Troy had been at the Governor’s Mansion in Oak Hill, attending the first of many political obligations. With his being four hours away, Amina had hoped to keep the news from him until he returned home. A scrupulous reporter hoping to land a scoop broke the news when he’d asked Troy for comment. For most of the afternoon it was a breaking story that played out on every local news channel and media outlet in the state of Tennessee.
They’d played phone tag for most of the afternoon and then Amina’s phone battery had died. Amina knew he was probably beside himself with worry being unable to talk to her. She clutched the pillow closer and closed her eyes, needing to rest for just a quick moment before Troy found his way home.
It was close to eleven P.M. when Troy pushed his key into the door lock. He called Amina’s name but there was no answer. The house was eerily quiet. Moving swiftly through the home, he found her sound asleep in the bedroom. She was snoring softly. One leg was thrown over the body pillow and she had kicked the blankets from around her body. Her bare legs peeked past an oversize T-shirt, the comfortable garment stretched over her growing girth. Looking down on her he breathed the only sigh of relief he’d had all day.
She was beautiful, a sense of peace painting her expression. She shifted ever so slightly and a low snort blew past her lips. Troy chuckled softly beneath his breath. Moving quietly, he took off his clothes, dropping them to the floor. He crawled into the bed, easing his body against hers. She was warm, her skin feeling like a warm blanket against his. He eased one arm beneath her head and the other around her tummy. A muscle quivered and the hint of new life beneath his palm awed him.
Amina snuggled her buttocks in the pocket of his crotch and he pressed a light kiss to the back of her neck. In the beginning there had been no one and nothing to distract him. He’d set a goal and accomplished it. Now he had Amina and soon a son, both the biggest distractions he could have ever imagined. For the first time he knew what his brother had felt when he’d known nothing could have kept him from Harper, not even the souls who had insisted they shouldn’t be together.
And he understood the many lessons his beloved Pop had spent years teaching them. Family would always come first. Love would fix most challenges. Trust was imperative. And no matter what the meal, just desserts would easily soothe any soul.
Amina rolled into his arms. Her pregnant belly kissed the hard lines of his six-pack. She nuzzled her face in the soft cusp beneath his chin, kissing his flesh. “We missed you,” she whispered as she snuggled against him.
“I missed you, too.”
“I tried to wait up.”
“I know.”
“I love you, Troy.”
“I love you, too!”
She suddenly smiled, rising up slightly. She reached for his hand and pulled it to her stomach.
“What’s wrong?” Troy questioned, concern pulling at his eyes.
“There!” she exclaimed. “Did you feel it?”
Troy grinned, his smile wide. “He kicked!”
She nodded as she closed her eyes, sleep pulling her back as she whispered softly. “He wants a chocolate cookie!”
Don’t miss the first book in the Just Desserts series,
The Sweetest Thing
Available now at your local bookstore!
1
Quentin Elliott suddenly grabbed the pastry dough he’d been kneading and flung it across the room, watching as it slammed harshly against the brick wall. On the other side of the space Troy Elliott paused, his own gaze moving from the wet dough sliding toward the polished concrete floor to his baby brother’s face. Tears misted Quentin’s eyes, stealing past his forest-thick lashes to roll down his cheeks.
“Do you feel better?” Troy asked casually.
Quentin shrugged his broad shoulders as he swiped at his eyes with his forearm. “Who is she? And why didn’t Pop ever talk about her?”
Staring at his computer screen and the document he’d been working on, Troy paused momentarily before answering. “You know exactly what I know, Quentin. Maybe she’ll be able to tell us why her father never told us anything about her.”
“I just want to know why he’d leave her in control of the bakery. Didn’t he trust us?”
“I don’t think this has anything to do with trust, baby brother. Harper Donovan was his blood.”
Quentin bristled. “But we were his family,” he said defiantly, meeting his brother’s intense stare. “Where was she when he was sick?”
Troy sighed deeply. “We may never know, Quentin. We can only hope and pray that everything works out when it’s all said and done.”
Quentin paused, his own stare moving back to the pastry that had puddled in a thick lump on the floor. “I miss him already,” the man whispered loudly.
Troy nodded. “I miss Pop, too,” he answered. “Now, clean up your mess and get back to work. Until she gets here we still have a business to run.”
“He left you a sweatshop?”
Harper Donovan rolled her eyes skyward, meeting her best friend’s gaze. Jasmine Holt’s dubious expression almost made her laugh out loud. Almost. She shook her head and frowned instead. “A sweet shop!” Harper exclaimed. “Sweet! It’s a pastry, bakery thing.”
Jasmine’s eyes widened with understanding. “Ohhh! Okay, that makes so much more sense.” She paused for a split second. “So, what are you going to do with a sweet shop? And, one in Memphis, Tennessee, of all places?”
Harper shrugged her narrow shoulders, feigning indifference. “I don’t want it. I don’t want anything from him.” She stared down at the certified letter that rested in her lap.
News of her father’s death had come three days earlier, that letter detailing the date and time of his homegoing service. A telephone call from his attorney earlier that afternoon had confirmed her attendance and informed her of her inheritance. Since learning of her father’s passing Harper hadn’t been able to focus on much of anything. And now all she wanted was to ignore it all until it went away.
“You might not want it but you still have to deal with settling his estate,” Jasmine reasoned, dropping down onto the sofa beside her.
Harper shook her head as she pulled her manicured fingers through the length of her short pixie haircut. “No, I don’t. I really don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. And right now I’m not interested in dealing with anything Everett Donovan had to do with.”
The conversation was interrupted by Harper’s maternal grandmother, the matriarch clearing her throat as she moved into the room and took a seat in her favorite chair. She tapped her cane harshly against the hardwood floor.
“You will not disrespect your father,” the old woman admonished. “The man’s dead and you owe him better than that.”
“Mama Pearl, I’m not disrespecting him,” Harper countered. “I didn’t know him well enough to disrespect him.”
“That wasn’t all his fault,” Pearl Townes answered. “Your mama had a lot to do with that.”
“Maybe, but what was his excuse after my mama died?” Harper questioned.
The matriarch met her granddaughter’s gaze. “Good question. It’s one you need to ask yourself.”
“You say that like it was my fault!”
“Harper, I imagine between your mama and all her evilness, and you just being ugly for no good reason, refusing to meet him halfway every time he reached out, that you two put that poor man through some things.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “I didn’t put him through anything,” she said defiantly.
Mama Pearl scoffed. “Okay,” she said, her head bobbing up and down.
“I didn’t!” Harper insisted.
“Maybe not,” Mama Pearl countered as she wagged her index finger in Harper’s direction, “but I done told you time and time again that you and your mama both were wrong. When you had the chance to do better you should have. Now it’s too late.”
“I cannot believe you’re blaming me!”
The old woman blew a de
ep sigh, her head waving from side to side. “No one is blaming anyone, Harper. I’m just saying that now is not the time to disrespect your daddy’s memory with your foolishness.”
Harper threw herself back against the sofa cushions, her lips pushed into a full pout. She crossed her arms over her chest.
Jasmine laughed softly. “So, when do you leave for Tennessee?”
Harper shrugged her shoulders a second time. “I don’t know. I really don’t want to go but . . .” She hesitated as she cut an eye in her grandmother’s direction.
Mama Pearl interjected. “She’s leaving tomorrow morning ’cause her daddy’s funeral is on Thursday. And you will not miss your daddy’s funeral,” she said firmly, leaning forward in her seat to meet Harper’s stare.
“But I don’t want—” Harper started, her voice rising.
Mama Pearl cut her off midsentence. “You don’t get to say this time, Harper. I’m saying. You will honor your father by going to his funeral. Are we clear?”
Harper stared back, both women knowing just how much Harper hated the thought of attending any funeral. Something out of turn always happened when her family was sending off a dearly departed. If it wasn’t some relative’s bad behavior, it was a family secret being spilled because some cousin or uncle talked out of turn. Family weddings weren’t much better.
At the last family gathering it was Harper’s cousin Tuck whose tongue got to flapping around before anyone could stop him. The occasion had been Harper’s mother’s funeral where her aunt Bernice’s third child found out Tyrone Taylor wasn’t his daddy. Tyrone had only fathered Bernice’s first two children, before Bernice had gotten into the bad habit of hopping from bed to bed across the great state of Louisiana. And although everyone knew Ullman James was the little boy’s daddy, no one had ever dared to speak it out loud. No one until Tuck said something while they’d all been standing together in Hyco Zion Baptist Church’s fellowship hall and Bernice’s little boy just happened to be standing by her side. The ensuing drama still had family not talking to one another. Harper didn’t want to begin to think about the secrets that might come out at her father’s funeral.
“Tch!” The young woman sucked her teeth, her eyes spinning skyward as she threw her torso back against the couch for the second time.
“Girl, if you roll your eyes at me one more time,” Mama Pearl admonished, shaking her cane in Harper’s direction. “You will never be that grown!”
Her eyes wide with amusement, Jasmine repeated her question. “So, when will you be leaving?”
Harper sighed, blowing warm breath past her full lips. She looked over at her friend and tossed up her hands in frustration. “I guess I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2014 by Deborah Fletcher Mello
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
.
Dafina and the Dafina logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-0-7582-9298-8
First Kensington Mass Market Edition: August 2014
eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-9299-5
eISBN-10: 0-7582-9299-6
First Kensington Electronic Edition: August 2014
Craving Temptation Page 25
