Ethan bring in a few things from the car?”
“Sure.”
“No problem.”
Rafe and Vernon had spoken in unison.
Yolanda stared at Simone from under her lashes. “Where did you find him?”
Simone smiled. “Him found me,” she teased.
Yolanda rolled her eyes upward. “White chocolate or dark chocolate, he’s fine as hell.”
Faith frowned. “Yolanda Evans-Whitfield, what are you babbling about?”
“Simone’s man. He’s Vernon’s frat brother.”
Faith lifted her glasses. “You mean he’s a brother?” Yolanda and Simone nodded at the same time. “No wonder Ethan and Micah call him brother.”
“Do you think they knew?” Simone asked.
Faith settled her sunglasses on her nose while sucking her teeth. “Heaven knows what they talk about whenever they get together. They’re a perfect example of the old boys’ network.”
“Mommy, mommy!”
The three women turned to see Quincy running toward them, Isaac, Jacob and Kimika Sanborn following closely behind. “Grandpa is cooking a pig in the ground!”
“The pig has eyes!” Jacob said.
“Big eyes,” Isaac confirmed.
“Pick me up,” Kimika demanded of Simone.
“What’s the magic word?” Simone asked the toddler.
“Please.”
Simone swept her up in her arms and rubbed noses. “Let’s go and see this pig everyone’s talking about.”
She headed for the area in the back of the house where Malcolm Whitfield had a contractor put in an outdoor pit and fireplace. This would be the first year Malcolm would cook and serve his celebrated roast pig. It was a favorite of those who held their affairs at Whitfield Caterers. It saddened Simone that her father and uncle were closing the establishment at the end of August, but the decades-old, family-owned business had allowed the brothers to purchase homes, educate their children and maintain a very comfortable lifestyle.
An era would end when they sold the land to a developer, along with the two-story Revival Regency-style mansion with stone-colored brick, a bowed entry and portico constructed on sloping lawn that overlooked an English garden and a pond filled with water lilies and a family of magnificent, graceful swans. Malcolm and Henry would leave the catering business to begin another, this time with another generation of Whitfield man: Vernon.
* * *
It was close to midnight when Simone returned to White Plains with Rafe. They would’ve left Mount Vernon earlier, but the women had gathered in Lucinda’s kitchen, talking nonstop, while waiting for their men to finish watching a baseball game that had gone into extra innings. The game still hadn’t ended when William and Abram loaded their sleepy children into their vehicles to head back to New Jersey.
Dropping her handbag on a chair in the entryway, Simone stared at Rafe’s back when he locked the front door and set the alarm. “I’m going upstairs to take a bath.”
Rafe nodded, but didn’t turn around. “I’m going to hang out down here for a while.”
She waited for him to turn around to face her, but when he didn’t she headed for the staircase. There was so much more she wanted to know about Raphael Madison, yet was reluctant to ask. He wasn’t authorized to reveal anything more than his name and/or official identification, so her wanting to know more wasn’t an option.
* * *
Rafe paced the length of the enclosed back porch like a restless cat. Spending the day with Simone’s family and the Sanborns was one he’d remember for years. Reconnecting with a fraternity brother had been a surprise, just as much of a surprise as the fact that he’d fallen in love with the man’s sister.
He hadn’t planned to become emotionally involved with his witness, make love to his witness or fall in love with her. He and Simone Whitfield were complete opposites, and despite their differences she’d become an integral part of whom he’d become.
She was fresh, exciting and sensual. Everything about her appealed to his masculinity, and he didn’t want to think of the time when he’d have to leave her. Simone made him promise that he was never to contact her once he was reassigned, a promise he was tempted to break.
How could he walk away from her and pretend what they’d shared never happened?
Even when Simone was in one part of the house and he in another, her essence lingered. When he least expected it, he’d catch a whiff of the lavender that made up her body wash and shampoo. And of all of the flowers she grew and cultivated in her greenhouses, she’d become the rarest, most exotic of them all.
Knowing he couldn’t put off the inevitable, Rafe double-checked all of the doors and windows, then climbed the staircase to the second story.
His footfalls were muffled in the carpeting running the length of the hallway as he made his way toward his bedroom. Then, without warning, Rafe stopped and retraced his steps and walked into Simone’s bedroom. Instead of waiting for her to come to him, he would take the initiative.
A knowing smile deepened the laugh lines around his eyes when he encountered darkness. He felt as if it were a repeat of the night of the storm, when he’d made love to Simone for the first time. He heard the music coming from the radio and
detected the flicker of candlelight through the half-opened bathroom door.
As he’d done that night, he stood in the doorway, watching Simone as she lay in the bathtub, eyes closed and her head resting on a bath sponge. And despite the warm temperatures inside and outside the house, a fire crackled in the fireplace. Moisture dotted her face, turning her into a statue of molten gold.
Taking a backward step, he undressed in the darkened bedroom, leaving his firearm on the table next to the king-size iron bed. Whistling softly and hoping not to startle her, he smiled at Simone when she opened her eyes.
“Would you like company?”
Sitting up straighter, Simone held out her hand. “I would love company.” Moving toward the other end of the tub, she giggled as Rafe stepped in and sat behind her. “If I’d known I was going to have company I would’ve used another fragrance.”
Wrapping his arms around her waist, Rafe eased Simone back against his chest. “We wind up smelling like each other whenever we make love,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her damp hair.
Tilting her chin, she smiled up at him. “You don’t mind smelling girly?”
He returned her smile. “That’s all good as long as I don’t turn into a girl.”
“What’s wrong with being a girl?”
“Nothing. As long as I stay a guy.”
“You like being a guy?”
Rafe angled his head and kissed her forehead. “I suppose I’ve taken being a man for granted until I met you.” He wanted to tell Simone that he wanted to make love to her every night for the rest of his natural life.
Simone shifted until she settled into a more comfortable position, her cheek pressed to his heart. The bathtub was definitely not large enough for two people—especially one as tall as Rafe. “If I had to wait eight years to sleep with a man, then I’m glad it was you.” A pause ensued, with only the sound of Anita Baker singing “You Bring Me Joy,” breaking the comfortable silence.
Rafe splayed his fingers over her flat belly. “I guess you want to know about me?”
“At first I wanted to know who you really are, but to know more would only complicate what we have.”
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