The Sweetest Temptation

by Rochelle Alers

  “What time is it?”

  Faith turned and smiled at him across the room. “It’s after one.”

  Pushing into a sitting position, he continued to stare at Faith. She wore a white halter top with a pair of loose-fitting drawstring cotton pants that rode low on her hips. Her hair was now long enough to curl sensuously on the nape of her neck. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Ethan left it and walked on bare feet to close the distance between them.

  Faith put up a hand. “Don’t come any closer.”

  A perplexed expression crossed his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t you dare come to the table without your clothes.”

  Ethan glanced down as if to check whether he was actually nude. “I wasn’t going to sit.”

  Resting her hands on her hips, Faith glared at him. “What are you doing?”

  “All I want is to give my girlfriend a kiss.” She lowered her gaze when he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Do you know what you sound like?”

  She shook her head. “No. What do I sound like?”

  Smiling, he gave her bottom a gentle pat. “A wife.” Turning on his heels, Ethan didn’t see Faith’s delicate jaw drop at his rejoinder.

  Faith screwed up her face. “A wife,” she whispered under her breath. “I don’t think so.”

  * * *

  The chatter of birds calling out to one another woke her from her slumber, while Ethan lay next to her soundly asleep. She managed to get out of bed, shower and get dressed without waking him. A brief stroll outdoors revealed the existence of a larger house about five hundred feet from the one where she and Ethan were staying.

  The views from the mountaintop with streams from twin waterfalls, lush vegetation, towering palm trees, pale sand and the clear blue-green waters of the Caribbean set the stage for a spectacular retreat. She’d found the kitchen with a sink, stove-top range, microwave and a well-stocked refrigerator behind a wall of sliding louvered doors.

  Faith had finished chopping the ingredients for an omelet she would pair with salchicha y plátanos maduros—sausage and fried sweet bananas—when Ethan returned, wearing a tank top, walking shorts and sandals.

  He bowed from the waist. “Do I pass inspection?”

  Smiling, she tilted her head as he kissed her. “You look great.” He’d showered but hadn’t bothered to shave. “Even though it’s a day late, I have something to give you for Valentine’s Day.”

  “I have something for you, too.” Ethan went to his luggage and took out a small colorful shopping bag. “Happy belated Valentine’s, baby.”

  She took the bag and handed him two small packages wrapped in silver-and-black-striped paper with a black satin bow. “Happy Valentine’s, darling.” Sitting at the table, Faith reached into the bag and removed one of two gifts from Ethan. She opened the larger of the two to find a bottle of her favorite perfume. “How did you know I wear Valentino?”

  Ethan gave her a smug smile. “Good detective work.” He made certain to look at the bottle when she’d stayed over at his house.

  She peeled the paper off the second gift, then opened the box to reveal a Cartier love bracelet in eighteen-carat white gold with diamonds. He’d had it engraved with the date and his initials. A tiny screwdriver lay beside the bracelet.

  She didn’t know what to make of Ethan’s exquisite gift. The love collection, designed by the legendary jewelry house, symbolized the powerful and indestructible tie that binds two beings together, but she didn’t know whether she wanted that type of commitment from Ethan because of the short time they’d known each other. Her hand trembled noticeably when she picked up the circle of gold and held out her left hand.

  “Please put it on.”

  Ethan slid the bracelet over her wrist and closed it, using the screwdriver. He placed the screwdriver in her hand and closed her fingers over it. “You hold on to it, because I know how you said you don’t do commitment well.”

  She flashed a shy smile. “That’s something I’m going to have to work on.”

  Resting his forehead against hers, he kissed the end of her nose. “Take your time, sweets.” Pulling back, he picked up his gift from Faith and ripped off the sophisticated paper and bow. “Wow!” She’d given him a pair of gold cuff links that were an exact match for his signet ring. “They’re exquisite.”

  Faith traced the engraved monogram on the ring on his right pinky. “You never take off your ring, so I had to rely on my memory when it came to the lettering for your initials.” The block-letter design was bold and masculine.

  Twisting the ring off his finger, Ethan slipped it over Faith’s ring finger on her left hand. It was too big. He removed it and placed it on each of her slender fingers until it slid down her thumb without falling off.

  “What size are your fingers?”

  “I have unusually skinny fingers.”

  “The size, Faith?”

  “My ring finger is a five.”

  “Mine is twice that size.”

  She placed her hand over his. “That’s because you have a large hand and very long fingers. Thank you for the bracelet. It’s beyond beautiful.”

  Ethan cradled the back of her head, his fingers playing in her curly hair. “Its beauty doesn’t begin to compare to yours.”

  “Open the other one,” Faith urged softly. Her smile widened into a full grin when he cradled a Limoges porcelain frog-prince box on his palm. The artfully handmade figurine was painted by the most famous maker of French porcelain.

  “How many frogs have you kissed, darling?”

  “Too many to count,” she countered. “So far you haven’t earned any ribbit points.”

  An attractive blush darkened his handsome face. “I suppose I should consider myself lucky.”

  “Ethan,” Faith said after a comfortable silence.

  “What is it, baby?”

  “We can’t do what we did last night in the shower.”

  He sat up straighter. “What are you talking about?”

  Faith met his steady gaze. “We can’t make love again without protection. I don’t want to get pregnant.”

  He recoiled as if she’d slapped him. “I pulled out in time.”

  “I know you did, but I don’t want to take that risk again. When we get back to the States I’m going on the Pill.”

  A full minute passed before Ethan asked, “Do you want children?”

  Faith saw the heartrending tenderness of the gaze of the man she loved beyond reason. “Of course I want children, Ethan. It’s just that I’d rather be married before I start a family.”

  “Marry me, Faith.”

  “Stop playing, Ethan,” she drawled, smiling.

  His expression stilled and grew serious. “I’m not playing. I want you to marry me.”

  Faith shook her head. “No, no, no.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” she repeated. “We’ve known each other six weeks, and that’s hardly enough time on which to base a marriage.”

  “What does time have to do with love?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Exactly,” Ethan confirmed.

  Faith thought of her parents, who’d married after knowing each other two months and had recently celebrated their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. The difference was that Edith knew she was going to marry Henry Whitfield within minutes of being introduced to him. However, it was different with her because even though Faith knew there was something different, special about Ethan she hadn’t consciously thought of marrying him.

  “Do you find me so repulsive that you’d never consider marrying me?”

  Her mouth opened, but no words came out. “Is that what you believe?” Faith asked when she finally recovered.

  He picked up the frog-prince figurine. “You must see me a frog.”

  “A frog prince,” she insisted.

  “A frog by any other name is still a frog.” A pregnant silence ensued as Ethan and Faith stared at each other. “Believe it or not, I knew I
wanted to marry you the moment you told me your name.”

  Faith’s eyes widened with Ethan’s passionate confession. He’d repeated verbatim the same thing her mother had said about her father. But, she wondered, could she hope her marriage to Ethan would mirror her parents’? Could she become his wife, bear his children and look forward to growing old together?

  And it wasn’t as if she didn’t love Ethan, because she did. She’d told and shown him in and out of bed. He was sensitive, well-spoken, generous and a passionate and considerate lover, but could she trust him not to stifle her creative, independent spirit? She’d been raised to become an independent black woman in control of her own destiny and as a Whitfield woman she was expected to continue the tradition of the others who’d gone before her.

  A hint of a smile played at the corners of Ethan’s mouth when he sensed Faith’s indecision. Placing his hand over hers, he squeezed her fingers. “What’s bothering you, darling?”

  Faith closed her eyes. “I do love you—”

  “And I you,” he said, stopping her words.

  She opened her eyes. “Please don’t interrupt me, Ethan, or I’ll lose my nerve.”

  Ethan nodded. Her indecision had changed to vulnerability. “I promise not to say anything.”

  “I don’t know what it is, but I seem to attract men who want to change or mold me into something or someone who suits their needs or personality. Most complained that I’m too ambitious, that I work too much, that they never saw me when it was convenient for them. Then there were the ones I refused to sleep with and to them I’d become a ‘stuck-up bitch.’ I’ve had men who’ve asked me to lend them money once they found out that I had my own business, and then there were others who wanted to move in with me because they liked the fact that I lived in the West Village. I am who I am and I don’t want to change. Not for you, Ethan, not for any man. I’ve accepted who you are and what you do, and I don’t want you to change not even for me.”

  Rising to his feet, Ethan pulled Faith up with him and cradled her head in his hands. “I don’t want you to change, because then I wouldn’t recognize the woman to whom I’ve given every single piece of myself. I’m only going to ask three things from you.”

  Easing back in his loose embrace, Faith stared up at Ethan staring back at her. “What are they?”

  “Have my babies. Take my name and wear my ring.”

  A rush of tears filled her eyes and overflowed. Going on tiptoe, she brushed her mouth over Ethan’s as he lowered his hands and picked her up. There was no need for words. Her lips communicated silently that she would marry him, change her name and have his children.

  “When do you want to marry?” she asked tearfully.

  Ethan swallowed the lump in his throat as a wave of emotion rendered him temporarily speechless. He hadn’t lied to Faith when he admitted to giving her all of himself, and what she hadn’t known and would never know was that he’d changed in order to gain her confidence, win her love and capture her heart. Interacting with her had tested his manhood and his patience.

  “On our way back to the States we can fly to Vegas and get married.”

  “We can’t get married in Las Vegas.”

  He heard the desperation in Faith’s voice and the distress marring her beautiful face. “Why not, darling?”

  “I’m a Whitfield.”

  Ethan smiled. “True. But you’ll also become a McMillan.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about, Ethan. The Whitfields are in the wedding business, and it would be very bad for business if a Whitfield has a Vegas wedding.”

  “We can have a civil ceremony in Vegas and follow that with a church wedding with our friends and families in attendance.”

  There were many more questions Faith wanted to ask Ethan, but the enormity of what she’d agreed to overwhelmed her. A fist of fear squeezed her heart and she prayed that she wasn’t about to make the most grievous mistake of her life.

  * * *

  What are you doing? Have you gone and lost what’s left of your mind? Don’t do it! Do you realize that you don’t know this man, yet you’ve committed to becoming his wife?

  The questions continued to assault Faith right up to the moment she was to exchange vows with Ethan McMillan. Suddenly she felt totally alone, even though the minister and his wife, who would serve as a witness to their nuptials, were in attendance. She jumped slightly when Ethan reached for her ice-cold fingers, bringing them to his mouth and dropping a kiss on the Ritani setting platinum solitaire engagement ring with two carats of a round brilliant-cut center diamond and channel-set diamonds between the prongs and micro pave diamonds on the prongs.

  The Ethan she’d thought she knew had vanished, replaced by a stranger who’d begun revealing tiny pieces of what made him the man he was. The Punta Cana property was William Raymond’s Caribbean hideaway and Ethan always stayed in the guesthouse when visiting the island.

  Her uneasiness escalated when it wasn’t Captain Lloyd Seymour who piloted the G550 to Vegas, but her husband-to-be. She rounded on him within seconds of walking into their hotel suite. Ethan managed to calm her down long enough to explain that he was president and sole owner of MAC Elite Car Services and MAC Executive Air Travel.

  A numbed silence followed. His disclosure explained everything: his luxury home in an exclusive North New Jersey enclave, the one-hundred-thousand-plus sticker price on his car and the elegant cut of his tailored wardrobe. Ethan McMillan had played her—big-time!

  She’d wanted to call a carrier to reserve a flight back to New York but her love for him overrode her anger at him for letting her believe he was a chauffeur. In the past she’d gone out with men she didn’t particularly like because she’d tired of spending weekends home alone. She’d moved in with Lars because she was attracted to his maturity and worldliness.

  Ethan was different, a throwback to her father’s generation where men were raised to be gentlemen. Faith had spent years kissing frogs in the hope she would finally encounter a prince. And she’d found her prince in Ethan McMillan, and there was no way she was going to let him go.

  “Darling?”

  The sound of Ethan’s deep voice shattered her reverie. Her gaze lingered on his close-cropped hair before moving to the stark-white shirt, dark blue tie and faint pinstriped gray suit. A mysterious smile touched her lush mouth.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you ready?”

  Her smile widened. “I’ve never been more ready.” And she was ready to marry Ethan and more than ready to share her life and future with him. Easing her hand from his grip, she held on to her bouquet of pink roses and tulips and smiled at the minister.

  Ethan couldn’t take his gaze off his bride, unable to believe that within minutes he would belong to her, and she to him, that their lives and their futures would be inexorably entwined. The delicate flowers in her boutique matched the silk slip dress flowing around her long legs.

  He returned his attention to the minister. “Do you, Ethan, take Faith to be your wife, to love, honor and cherish from this day forth?”

  Ethan nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  The minister nodded to Faith. “Do you, Faith, take Ethan to be your husband, to love, honor and cherish from this day forth?”

  Faith shared a smile with Ethan. “I do.”

  Reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket, he removed a plain platinum band and slipped it onto Faith’s finger. “With this ring, I thee wed, as a symbol of a love that has neither beginning nor end.”

  Faith slipped a matching band off her thumb and onto his ring finger. “With this ring, I thee wed, as a symbol of strength, enduring love and trust.” She blocked out everything going on around her until she felt the cool firmness of her husband’s lips on hers. Pinpoints of hot tears pricked the backs of her eyelids.

  The former Faith Vinna Whitfield was now Mrs. Faith V. Whitfield-McMillan.

  * * *

  “No more, Ethan,” Faith said in protest as he lifted the bottle
of champagne in an attempt to refill her glass. She’d drunk more champagne in the past few days than she had in all her life. It hadn’t mattered that it was her favorite wine, but she did want to remember the events of her wedding night.

  “What are you smiling about?” Ethan asked when she pressed her back to the mound of pillows cradling her shoulders.

  After their wedding at the very popular The Little Church of the West they’d returned to their hotel suite and ordered dinner with a bottle of premium champagne. Ethan had suggested a Grand Canyon wedding where a helicopter would fly them over the Hoover Dam, Lake Mead and Fortification Hill—an extinct volcano—and take their vows at a landing below the rim of the Grand Canyon at four thousand feet above the Colorado River, but Faith flatly refused.

  Faith’s smile grew wider. “I can’t believe I’m going to have not one but two wedding nights.”

  “We can have more than two whenever we decide to renew our vows.”

  “Speaking of renewing vows, my parents renewed theirs last November for their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary.”

  Ethan placed his half-filled flute on the table on his side of the bed. “My folks have yours beat by a few years. My parents celebrated their fortieth last year. By the time we celebrate our fortieth I’ll be seventy-eight and you a mere seventy.”

  Sliding down off the pillows, Faith pressed her face to her husband’s flat, hard belly. “Do you think we’ll still be able to make love at that age?”

  Running his fingers through her hair, Ethan smiled. “I hope we will, because I pray I’ll never tire of making love to you.”

  Faith breathed in his body’s natural scent and the lingering scent of soap on his bare skin. “I think I’m going to wait to go back on the Pill.”

  Ethan’s fingers stilled, shock stopping the breath in his lungs. “Are you sure?” His query came out in a whisper.

  “Very sure,” she whispered back. And Faith was as certain about having a baby—Ethan’s baby—as she’d been about anything in her life. All of her wishes had come true. She’d become a chef, she had a book deal and she’d married a prince.