Sweet Silver Bells

by Rochelle Alers

  “How’s Marci?” The move to the Lowcountry hadn’t been easy for Shane’s wife. She missed her family, and the isolation was exacerbated by a pregnancy plagued with nausea and vomiting.

  Shane ran a hand over his face. “She’s resting. Her sleep patterns are off because the baby sleeps during the day and does gymnastics at night. Do you want me to let her know you’re here?”

  Joseph shook his head. “No. Let her rest.” Reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket, he handed Shane an envelope. “These are your arrangements. Someone from the car service will call you tonight to confirm the time you and Marci will be picked up Sunday morning. The jet will be at the airport when you arrive. The only thing you’ll need to board is your ID. I’ve also arranged for a doctor and nurse to be onboard if Marci needs medical assistance.”

  Shane tapped the envelope against his palm. “I hate to leave now with harvest only months away. What if I send Marci now, and fly out closer to her due—”

  “Come on, man, let’s not go through this again,” Joseph said, cutting him off. “Your wife has been begging you to take her to see her parents—her mother in particular—because Marci needs to see and talk to someone other than you. This tea garden will not wither and die because you’re not here. Mervin, Willie and I will make certain of that.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Shane” he interrupted. “If your ass isn’t on that plane tomorrow morning, then you’re fired!”

  When Shane asked him if he could take Marci home to Nebraska to await the birth of their son, Joseph quickly approved the request.

  The blood drained from the former athlete’s face, leaving it an ashen shade. “You’re kidding,” he whispered.

  A scowl distorted Joseph’s features. “Do you see me laughing?”

  A beat passed. “No, I don’t,” Shane countered.

  “So we’re in agreement?”

  Shane offered his hand. “Yes.”

  Smiling, Joseph took his hand, then landed a soft punch on Shane’s hard-rock shoulder. “Thank you.” His smile vanished, replaced with a hardened expression belying his youth. “My grandfather told me a long time ago that nothing, and that includes personal desires, is more important than family. Marci and that baby she’s carrying are your family. They are your priority, not this tea garden. Take care of them.”

  That said, Joseph turned and walked back to his truck. Pressing a button on the remote device, he started the engine. He’d questioned his cousin’s management style over and over, and within the span of thirty seconds he’d threatened a prospective father with dismissal because Shane challenged his mandate.

  He hadn’t wanted to step into the role as a badass, but if the tea garden failed he would be culpable, not Shane. Diego had entrusted him with the venture, and no one wanted the tea garden to succeed more than Joseph, but not at the expense of a man neglecting his family.

  * * *

  Crystal took a step back, surveying her handiwork. The smile parting her lips reached her eyes. She hadn’t lost her touch. All of the dishes on the buffet server had met, and several exceeded, her expectations.

  Rather than offer Joseph the usual happy hour fare, she decided on a cheese platter with red and white seedless grapes, sliced strawberries and stone-ground crackers. There were hot and cold hors d’oeuvres with a Mediterranean medley of grape leaves, red sweet peppers, pepperoncini and mixed pitted olives. Cocktail meatballs, sesame shrimp toast, pork dim sum and barbecue spare ribs cut into bite-size pieces were kept warm atop an electric buffet server.

  Housekeeping had come earlier that morning to dust, vacuum and clean the apartment while Crystal made a supermarket run to purchase the items she didn’t have on hand. Her decision to cook for Joseph was twofold: she wanted to return the favor of his preparing a scrumptious dinner for her, and she wanted to see if she hadn’t lost her touch hosting a dinner party.

  The doorbell chimed and she walked out of the dining room to answer the door. She opened the door to find Joseph leaning against the door frame, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Welcome to Club Chez Crystal.” She’d affected a French accent.

  He inclined his head. “Merci, Mademoiselle Eaton,” he replied, extending his right hand with the bag with the wine she’d given him. “I thought you could use a little more libation.” He tightened his grip on the handles of the smaller bag in his left. “This one has a cannoli, your dessert from the other night, and a few samples of gelato from your favorite shop.”

  Crystal’s jaw dropped slightly as she stepped aside to open the door wider. “Paolo’s?” Joseph nodded. “Who told you it was my favorite?”

  Joseph smiled, glancing around the candlelit living room. She hadn’t drawn the drapes, and the light coming in through the wall-to-wall windows lent itself to an evening for romance.

  His gaze shifted to linger on her, moving slowly from her face to her shapely bare legs in a pair of black pumps that put her height close to the six-foot mark. He smiled again. It was obvious she was very secure about her height. “Xavier.”

  Crystal took the bag with the dessert from his outstretched hand. “You and Xavier were talking about me?”

  “Not really. I asked him if I wanted to take you out what restaurant was your favorite. And he said you really liked 39 Rue de Jean on John Street, and you never ate dessert there because you preferred ordering gelato from Paolo’s.”

  Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Is that all you talked about?”

  Taking several steps brought Joseph mere inches from her. His hands went to her bare shoulders. The ubiquitous little black dress hugged every inch of her tight body, making him more than aware of her feminine curves. “That’s all,” he said softly. “I like surprises.”

  Crystal froze. There was something so potently masculine about Joseph she found it difficult to draw a normal breath whenever he touched her. She’d lived with a man many years older than her, yet she never felt this uncomfortable around Brian.

  She closed her eyes for several seconds. “You think of me as a surprise?”

  He dipped his head and pressed a kiss alongside her neck. “Everything about you is surprising,” he whispered against her silken skin. “When you opened the door I didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t to be wined and dined at Chez Crystal by the owner herself.”

  Crystal let out an inaudible sigh, grateful he’d said wined and dined and not seduced. Seducing Joseph wasn’t something she consciously thought about, because that had never been her style. She liked dating and courtship.

  “I had to do something to try and match your incredible cooking prowess.” Her smile and the timbre of her voice belied her quaking innards. Everything about Joseph seeped into her: the warmth of his body, the feathery touch of his mouth against her neck and the scent of his sensual cologne.

  Joseph’s hands moved up, cradling her face. “There shouldn’t be a competition between us, Crystal.”

  Her gaze searched his face, lingering on the cleft in his strong chin. “What do we have?”

  A sweep of long black lashes concealed his innermost feelings for a woman whom he felt he’d known forever instead of less than a week. “Something very special,” Joseph said after a pregnant silence.

  Another beat of silence ensued. “And what’s that?” Crystal asked.

  “A family connection.”

  She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but he was right. Neither knew of the other days ago, yet circumstances beyond their comprehension deemed one day their paths would cross. “How true. You’re going to have to let me go so I can put the gelato in the freezer before it’s a soupy mess.”

  It was with reluctance Joseph lowered his hands. If possible, he would hold her indefinitely. “Do you want me to help you with anything?”

  “Yes. I want you t
o help me eat this food,” she said, repeating what he’d told her Friday night.

  Joseph had no comeback as he watched the sexy sway of Crystal’s hips and her long legs that seemed to go on forever. He watched her walk, and suddenly it hit him. He wanted to make love to Crystal. The image of her lying naked in bed, arms outstretched to welcome him into her embrace, flooded his mind like fast-moving frames of film.

  Making love with Crystal was something he didn’t want to think about only because it would ruin their easygoing friendship. Besides, she was the first woman he’d known since becoming sexually active with whom he could be himself. He’d long tired of women who either were vapid or came on too strong, and Crystal was neither. Shaking his head as if to banish the erotic musings, he followed her into the kitchen.

  However, he felt like a voyeur, staring at the outline of her firm backside in the fitted dress as she leaned over to place the gelato in the freezer drawer. Turning around, he walked out of the kitchen and into the dining room, not trusting himself to occupy the same space with Crystal. He had to leave or she would’ve seen his growing erection. Buttoning the suit jacket, he stood at the window staring at the many steeples of the churches in the Holy City.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  Not willing to risk turning around to face Crystal, Joseph smiled at her over his shoulder. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

  She moved closer, standing next to him. “I’m going to make a virgin planter’s punch because I have to work tomorrow and I need to be clearheaded.”

  It seemed like an interminable length of time before he was able to look directly at her. “I’ll have the same.”

  Looping her arm over the sleeve of his jacket, Crystal steered Joseph over to the bar. “Whenever I want to drink something nonalcoholic I usually ask for a virgin planter’s punch or piña colada.”

  Joseph watched, awed as she measured orange juice, lemonade and grenadine syrup into a shaker filled with ice. Once the shaker was frosty she added ginger ale, then poured the concoction into two ice-filled Collins glasses, finishing them off with a pineapple spear, a maraschino cherry and an orange slice.

  “Where did you learn to tend bar?”

  Crystal handed him a glass. “I used to fill in at my mother’s gallery whenever her regular bartender couldn’t make it to the openings.”

  He shook his head in amazement. “What did I say about surprises? It probably would take me years to figure you out.”

  “I’m not that complicated, Joseph. What you see is what you get.” She touched her glass to his. “To happy hour.”

  Joseph smiled. “Here’s to more surprises.”

  Crystal took a sip of her drink. It was perfect. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to eat.”

  Moving over to the buffet server, he picked up a napkin and a plate. “What can I serve you?” he asked her.

  “I’ll have one of everything, thank you.”

  * * *

  Joseph and Crystal cuddled spoonlike on the sofa, his chest rising and falling against her back. She’d kicked off her shoes and lay on the sofa after what had become a leisurely eating affair, and he knew he’d surprised her when he joined her on the sofa, molding her body to his like a trusting child.

  Many of the candles lining every flat surface in the living and dining rooms were sputtering and going out, leaving the space in near darkness. Twin lamps on either end of the table in the entryway provided the only illumination on the first floor. Joseph was loath to move because he didn’t want his time with Crystal to end. Lowering his head, he pressed a kiss to her soft, fragrant hair.

  “Are you going to sleep?” he whispered.

  Crystal opened her eyes, smiling. She felt the strong beating of Joseph’s heart against her back. Happy hour had stretched into more than two, and unlike Joseph, who’d prepared enough of each course for two servings, she had plenty of leftovers.

  “No, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay awake, because I’m as full as a tick.”

  Throwing back his head, he laughed loudly. “It’s been years since I’ve heard that expression.”

  She giggled like a little girl. “Well, I am. You know I’m going to have to stop hanging out with you, because every time we get together we eat.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “What’s wrong is I won’t be able to fit into my clothes, and I don’t have the money to replace some of the garments in my closet with a bigger size.”

  “Not to worry, sweetheart. If I’m responsible for you gaining weight, then I’ll buy you a new wardrobe.”

  Crystal pulled her lower lip between her teeth. This was the second time Joseph had called her sweetheart. She wondered if it was just a slip, or if he called all of his female friends sweetheart, or did he actually think of her as his sweetheart? She didn’t know if she wanted to be his sweetheart, because it’d been too long since she’d been physically close to a man to whom she found herself attracted.

  And she didn’t want or need Joseph to pay for her clothes or anything else. All of her life men had indirectly taken care of her. Although her parents were divorced, her father had made certain to provide for her financial support. Then it was Levi and his brothers who put the word out that no one better mess with Crystal or they would have to answer to them. It continued with Brian, offering her his protection months after she’d moved to New York City.

  However, the one time she needed a man to take care of her, he wasn’t there. She knew that if she had made it known that she was being sexually harassed, things would’ve turned out differently for her. The partners would not have retaliated by firing her, but no doubt would’ve made certain she would never advance at the firm.

  “I’m not a pauper, and the clothes I have I like very much.”

  Joseph kissed the nape of her neck. “And you look incredible in your clothes.”

  A wave of heat swept up her chest to her hairline. “Thank you. Maybe that’s because they fit.”

  “But you have to admit we make a pretty good pair when it comes to throwing down in the kitchen. I’d prepare the entrées and you the hors d’oeuvres and cocktails.”

  Shifting, Crystal turned to face Joseph. “Yeah, we could hire ourselves out as caterers for small, intimate dinner parties,” she said, laughing.

  He traced the curve of her eyebrow with his forefinger. “That sounds like a plan.”

  “That sounds crazy. I like cooking, but not enough to give up decorating interiors.”

  Joseph stared at Crystal’s upturned face in the diffused light, committing it to memory. He wanted to remember everything about her: face, voice, body and mannerisms. Once she completed her commission he didn’t know when or whether their paths would ever cross again. Although he’d talked about her decorating his home, he knew that was just conjecture. The architect still had to draw up plans for the proposed property. And once it was completed, there was no guarantee she would accept his offer or be available for the project.

  “It could be your Plan B once you decide to give up decorating.”

  A shimmer of amusement filled her eyes. “I’m still working on Plan A while you’re talking about a Plan B. The difference between you and me is that you’re involved in a successful family business at the same time I’m growing mine.”

  “If you’re looking for clients I’m certain I can send a few your way.”

  Crystal wanted to tell Joseph that if she needed referrals, all she had to do was call her parents. She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Please don’t think I’m ungrateful, but I’d rather build a reputation based on referrals from prior clients. Eventually I want Eaton Interior and Design to be a brand.”

  Joseph stared at her, complete surprise freezing his features. “Are you in business to make money or become a brand?”<
br />
  “Both,” she confirmed.

  “If that’s what you want, then why wouldn’t you accept help from someone who could help you—”

  “Stop it! Please stop,” she pleaded in a softer tone. “I have to do this my way.” Pushing against his shoulder, Crystal slipped off the sofa, coming to her feet. “Excuse me, but I’m going to clean up the kitchen.”

  He also stood. “I’ll help you.”

  “No, you won’t. I know you don’t like washing dishes.”

  Taking a step, Joseph curved his arms around Crystal’s waist. “Are you that perceptive, or am I that transparent?”

  Resting her hands on his chest, she rose on tiptoe and brushed a light kiss to his cheek. “You are very, very transparent, Joseph Cole-Wilson.”

  Transparent enough to see that I want to make love to you, he thought. He found himself so physically attracted to Crystal it was palpable. “You’re right,” he confirmed. “I don’t like washing dishes.”

  “And you don’t have to, because I don’t mind doing them.” She paused, suddenly at a loss for words. Crystal knew when Joseph walked out the door it would be a while before they would get together again. It probably wouldn’t be until Super Bowl Sunday. Decorating the historic residences meant conferring with workmen and visiting antique shops and furniture warehouses as far as away as North Carolina. “Would you like me to pack up some of the leftovers?” she asked after an uncomfortable silence.

  Joseph moved even closer, their chests a hairbreadth apart. “No, thank you.” Placing his hands over hers resting on his chest, he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for an incredible happy hour. And if you can find time in your very busy schedule, would you be opposed to taking in a concert or going to the movies with me?”

  She flashed a sexy moue. “I’d love to go out on a date with you.”

  Slipping into his suit jacket, Joseph reached into the breast pocket and handed Crystal his cell phone. “I’m going to need your cell number so I won’t have to go through the hotel operator.”