“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re always trying to be strong and act like nothin’ is wrong. You did it when Quincy’s trifling ass stole your job, and you’re prob—”
“Erica, don’t go there,” Connie said in a warning tone. She gripped her cell phone tighter, needing her sister not to bring up that situation. Hearing her ex’s name brought back one of the darkest times in Connie’s life. She could admit to picking the wrong men more times than not, but that time had cost her much more than a broken heart.
“What I’m saying,” Erica continued, “is that me and Nakia wouldn’t mind coming over and keeping you company.”
Connie’s hand shook as she poured herself a small glass of wine. She’d been home for hours, and her frayed nerves seemed to be getting worse the later in the day it got.
After leaving the police station, Trace had dropped her off at the office. She thought for sure she’d be able to get some work done before the end of the day. That didn’t happen. Between gazing off into space every few minutes and Trinity hovering over her, Connie had given up.
Like Trace, Trinity had insisted on knowing every detail of the bank incident. She had even suggested assigning her personal security. Connie shot down that idea with the quickness of a striking rattlesnake and then drove herself home.
Now she was tempted to take her sister up on her offer, but didn’t want to impose. “Thanks, sis, but I’ll be all right. Besides, Nakia has school tomorrow. You’d have to get up crazy early in the morning to beat traffic and get her there on time. I’m going to finish cooking, veg out in front of the TV until I can’t keep my eyes open and then go to bed.”
After a long silence, her sister said, “Okay, but if you change your mind, we’ll come over. Or you can always come over here. Actually, that’s a good idea. I’m sure Trinity wouldn’t mind if you worked remotely or if you went into the office a little later.”
“I know she wouldn’t mind, but I do. Listen, I’m going to go about my life the same as usual. That’ll help me move on from this incident. Oh, and remember, you can’t tell anyone that I witnessed anything at the bank. The fewer people who know, the better.”
She wasn’t too concerned that her parents would find out. Actually, even if they knew, Connie wasn’t sure she’d hear from them. Their mother lived in Florida with her new husband and barely stayed in touch, while their father, who had walked out when Connie was ten and started another family, lived in Germany.
“I just want to forget all about today.”
Connie already knew it would be a long time before she forgot, though. Especially since there were moments now when she could still hear the popping of gunshots and the panicked screams.
“My lips are sealed as long as you call me every day. Heck, more than every day. Call me a few times a day to let me know that you’re all right.”
“What’s wrong with Auntie?” Connie heard her niece ask about her in the background. True to her word, Erica only told her that Connie had had a bad day and was feeling a little down.
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that, sweetie,” Erica said, her voice muffled before she returned to the conversation with Connie. “Your niece said she hopes you feel better. She said if you want, you can call her and she’ll tell you some new knock-knock jokes.”
Connie laughed. “I just love that kid. I might take her up on that offer.”
“I’ll make sure I tell her. As for you, try to get some rest, and remember, I’m only a phone call or thirty-minute drive away.”
“I know, sis. Thanks.”
“Oh, and don’t forget,” Erica hurried to say. “I want you to look at a couple of houses with me after work tomorrow. I’ll even treat you to dinner afterward.”
“Sounds good to me.”
After the call ended, Connie set her cell phone on the counter and glanced at the ingredients for a rigatoni dish. “I’m not really feeling pasta,” she mumbled. Instead, she pulled out bread, eggs and milk for her famous cinnamon French toast. Breakfast for dinner always made her feel good, she thought as she hunted through the cupboard for spices.
Thirty minutes later, she inhaled deeply, relishing the comforting scent of hot maple syrup that would go along with her small feast. The tall stack of French toast with a side of sausage and hash browns brought a smile to her face as she loaded up the breakfast tray. There was no way she could consume it all, but Connie planned to eat until she couldn’t eat any more.
She set the tray on the living-room table and returned to the kitchen for another plate, syrup and something to drink. Before she could head back, her cell phone rang. Scooping it up from the counter, Connie glanced at the screen and couldn’t hold back the smile that broke free.
Trace.
“I’m a wuss,” Connie muttered to herself.
She had vowed not to call him, even though he’d told her she could. And now he was calling her. She was also determined not to fall for his charm, but who was she kidding? She was crazy about the guy.
We are just friends. Nothing else, she reminded herself.
“Hello?” Connie finally answered, but the call had dropped. She hit Redial.
“Screening your calls?” Trace’s deep voice boomed through the phone, sending a delicious tingle to the soles of her feet.
“Nope, I wasn’t. I didn’t get to the phone in time. What can I do for you, Mr. Halstead?”
“Just calling to see how you’re doing.”
“I’m—I’m all right. I have moments when my mind takes me back to the bank. I’m sure that’ll probably be the case for a couple of days, but I’ll be fine.” Seemed like she’d said that a thousand times in the last ten hours.
“What are you doing?”
Connie strolled back into the living room and sat on the sofa. “I’m getting ready to have dinner.”
“What are you having?”
She wanted to say that she was having blackened salmon or a T-bone steak or something equally exciting. Then again, she couldn’t wait to dive into what she had prepared. Her stomach even growled in anticipation.
“I’m having breakfast for dinner.” She gave him a rundown of her feast, adding a few adjectives to make it sound like a five-star meal.
Trace chuckled. “Melt-in-your-mouth French toast? Seriously? I’m gonna need to try that. Want some company?” he asked at the same time the doorbell rang.
Connie bolted out of her seat. “That depends.” She glanced down at her lounging pajamas. The pink shorts set was cute, but maybe not exactly the best outfit for male company. Especially a man that she was seriously attracted to.
“Depends on what?” Trace asked, humor in his voice.
Connie made a mad dash down the short hallway to her bedroom and tried not to breathe hard. No sense in letting on that she was running to do a quick change.
“It depends on whether that’s you ringing my doorbell. But I doubt you’d show up without calling first,” she teased.
Moving the cell phone back and forth from one ear to the other while she quickly undressed, Connie tried to do it without sounding out of breath. Within seconds, she had stripped out of the shorts and into yoga pants and an oversize T-shirt.
“Well, if I was at your door, would you let me in?”
“Maybe.” She glanced in the hallway mirror. Her curly hair was piled on top of her head with a hair clip. A few long tendrils had slipped out and framed her face. She looked carefree, like she wasn’t trying hard.
Perfect.
“What if I told you that I had a surprise for you?” Trace asked.
Connie headed to the front of the house, grinning so hard her cheeks ached. Considering they were just friends, she shouldn’t be filled with so much giddiness and joy. Yet that was exactly how she felt.
“I’d say I love surprises.” She looked through the peephole, then opened the door and disconnected the call. “I have to see the surprise before I’ll agree to let you in.”
Her gaze traveled the length of Trace, whose imposing size—he was over six feet tall and two-hundred-plus pounds—filled the doorway. He had shed his suit and now sported a white T-shirt that stretched across his wide chest and molded over his large biceps and flat abs. Dark blue jeans covered his legs and emphasized his tree-trunk-like thighs.
She had to stop herself from licking her lips. Her gaze made it back to his handsome face, and that cocky grin that she adored was in full force. Clearly, he knew she liked what she saw. Just having him in her presence was a welcome surprise, but then she noticed the plastic container in his right hand.
“Are those what I think they are?” she asked, her mouth watering in anticipation. It was as if she could already taste the dark chocolate melting on her tongue.
“If you think they are my famous to-die-for cookies, you would be right.”
“Oh, my.” His chocolate-chip cookies with oatmeal, coconut and walnuts were everything. Connie opened the door wider and moved aside so he could enter. “Please come in.”
Trace laughed as he stepped across the threshold. “I figured these would get me inside. I also brought my famous hot chocolate.” He held up a metal thermos.
Connie closed the door. “You do realize that it’s still eighty degrees outside, right?”
“I do, but I figured you’d have the air conditioner blasting. Besides, my hot chocolate is amazing any time of the year, especially since it contains a special ingredient.” Trace strolled farther into the house, as if he owned the place, and headed to the kitchen.
“What’s the special ingredient?”
He rinsed his hands in the sink and opened a couple of cabinet doors before he found the one that contained her mugs. “Whiskey.”
“Hmm, sounds interesting. There’s only one problem with your surprise.”
He filled both mugs and glanced up at her. “What’s that?”
“There’s no way I can have French toast, cookies and hot chocolate. Too much sugar. I’ll be bouncing off the walls like a two-year-old.”
“I see.”
Trace glanced in the living room, where she had set up her dinner. With the partially open floor plan, he had a slight view of the cocktail table in front of the sofa.
“Well, how about I help you eat the French toast and other fixings? Then you can have a cookie and maybe save the not-so-hot chocolate for when you get ready to go to bed. I guarantee it’ll help you have a good night’s sleep.”
Connie wanted to tell him that if he stayed the night and shared her bed, she’d have a great night’s sleep. But she kept that thought to herself. No sense in playing with fire.
“That works for me.” She followed him out of the kitchen, but remembered he needed something to eat off of. “Let me grab you a plate. Make yourself at home.”
Excitement bubbled inside her. Connie had been prepared to spend the evening alone, but she was glad she didn’t have to. In addition to getting a plate and utensils, she grabbed a couple of bottles of water.
She pulled up short when she returned to the living room. Trace had just put a forkful of food into his mouth.
“Seriously? You couldn’t wait until I returned?”
“I could’ve, but I was starving. This is really good. The powdered sugar is a nice touch. It also tastes like you added vanilla and maybe...nutmeg?”
“That palate of yours is on point. I added both, along with cinnamon. You’re not the only cook in the room, you know. I can do a little something-something in the kitchen, too.”
Not only was Trace a great baker with a few secret recipes, but he was also an amazing cook. On several occasions, he had even made her and Trinity a few dishes to try.
While eating, she and Trace chatted and laughed through one of her favorite sitcoms. Doing something as simple as watching TV and eating breakfast for dinner reminded her of how well she and Trace got along. On most days, in his suit and tie and wearing a pair of Stacy Adams shoes, he looked as if he could be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. Serious and in charge. She loved the professional side of him, but this side was her favorite. Down-to-earth, making a pig of himself and relaxing as if they spent every night together.
“So how are you really?” Trace asked when he finished eating. He leaned back and stretched his arm on the back of the sofa. “Be honest.”
Connie curled her legs beneath her as she thought about his question.
“Honestly, I’m better now that you’re here.”
That lopsided grin that she adored tilted the left corner of his tempting lips. It should be against the law for any man to be so good-looking. The way his full lips curled a little too perfectly and the way his eyes twinkled with mischief, even in the dim lighting, made her heart thump a tad bit faster.
Connie lifted her hand when he started to speak. “Before your head explodes with that big ego of yours, let me finish. You’re a good distraction. Before you arrived, every few minutes my mind drifted back to what took place at the bank. It seems surreal. Even though the incident went by fast, in my head it plays out in slow motion.”
Trace lightly brushed a strand of her hair out of her face. “Did you remember anything else?”
“No. I think I told them everything, except for what I told you about the man’s eyes seeming familiar. Right now, though, I’m just praying Richard will pull through.”
“Yeah, hopefully he will.”
“I can’t help wondering how long it will take for me to put the whole incident behind me.”
“It’ll probably take a while.”
“Is that how it was when you left the navy?” He had done two tours in Afghanistan and spent a few years in Japan, but rarely discussed his military days.
The only sound in the room was the television as the silence between them grew. Connie wasn’t sure if discussing that time in his life was off-limits. But that only made her more curious about his experience.
“It will take a lifetime to forget what I went through...what I experienced and what I saw. Each day that I’m away from the military gets easier, though. But occasionally, someone will say something or something will happen that will trigger a memory.”
“What happens when you’re triggered?” she asked, truly curious.
Again, seconds of silence ticked by without Trace responding. He leaned forward and grabbed his water, guzzling half of it before setting it back on the table. Still he said nothing.
“Want to talk about something else?”
“Yeah, that would be good.”
“Okay, well, I was planning to find another comedy show or movie to watch. I figured laughing would do me good. You interested?”
His left eyebrow lifted skyward. “You already know I’m interested,” he said suggestively.
Connie punched him in the arm. “I’m talking about the show. Nothing else.”
Trace chuckled and reached over her, giving her a whiff of his enticing cologne before he grabbed the remote. “In that case, let’s see what’s on.”
He pulled up the channel guide and scrolled through the list.
“I’mma run to the bathroom real quick. Be right back.” Connie hurried down the hall, and once she finished, she went to the kitchen. “I’m grabbing a cookie. Do you—?”
A large boom sounded from outside, and Connie jumped. A second later the lights and television went out. She stood frozen in place as panic bubbled inside her. Had the robbers found her? Had they cut her power?
Alarm bells sounded off in her head as dread seeped into her body. The house was pitch-black, and a dense silence as thick and heavy as San Francisco fog filled the space. Disoriented, her heart practically pounding out of her chest, she fumbled around the kitchen until she bumped into the counter.
“T-Trace?”
“I’m right here,” he said calmly, but his voice still made her jump, and she gripped the counter tighter.
“I c-can’t see you.”
Suddenly, the space was illuminated by his cell-phone flashlight. The room was still dimly lit, but at least she could see him. He moved closer and glided the backs of his fingers down her cheek. The tenderness of his touch sent heat coursing through her body like warm honey and almost made her whimper. How could someone so big, strong and powerful also be so sensitive and gentle?
“You all right?” he asked, standing close enough for her to see concern in his eyes.
Connie gave a small laugh as her insides quivered. She wasn’t sure if she was feeling anxious because they’d been plunged into darkness. Or if it was because of his closeness. “I’ve been better,” she said.
Trace moved in even closer and lowered his head. His lips brushed over hers in a soothing manner, and Connie immediately felt more at ease. The kiss was like a whisper over her mouth, but just as powerful, as if he’d slipped her some tongue.
“How do you feel now?” he crooned, still standing close enough for them to kiss again.
A smile spread across Connie’s face. “Better. Much better.”
“Good. Now let’s figure out what’s going on with the lights.”
“Do you think they found me?” Connie asked, but wasn’t sure she was ready for the answer.
“If they had, they probably would’ve revealed themselves by now. Give me your hand.” She grabbed hold tight enough to cause pain, but all he said was “Let’s look outside.”
With the light from his phone guiding their path, Trace carefully pulled her back to the living room and over to the window. The blinds were closed and he lifted one of the slats slightly and peeked out.
“Do you see anyone?” she asked.
“Damn, looks like there’s a power outage in the neighborhood. It’s darker than a cypress swamp out there.”
“You didn’t just allude to James Weldon Johnson, did you?” Connie asked in awe, stunned that he was familiar with “The Creation.”
Trace chuckled. “Not exactly, but why do you sound surprised? I do read, you know. And I happen to be a fan of Johnson’s work.”
The tension inside Connie started to ease. “Duly noted. Seems I learn something new about you every day.”
“Funny, I thought the same thing about you earlier.” Trace held on to her hand as they moved away from the window. “I’m looking forward to learning even more, but right now, we should probably light the candles that are on your mantel.”
“Good idea. I have more around the house, but that’ll be a good start. Can you shine your phone back into the kitchen so that I can get the lighter?”
For the next few minutes, Connie lit the candles in the living room, then went to the guest bathroom and lit the one on the vanity. She had two flashlights in the laundry room and brought them to the living room.
Once she was done setting out additional candles, Connie sat on the sofa next to Trace. Her main goal was to add more illumination to the space, but now, as she glanced around, the area appeared more romantic than intended.
“This is cool. All we need now is some music.” Within seconds, soft jazz flowed from his cell phone. “I would suggest I open a couple of windows, but it’s probably hotter outside than it is in here.”
“Crap, I forgot about the air conditioner. This would be a great time to have a generator.”
“Yeah, it would. I looked up the power company online, and according to their website, they know about the outage. A transformer blew in the area and they’re working on it, but the site doesn’t say how long it’ll take to fix.”
“I hope not long. I don’t want the stuff in my refrigerator or freezer to go bad. Nor do I want us to sweat to death.”
Trace slouched down on the sofa, then reached for her hand. “In the meantime, we might as well take advantage of this time.”
“Trace.” Connie pulled out of his hold and jabbed him in the ribs, which felt like hitting a brick wall. “If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Dang, woman. Violent much?” He rubbed his side while his lips twitched, as he seemed to be trying to keep from laughing. “And get your head out of the gutter. I meant we could spend this time getting to know each other better, and I’m not talking sexually.”
Connie laughed. “Oh. What did you have in mind, then?”