Long Time Coming

“I can’t believe you conceded,” she teased.

“I only conceded because you hurt my feelings when you said I was contrary.”

Tessa leaned close enough for her shoulder to touch Micah’s. “I’m sorry. Will you accept my apology?”

Slowing, he pressed one of two remotes attached to the visor, and the iron gates protecting the property at the top of the hill opened smoothly. He drove through, continuing along a paved path and coming to a stop behind one of several SUVs parked in the rear of a three-story manor-style house.

Micah shut off the engine, got out and came around to assist Tessa. He didn’t give her time to react when he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side.

Lowering his head, he stared at her parted lips. “I’ll think about it.”

Tessa shivered noticeably despite the warmth from Micah’s body. She had no intention of permitting herself to fall under the spell he wove just by their sharing the same space. She imposed an iron control on her emotions she hadn’t known she possessed.

“Don’t think too long, Micah.”

A hint of a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “I won’t.” Reaching for Tessa’s hand, he said, “Let’s go inside. Once you meet my family, then you’ll know what you have to deal with.”

Chapter 5

Tessa followed Micah as he led her around to the front entrance, and within seconds of walking into the great room with a ceiling rising upward of three stories she understood Micah’s claim that his parents were prepared to pay for whatever Bridget wanted. The size of the house and surrounding acreage confirmed that Bridget Sanborn didn’t need a room at the Waldorf or a catering hall for her reception because the Franklin Lakes house with a massive chandelier and elaborate winding staircase was the perfect setting for a formal wedding and reception.

Micah studied Tessa’s reaction to seeing the house where he’d grown up, but nothing in her expression revealed what she was thinking or feeling. “What do you think?”

Tilting her head, she flashed a warm smile. “It’s wonderful.” Opening her handbag, she took out a slim digital camera and snapped pictures of the entryway, the great room and the staircase. “Is your sister here?”

Micah shook his head. “I didn’t see her car.” He took her hand again. “Whatever happens, don’t let my mother talk your ear off.”

“I heard that, Micah Edgar Sanborn. And you know it’s not nice to gossip about your mother behind her back.”

Tessa and Micah turned around at the same time. Standing in the entryway was a petite woman with stylishly cut silver hair and laughing blue eyes. She’d come up behind them without making a sound, looking every inch the suburban housewife in a pair of khakis she’d paired with a pale blue button-down shirt, navy-blue cardigan tied over her shoulders and leather slip-ons. Attractive lines fanned out around her eyes.

Micah released Tessa’s hand and scooped up Rosalind Sanborn, kissing her cheek. “Good morning, beautiful.”

A rush of pink suffused Rosalind’s porcelain complexion as she patted her son’s shoulder. “Don’t try to get over on me, you silver-tongued devil. I owe you a dressing-down for standing me up for dinner last week.”

Setting his mother on her feet, Micah winked at her. “We’ll talk about that later.” He turned and smiled at Tessa. “Tessa, this is my mother, Rosalind Sanborn. Mom, Miss Tessa Whitfield of Signature Bridals.”

Tessa slipped her camera into her purse and offered her hand. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Sanborn.”

Rosalind shook Tessa’s hand while rolling her eyes upward. “Please call me Rosalind. The title of Mrs. Sanborn has been reserved for my mother-in-law.”

Tessa felt an instant liking for Rosalind Sanborn. She was friendly and unpretentious, and although there was nothing in her physical appearance to substantiate that she was Micah’s biological mother, the intangible bond between mother and son was strong enough to be palpable.

“Why are we standing here talking when Tessa’s probably starving? Are you ready to eat, my dear?”

Tessa’s gaze met Rosalind’s. “Yes, ma’am.”

Taking her arm, Rosalind led Tessa across the marble floor. “You’ll get to meet everyone except Bridget. It’s not often that Edgar and I get to have all of our children together at the same time, but we take whatever we can get.” She glanced over her shoulder, giving Micah a knowing look.

Tessa entered the kitchen with Micah and Rosalind and found herself bombarded by a cacophony of noise, voices and a variety of tantalizing aromas. Adults and children ranging in age from a toddler sitting on the floor banging on a pot to an adolescent sat around an oval counter in the middle of the expansive kitchen, waiting to eat. An older man with salt-and-pepper hair stood at the cooking island. He alternated flipping pancakes with checking omelets for doneness.

“Hurry up, Grandpa,” urged a young boy with a shock of unruly red curls. His identical twin brother drummed his elbows on the table as he brandished a fork like a rapier.

“Put down that fork before you put someone’s eye out,” warned a slender freckled-face woman with hair a darker shade of red.

“Hold on, champs. Grandpa is cooking as fast as he can.”

A teenage girl with a sun-browned gold complexion, waist-length curly black hair and large, slanting eyes glanced up and stared at Tessa. She’d been lip-synching to the song coming through the earbuds of her iPod Nano.

“Are you my uncle Micah’s new honey?” Snickers and giggles followed her query.

“Marisol Sanborn!” Rosalind chided, her eyebrows crinkling in a frown.

Finding herself the object of curious stares, Tessa’s gaze flitted from one face to another with a myriad of expressions ranging from shock to embarrassment to amusement. She managed a half smile as she stared at the incredibly beautiful teenager.

“No, I’m not. I’m your aunt Bridget’s wedding planner.”

Micah glared at Marisol. “Tessa, please forgive my niece’s lack of manners.” The girl hung her head, seemingly embarrassed by her outburst. He moved closer to Tessa, meeting the curious gazes of his relatives. “This is Tessa Whitfield of Signature Bridals. Her company has earned the reputation as an A-list wedding planner, which means Bridget is very lucky to have her coordinate her wedding. Now that everyone knows you’re not my girlfriend, let me introduce you to my family.”

“What’s a honey?” asked one of the ten-year-old twins.

“Duh, baby brother. Someone you kiss on the mouth,” Marisol drawled.

Micah shot his niece a warning look. “Maybe you should make the introductions, Marisol, because, after all, you’re the factotum.”

Marisol smiled, exhibiting the colorful bands on her braces. “That’s okay, Uncle Micah. You do it.”

“Thank you, Marisol.”

She waved a hand. “Whatever.”

Taking a deep breath, Micah slowly counted to three. He loved his niece, but there were times when she truly tested his patience. “Tessa, I would like to introduce you to my father, Edgar Sanborn, aka chef and Grandpa.”

Edgar deftly slipped three pancakes off a stove-top griddle and slipped them onto a platter. He winked at Tessa, his dark eyes sparkling like polished onyx. “Welcome, Tessa. I’d shake your hand, but that would be a little risky with this wild bunch.”

She smiled at the man who bore an uncanny resemblance to one of Hollywood’s late great leading men, Clark Gable. “I understand,” she said. “It’s nice meeting you.”

Micah pointed to his redheaded sister-in-law. “This is Melinda, but everyone calls her Lindy. Standing behind her is my brother, William. Will and Lindy are the parents of my bottomless-pit nephews, Isaac and Jacob, and my niece, la princesa, Marisol.”

Marisol affected a curtsy with Micah’s compliment. Tessa acknowledged William and Lindy with a warm smile. “You have a beautiful family.” The twins looked like their mother, and Marisol had inherited her father’s rich olive-brown coloring and raven-black hair.

Bending down, Micah scooped up the toddler whose intent was to make as much noise as she could when she pounded a pot with a wooden spoon. Her sandy-brown hair, braided in cornrows, resembled orange sections, and the braids, held together with a length of red ribbon, looked like a stem.

“This future percussionist and indisputable boss of her family is Kimika.” The chubby little girl squirmed, holding her arms out to her mother, who’d affected a similar hairstyle. “Kimmie belongs to my brother Abram and my sister-in-law Ruby.”

Abram, who claimed the height and girth of a football linebacker, looped an arm around his petite wife’s waist and pressed a kiss on her braided hair. His clean-shaven dark brown head gleamed like polished teak.

Abram winked at Tessa. “I think I can speak for everyone else in the family, but I hope you have the patience of Job. Dealing with our little sister is certainly going to try your soul.”