Taken by Storm

"Mama and Daddy are in Bermuda, celebrating their thirty-eighth wedding anniversary."

"When will they return?" Corrine asked. "I'd like to call and drop in on your mother to chat."

"They're due back next week. How's retirement?"

She didn't want to tell her former literature teacher that her father and uncle planned to close Whitfield Caterers at the end of the summer. The identical twin brothers were currently negotiating with the city's planning board to open an upscale bowling alley in an area of downtown Mount Vernon slated for gentrification.

The older woman's dark eyes sparkled like polished onyx. "To say I'm enjoying it is an understatement." Her gaze darted between Simone and the tall man standing beside her. "Aren't you forgetting your manners, Miss Whitfield?"

Simone paused before glancing up at Rafe, who lifted his eyebrows questioningly. Leaning into him, she put an arm around his waist. "This is my friend, Raphael Madison."

Corrine studied Rafe thoughtfully. "I don't remember you as one of my students."

"That's because I didn't go to school in New York," he said.

"We met years ago in Virginia Beach during spring break," Simone added quickly, knowing it was a lie she would repeat before her association with Rafe concluded.

Corrine Jennings smiled at the attractive couple. "It's nice meeting you, Mr. Madison. Well, you two have fun."

"We will," Simone and Rafe chorused.

"Now, that was easy," he crooned when Miss Jennings made her way down the wide aisle. "All we have to do is tell the same story and no one will suspect we aren't friends."

Dropping her arm, Simone backed away from Rafe. She wanted to remind him that they weren't friends and would never be friends. Raphael Madison was a stranger and interloper who'd insinuated himself into her life.

"I don't like lying."

"You really didn't lie," he countered.

"Why would you say that?"

"I did spend one spring break at Virginia Beach."

She knew she didn't have to tell him that she'd spent several spring breaks at Virginia Beach. Even when it wasn't spring break, she could be found at the beach studying or relaxing. It was one of the reasons she'd decided to attend Hampton University.

"Where did you go to college?" There was a long silence, which Rafe didn't seem inclined to break. "Now you know how I feel when you ask me my business," she chided in a tone pregnant with contempt.

Rafe glared at her in disbelief. Like quicksilver, Simone had come at him like a hissing cat because he refused to answer her question. He much preferred her soft and purring. Leaning closer, he pressed his mouth to her ear. "When we get back to the house we'll talk about us."

Simone resisted the urge to push him away. She wanted to tell him that he was wrong because there was no us. "Are you finished shopping?" she asked instead.

Her protector's idea of grocery shopping was going to a supermarket warehouse. She'd given him the directions to a Sam's Club in nearby Elmsford, where he'd filled a shopping cart with fresh fruit and vegetables, peanut butter, meat, fish, poultry and dairy products. When they'd gone down the cereal aisle he'd selected the largest box of Froot Loops available.

"I need to pick up some milk, then we can leave."

Two young women, both with toddlers seated in the front of their shopping carts, slowed, turned and stared openly at Rafe. His hair had dried and flowed down around his strong neck like sun-streaked wheat. Lifting their eyebrows in approval, they shared knowing glances. Without warning, their smiles faded when they noticed Simone standing a short distance away.

"Do you think he's here with that?" one whispered.

"Yes, he is," Simone spat out recklessly. Both women blushed noticeably with her comeback. Under another set of circumstances, she wouldn't have said anything, but it was the first time someone referred to her as if she were an inanimate object.

Rafe turned when he heard Simone's voice. "Is something wrong?"

"No, darling. I'm good." Her smile was as sweet as the words dripping facetiously off her tongue. The women raced down the aisle as if in a timed supermarket shopping competition.

Rafe placed a gallon of milk into his cart. "What was that all about?" he asked Simone.

Tucking a wayward curl behind her left ear, she affected an expression of unadulterated innocence. "What are you talking about?" She'd answered his question with one of her own.

Rafe studied the large hazel eyes staring up at him, enthralled by what he saw. "Do you make it a habit of talking to strangers?"

"No."

"Do you know those women?"

"No," she repeated. "And they don't want to know me. I hope you're ready to leave because I have to take care of some paperwork."

Eyes narrowing suspiciously, Rafe knew something had gone down between Simone and at least one of the women, but it was apparent she'd defused whatever it was before it got out of control. What he didn't want was for her to draw attention to herself before she was to appear in court. Once the trial began, the proceedings were certain to draw a lot of media attention.

Simone sharing her home with him was nothing compared to how her life would change, not only drastically, but also dramatically, the moment he escorted her into the courthouse. The government's lead attorney had begun building a case against Ian Benton, while taking the necessary steps not to leak the name of their witness until the trial.

Half an hour later, Rafe maneuvered into the driveway of Simone's home. When she'd shown him around the outside of the house, he hadn't known what to expect. It certainly wasn't the enclosed back porch that was perfect for a gathering at any time of the year. The space was filled with wicker furnishings and a natural-fiber rug that set the tone for a gardenlike romantic setting. There were an assortment of floral and red-and-white striped throw pillows, vases of fresh flowers, potted plants and dwarf lemon trees.

She'd added an expansive deck that led from the back porch out to a distance half the length of a football field on which sat a Victorian-style gazebo with a cozy settee, white wicker chairs, a small round table and flowering plants positioned on a periwinkle-blue and white rug. A gas grill, picnic table and chairs were protected from the weather by custom-made, heavy-gauge waterproof fabric. He hadn't been able to conceal his surprise when seeing the hot tub with a maintenance-free redwood cabinet.

Two large, barnlike greenhouses, the life's blood of Wildflowers and Other Treasures, were erected on the southeast end of the three-acre property. The structures were clearly visible from his bedroom window, not that he planned to let Simone work there alone. He intended to stick as close to her as a permanent tattoo.

Shutting off the engine, Rafe reached over and caught Simone's wrist. "You're not to get out of the car or go into the house until I give you an all-clear signal. And please don't ever leave the house without me."

"Rather than checking in with you, I'll give you a printout of my schedule for the next two weeks," she volunteered. Simone knew she had to go along with whatever Rafe proposed or he was certain to make her day-to-day existence a living hell.

Smiling, he nodded. "That'll do."

She resisted the urge to salute him. "I'm glad you approve."

Rafe stared out the windshield. "It's not about you getting my approval, Simone. It's about making my job and your life less stressful."

"That's not going to happen until Ian Benton's locked up for the rest of his life."

"Let's hope that's sooner than later. And another thing—" His words trailed off.

"What is it, Rafe?"

His head swung around and his indigo-hued eyes bore into her. "Don't call me darling unless you mean it."

"And don't you flatter yourself, Raphael Madison," she countered as he opened the door and stepped out of the truck. Smiling broadly, he winked at her over his shoulder seconds before he closed and locked the SUV with a remote device.

Arrogant pig! Simone fumed silently. She hadn't meant to call him darling, but once the endearment slipped from her lips she hadn't been able to retract it. Slumping against the leather seat, she grunted softly. There was no way Rafe would ever become close to what she considered her darling.