Chapter One

 

 

The knock at the door on the snowy, inclement day took Emory by surprise. She’d just stuffed two pieces of firewood in the wood burning heater in her living room when the thumps at her front door jolted her. Who would be out in this kind of weather? A neighbor? Stranded motorist? Idiot, perhaps? Conditions had worsened just as meteorologists had warned on several news outlets earlier in the week. Earlier – when she actually had electricity. The heavy snow no doubt was a direct reason for the power outage and the crazy thing about that was, if it wasn’t for the snow, the temperature would have fallen well below freezing. She was thankful for that but still, forty degrees was anything but balmy. Bottom line – it was cold – too cold for anyone to be outside in this mess of a storm and especially too cold for somebody to be knocking on her door. Whoever it was had to have been either a fool or a desperate person. Maybe a little of both.

Boom, boom, boom.

The knocks persisted and her heartbeats suddenly seemed louder than normal. Wrapped in a long, white cardigan sweater, Emory crossed her arms, not because she was cold. She had the heater pumping out impressive waves of heat in the living room. She crossed her arms because she was scared – alone in a house during a storm while someone was banging on her door. She didn’t have many neighbors and she knew for a fact that the ones who lived the closest to her were staying with relatives.

Boom, boom, boom!

She jumped, actually trembled in her own house as she made her way to the front door. Jeez.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

It was the voice of a man. Crap!

“Uh…who is it?” she finally asked.

“I sort of wrecked my car and I need to use your phone.”

What does he mean he sort of wrecked his car? How do you sort of do anything? You either wrecked the car or you didn’t wreck the car. Simple as that.

“Did you hear me?”

Cautiously, Emory said, “I heard you, but don’t you have a cell phone?” Everybody had a cell phone. Toddlers were strapped with cell phones nowadays and he didn’t have one? A grown man? Who didn’t have a cell phone?

“I—I do, but it’s not working. The storm must be interfering with the phone towers.”

Emory shook her head. While that was plausible, she still didn’t know whether she should open the door for the man or not. She didn’t want to leave him stranded but she also didn’t want to be tomorrow’s headline either:

 

Woman found strangled to death in her home during epic Atlanta snowstorm…

 

“Are you still there?” the man, asked. “Hello?”

“Give me a minute,” she told him. Her stomach tightened in sheer panic mode. Whose idea was it to build these older homes without peepholes in the front doors? Then again, if there was a peephole, it probably would have been iced over, so she still wouldn’t be able to see the man. Couldn’t use her eyes to judge him, read him and maybe see something in him that exuded an I’m-not-going-to-kill-you vibe.

She was already regretting unlocking the door but, feeling like her hand was forced, what else was she supposed to do? Leave the man out there to freeze to death? When she cracked the door open, listening as it creaked and whined, almost louder than the hurling wind outside, she saw a man standing there dressed to kill (she hoped not literally) in a black suit, covered in a layer of snowflakes. He wasn’t even trying to cover his head or nothing. He just let the snow dwindle down on him like he was used to it. Unfazed.

“Hi. Do you mind if I step inside for a moment?”

“Come on in,” Emory told him.

He tried his best to flick the snow from his jacket and pants before he stepped inside. “You have it nice and warm in here.”

“Yeah, thanks to my trusty wood heater. Um…let me get you a towel. I’ll be right back.” She walked to the bathroom, her heart racing as wildly as it was before she opened the door thinking about how handsome this man was. The storm blew in the most breathtaking man she’d ever laid eyes on. She fought to make her breaths more normal before she returned. Men could tell when they had a woman all flustered and she didn’t want to emit any signals to this strange man. She didn’t care how fine he was.

When she came back, the man had taken off his suit jacket, showing off broad shoulders. So much for normal breathing…

She could feel her cheeks tighten and redden like she’d been the one out in the elements. “Here you go,” she said, handing him a towel.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it from her grasp.

She gasped when his hand accidentally stroked against hers. It was ice cold, and she noticed that the tip of his nose had reddened. Standing close with only a few feet separating them, she had to look up at him to have good eye-to-eye contact. That’s how tall he was, well over six feet.

He rubbed the towel all over his head wiping away the wetness, then brushed off his pants with it. “It’s brutal out there.”

“I know. It’s been on the news all week and finally, we’re getting slammed. They say it’s supposed to change over to freezing rain later on tonight.”

He stroked his head one last time with the towel and said, “I’m Remington Lennox by the way and you are...”

He looked at her with a pair of honey-colored eyes – golden – like the ending flame of a stricken match and an intense stare that made her spine tingle. Made her forget her own name. Made a sensation wrap around her spine and jerk her body.

His eyebrows raised.

“Um…ah…I’m Emory McNeil.”

A smile formed then widened on his face. “It’s nice to meet you, Emory.” He extended his hand to her.

Emory glanced at his hand, then back up to his face.

“I’m harmless,” he said when she didn’t accept his handshake.

Emory couldn’t help but smile when she saw the amazing smile he offered up. It comforted her enough to accept his hand but it was more like he had accepted hers. His large hand pretty much swallowed hers and the business-like, firm squeeze he added while holding her gaze nearly made her turn to mush. To melted snow – the stuff that had fallen from his shoes and pooled on the floor. He was hot enough to melt snow, though his hands were cold enough to freeze water.

She shuddered.

“Sorry. I know my hands are freezing cold.”

“It’s okay,” she said. Little did he know that wasn’t the reason for her shudder. She already knew his hands were cold. She quivered because she’d never been in close proximity to such a handsome, well-dressed man who looked as good, and smelled as good as he had. Men like him were a rarity and they certainly didn’t show up to your front door during an East coast snowstorm. Things like this only happened in movies.

The kind of movie people referred to as chick-flicks.

A movie where, while you’re stuffing popcorn in your mouth with your girlfriends, your eyes are glued to the TV screen as you wonder if or when you’ll get a glimpse of the hard body hiding beneath the shirt of Idris Elba.

A movie that makes you wonder if the saying is true and no good deed really does go unpunished.

A movie where you start to wonder if the charming, good-looking man in distress is really in distress, or if he targeted your house for some specific reason.

Maybe he knows you…

Had been waiting for this chance all along…

And you fell for it…

Crap! I probably shouldn’t have let him in, Emory thought. It was then she realized he still had her hand in his.

“So, what happened?” she asked, pulling her hand away from his grasp, noticing that he didn’t loosen the squeeze he had on her hand as if he wasn’t ready to turn her loose just yet.

“I was riding along your stretch of road and slid off into an embankment.”

“Basically, you hit the ditch.”

He grinned. “Yes, that’s a simple way of putting it, and to add to my woes, my phone isn’t working. I was hoping I could use yours if you have service and some juice. I see the power is out,” he said, glancing around at all the candles lighting the living room. “That, or you have some strange ritual going on in here in which case, I’ll take my chances out in the storm.”

She laughed.

So did he.

“The power is out, and yes, my phone is charged. I left it on the charger all day because I knew we would lose power eventually. I’ll get it for you.”

She walked away from him again and on into her bedroom to retrieve her phone. When she was back this time, she saw him standing next to the wood burning heater with his hand hovering above it, rubbing them together. He looked to be making himself right at home, thawing his hands.

“Here you go,” she said, handing him her phone. “I only have two bars.”

“That’s better than no bars.” He took it, dialed a number, then walked away from the heater while saying, “Hey, I’m stuck out here in Atlanta, Kenton—yeah. Un huh—okay—let Giovanni and the girls know that I’m fine.”

While he talked to his people, Emory studied him. From his phone call, she knew he wasn’t from Atlanta. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be stuck. So, where was he from?

He glanced over at her as if sensing her eyes on him. When their eyes met, they locked, held and then he looked away and continued his conversation with Kenton.

What was that about? She was probably – no she was reading too much into it, so instead of dwelling on what his dominant eye contact could’ve meant, she went about what she’d been doing – checking him out. He looked older. Distinguished. She’d guess him to be in his late thirties, early forties maybe. He had a little gray hair sprinkled in with the black, low-cut hair on his head. His skin tone was a light tanned brown and his mustache was trimmed perfectly over an enticing set of sensuous lips. And when he smiled – sweet mercy when he smiled – she swore she could hear angels singing. His teeth were a bright white and the dimple in his jaw cradled there like a comet had struck the earth with its presence.

Amazing.

Breathtaking.

Heart racing…

How did this level of perfection wind up at her tiny, humble abode?

“Alright, man. Later,” he said wrapping up his phone call. He walked over to the couch where Emory was sitting then handed the phone to her.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Not really. Looks like I’ll be stranded for a few days.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Stranded?”

“Yes. There’s no way I’m going to get a tow truck out here in this mess and my people can’t get to me either.” He sighed, stepped close to the heater again and rubbed his hands together. “But thank you for allowing me to come in, use your phone and warm up a bit. I’ll be on my way now.”

Concern took over her features. “Wait…where are you going?”

“Back to my car.”

“Back to your car?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine sleeping in the car. I’d just filled the tank up with gas, so I can leave it running and turn on the heat.”

Her brow raised. “Have you lost your mind?”

He smirked. She looked irritated, yet he could see the worry she had for him through her frustration.

“I’m not going to let you sleep in a car for the night. My house ain’t much, but it’s much better than a car. You’re welcome to stay here. I have heat. Water. Food. Candles.”

He took a seat on the armrest of the sofa. “You don’t know me.”

“So.”

“So…” he grinned at her answer. “Wouldn’t you feel a certain kind of way being trapped in your house with a complete stranger?”

“I would feel a certain kind of way if you slept in your car and got frostbite or even worse, died of carbon monoxide poising because of the emissions from your car. I’ve heard of that happening…happened in upstate New York a few times this year already.”

He’d heard of it happening, too. Living in the North Carolina mountains, he’d gotten his fair share of snow and even though he heard the news reports about a snowstorm heading for Atlanta, he’d gone anyway to take care of some pressing business matters.

“Now, first things first—how about I find you some dry clothes?”

“You keep men’s clothing around?” Or is there a man around? He hadn’t considered that as a possibility.

She smiled. “I do. Whenever I find bargains on clothes at thrift stores and such, I buy them, wash them up real good and donate them to homeless shelters.”

“Wow. That’s very philanthropic of you.”

“I wouldn’t take it that far. I’m not a millionaire…just do what I can.”

“You don’t have to be a millionaire to have compassion for people. You just have to have a desire to want to help.”

Emory nodded. “Do you want me to get the clothes? They’re not as fancy as what you’re wearing, but at least they’re dry.”

“I don’t need fancy. I’ll take whatever you have.”

“Okay.” She stood up. “I’ll bring them in here so you can change.”

“I can change in the bathroom or—”

“No. It’s cold back here. I try to keep the wood heater burning so the heat spreads all over the house, but when it’s this cold, the living room is the only room that stays warm. So, I’ll bring the clothes in here and I’ll go to the kitchen to give you time to change.”

And so she did. Standing in the kitchen, she figured it would be a nice gesture on her part to offer the man a hot bowl of chicken and rice soup that she’d just taken off of the wood heater before he showed up. That would help to raise his body temperature back to normal.

Remington unfastened the silver Cartier cuff links on the brim of his sleeves and put them in the pocket of his jacket. He loosened the black tie enough to loop it over his head, then he unbuttoned the shirt one button at a time until he pulled it off. He even took off his undershirt. Then he loosened a black leather belt, stepped out of his pants and put on the sweatpants she’d given him.

“Are you done?” she asked.

“Yes. Come on in,” he told her.

When Emory opened the door, she caught a glimpse of him pulling the white T-shirt she had given him down a plane of ripped abs. She swallowed hard. His body exuded strength and flawlessness.

“What you got there?” he asked her.

She looked down at her hand. She’d been so busy staring at him, she’d forgotten she was holding a bowl of soup. “I made some chicken and rice soup. It’s still hot. I fixed this bowl for you unless you’ve already eaten.”

“I haven’t.”

“Would you like some?”

“Sounds good. I could use a warm, hearty meal.”

She smiled and carried the bowl of food over to him.

“Thank you, Emory.”

“You’re welcome.”

He sat down on the couch and tasted the food. “Mmm. Delicious.”

She smiled. Satisfied. “Glad you like it.” She watched him practically inhale the first bowl before she said, “You must’ve skipped lunch today or something.”

“Nah.”

She laughed. “No?”

“I have a healthy appetite. You’re going to wish you never opened the door for me, little lady. I’m going to gobble up everything you got stored up for this storm.” Including you. The thought had crossed his mind, but he wouldn’t gobble her up just yet. He had to learn her, find out all the things he needed to know from her and what he wanted couldn’t be rushed. He was aware of the time it would take to convince her of certain matters and he’d be willing to invest all the time and effort necessary to accomplish his purpose.

She laughed. “I can get you some more.”

“Please,” he said, handing her the empty bowl.

Emory came back quickly with another bowl full and sat on the couch opposite of him again.

“Thank you.”

“Welcome,” she said. “So, what blew you this way? I wasn’t trying to hear your phone conversation, but I know you’re not from around here.”

“I don’t have the city boy look, huh?”

You don’t have a boyish look at all. You do have a sexy look. A full grown man look. A small smile touched her lips. “No, you don’t have a city boy look or accent.”

When he finished chewing, he said, “I’m from North Carolina. The piedmont region. I live in the small town of Bryson City. Population—not enough black folk.”

Emory giggled.

He grinned, too. “I’m kidding. It’s pretty decent. It’s a mountain town. We get a lot of tourist up that way. Your people actually.”

“My people?”

“Yes. Pretty city women.”

She shook her head. Pretty city women…

She wasn’t a bad looking woman, but she didn’t consider herself pretty, especially not his kind of pretty. A man like him…shoot…

He could step into a room and pluck women like grapes. He was that handsome.

She watched as he continued his meal, eating in such a way that she was enticed to go get another bowl herself.

“You wanted to know why I was in town.”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s not like this is the most poppin’ area in the city.”

“Not particularly, but there’s a lot of good land out this way. I was scoping out some land for my business.”

“Your business?”

“Yep. I run Lennox Enterprises.”

“Oh. Never heard of it. What does Lennox Enterprises do?”

“Operate hotels. Some cabins. I was here this weekend looking for a new regional office. I’m thinking about expanding in this area.”

“Oh.”

He glanced up at her. She didn’t have to know the story he’d just coughed up was a complete and total lie. A well thought out lie, but a lie nonetheless. He didn’t know if or when he would tell her the truth. Right now, he just wanted to enjoy her company.

“So, Emory?”

“Yes?”

“Is that what your friends call you?”

“No. To them, I’m Emmie, which in my opinion defeats the purpose of having a nickname being that both names, Emory and Emmie, are five letters long.”

“But Emmie is only two syllables, so I can see why they call you that.”

“Guess you have a point.”

“My friends and siblings call me Rem or Remy.”

“Remy. I like that.”

“Yeah. It does have a ring to it. Remy and Emmie, taking Atlanta by storm.” He chuckled.

“More like Atlanta taking us by storm right now. I can’t believe it’s still snowing.”

“I know. I picked the worst weekend to look for properties.”

“You did.”

“But it did give me a chance to meet you.”

She gave him a yeah-right look. “Um…if you need to use the bathroom to wash up and stuff, it’s right around the corner,” she said pointing. “But keep in mind that the hot water doesn’t work since the power is out.”

“Yep. Got it.”

“And I do have an extra toothbrush.”

“Did you buy that from the thrift store, too?”

“Very funny. No, I did not. I got it from the dollar store. It’s in the original package.”

“I figured as much.”

“I have a candle in there, too.”

“Okay. I’ll get to it then.” He stood up.

“I’ll take the bowl,” she said.

He handed it to her. “Thanks. That was delicious.”

“You’re welcome.”

Emory watched as he walked lazily towards the bathroom with the sexiest, most relaxed walk she’d ever seen a man pull off. The white T-shirt and smoke gray jogging pants she’d given him had fit perfectly.

 

While he was freshening up, she brought in enough logs of firewood from the porch to last them throughout the night. Then she took an air mattress from a closet and carried it to the living room. She moved the coffee table off to the side and out of the way then placed the flattened mattress in front of the couch, using a manual pump to fill it with air. She draped it in a fitted sheet, spread another sheet on top before lowering a quilt as the final piece of cover. She went back to the closet to grab two extra pillows and fresh pillow cases.

When she stepped back inside the living room, Remington was already standing in there.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s where you’ll be sleeping. I’ll take the couch. It’ll be much more comfortable for me than for you. You’re a pretty tall dude. And don’t worry. The air mattress is comfortable. You’ve probably never slept on one, but—”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” he said. “Were you planning on going to sleep right now?”

She looked puzzled when she responded, “No. Why?”

“Just wanted to talk to you some more.”

“Oh,” she said, not hiding the surprise in her voice.

He sat down.

“What did you want to talk about, stranger?”

A smirk settled in the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know. Anything.”

She smiled. “You don’t know how to just kick back and relax, do you?”

“I don’t. I’m always on the go, making deals. Traveling to and fro…doing this, signing that…this is different for me.”

“Well, I’ll try my best to keep you entertained. You said something earlier about siblings.”

“Yes. I have two brothers and two sisters.”

“Let me guess…you’re the oldest.”

“You’ve guessed right. I am.”

“I always wanted siblings. I’m an only child.”

“Some people might see that as a good thing.”

“Do you?”

“Honestly, my siblings drive me crazy at times, but I love them regardless. Couldn’t imagine my life without them.”

“What are their names?”

“Kenton and Giovanni are my brothers. Jessalyn and Davina are my sisters.”

“They don’t travel with you?”

“Sometimes. Well, let me put it like this—Kenton and Giovanni work for Lennox Enterprises, so sometimes, they have to travel with me. My sisters don’t work for the company.”

“Oh.” She yawned.

“Tell me more about yourself, Emory.”

Emory’s cheeks flushed. “You say that like you’re actually interested.”

“I am.”

“Okay, um…what do you want to know?”

“Are you happy living here?”

“Here in this house or in Atlanta?”

“Both.”

“Somewhat. I don’t have family around and the one person I did consider family died two months ago—my next door neighbor. Her name was Alba Moretti. Sweet woman. Her passing still hurts me to my heart.”

“You were close with her.”

“I was,” Emory said, then yawned again. “She was a sweet woman.”

“I’m being selfish. I should let you get some rest.”

She smiled lazily. “If I do fall asleep, I should probably sleep with one eye open, shouldn’t I?”

“No way. I told you—I’m harmless,” he said. And you look delicious enough to bite, but why would I bite the hand that’s feeding me? “Here, let me get up so you can stretch out,” he said standing.

“Thanks.”

When she laid down and closed her eyes, she was out almost instantly.

Remington’s gaze raked over the length of her frame. She hadn’t so much as pulled up the covers, not like she needed it. It was enough heat stirring around in the living room, but still, he pulled the blanket up over her. Lowering himself to his knees, he listened to her soft breaths while she drifted deeper into sleep. He loved that he had the opportunity to study her up close like this while she was resting. He could stare at her full desirous lips without having to worry about being caught and take in the length of her long, black hair and decadent brown skin tone – so rich, he swore he could taste chocolate on the tip of his tongue.

She had no idea how beautiful she was. He could tell she wasn’t a woman he would particularly go for, but she was the exception. While the women he’d dated in the past wanted him for his looks and money, he knew things would be different with Emory. But first things first – he wanted to get to know her. He needed to know her – after all, she was the woman who’d taken care of his mother all those years. And she had no idea of his connection to Alba Moretti.