The Sweetest Temptation

by Rochelle Alers

  She contemplated his offer. Tomorrow was Monday. Let Them Eat Cake was closed and the only thing on her schedule was decorating the first of a projected dozen wedding-theme cakes for her book.

  Family members complained she worked too hard even though she paid employees to run the patisserie. She and Oliver had done all of the baking before Ranee came on board, which had left Faith with more time to contract with out-of-town clients, but now with the book project she had even less time for herself.

  Cognizant of the nonstop activity and long hours she put into decorating cakes, she’d lost weight she could ill afford. Ethan was offering her a way to kick back, relax and forget about any and everything to do with baking, and she’d be a fool not to accept it.

  “Okay,” she said, smiling. “I’ll hang out with you until tomorrow.”

  The words were barely off her tongue when she found herself in Ethan’s arms as he swung her around. “Thank you, sweet thing.”

  Holding on to his neck to keep her balance, Faith smiled at him. “You’re welcome. Now, please put me down.” He set her on her feet. “Before we begin your cooking lessons, I’m going to put on a pot of coffee.”

  “I’ll make the coffee.”

  She nodded. “I like my coffee strong.”

  “I realized that the night you brewed coffee for me when I’d used your apartment as a rest stop.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Was it too strong for you?”

  Lowering his head, Ethan glanced down at the floor. “It was strong enough to grow hair on my chest.”

  “Did it?” Faith asked with a teasing grin.

  He pulled up his T-shirt to reveal a flat belly and six-pack abs. “I thought I saw one the other day. Do you want to check for me?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Didn’t we promise to always tell the truth?”

  Ethan sobered. “Yes, we did. All right, there was no hair. But, speaking of being truthful, I want to tell you that I like you.” He paused. “No. I’m not being completely honest. I more than like you.”

  Faith had lost count of the number of prince points Ethan had tallied to date. And, if the truth were told, she also more than liked him. “Then I suppose that makes two of us, Ethan, because I find myself quite fond of you.”

  “Fond,” he repeated. “I guess I can accept that.”

  “You’d better, because that’s all you’re going to get for now.”

  That’s all you’re going to get for now. Her declaration echoed in his head as he tried to analyze what she meant by fondness. Did it translate into deep affection, love? Or did she feel a closeness that meant he’d become as special to her as she’d become to him? And if she was willing to parcel out her affection like drops of water, then he’d accept it, because it wasn’t until he’d taken her to the Rainbow Room that he’d realized he’d been waiting ten years for a woman like Faith Whitfield. He, who’d met and known his share of women, was ready to settle down with one woman he wanted to grow old with, one with whom he would share children, one he would love for eternity.

  A secret smile softened Ethan’s mouth as he made his way over to a corner of the kitchen with a built-in pantry. “I put all of your nonperishables in here. The meat, fish and vegetables are in drawers in the refrigerator. The flowers are also there, too,” he said as an afterthought.

  Faith placed her cell phone on the countertop before she opened the refrigerator and took out what she needed to prepare brunch. Waiting until Ethan had measured coffee and water into the automatic coffeemaker, she beckoned him closer. “It’s time for your first lesson.”

  Ethan gave her a forlorn look. “Are you going to yell at me like the chefs do on those reality shows on TV?”

  Holding out her hand, she tried not to laugh. “Come, darling. I’m not going to yell at you.”

  Ethan crossed the kitchen and came to stand behind her. “Am I really your darling?”

  Faith let several beats pass as her breath quickened and heat invaded her cheeks. She was angry at herself for her impulsiveness and for being embarrassed. She’d walked into a trap of her own making. “You throw around endearments the way you’d toss pennies into a fountain, and the first time I call you darling you want to scrutinize my feelings for you.”

  “I know how you feel about me.”

  She shivered when his moist breath feathered over the nape of her neck. “And that is?”

  “You’re fond of me.”

  “Is there something wrong with that?”

  He closed his eyes for several seconds. “When I was growing up in Pennsylvania there was a neighbor’s dog that I was quite fond of. Oh, and let me not forget the litter of kittens I found behind the house the year I turned ten.”

  “What is it you want from me?” she asked through clenched teeth. If Ethan wasn’t careful he was about to get his first ribbit.

  Ethan leaned closer, his chest molded to her back. “I don’t want you to see me as a faithful dog you pat on the head whenever you pass him.”

  “You’re hardly a dawg, Ethan.”

  “I suppose I should thank you for that.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m ready for my lesson now.”

  * * *

  Faith kept up a steady stream of instruction as she peeled and cleaned shrimp, peeled and chopped a clove of garlic and minced about a tablespoon of fresh parsley leaves. “Please hand me the plate with the bacon,” she said to Ethan, who’d stood watching her intently.

  He picked up the plate. “How do you chop that fast and not cut your fingers?”

  “Practice, practice and more practice.”

  “Are you going to use all of the shrimp for the grits?”

  “No.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “I’m only going to use a few. The others are for the bar kau.”

  “Bar who?”

  “Bar kau are shrimp dumplings.” His expression still registered bewilderment. “Have you ever had dim sum?”

  Ethan nodded. “Yes.”

  “They’re dumplings filled with minced shrimp.”

  “Are we going to have them as appetizers?”

  “No. I’d like to serve them as a midafternoon snack. Steamed or fried, they’re usually served with tea at the traditional Cantonese midmorning meal.”

  “Is that why you bought the green tea?” Faith had selected a small of amount of green tea leaves in the supermarket’s gourmet section.

  “Yes. If we’re going to eat Chinese, then we should also drink Chinese.”

  “Speaking of drinking, the coffee’s finished brewing. How do you take yours?”

  “Cream, no sugar.” The request was barely off her lips when her cell phone rang. Wiping her hands on a towel, she reached for the phone. The display showed Tessa’s name. “Good morning,” Faith said cheerfully.

  “Someone woke up on the right side of the bed this morning,” said a sultry voice filled with laughter. “I’m sorry about ringing you so early, but I wanted to catch you before you left for church.”

  “I’m going later. What’s up?”

  “Mama wants us to come to Mount Vernon tomorrow morning so we can select our gowns.”

  “What time are we meeting?”

  “Early.”

  “How early is early, Tessa?” Smiling, Faith nodded to Ethan as he placed a large mug of coffee on the countertop in front of her. She mouthed a thank-you.

  “Ten. I’ll pick you up around nine.”

  “Hold on, Tessa.” Placing her thumb over the tiny mouthpiece, she caught Ethan’s stare as he took a sip of his steaming black coffee. “Can I impose on you to drive me to Mount Vernon tomorrow morning instead of into the city?”

  He lowered his mug. “Of course I can take you. It’s just across the river.”

  “I need to be there by ten.”

  “That’s not a problem, Faith.”

  She removed her finger. “You don’t have to pick me up,” she informed Tessa. “Tell Aunt Lucy that I’ll be there on time.”

  “Do you have a
ride back to the city?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll take you back. See you mañana, prima.”

  “Tomorrow,” Faith repeated.

  Ending the call, she walked over to Ethan. Tilting her chin, she stared up at him through her lashes. “Are you sure you can drop me off tomorrow morning?”

  Cradling her chin with his free hand, Ethan brushed a light kiss over her parted lips. “Of course I’m sure. I don’t have anything scheduled until late Monday morning, so I’m all yours.”

  Looping her arms around his slim waist, she went on tiptoe, returning the kiss. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  “It’s the next to last house on the left,” Faith told Ethan as he turned down the block leading to her aunt and uncle’s home.

  “Where’s your parents’ house?” he asked, slowing before coming to a complete stop behind a school bus with flashing red lights as several mothers stood on the sidewalk waving to their children.

  “They live about six blocks from here. When I was growing up I spent as much time at my cousins’ place as they did at mine. The only thing that kept us from being completely inseparable was that we attended different schools.” Ethan maneuvered into the driveway behind a Toyota Sequoia at the same time the driver-side door opened.

  He shifted into Park but didn’t turn off the ignition. Pressing a button, he released the trunk lock, got out, retrieved Faith’s bag and came around to open the passenger-side door for her. Extending his hand, helped her out.

  “Thank you for everything,” he crooned in her ear. “I’d like to do it again.”

  Faith smiled. “So would I.” She took her bag from him and turned to find Simone’s puzzled gaze shifting from her to Ethan. Reaching for his hand, she urged him forward. “Come, I want you to meet my cousin.”

  * * *

  Simone Whitfield’s expression behind the lenses of a pair of oversize sunglasses changed from bewilderment to amusement when she noticed her cousin clinging possessively to the hand of the tall, slender, casually dressed man whose bearing was reminiscent of a fashion model’s. It was the first time she’d seen Faith with a man who was physically her counterpart.

  “Simi, I’d like you to meet Ethan McMillan. Ethan, this is my cousin, Simone Whitfield. She’s the one with the magical green thumb.”

  Smiling, Ethan dropped Faith’s hand and extended it to Simone. “It’s nice meeting you, Simone.”

  She shook his hand, her voice temporarily locked somewhere in the back of her throat. Not only did Ethan McMillan claim an X-rated voice, but also face and body. Looking at him, there was no frog in the man standing in front of her.

  “It’s my pleasure to meet you,” she said, her voice low and distinctively seductive. Simone, her gaze fixed on Ethan’s dimples, didn’t see Faith’s Oh, no, you didn’t go there with my man look.

  Ethan swung his attention back to Faith. Smiling, he gave her a soft peck on her parted lips. “I’ll call you later.”

  Simone stared at the couple as questions crowded her head, and judging from the tender kiss, Faith’s distinctive Hermès Victoria travel bag and the fact that Ethan had driven her to Mount Vernon spoke volumes. Waiting until Ethan returned to his car and backed out of the driveway, she smiled sweetly at Faith.

  “I want to hear everything about the X-man,” she said, looping her arm through Faith’s as they climbed the porch steps of the three-story farmhouse.

  Faith brow furrowed. “Who’s the X-man?”

  “Ethan McMillan. A man who looks and sounds like he does should come with a warning label. And, if you tell me he’s racked up any ribbits, then I’m going to hurt you, Faith Whitfield.”

  The solid oak door opened suddenly and Lucinda Whitfield stood on the other side. “I thought I heard voices. Why are you two standing out here? Come on in where it’s warm.”

  Simone gave Faith a sidelong glance as she pulled open the beveled-glass door. “We’ll talk about this later,” she said sotto voce.

  * * *

  Ethan reversed direction, heading back to New Jersey. The lingering scent of Faith’s perfume filled the car. Within minutes of leaving her he’d felt her loss, and even now he continued to miss her.

  He’d thought himself a fool to have invited her to spend two nights under his roof, then vacillated whether he actually wanted to drive her across the Hudson River to New York. He’d contemplated holding her captive until he uncovered just what it was about Faith Whitfield that had him craving the pastry chef like a drug addict.

  If he could, he would’ve turned back time to prolong their time together. After they sat down to eat the incredibly delicious Lowcountry-style shrimp and grits, they’d retreated to the family room to read the Sunday Times. The rest of the morning and afternoon went by in a blur as he helped Faith to prepare bar kau, marinated bite-size spareribs and chopped the ingredients for stir-fry vegetables. After sampling fresh-brewed green tea he seriously considered giving up coffee.

  They’d attended the 5:00 p.m. mass, then returned home to cook dinner together, topping off the meal with a dessert of fraises au vin rouge, red wine with strawberries. What he couldn’t fathom was that he’d felt more like a husband spending two days with Faith than he’d felt in the eight months he’d been married to Justine.

  Their relationship was easygoing, relaxed and, most important, noncompetitive or combative. Unknowingly Faith had everything he’d been looking for in every woman he’d known. What he needed to do was convince her that he wanted more than friendship; he wanted a relationship and a commitment that promised more than a few months together.

  His cell phone rang as he entered the town limits for Englewood Cliffs. He recognized the ringtone for his bookkeeper. Dorie Murrow had answered his classified ad for an experienced part-time bookkeeping position when he set up MAC Executive Air Travel in a building adjacent to the livery service business. A grandmother, she had worked as a bookkeeper for an insurance broker for three decades, retired, then decided to reenter the workforce on a part-time basis.

  Pressing the Bluetooth button on the dash, he said cheerfully, “Good morning, Dorie.”

  “It’s not going to be so good, Mac, when I tell you about the call I just got from Lloyd.”

  A wrinkle furrowed Ethan’s forehead. “What happened?”

  He listened intently as Dorie told him about the harrowing cross-country flight where a corporate client and the five men accompanying him had become drunk and rowdy, endangering everyone onboard. Fortunately, Lloyd Seymour and his copilot were able to land the jet without mishap at an airfield outside LAX.

  Ethan struggled to control his rising temper. As owner of the company he was responsible for the safety of his employees and their clients. “Has Lloyd agreed to the return flight?”

  “No,” Dorie replied. “That’s why he’s calling.”

  “Tell Lloyd to take a few days off, rest up and then come back. I’ll contact Mr. King personally to let him know we no longer want or need his business. Put the file with his company’s contract on my desk.”

  “Consider it done. Is there anything else, Mac?”

  “Look for a messenger to deliver an envelope with the W-2s.”

  “They’re here.”

  “Good.” He glanced at the dashboard clock. “I should be there in about ten minutes.”

  Punching the button, Ethan ended the call. His hands tightened on the leather-wrapped steering wheel as he cursed to himself. He hadn’t expected the CEO of a major pharmaceutical company and his corporate guests to become so unruly that the flight crew would consider aborting the flight. Wilson Marsh King, known as WMK in the business world, would either find another private jet for a return flight to Newark, or he and his guests would be forced to stand in line with thousands of other passengers and get a flight on a commercial carrier.

  Ethan knew running his own business wouldn’t be an easy task, but it was times like this when he second-guessed himself whether it was worth it. He thought of Faith
’s dilemma of booking two weddings and a birthday on the same day, then realized his problem with Wilson King was minor in comparison. Every MAC contract contained a termination clause. Unfortunately, this was the first time he would have to exercise it.

  His annoyance had mostly subsided when he merged into traffic onto the Palisades Parkway. It had vanished completely when he maneuvered into his reserved parking space. Listening to his favorite CDs and thinking about Faith proved the perfect antidote to help him forget that he was losing a client.

  CHAPTER 11

  Faith left her overnight bag by the door, hung up her jacket in a closet off the entryway and followed Simone and Lucinda into the room the older woman referred to as her meeting room. It was here that she conferred with prospective brides and their attendants while they perused the portfolios of Lucinda-designed wedding and bridesmaids’ gowns.

  Petite with a rounded body and close-cropped, salt-and-pepper natural hairstyle, Lucinda Whitfield’s wedding gown designs rivaled notables like Vera Wang, Amsale, Priscilla of Boston, Reem Acra and Monique Lhullier. And she’d passed her incredible talent on to her daughter Tessa.

  “I don’t know if you’ve eaten, so I put out a little something,” Lucinda said, motioning to the side table with a platter of bagels, croissants and miniature pastries. The Senseo gourmet coffee machine her husband of nearly forty years had given her as one of her Christmas gifts sat ready for brewing a single cup of coffee with the push of a button.

  Simone set her oversize leather bag on the carpeted floor and shrugged out of her coat, leaving it on the back of an armchair. “All I want is coffee, so I can take a few aspirins.”

  Lucinda sat in her favorite chair at a round oaken table. “You need more than coffee, Simone Whitfield, if you have a headache.” Her gaze shifted to her niece. “Are you going to eat something, or do you only want coffee?”

  Faith smiled. “I’ll have something later, Aunt Lucy.” She’d eaten breakfast with Ethan.