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“Why does the question, ‘How many idiots does it take to feed a seven month old?’ keep playing in my head?”
The ‘idiots’ in question, ignored Rutger’s observation as they focused on their joint efforts to feed Reina that morning in the main dining room.
Pope took the lead-seated before the baby who was perched on a pink cushioned high chair dotted with an array of gaily colored butterflies. He attempted to get her to take a tiny amount of baby cereal from a spoon that looked ridiculously small in his hand.
Apparently, Reina found the moment as hilarious as her father did, for she giggled nonstop while swatting at the spoon. All this, while she took great delight in watching the gold lights sparkling from the grand tree in the dining room.
Seated on either side of Pope, Bear and LuCarolyn made zanny faces in their attempts to get the baby to open her mouth and chew.
“How do y’all get her to do this at home?” Prin asked from her spot on the edge of the table. Dutifully, she dabbed a cloth at the food on Reina’s cheeks and hands. Prin’s job as cleaner, proved busiest with baby cereal going everywhere but the child’s mouth.
“We’re still working on it,” Lu said while making crazy faces for her daughter. “We hoped the change in scenery might make her more cooperative.”
“So what happens when she gets sick of this game?” Bear asked, fixing her niece with a suspicious look.
Rutger laughed again. “Oh, she knows she can count on her old man to bring an end to the insanity,” he waved the bottle he had on standby.
“Rutger Eliades bringing an end to insanity. That’s gotta be some kind of oxymoron,” Pope said and joined in on the zanny faces game when Reina pressed her lips together instead of opening them as her uncle indicated.
Breakfast waited at the sidebar for the adults. The long table decorated in festive cloths, plates and silverware carried a smorgasbord of irresistible fare. Mercuri, Tee and Slayte helped themselves.
Correction: Slayte helped himself to breakfast. Tee studied the inviting dishes but helped herself to little. Mercuri helped himself to nothing. The only thing he studied was Tee, who; Slayte noticed, hadn’t looked at or spoken to Mercuri once since they’d all gathered at the table. Judging from the hangdog expression on his brother’s face, Slayte guessed Tee’s silent treatment had been in place for a while. With his plate only half full, Slayte made himself scarce.
Unaware of anyone in the room besides himself and Tee, Mercuri swallowed his unease and moved closer to her. “Can we talk?” he asked when crowding her had gone unnoticed.
“I really need to eat,” Tee said and made a show of feigning greater interest in the buffet.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Mercuri observed her partly filled plate.
Tee said nothing.
“How long will you give me the silent treatment?” he asked.
She looked up at him then. “Say whatever you want to. I’d love an answer to my question from last night.” She began to nod as seconds passed without Mercuri offering a response. A smile emerged on her face, but the gesture was filled with sadness.
“It’s okay Mercuri, I get it,” she said.
A muscle danced along his hard jawline. “I can’t lose you, Tee. I think I could stand just about anything but that-never that.”
His words, while beautiful, only made Tee more miserable. A tear escaped to roll down her cheek before she could stop it. She retreated when Mercuri reached for her. He wouldn’t allow her a full escape, however. The further she retreated, the more he advanced. When, in a huff, she turned and bolted from the room, he followed.
Across the room, the other couples covertly regarded the scene with mounting apprehension.
~~~
Tee didn’t expect to get far once she left the dining room. Chances were strong, Mercuri just wanted a more private venue for whatever he’d planned to say. He did.
She made it as far as the small dining room on the other side of the kitchen, when he stopped her. Her plan had been to bypass the area altogether for the back staircase beyond it. Instead, Mercuri redirected her path by placing a guiding hand to the small of her back.
The lower level was still pretty much deserted given no one outside their group was up at such an early hour. Tee stood just inside the small dining space. Mercuri, obviously not worried she’d leave, took a seat on the serving counter. By the time he’d shared the first sentence, Tee was sitting.
“I was nearly twelve pounds when I was born. They told my mother to expect it, but she didn’t expect...quite that. She’s the smallest of her friends-”
“But still bigger than me,” Tee put in.
Mercuri’s expression was grave. “I could’ve killed her.”
“Mercuri...” she leaned forward on the chair. “You were a baby.”
“Yeah...yeah, I was. That’s not the case anymore though, is it? No more, ‘you were a baby and not responsible for almost killing your mother in childbirth’. I’m a man now and I won’t be responsible for putting you through that.”
Tee fought to ignore the chill biting her arms beneath her sweater. “Then, it’s like I said-you don’t want a baby with me.”
“Not if it means losing you.”
“But we don’t know-”
“Reina was ten pounds, Tee. I saw the toll she took on Lu.”
“So if Lu struggled, it’s a given that I will too?”
“The way I see it, yes and much worse.”
The words hit like a physical blow. Tee watched her husband’s exceptional features adopt a bleak cast and knew he meant everything he’d said. She gripped the table so hard, her fingers ached.
Mercuri stood and shaved off the minor distance between them. “Forgive me?” he urged, crouching down near her chair.
She nodded, tilting her head back when he nudged her chin up. He kissed her deeply and Tee despised herself for the eager response she was unable to deny him. The kiss grew lustier the longer it went on. Only when she moaned and gasped did he stop and brush a kiss to her temple.
“I love you,” he said in her ear and then he was gone.
Tee refused to let another tear fall, no matter how much her eyes ached under the pressure.
***
House traffic was still light by the time Nica made her way downstairs that morning. Casual in a fuzzy black sweater, jeans and black house shoes of the same fuzzy material, her plans were to indulge in a decadent breakfast and brush up on her reading. Selections included the latest in a crime fiction series she’d enjoyed for years and then client files she’d sent to her email prior to leaving California. Prin had insisted she consider herself on vacation, but Nica was too determined to do an excellent job, to not devote some time to actual work.
The lower level was so peaceful when she took the last few steps down, that she couldn’t resist a quiet stroll through the grand living room with its many cozy nooks. They were aglow with soft lamplight that seemed more vivid given the day’s forecast for cloudy skies.
Nica couldn’t resist being drawn to the spaces. She was deciding which of the snug spots she wanted for her reading hollow, when she thought she heard a door opening. Her heart leapt quickly to her throat when she peeked outside the living room entry and saw Gibson Taylor letting himself in.
As quickly as her heart leapt, Nica called herself down just as quickly. He’s off limits to you, remember?
“Good morning, Sheriff Taylor,” she called once he was done resetting the house alarm.
Gib looked around, smiled, while inclining his head in acknowledgement. “Does this mean I have to go back to calling you Ms. Sloane?” He watched as she bowed her head and bit her lip in a way he found wickedly appealing. By the time she looked up again, he’d cooled his surveillance.
Nica felt her cheeks burn in a way that wasn’t altogether unpleasant. “Good morning Gib,” she said.
That was better, he thought. “Mornin’ Nica,” he said.
She gestured toward the opposite end of the entry hall. “I heard voices. I think everyone’s in the dining room.”
“I’ll see ‘em before I go. I didn’t stop by for my family.”
Nica watched expectantly, but said nothing.
“Join me?” he asked, nodding toward the direction she’d just come from.
“Oh-sure,” she obliged, leading the way.
Gib did his best not to objectify her with lingering looks while approving of the way she filled out her jeans. Hell...he’d been professional enough the day before. He wasn’t in uniform today. As far as he was concerned, Sheriff Gibson Taylor was miles away.
She turned to face him once they’d crossed into the living room. “This okay?” she asked lightly.
Taking her by the hand, Gib ushered them deeper into the room. He didn’t stop until they were tucked away in one of the alcoves near the rear of the space.
“Prin told me that you were the one that found Aviva.” He could almost see the words slamming into her and regret flashed instantly in his deep-set eyes. “Dammit, Nica I’m sorry, I-”
“No, no there’s no need,” she managed a smile.
“I didn’t come here to upset you,” he’d seen the shadow fall over her face the instant he spoke Aviva’s name.
Nica began to fidget with her hands as she turned away. “Did you ever meet her?” she asked.
“No. Never had the chance to meet any of my cousin’s colleagues out west,” Gib hoped he’d done a fine job of masking his annoyance over the fact. He surveyed her expression now, having captured a glimpse of her profile when her head turned.
“What is it?” he prompted.
She was smiling a little now. “Just never thought of myself as a colleague before. This isn’t actually what I expected when I came to work for Prin.”
Gib leaned over the back of one of the two mauve armchairs filling the alcove. “What wasn’t what you expected?” he asked.
“I-” she hesitated, but the reaction was momentary. Talking to a man-confiding-wasn’t something she did well. It was more accurate to say she’d never confided. In her reality, there had never been a man she felt the slightest inclination to confide in.
“I was only looking for a better job when I answered Prin’s ad for a receptionist. Aviva was the manager type. I’m not the natural she was.”
“Sounds like my cousin didn’t buy that.”
Nica’s smile brightened. “I have Aviva to thank for that. She answered every question I ever had about the way things worked at the office. She was always telling me to shoot for the stars.”
“Do you have trouble believing you can?”
She observed him more closely, her expression teasing. “Do you moonlight as a psychiatrist when you’re not fighting crime?”
A broad shoulder lifted in a casual shrug. “I’d probably have time for it if I did. Leeds, Virginia isn’t a hot bed of criminal activity, thank God.”
“Not a hotbed, but you’re a workaholic,” she noted, appreciating the laughter he shared. The sound soothed in a way she found close to hypnotic.
“You could say I’m more of a peacekeeper settling disputes...who’s got their cows grazing on someone else’s land and such.”
She laughed abruptly and cut herself short. “I’m sorry I-” she blinked suddenly uneasy when she noticed the way his enticing gaze had narrowed.
There was no need for an apology. Gib wasn’t offended. Instead, he was intrigued-concerned when he saw how she seemed to shrink when she thought she’d angered him. The more he discovered about Nica Sloane, the more drawn he was. Sure the main draw was her looks since he knew relatively little about her. What were his chances of finding out?
“There’s no need for apologizing-trust me,” he said. “A lot of it really is laughable-doesn’t stop folks from raising holy Cain about it, though.”
“I can imagine,” she seemed to sober a bit more as deeper curiosity took hold of her gaze. “What’s it like policing a population like that?” she asked. “I’m guessing it’s mostly white out there.”
“Your guess is correct. There are a little over thirty black folks-enough so I don’t feel all alone,” he winked and caused her to laugh again.
Still, Nica was back to biting her lip to stifle the gesture once more. Again, Gib’s eyes did that evocative narrowing which made her conjure images best left unconjured.
“Prin says you’re the first black Sheriff they’ve ever had,” she blurted in a play to dispel her reaction to him. Her comment caused another of his slow grins to emerge. The gesture, paired with his stunning eyes and all the other fiercely gorgeous features he possessed- Nica... she called to herself in warning.
“You asked about me?” he rested a shoulder against the wall.
“Can you blame me?” She did her best to make light of the situation. “What choice did I have when the Sheriff himself helped me get a golf cart started,” she laughed when he did.
“I think they only took me seriously at first because they wanted to put a check under the town’s ‘Progressive’ box,” he explained.
“And now?” She smiled when he appeared to be seriously considering his response to her question.
“I think it’s gone beyond that on both sides now. My intentions weren’t totally honorable when I ran for the job either,” he confessed. “I saw it more as a stepping stone to a post in Richmond.”
“To be closer to your parents,” she observed.
Once more, his wicked grin took shape. “You really did ask about me, huh?”
Laughter buzzed in her throat again. “I swear it just came up in the one and only conversation I had about you.”
“Well let’s hope it won’t be the only,” he said.
That’s enough, Nica...the warning voice chimed inside her head and she agreed. Gib Taylor was far too appealing-sexually and otherwise. It was the ‘otherwise’ aspect that signaled her warning voice- another reminder that he wasn’t a man she could have.
“Gib-”
“Don’t worry about it, Nica. I know what you’re about to say.”
“You do?”
“Course, I do,” sleek brows met for a brief frown. “I’m sure it’s a rare thing for you to walk out your door and not have a thousand men trying to get you into bed.”
Something sharp pierced Nica’s chest in reaction to the comment. Somehow, she fought past the discomfort. “Maybe not quite a thousand,” she said.
“Well I’m sorry if I just behaved like one of them.”
“Do you see yourself as one of them?”
“Come on,” his rich voice was a purr. “I’d be a fool not to want you in my bed. But,” he sighed, pushing off the wall, “seeing as how you live across the world. And seeing as how you’re only here for the holidays. What I’d have from you would only amount to a one night stand and that’s not what I want from you.”
She sat then, hands clasped between her knees. “What do you...want from me?”
“Not that,” he said flatly and then rolled his eyes in spite of himself. “Not only that,” he revised.
“So we just ignore each other?” she asked.
“Ignore you,” his tone remained flat. “I don’t think I could do that with you even if I tried.”
“So what do we do?”
“I want to know you, Nica. Hope you might want to know me. If we get a decent friendship out of it, I’ll consider myself all the better for it.”
“Are you speaking platonically?” she asked.
“I’m attempting to speak platonically-can’t promise I’ll hold to it. Can you accept that?” he countered.
Her trusted voice of caution, warned her to walk away from him. Once he realized how wrong she was for him, she’d be devastated. Walk away now while you have control, it said. The warnings raced through her mind, even as she responded.
“I can accept that.”
***
“Maybe we should go back-just to check.”
“Seriously Ben? Even if the place wasn’t closed up, that’d be a nasty mistake. Dave? How about chiming in here? Advise your lovesick friend what a bad idea this is.”
“Gus’s right, Ben.” David Jaggins shared the requested advice. However, it was far more obvious that he was interested in the racing highlights playing out on the 60 inch flatscreen across from the sofa he occupied.
“Thanks,” Gustus Harper’s unreadable eyes appeared as vapid as his voice. Sighing heavily once more, he regarded the man whose intentions he’d been working to sway. “It’s a bad idea, dude. Sure, the cops are a joke, but I think you know we’re likely to run into something much worse if we go snoopin’ around there again.”
“We get why you wanna go back there, Ben. Hell...we’re freaked about it too, but listen to Gus. We can’t risk running into Merc or the rest of those fuckers,” Reese Tovin said as he looked to the others in the room for input. “You guys really have nothing else to say?”
“We’ve got nothin’ to say, because, at the end of the day, Ben’s gonna do whatever the fuck he wants to. Screw whatever advice we try givin’ him.” Magnus Barnaby’s pale blue gaze maintained its usual dispassionate chill though a faint intensity managed to glean through.
Again, Gustus Harper looked toward one of his oldest friends, not liking the ghastly gray pallor of the man’s complexion. “Ben? Talk to us, man.”
Benjamin Haahs’ focus rested on the framed photo he held. It was a photo of the P. Holland Designs staff, taken from the office of a woman he had recently killed and a woman he’d thought long dead. He’d seen the body, hadn’t he? But what had any of them really seen that night? His thumb brushed the woman’s unforgettable face in the picture. “Why aren’t you dead, Nica?” he asked.