Twice the Temptation

by Rochelle Alers

  Rhett frowned. He never liked the epithet, and disliked it more with each passing birthday. “It all comes down to common sense, Denise.”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard that common sense isn’t all that common.”

  A smile replaced his frown. “You’re right. Let me know when you get tired and I’ll take over from you.”

  Denise narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t think so, Rhett. I will fight you if you try to get me from behind this wheel.”

  Rhett’s fingers tightened slightly on her thigh under a pair of cropped cotton slacks. “There won’t be much of a fight, baby girl. After all, I am a lot bigger than you.”

  “But I have a secret weapon, sweetheart.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’m not telling. If I do, then it won’t be a secret.”

  His hand moved up her thigh, the muscles tensing under his touch. “Will it hurt, baby?”

  “The only thing I’m going to tell you is that you will enjoy it,” Denise teased.

  Throwing back his head, Rhett chanted, “Hurt me, hurt me please, baby.”

  Denise rested her hand right atop the one on her thigh. “You just might get your wish. Tell me about where we’re going and if it’s casual or dressy.”

  “The cookout is hosted by a couple I met last year. She’s an event coordinator and her husband is a pharmaceutical company executive. The gathering is casual, and if the weather holds, then we’ll probably go out for a sail just before sunset.”

  “Do you have a boat?”

  Rhett shook his head. “No, and I don’t need one. I don’t come to the Chesapeake enough to warrant owning a boat.” He raised his seat back, changing the satellite radio station to one featuring soul music from the ’70s and ’80s.

  Denise felt free, freer than she had for a very long time as cool air caressed her face from the car’s vents. She sang along with Rhett, her alto blending and harmonizing with his baritone. She crossed the state line from Pennsylvania into Maryland, following the GPS from I-95 to I-895. Traffic wasn’t as heavy and the landscape changed once she left the interstate for a rural road. It was half past twelve when she maneuvered down a narrowed paved road to Rhett’s waterfront home. They had made one stop at Graul’s Supermarket to buy perishables and other sundries for their brief stay on the Cape.

  Rhett got out of the car and came around to assist Denise. He held her hand, while escorting her up the slate path leading to a two-story nineteenth-century Shingle Style house. Painted a cornflower-blue with white trim and shutters, it radiated warmth and charm. Lifting the handle on the doorknob, he punched in a code, disengaging the security system.

  Rhett tugged at the curls falling over Denise’s forehead. “Please wait here, while I check inside.”

  She sat on the stone step, staring out at century-old trees, ferns and wildflowers that seemingly grew naturally in wild abandon. However, when she looked closer she realized the plants were strategically arranged to give it the appearance of untamed wildness. There was also something about the house and surrounding landscape that made Denise feel as if she’d stepped back in time.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Rhett opening windows to take advantage of the breeze coming off the water. The house was built on a hill overlooking the Chesapeake.

  “You can come in now,” Rhett called out behind her.

  Pushing to her feet, Denise kicked off her sandals, leaving them on the thick straw mat outside the front door, and walked into the house. A cherrywood console table flanked by bleached pine straight-back chairs and a large oval mirror filled the entryway hall. Her eyebrows lifted slightly when she saw the gaslight sconces on either side of the mirror, wondering if they worked or were there for decoration.

  “They work, but instead of gas I had them wired for electricity.”

  Denise smiled at Rhett, who stood near the staircase leading to the second floor. “You read my mind.”

  He extended his hand. “Come, let me show you to your bedroom, then I’ll bring everything in.”

  “Do you want me to help you?”

  He shook his head. “No. I want you to relax before we leave. After all, you did drive down.”

  She barely caught a glimpse of the living room with oversize upholstered chairs in soft hues of cream and tan as she followed Rhett up the staircase. “How large is this house?”

  “It was about sixty-six-hundred square feet, but the new addition added another twenty-two-hundred square feet. Originally there was only the entrance hall, living room, dining room, pantry, kitchen and two bedrooms and baths on the second floor. The architect replaced the two-story porch with a side entrance nestled below gables and dormers and expanded the area to include two more bedrooms with en suite baths. I’ll give you a tour after I bring in the food.” Rhett stopped at the end of the hallway with a colorful runner spanning its length. “This will be your bedroom.”

  Denise walked in, smiling. The room was large and sun-filled. There was something about the off-white furnishings that reminded her of the bedroom in her D.C. apartment. “It’s very nice.”

  Rhett rested his hand at the small of her back. “You have your own en suite bathroom. My bedroom is on the other side of the pocket doors.”

  Tilting her head, Denise looked up at Rhett staring down at her. “What time do we have to leave?”

  “Three. I wanted to get here early to give you time to unwind before we head out.” He dropped a kiss on the riot of curls framing her face. “I’ll be back.”

  Waiting until he walked out of the room, Denise walked over to the windows. The view was so breathtakingly beautiful that she felt a lump form in her throat. She tried imagining looking out on the churning waters during a storm or the sky obliterated by falling snow. Swallowing, she tried to relieve the constriction in her dry throat.

  Rhett had accomplished everything he’d set out to do, while she was still a work-in-progress. There was the matter of securing the grant for her after-school program; and once that was up and running her next project was to set up a private school for at-risk boys.

  What Denise found ironic was there was no allowance for romance in her plan for the future, and that meant she had to enjoy whatever time she had with Rhett. They were given the opportunity for a do-over and she planned to make the best of it while it lasted.

  Chapter 9

  Denise felt like a kid at summer camp when she discovered the en suite bathroom was designed like a mini-spa. A garden tub with a Jacuzzi, free-standing shower and a sunken hot tub, surrounded by a water-impervious wood floor, was the perfect setting for total relaxation. She smiled. Now she knew why Rhett wanted her to relax.

  Walking across the space, she opened the French doors to reveal another set of doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking a sizeable semicircular terrace off the main floor. Moving closer to the edge of the balcony, she rested her arms along the railing and closed her eyes. The warmth of the sun, the cool breeze off the bay and the smell of the water swept over her like a magical concoction, renewing and reviving her.

  It had been so long, much too long, since Denise had been able to kick back and relax. Attending family gatherings didn’t count, because they only lasted a day or two at the most. She hadn’t taken a real vacation since opening the center, and long weekends didn’t count. Her entire existence was wrapped up in making a go of New Visions, and she hadn’t realized how staid her life had become until now.

  Rhett had become a master at buying, renovating and flipping properties, and yet he still took time out to relax. Denise opened her eyes. There had to be something wrong with her. She was working very hard but not very smart. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have anything to show for her sacrifice—the progressive child care center was a model that she was very proud of. Maybe, she mused, reuniting with Rhett was what she needed to gain some insight into what she’d been doing and needed to do.

  Rhett had talked about burnout when he’d attended Wharton full-time while working full-time. M
aybe it was fatigue that had made him less than alert when he’d left his research paper on his desk at work. Fatigue that had been the impetus to change him and his future after his boss had claimed the work Rhett had done as his. It had been enough to fuel his rage where he’d been able to shake off the complacency and strike out on his own—something he’d talked about incessantly when they’d been in college together.

  Even when she’d told Rhett that she wanted to follow in the footsteps of her mother, aunts and cousins to become a teacher, he’d asked her whether she wanted to spend the next thirty years of her life in a classroom. When she hadn’t answered he’d continued, asking whether she would consider becoming a principal or even a superintendent.

  Rhett had always told her to aim high, and every five years reassess where she was and where she’d want to go. It had taken less than four years of classroom teaching before Denise knew she wanted to open a child care center. Teachers were hired to educate, and she wanted to blend education with what she’d recognized as missing in so many young children coming into school for the first time—social skills.

  Many were lacking manners, the tools to work and play well with their peers and too many were willing to settle disputes with their hands rather than with their brain. The children at New Visions were tutored in setting the table, how to eat and clean up after themselves. There were rewards for good behavior and isolation from the others in their group for negative behavior. A three-year-old sitting alone at a table for three minutes while his or hers friends were engaged in play was akin to a life of solitary confinement.

  The benchmark for New Visions was love. Love of themselves, their parents, family, neighborhood and country. Her teachers stressed the concept that if you loved someone or something you protected it. Praise was heaped upon the children like rain soaking the earth in order for flowers to grow. Praise and positive reinforcement were in short supply from parents who were dealing with their own stress of keeping their jobs, while attempting to keep their families intact.

  The children at New Visions were her children and her babies, and everyone connected to the center had become extended family. Denise opened her eyes to see Rhett, as he carried and set down the frame of a round rattan table on the terrace below. She stood there long enough to see him bring out a quartet of matching chairs before she closed the doors and retreated to the bedroom. She found her bag and tote next to the door.

  My bedroom is on the other side of the pocket doors. His words echoed in her head. He’d given her a choice. Either she could sleep in her own bedroom or share his bed.

  What Denise hadn’t wanted was a choice. She wouldn’t have thought him brash or arrogant if he’d taken her overnight bag to his bedroom only because she wanted and needed Garrett Mason Fennell to remind her why she’d been born female. She didn’t so much want to make love with Rhett—she needed to make love with him, desperately.

  Closing the door, she picked up her bags and carried them over to the dressing area. Emptying the contents, she hung them up in a walk-in closet with racks, shelves and drawers constructed with a shopaholic in mind. Even her extensive shoe collection would look lost in the expansive closet.

  Denise hung up a pair of navy-blue raw silk slacks she’d planned to wear with a white silk kimono piped in navy with a blue and white-striped obi sash that was an exact match for her three-inch, peep-toe espadrilles. Despite putting in ten-and sometimes twelve-hour workdays, she always took time to pamper herself with a weekly mani/pedi and monthly hydrating facial and full-body massage. Each and every time she left the salon she thought of her mother. Paulette Eaton had taken her daughter to her favorite salon at six for a mini-day of beauty. Denise had been awed by sights and smells associated with a salon and the first time she stuck her chubby brown toes and fingers in bowls of soapy warm water she was hooked!

  She and her mother continued their weekly mother/daughter spa dates until she left Philly for Baltimore. After conferring with her father, Denise had given her mother an all-expenses-paid vacation to a golfing/spa retreat in Sedona, Arizona, for her fiftieth birthday.

  Leaning over, Denise examined her toes for chips in the candy-apple-red polish. Removing the rubber shower shoes from her tote, she slipped her feet into them. Nothing ruined a pedicure like walking barefoot.

  She checked her watch. She had less than two hours to wind down from the drive and prepare for the afternoon and evening festivities. Gathering a set of underwear, Denise returned to the bathroom to take a leisurely bath.

  Rhett finished setting up the deck furniture that had been stored in the three-car garage. When he’d purchased the house it had been abandoned for years following the death of an elderly couple whose children had relocated to the west coast. Jeff McNeill, one of the partners at the architectural firm that drew up all the plans for his renovated properties, had called to let him know about the house scheduled to be sold at auction for delinquent taxes.

  Rhett had cancelled all of his meetings and driven up to see the house. It had weathered drastically over the years and was perilously close to the point where it would have to be demolished. Jeff’s recommendation had been to strip it to the bare bones. His plans had included replacing the two-story porch with a new addition that increased the square footage by two thousand. Jeff had also added a pair of French doors opening to a series of terraces to take advantage of the water views. Older spaces had been reworked and expanded, including raising the ceiling in the master bedroom, adding en suite bathrooms and an extra bedroom.

  Utilizing the services of his favorite interior design firm, Rhett had given them carte blanche when it came to furnishing the interiors. They had been aware of his personal tastes, and the result had been a home designed for living and entertaining.

  The first morning he’d woken and walked ten feet to look out over Chesapeake Bay, Rhett had known it was a scene he wanted to repeat over and over. In that instant he’d known this was a house he wouldn’t flip, but live in for the rest of his life. It wasn’t a house, but his home.

  Moving around the ultra-modern kitchen, he brewed a pot of iced tea and removed the cellophane from a freshly made Caesar salad he’d picked up from the supermarket’s deli section. Smaller containers held large cooked shrimp, cubes of smoked chicken and thinly sliced roast beef.

  His cooking skills were still less than stellar, but Rhett had mastered the art of cooking breakfast. All he needed was a stovetop grill, because he was able to keep an eye on grilling bacon or sausage, home fries and eggs at the same time. It was when he had to shift from the grill to the stove and/or the oven that he tended to burn or overcook something. And there was never the likelihood that he would go hungry as long as there were stores that offered prepared meals. He tended to avoid fast-food restaurants in favor of those serving cook-to-order dishes.

  Rhett stepped back surveying the table that flowed into a cooking island in the all-white and stainless-steel kitchen. Turning on his heels, he went in search of Denise, bumping into her as she walked in. He caught her before she lost her balance. “Oops!”

  “Sorry, baby. I was just coming to get you.” He and Denise had spoken in unison. “I just put together something to tide us over until later this evening.” It’d been twelve hours since they’d eaten breakfast at the diner.

  Denise walked into the kitchen, her mouth gaping in stunned amazement. Stark-white vinyl tiles bordered in gray set the stage for a large space with rows of recessed lights in a ceiling of crown molding. Walk-in freezer, French-door refrigerator, sub-zero freezer, wine cabinet and built-in television, double ovens with warming drawers and cooktop stove and grill made the space a chef’s dream. A triple sink at the opposite end of a countertop with three high stools with steel frames was the perfect place to sit or eat, while surveying the activity going on in the magnificent kitchen. Fine custom cabinetry without handles or hardware provided a sleekness and uninterrupted wall of pristine white. The tall, narrow vents over the stove did double duty. They were co
nstructed to look like cabinets but were designed to pull all cooking odors out of the kitchen. The light from a ceiling fixture with ten conical spheres, suspended from steel rods over the dining countertop, reflected off the shiny surface like polished silver.

  Her smile was dazzling once she recovered. “Now, this is a kitchen.”

  Wrapping an arm around her waist, Rhett pulled Denise gently over to the table. “You like it?”

  “I love it, Rhett.” What’s not to love, she thought. It was the perfect place in which to plan a dinner party. “The house is immaculate,” she said, glancing at Rhett over her shoulder when he seated her. “Who cleans it?”

  Rhett sat beside Denise, reaching for the pitcher of tea and filling a tall glass with the cold liquid. He placed a dish with sliced lemons and another covered dish filled with sugar next to her plate.

  “Whenever I know I’m coming up, I call a local cleaning service to let them know what time I expect to arrive. Once I’m here I’ll call and they send someone over. There’s not a lot to do—dusting, vacuuming, cleaning the bathrooms and occasionally changing the beds.”

  Denise took a sip of her tea before adding a teaspoon of sugar. “How often do you come here?”

  “Not often enough. But that’s going to change this summer. My mother and her husband come up at least once a month, so the house doesn’t remain vacant for too long a period. Speaking of my mother, I told her that I’d run into you again, and she sends her best.”

  Picking up a cloth napkin and spreading it over her lap, Denise kept her gaze fixed on her plate. “Tell her same here.”

  “You can tell her next week.”

  Shifting, Denise turned to give Rhett an incredulous look. “What’s next week?”

  “She’s coming to stay for a week. Unfortunately you won’t get to meet her husband because he has to attend a conference in Dallas.”

  “What is she going to say about me staying with you?”