She turned her back, her gaze fixed on Regina. The child was curled in a fetal position, snoring lightly. Could she take the chance? Could she trust Martin? Trust him enough to protect her from Owen?
“If I come back to you, Martin, would you be able to protect me from whatever is out there that frightens me? Do you possess the power to make me feel safe?”
Martin moved behind her, his arms going around her waist and holding her protectively. “I would give up my life for you,” he whispered fervently in her ear.
And I’ve given up ten years of my life for you, Parris told herself.
She loved Martin but she couldn’t tell him she loved him. Not yet.
Chapter 21
Divine intervention had forced her back to Florida. The winter storm sweeping the Atlantic coastline pushed winds to hurricane proportions and all airports from Georgia and northward to Maine were closed because of highs winds or snow drifts.
She hadn’t had time to ponder her fate once the small jet touched down at the West Palm Beach airport. A driver waited for their arrival and within half an hour they arrived at the Cole residence.
She had swallowed back her fear because of Regina. Parris knew she could not project her fear on to the child. When, she thought, would she ever stop being the sacrificial lamb for those she loved?
Martin held Parris, his arms offering protection and comfort. It had happened so easily. She had come to him without his coaxing or seduction. A power beyond his control, beyond the control of any mortal—the weather—had forced Parris back to Florida and back into his life.
“You’re going to have to wake Regina up within the hour to get her ready for dinner,” he informed Parris. “Christmas Eve dinner is usually a festive affair when everyone comes together to eat and exchange gifts.”
Closing her eyes, Parris nodded. “We’ll be ready,” she replied, shivering slightly as Martin pressed his lips to the back of her neck.
“I’ll have someone unpack for you and iron whatever it is you want to wear for dinner.”
“Thank you, Martin.” Her voice was low, her tone resigned. It was as if her destiny had been determined for her. She was back in Florida and a part of Martin’s life whether she wanted it or not. She was scheduled to share her first Christmas Eve dinner with the Coles while introducing her daughter to the family Regina never knew she had.
She had extracted Martin’s promise of protection, and a sense of strength came to her as her fear lessened. She loved, Martin and had always trusted him, hoping that would be enough, enough to allay her fears so that she could remain in Florida.
Parris stepped into the drawing room on Martin’s arm, her gaze sweeping around the lavish space filled with a pair of exquisite Louis XV fauteuil chairs, upholstered with a pale blue, cream and peach tapestry. The chairs framed an eighteenth-century French bouillotte table. The tapestry pattern was repeated on a luxurious sofa and love seat filled with dark-haired Coles whose ages ranged from toddlers to middle-age adults. The bouillotte table cradled several family photographs in leaded crystal frames and a priceless collection of Russian icons.
The soft murmur of voices stopped the moment gazes were directed at Parris. The tight smile on her lips relaxed when David Cole, Martin’s younger brother, crossed the room, arms outstretched. She offered her cheek for a kiss as he gathered her tightly to his chest.
“Welcome back, Parris.”
She smiled up into a pair of jet-black eyes in the devilishly handsome face of David Cole. “Thank you, David.”
David released her, reaching for Regina. “Is this the beautiful princess my brother has been bragging about?” He ignored Regina’s frown, picking her up. His lopsided dimpled grin revealed large white teeth as he pulled at the profusion of a long curling ponytail flowing from a dark green satin ribbon. “In ten years you’re going to be a real heartbreaker, Regina.”
Regina held herself stiffly in her uncle’s embrace, her dark eyes examining his long waving hair secured with an elastic band at the nape of his neck and the twinkling diamond stud in his left earlobe.
Of all the Coles, David had been the only one to befriend Parris. At seventeen he had been too enamored with the opposite sex to view her as an enemy. Parris noticed that the ten years had added fifteen pounds to his lanky frame. David Cole had become a devastatingly attractive man.
“Which one of these dark-haired beauties belong to you?” she asked David.
David shook his head, his black eyes sweeping over his many nieces and nephews. “Not a one. I’m not married, and I have no desire to get married and have children at this time in my life.”
“Uncle David, you didn’t tell me whether you’ll be my show and tell when I go back to school,” whined a young girl with a distressed expression marring her lovely face. She stood at his side, glaring up at Regina. David lowered Regina to the floor and the two girls stared at each other.
“I can’t be your show and tell, Evelyn, because I’m not a rock star,” he said gently. “There’s a big difference between being a rocker and a jazz musician.”
“But you play music, Uncle David,” the girl insisted.
David hunkered down to her level and held her hand. “I play jazz, honey, not grunge or anything that resembles the heavy, driving guitar-playing rhythms you’re talking about.”
“Can you play that?” Evelyn questioned.
“I suppose I could if had the music.”
“Then you can be my show and tell,” Evelyn stated smugly, kissing her uncle’s cheek.
David groaned under his breath, rising to his feet. “I’ve been had,” he murmured softly to Parris. She smiled at him and he returned her smile.
Her smile faded as she stared at Martin’s two sisters, Juliana and Nancy, making no attempt to approach them. The two women had always been fiercely protective of Martin, expressing openly that they had never met a woman whom they felt was worthy of their brother.
“Hello, Parris,” Juliana forced a smile, her facial expression and body language an exact replica of M.J.’s.
“Juliana,” Parris returned, with a slight nod of her head.
Nancy held back, staring coldly at Parris and Regina.
“Let Regina meet her cousins, David,” Juliana urged. She held her arms out to Regina and she went into her aunt’s embrace. Soon Regina was surrounded by her aunts and her many cousins.
Parris hung back as Martin urged her forward. They had not accepted her, and would never accept her. Regina was a Cole because she was Martin’s child, and with the Coles blood ties were viewed almost fanatically.
She noted the children who had been preschoolers were now young teens, and were quick to chastise younger siblings and cousins. Juliana and Nancy had given their parents nine grandchildren between them. Regina had become the tenth grandchild.
Martin and Parris approached Samuel and M.J. at the same time a uniformed household employee walked into the room and nodded to M.J.
“Dinner is ready,” M.J. announced softly. Samuel put down his drink, taking his wife’s arm. He escorted her to the dining room, everyone following their lead.
“Loosen up, love,” Martin whispered over Parris’s head, seating her.
Her eyes flashed him a look which he interpreted immediately. Not until I’m out of this house.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, David?” Samuel bellowed across the room.
“Sammy, please,” M.J. admonished. “Not only do your children swear like riffraff, but the grandchildren are beginning to use your foul language.”
Samuel Cole refused to let his wife’s admonition ruin his enthusiasm. “Not another word, M.J., or I’ll really let loose.” He motioned to Regina. “You sit here.” He patted an empty chair to his left where he sat at the head of the table. “Next to your grandfather.”
Regina looked at David who winked and nodded his approval. She gave him a smile and circled the long table to sit beside her grandfather.
Samuel’s booming voice
matched his large body. Even his approach to life was pompous. If Samuel Cole couldn’t do it big he didn’t attempt it; his showy style had turned the money his father gave him into a figure many hundred times that amount; and the wealth M.J. brought to her marriage ballooned his worth to enormous proportions.
Martin had inherited his father’s expertise for making money, but by more unobtrusive means. Whereas Samuel Cole had been the plodding elephant Martin was the sleek, cunning panther. Business rivals became unsuspecting prey until Martin dealt the last card.
Parris glanced down the table at David. His long hair and pierced ear solidified his image as a popular jazz musician. His obsession with music had earned him a degree in music instead of the business and finance his father had insisted upon. As the youngest of the Coles, David had always been fiercely independent and followed the beat of a different drummer.
She remembered Martin encouraging his younger brother to control his own destiny and would occasionally fill in for a missing member of his brother’s fledgling group whenever they needed a keyboard player. Samuel would explode with a stream of colorful expletives when he reminded M.J. of her insistence to expose her children to music. Neither had expected the works of Mozart or Brahms to lead to all-night jazz sessions.
Parris silently admired the formal dining room as she barely tasted the fragrant white wine in a fragile glass. Twenty Regency-style chairs, upholstered in silk, surrounded a Louis XV Bodart pearwood dining table set with what she recognized as Bloor Period, Royal Crown Derby plates and doré candlesticks festooned with red tapers.
The aroma of fresh pine cones and tree boughs on a side table wafted above a roast turkey stuffed with cornbread dressing, candied sweet potatoes, a glazed Smithfield ham, mixed greens, okra succotash, sweet pickles and fluffy parkerhouse rolls. Pecan pies, spiced peaches in brandy and praline awaited those who saved room for dessert.
Everyone was casually dressed, the men foregoing jackets and ties and the women choosing tailored blouses with their slacks or skirts. Parris wore a white silk blouse with a pair of gabardine slacks in a rich burgundy red with a pair of matching burgundy patent leather low-heel shoes. She had washed, blown-out her hair and pinned it into an elaborate chignon on the nape of her neck.
She listened to the sounds of the soft drawling Southern speech patterns as she filled her plate with turkey, okra succotash and candied sweet potatoes. She had missed so much: the tradition of eating fried fish and grits on Sunday morning, the few friends she had made, her position with Chadwick, Ferguson and Solis, and the mild winters and sultry summers. She had missed her home.
Smiling at Martin when he covered her hand with his, Parris willed her mind to relax, admiring Sammy’s and M.J.’s tolerance of the younger children spilling gravies and sauces on the heirloom lace tablecloth while waving forkfuls of food in the air. Regina, caught up in the festive atmosphere joined her cousins in their childish antics, exhibiting the outgoing charm Parris observed in Martin.
She felt a measure of pride as she witnessed her daughter’s interaction with the Coles, laughing and talking easily. No, Parris thought. I cannot take her away from this. She may have been Regina’s mother but the Coles were her family.
It was after midnight by the time the entire household settled down to sleep, and Parris was exhausted by all that had happened that day.
She sat in the middle of the king-size bed in Martin’s bedroom, staring down at his Christmas gift to her. A small white velvet box contained a pair of earrings with round emeralds surrounded by three rows of brilliant diamonds.
“They’re beautiful, Martin.”
Her low breathless voice swept over Martin and he smiled. “I’ve been waiting a long time to give you those,” he admitted.
Her head came up and her gaze met his. “What are you talking about?”
“I bought those earrings ten years ago, Parris. They were to be your gift for our first Christmas together. I sold or gave away everything I owned after you left me except for the earrings, the tapestry we bought at that auction, the Saarinen table you selected and the Steinway.”
She was unable to respond. Martin had hung onto her. Even though she had disappeared without a trace, he continued to hang on to her memory.
“And I’d like to thank you for your gift, Parris. It’s the most appropriate gift I’ve ever received.”
She smiled at him. “You’re welcome.” She had purchased an elegant black Montblanc Meisterstuck fountain pen and inkwell at a boutique in Montego Bay. She had had both the pen and inkwell engraved with Martin’s full name. The accompanying gift card read, ‘For Your Signature.’
Martin knew the signature to be his influence on any business transaction, not his handwriting.
He rose from a plush pale gray chair and walked over to the bed. Staring down at Parris, he said, “We’re going to have to sleep together tonight.” Her head snapped up. “Every room and every bed has someone in it,” he explained. “I’ll be back in half an hour.” Turning on his heel, he walked out of the bedroom, closing the door.
Three minutes later, Parris still saw his collarless white silk shirt and black slacks when she finally propelled her body off the bed. The day had begun with her preparing to leave Jamaica to return to New York, and would end with her back in Florida, at the Cole residence, in Martin’s bedroom and in Martin’s bed.
She brushed her teeth, showered and covered her body with the most modest nightgown she could find. It was sleeveless, reaching her ankles, the bodice made entirely of lace and embroidered with tiny pink French knots. Staring at her reflection in the mirrored wall in the bedroom’s adjoining bath, she concluded the white cotton garment was not conducive to seduction. Unpinning her hair and braiding it in a single braid, she returned to the bedroom and slipped under the crisp sheet. Minutes later, she fell asleep.
Martin returned to his bedroom and saw the outline of Parris’s body on the bed in the soft glow of a table lamp. His attempt to share a bed with her on Jamaica had been thwarted. Having her that close and not being able to touch her had been torture. He had kissed her once, the first day on the beach, and any opportunity he may have had after that vanished when they were forced to remain in the house because of the torrential rains sweeping the island.
Let everything unfold naturally, a little voice taunted him. All he had to be was patient. He headed to the bathroom and prepared to go to bed.
Chapter 22
Parris moved toward the source of heat and fell into a deeper sleep. There were no dreams of gaping mouths cursing her or the pressure of cold steel against her body. She felt the comforting embrace of strong arms around her and a soft sigh escaped her parted lips. Something feathered across her nose and lips but she did not wake up.
When she did wake up she found herself sprawled over Martin’s chest, one leg cradled intimately between his. Her head came up slowly and she realized what had been tickling her nose. Her face had been pressed to the solid surface of Martin’s hairy chest.
His large eyes were open, staring down at her. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas back to you,” she mumbled, as heat burned her face. She tried easing off his body. He tightened his hold. “Let me go, Martin,” she pleaded softly.
“Why should I, Parris? You crawled on me last night, and I managed to get exactly two minutes of sound sleep. Now that you’re rested you want to leave? I’ll let you go when I feel like letting you go,” he taunted.
She stared up at him. The dark smudges under his eyes verified his admission that he hadn’t slept. The shadows under his dramatic dark eyes and the faint shadowing of a beard on his unshaven cheeks made her breath catch in her throat.
This dark naked man whom she was sharing a bed with still had the power to touch her the way no other man had been able to do. A look, and only a look, was enough to make her tremble with desire.
He shifted slightly until she lay by his side. Both of them exhaled audibly. Martin grasped her hand, thread
ing his fingers through hers. The gesture was a familiar one. Years before they’d laid in bed, fingers joined, talking.
“If I stay with you, Martin,” Parris began quietly, “I’m going to lose everything I’ve worked for over the past ten years.”
“What will you lose?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound selfish.
“My home, my job.”
“You can always buy another home and secure another position with any design firm you want. You’re an expert in your field, Parris. If you wanted to you could go into business for yourself.”
“What about Regina? She’ll be uprooted from everything that has been familiar to her.”
“She’ll be leaving friends, Parris. You cannot measure her loss of friends to her finding her family.” He lowered his head and kissed her hair. “I’ll buy you a house, darling,” he crooned. “Anywhere you want. You can pick it out and decorate every inch of it. If you want to work I’ll hire you to work for ColeDiz. You can decorate the villas and bungalows we plan to build in Belize. Regina could attend the same school as her cousins so she won’t feel so alienated when she changes schools.”
Martin had all of the answers. He had planned his statement the same way he prepared for a business meeting.
“I don’t know, Martin. I’ve spent ten years building a life that is exactly the way I want it.”
“I, Parris. You speak of I but what about Regina? Isn’t she entitled to have her father in her life? You grew up without your father because he couldn’t be there for you. You don’t even remember him. Do you want the same for our child?”
Closing her eyes, Parris turned toward Martin and pressed her face to his muscled shoulder. “You know I don’t.”
Releasing her fingers, he cradled her to his chest, inhaling the perfume on her warm flesh. “I’ll take care of everything, darling. The sale of your home and car. I’ll arrange for storage of anything you want to keep. I’ll…”
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