Extending his right hand, he handed her the flowers. “These are for you.”
She took the cellophane-wrapped bouquet of white foxgloves and snow-white calla lilies amid a profusion of pale creamy roses. Delight fired her sun-lit eyes. “They’re beautiful.” Smiling, she glanced up him through her lashes. “Thank you.”
Curving an arm around her waist, Tyler pressed a kiss to her hair. She had pinned it up off her neck in an elaborate twist. Curbing the urge to kiss the nape of her neck, he asked, “What’s for dinner?”
Angling her head, Dana bit down on her lower lip. “Come and see.” She led him to the back porch. “I’ve decided we’ll eat here because it’s cooler than the kitchen. I had the oven going for a couple of hours.”
Tyler stared at the inviting space, smiling. Dark-green and white tapers in clear chimneys flickered in the waning daylight. Wisps of sweet peas spilled over the sides of a crystal vase that had a pattern that matched the water goblets and wine glasses. Dana set a beautiful table. She would become the perfect hostess.
Unwrapping the bouquet, Dana rearranged the flowers in the same vase with the sweet pea, the overall effect romantic and ethereal. Taking a step back, she admired her handiwork, smiling.
“Perfect.”
Tyler wanted to tell her she was perfect—perfect in and out of bed. They returned to the kitchen, and he washed his hands in the small bathroom while Dana busied herself taking a platter with a golden roasted chicken to the porch. He carried several covered serving dishes and a basket covered with a white towel from which came the most tantalizing smell of fresh bread. A pitcher of homemade lemonade, a carafe of chilled Chardonnay, and a bottle of sparkling water completed the beverage selections.
Tyler seated Dana, and then rounded the table to sit down opposite her. Bowing her head, Dana blessed her food. Then Tyler said his own prayer of thanks before making the sign of the cross over his chest.
Dana stared, momentarily shocked. “You’re Catholic.” The question came out like a statement.
He looked at her intently, unblinking. “Yes.”
“There’re generally not too many Catholics in the Bible Belt.”
“I’m Catholic because of my grandmother. She was born in Cuba.”
Dana’s eyes widened with this disclosure. There was so much she didn’t know about the man she’d fallen in love with. “Do you speak Spanish?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Not as often as I’d like, but yes, I do.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“You think so?”
“Of course, Tyler. I’ve always wanted to speak more than one language. Will you teach me?”
He placed his hands, palms down, on the linen tablecloth. “Why should I, Dana, when you’re going to leave in four months?”
She stared at Tyler staring back at her, his expression a mask of stone. He was so still he could’ve been carved out of granite. Dropping her gaze, she picked up her napkin, placing it on her lap.
“You’re right, Tyler. Forgive me for asking.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
Dana registered the sharpness in his retort. “I didn’t invite you here to argue.”
His eyes widened. “I’m not arguing, Dana. I merely stated a fact.”
“A fact I’m very much aware of …”
“A fact you manage to remind me of every damned day of the week,” he retorted angrily, interrupting her.
“How dare you bark at me! Just what is it you want from me?” She’d raised her voice above its normal soothing tone.
“You know what I want.”
“You can’t have what you want, Tyler Cole. Just once in your life you have to face the fact that you can’t have everything you want.”
Pushing back her chair, she stood up and threw her napkin on the table, leaving him to stare at her retreating back. The emotions of frustration and rage singed the edges of her brain when she realized she’d made a mistake becoming involved with Tyler. She’d outlined in advance the terms of their relationship, yet he wanted what he couldn’t have.
Dana stood in the middle of the kitchen, arms around her body, attempting to force her warring emotions into order. There was no way she could give Tyler what he wanted without turning her own world upside down. What about her career, her reputation with the Chronicle? Why, she asked herself as she closed her eyes, did men expect women to do all of the giving up, the sacrificing? Whatever happened to compromise?
She detected the scent of his aftershave first, then the warmth of his large body as he pulled her to his length. He’d come after her.
Tyler tightened his grip on her body. “I’m sorry, Dana.”
She opened her eyes, staring up at him. “Are you really? Or are just saying what you think I want to hear?”
He smiled a smile that did not reach his dark eyes. “I am sorry. I know no other way to say it unless you want me to tell you in Spanish.” Lowering his head, he brushed his mouth over hers, tasting her with light nibbling kisses. He murmured in Spanish, ribald phrases he would never translate for her.
Curving her arms under his shoulders, Dana held onto him like someone drowning in the middle of the ocean. She returned his kisses, her tongue dueling with his. Her anger fled, her thoughts spun, her passion escalated as she was transported to another universe, one in which there could possibly be a happily-ever-after.
Tyler’s mouth was everywhere: her jaw, throat, breasts, and shoulders. Shifting, he nipped the tender skin on the nape of her neck. Her knees buckled and if he hadn’t held her, she would’ve collapsed to the floor.
His lovemaking was frantic and restrained at the same time. His tongue and teeth were as busy as his hands. His fingers plunged into the neckline of her dress, gently massaging her breasts, before they searched under the hem, moving up her thighs. Dana felt his heartbeat pounding against her ear when she collapsed on his chest, moaning as if in pain.
Dana’s moans fired Tyler’s banked passion. He opened his eyes, peering through a haze of red. He blinked to clear his vision, realizing it was Dana’s dress. His hand moved higher and higher, fingers slipping between her legs and finding her wet, hot, and throbbing with a need that matched the excruciating pulsing between his own thighs.
His hand grazed her tender flesh, Dana pulling away, gasping. He went completely still, his eyes filling with understanding. Resting his forehead on hers, he kissed her parted lips.
“I’m sorry, baby. I forgot you’re still sore there.”
Cradling his face between her hands, Dana pressed her lips over his eyelids. “I know you would never deliberately hurt me,” she whispered.
They held each other until their pulses slowed to a normal rate. Then, on cue, they retreated to bathroom to wash their hands before returning to the porch to eat.
Tyler finished off his second slice of apple pie, rubbing both hands over his belly. “I cook a little,” he said in falsetto, mimicking Dana.
“I do cook a little.”
Lowering his chin, he smiled, shaking his head in astonishment. “Perhaps you don’t cook very often, but you definitely can cook.”
He’d had two servings of everything: roast chicken, candied sweet potatoes, collard greens, homemade rolls, and deep-dish apple pie for dessert.
Their former confrontation forgotten, he told Dana everything about himself—everything except his family’s business enterprises and his own personal worth. Other than family members, only his close friends from medical school were aware that the moment he drew breath for the first time, it was documented that he’d come into a five-million-dollar trust fund on the day he celebrated his twenty-fifth birthday.
“You haven’t written anything down,” he said as she rested her chin in one hand, listening to him talk.
“I usually don’t have to. I’ll remember the important facts.”
“Do you have a photographic memory?”
She shook her head. “No, just excellent concentration.”
&nbs
p; The sun had set, night had fallen, and nocturnal sounds were magnified in the velvety darkness. Some of the candles had burned out, while others sputtered and hissed behind the glass chimneys. Closing her eyes, Dana hummed along with a song playing on the radio from a station that featured oldies from the past four decades.
“Please dance with me,” he said.
She opened her eyes to find Tyler standing beside her. She hadn’t heard him get up. Placing her hand in his outstretched one, she permitted him to pull her to her feet. Walking over to an open space on the porch, she folded against his body in a gentle embrace.
Rocking gently, he sang in her ear. She smiled against his cheek. He had a wonderful singing voice. He was halfway through the song when she decided to listen to the lyrics. It was Aretha Franklin’s “Ain’t No Way.” Tyler sang with such passion and conviction that she felt his pain as surely as if it were her own.
He loved her! The man truly loved her, while she’d balked at finding happiness because of a career—a job! She could find a position with any paper she chose because of her credentials and prior experience. After all, she had been a part of an award-winning Pulitzer team.
Pressing closer, she tightened her hold on his neck. She couldn’t disguise the shudder that shook her from to toe. “Tyler?”
“What is it, baby?”
She shuddered again as his warm breath swept over an ear. “What do you really want from me?”
“You know what I want.”
“Say it!”
He shook his head. “No.”
“This is no time to be mule-headed. You better tell me now, Tyler Cole, before I lose my nerve.”
He cradled her face between his large hands, staring down at the moisture filling her eyes. “I want you to love me, Dana. Love me as much I love you. I want you live with me, marry me, and bear my children. And I want you to trust me enough to protect you and the children we hope to bring into this world. I know I’m asking a lot, but that’s what I want from you.”
Dana smiled, her tears overflowing and wetting his fingers. “It’s not too much to ask. I’m going to give you everything you’ve asked for and then some.”
Tyler looked at Dana, utter disbelief freezing his features. Dana had just agreed to everything he’d wanted and felt since meeting her for the time, and he was just standing there staring at her like a stunned mute. She rested her head on his chest, breaking the spell.
Bending slightly, he picked her up, cradling her to his chest. “I’ll make certain you’ll never regret this moment.” Feeling a sense of bottomless peace and satisfaction, he swung her around and around until she pleaded with him to stop. Waiting until the spinning subsided, he set her on her feet. She was still clinging to him like a frightened child.
Laughing, she buried her face against his shoulder. “You know you’re crazy.”
“Oh, yeah! Crazy about you, baby.”
Dana held onto Tyler, feeling his elation, his joy. “I’m crazy, too. I’ve known you exactly two weeks and I here I am accepting your proposal of marriage.”
“I guess I changed your mind, didn’t I?”
“About what?”
“Love at first sight.”
“You don’t have to be so smug about it,” she teased.
He laughed softly, the warm sounds rumbling in his chest. “When do you want to go look at rings?”
A shock flew through her when she realized the import of his question. A ring symbolized commitment, announcing to the world that she had pledged her future to Dr. Tyler Cole.
You are just like your mother! The taunting inner voice screamed at her. She was repeating her mother’s life because like Alicia, she would also marry a doctor—a doctor who practiced medicine in Hillsboro, Mississippi.
“It doesn’t matter when we go,” she said.
Tyler was too euphoric to register Dana’s flat response. “I’ll check out some jewelers in Jackson, then we can drive down and look at a few stones and settings.”
“I’d like that,” she said as if in a trance.
“I want you to meet my family.”
“I’d like to wait a while before I meet them. Things are moving so fast that I find it hard to think straight.”
He gave her long, penetrating look, his heart turning over when he saw the apprehension in her eyes. He knew he come on strong, but he did not want to lose her.
“Of course, darling.”
The Four Tops’ “Baby, I Need Your Loving” came through the speakers, and Tyler spun her around, and then threw her out before bringing her up close to his chest, their hips rocking in perfect rhythm.
Dana pulled out of his loose grasp, snapping her fingers and gyrating in front of him. He stood completely still, watching her lush body as she seduced him. Leaning over, she displayed a generous amount of breasts, then turned and wiggled her hips. Tyler thought he was going to lose it completely when she eased the hem of her dress up her thighs and over her hips, flaunting her firm buttocks and a red-lace thong to his shocked gaze. She continued her exhibition, kicking off her sling-strap sandals before unzipping her dress and shimmying out of it.
She stood before him naked, except for the tiny triangle of red lace that revealed more than it covered. Closing his eyes, Tyler swayed, moaning like a wounded animal. Even with his eyes closed, he still could see the lushness of her golden breasts with their large nut-brown nipples perched high above her narrow waist.
He finally opened his eyes, passion glittering in their depths like bits of coal. Who or what had he planned to marry?
Dana Nichols was a tease. A beautiful, provocative tease he’d love until his last breath. Taking two steps, he bent down and picked up her dress, holding it over her breasts.
“Count yourself lucky, Miss Nichols, that I’m a doctor, because if I wasn’t I’d take you right here—standing or reclining. Now, if you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, I have to take care of myself.”
Dana’s jaw dropped when she realized what he was about to do. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she struggled not to laugh as he shot her a murderous look.
“It’s not funny, Dana.” This time she did laugh until tears rolled down her face. His fingers snaked around her arm, pulling her up close. “There’s an expression about payback,” he growled against her moist face.
“I … I know,” she said, hiccupping.
Mumbling curses under his breath in Spanish, Tyler retreated to the house, hoping he would be able to ease the bulge in his slacks without resorting to an act he hadn’t had to perform since adolescence.
Dana blotted her cheeks with a cloth napkin before she put her dress back on. She did not know what had possessed her to strip for Tyler, but she had enjoyed the freedom she felt taking her clothes off for him; she knew she’d shocked him, but more than that, she knew she felt comfortable enough with him to become an exhibitionist.
A dazzling smile curved her lips. She’d been able to do it because she’d trusted him to accept her—anything and everything about her.
Nineteen
Dana did not get the opportunity to strip again for Tyler because by the time her tender fleshed healed from their initial lovemaking, her menstrual cycle had begun. The first night she lay beside him, he tossed and turned all night, keeping her awake. She slept in her own bed the following night, promising to return when they were able to make love again.
She’d spent several hours at the Herald printing out a copy of her column. She handed gave it to Ryan, pleased with the results of the research she’d done on her great-grandfather.
Dr. Silas Jeremiah Nichols had moved to a little town outside Hillsboro, Mississippi, from his native Tennessee, where he worked at a local Colored Soldiers Hospital. He’d lived in a boardinghouse until he purchased a large imposing mansion from the widow of a Confederate Civil War officer. The woman had put the property up for sale because of back taxes. Silas paid the asking price, taking up residence two weeks after the widow and her unmarried daughter vacated t
he premises. He lived alone until at the age of forty-two, he married a pretty young nurse, twenty years his junior, who’d come to work at the hospital. She bore him one child—a son whom they named Jeremiah.
An article in the Herald’s archives hinted that Silas had saved the lives of a wealthy white couple who had been set upon by a trio of Coloreds roaming the countryside bent on robbery. During that time in the South, it was illegal for a black doctor to treat white people, a white woman in particular, so the rumor remained just that—a rumor.
Jeremiah Harry Nichols followed in his father’s footsteps when he also attended and graduated from Meherry Medical College in Tennessee. He returned to Hillsboro and the house he’d eventually inherit. It was Jeremiah who had taken to calling the property Raven’s Crest—the original name listed on an 1805 land grant. By this time Hillsboro had become an all-Negro town. Dr. Jeremiah Nichols also married later in life: forty-six. His wife was a pretty light-skinned woman from a well-to-do family from Baltimore, Maryland. Rebecca Nichols miscarried three times before she gave her husband his first and only child—a son whom they named Harry.
Her column on Tyler wasn’t as colorful as the one on her great-grandfather, but his accomplishments in medical research were outstanding. She concentrated more on Dr. Cole than Tyler Cole, and when she read him the final edit, he was quite pleased with what she’d written.
Dana sat in Eugene Payton’s parlor, waiting for an answer to her question. “Did my grandmother ever discuss my mother’s murder with you?” she repeated, thinking he hadn’t heard her the first time.
Running a bony hand over the thinning, straight silver hair brushed off a high forehead, Eugene stared at Dana with a pair of intelligent gray-green eyes.
“I heard you the first time, child,” he said in a soft drawling voice.
She flushed under his perusal. “Forgive me, Mr. Payton.”
He smiled. “Nothing to forgive. I still marvel at how much you look like Alicia. It’s as if Harry Nichols had nothing to do with conceiving you.”
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