Before the Storm (The Cochran/Deveraux Series Book 9) Read online

  “Daddy, did I just hear you making a date?”

  Mac looked at her, all disheveled and adorable in her pink cotton sweatsuit, and gave her a smile full of smug satisfaction. “Yes, Cupcake, you did. As you are well aware, Ruth Bennett is a charming and very beautiful woman and I saw no reason to waste any time in getting to know her better. You don’t have any objection to that, do you?”

  “Of course not, Daddy, that’s why I introduced the two of you. I think you owe me an apology for doubting my ability to spot a perfect couple. I told you I knew what I was doing,” she gloated. “I definitely want an apology. And a present,” she added with a gleam in her sparkling eyes.

  Mac ignored that part of her speech and looked at her intently. “So how did you meet Ruth?”

  “Daddy, she’s Bennie’s aunt. Her late sister was Bennie’s mother. In fact, Aunt Ruth resigned from the military to take care of Bennie and her brothers after her sister died. If you guys made it to more of the weddings you’re invited to you’d have met her a long time ago,” she added pointedly.

  Mac made a face; weddings weren’t his favorite activity, no matter who was getting married. “Well, I was at John and Nina’s wedding and I certainly didn’t have the good fortune to meet her,” he pointed out.

  “That’s because you were too busy trying to keep my heathen brothers in line,” she mumbled. “If you hadn’t been eyeballing them I’m sure you would have met her then.”

  “You’re probably right. So tell me a little about Ruth,” he began, only to have Paris cut him off in mid-sentence.

  “Daddy, she’s wonderful. She’s very smart and funny, she’s a great conversationalist and an equally good listener. She’s intuitive and clever and lots of fun to be around. She’s very athletic, just like you. She runs and golfs and goes camping with her friends every year and...” Her voice trailed off as she finally noticed Mac signaling her to stop.

  “Those things I can see for myself. She’s obviously a woman in great shape and she has a charm about her that’s unmistakable. What I meant was why a gorgeous woman like that is single? Is she divorced, widowed, what? Does she have children? Where is her home base? Does she just travel all over the place?” Mac looked serious and intently interested in her answers.

  Paris raised an eyebrow and gently teased her father. “Daddy, I believe you’re really interested in Ruth. And I think you’re asking the wrong person these questions. I can tell you she doesn’t have children of her own. Bennie and her brothers were like her children, she gave up a lot to take care of them. She’s never been married, unless she has a deep dark secret that no one ever discusses. She’s based in Chicago, where she moved after the last of her nephews graduated from college. And she does like to travel. She’s on the go all the time, probably because she hasn’t got anything to keep her in one place,” she told him. “And that’s the last time you get to grill me. Anything you want to know about Ruth you’ll have to get directly from her.”

  “I plan to do just that, Cupcake.” Rising to his impressive height, Mac winked at Paris and left the room singing in his fine baritone voice.

  Paris burst into giggles when she realized he was singing the Delfonics’ “Ready or Not.” Ooh, I hope Ruth is ready for this. Come to think of it, I hope Daddy is ready for it because it looks like it’s gonna get hot up in here, she mused.

  ***

  Ruth studied her menu carefully, although what she was really doing was checking out her date. From the time he’d arrived promptly at 12:30 p.m. to pick her up, everything had gone just perfectly she knew she was in for a delightful afternoon. She raised the menu so she could get a good long look at him without him being aware of her scrutiny, then thought to heck with it and set the paper barrier aside. While he was checking to see what looked good on the lunch menu, she crossed her arms on the table and stared to her heart’s content. Julian Deveraux was a darned good-looking man, a man in his absolute prime.

  He was tall, like all of his nephews. She was good at guessing height, and she could see that was several inches over six feet. She loved the way he was dressed, in an expensive looking merino jersey sweater in blue, very expensive jeans and a sinfully soft leather jacket. He had the same fair Creole coloring as most of his kin, but his was a deeper shade. He had thick black hair that was touched with silver at the temples, as was his thick moustache. His heavy-lidded eyes and long straight lashes were the perfect foil to his high cheekbones and firm jaw with the deep cleft in his chin. And then there was his mouth; so nicely shaped it was almost feminine. Ruth felt a hot flush wind its way up her chest when she thought about the way he could kiss. As if he heard her thoughts, Mac looked up with a smile that acknowledged her scrutiny.

  “It’s been a long time since a woman looked at me like that, Ruth. I have to tell you I like it. I like it a lot, as a matter of fact.” As the sound of his voice embraced her, Ruth had to put her hand to her cheek. Yep, she was actually blushing, something she hadn’t done in years and years.

  She scolded him playfully. “Julian, I had a feeling you were a dangerous man and I was right. You’re going to have me giggling in a minute if you don’t stop it.”

  Mac was totally unrepentant. He leaned over to get even closer to her and gave her the devastating Deveraux smile that had led many a woman down a path that led to incredible fulfillment. “Giggling? Now that would actually be cute,” he said with amusement. “I’ll bet it sounds sexy. What do I have to do to make it happen? Should I tell you again how good you look?”

  When he arrived to pick her up, his eyes had lit up and he told her at once that she was stunning. She was wearing one of her favorite outfits, a violet-colored wool pantsuit with wide-legged, cuffed trousers and a short fitted jacket. With it she had on a soft green cashmere sweater and a big Italian wool stole in a purple-and-green paisley print thrown over one shoulder—she looked sophisticated and stylish. She wore big gold hoop earrings in her first holes, accented with tiny purple jade studs in her second hole, and high up on her right ear was a diamond stud that caught the light and drew more attention to her arresting green eyes. Mac had leaned over to capture a breath of her scent and his lips had touched her neck as he did so.

  “That’s an unusual fragrance. Don’t think I’ve smelled it before,” he told her.

  “It’s called K de Krizia. I have a passion for Italian perfume,” she admitted.

  “I seem to be developing a passion for you, honey. Shall we go?”

  She had smiled to herself all the way to Dailey’s, the restaurant he’d chosen for their lunch. Now she was trying to find something on which to fix her gaze before she drowned in the essence of the man across the table; he was way too potent for her peace of mind. Luckily their server approached the table and Ruth was so relieved she could have kissed him.

  “Have you folks had a chance to decide what you want?” he asked guilelessly.

  Yesy I’d like a double serving of that big hunk of man, Ruth thought as she wiped her hands on her slacks. She was able to order the French onion soup and a Caesar salad with shrimp without incident, pleased when Mac ordered the same. He also said they would share an appetizer of deep-fried olives, something with which Ruth was unfamiliar.

  “I’ve never had them, either, but they looked good because I happen to love olives. I hope you like olives. I should have asked before I ordered,” he said.

  Ruth submerged herself in Julian’s mesmerizing eyes as she answered. “It just so happens that I adore olives. Black ones, green ones, Kalamata, it doesn’t seem to matter. I’ve been a fool for them since I was a child.”

  Mac beamed. “Something else we have in common. I’ll bet we’ll find a lot more things before the day is over.”

  They ate with good appetite and both of them found the olives to their liking. They passed on dessert for the moment as Mac mentioned something about ice cream later. That was a special delight for Ruth, who had a world-class sweet tooth. So they spent the afternoon at the High Museum of Art,
then went shopping, browsing in any little shop or gallery that caught their eye. Ruth found a gorgeous Art Deco teapot for Paris as a thank-you for dinner, and Mac bought the matching teacups. The store offered to gift wrap them, but Ruth refused. She loved wrapping gifts and bought some exotic wrappings so she could customize the gift just for Paris.

  They found a Cold Stone Creamery on the way home and shared exotic specially-made ice cream creations like teenagers on a first date. They held hands and Mac even went so far as to lick the corner of her mouth, claiming she had a dab of ice cream there.

  “No, I don’t,” Ruth murmured. “You’rejust trying to get a kiss on the sly.”

  Mac looked down at her with a tender expression that made the rest of her ice cream melt. She stared up at him helplessly as he took the remains of her cone and his and tossed them into a nearby receptacle. He tilted her chin up and lowered his mouth to hers. “Okay, no kisses on the sly. From now on I’ll just make my intentions obvious, how’s that?”

  Ruth was vaguely aware of cooing sounds but she didn’t have time to discover the source as she gave herself up to the luscious promise of Mac’s lips on hers. It was a soft, fleeting kiss but his tongue teased hers enough to make her blood heat and flow into all of her most sensitive spots. She finally pulled away from him with a sigh, only to see the creamery staff smiling at them indulgently and applauding with gusto. She was ready to sink into the floor with embarrassment but Mac wasn’t having it. He tightened his arm around her waist and grinned proudly.

  One of the younger employees said, “Oh, hey, my mom and dad do that all the time. I think it’s sweet.”

  Her coworker was more pragmatic. “That’s why you’re a sophomore in college with twin sisters in preschool,” he drawled.

  The young lady was undaunted. “My parents are just in love and they still know how to show it like that couple. When I’m their age I want to be that hot, that’s all I’m saying.”

  It was one of the few times in her life that Ruth was at a loss for words.

  Chapter 4

  A couple of weeks passed and Ruth was once again at home in Chicago. She’d spent the last few days getting ready for the monthly meeting of her book club, and she truly welcomed the distraction from her restless thoughts. The distance from Mac was just what she needed. The weekend in Atlanta was wonderful; fun, stimulating and enjoyable in every way, but this was where she needed to be, home in her fabulous loft. She loved living in the loft apartment. It was high-ceilinged and extremely spacious with interior brick walls. Located in a refurbished pasta factory, the outside of the building still possessed the turn-of-the-century charm of the era in which it was built, but the inside was cheerfully modern. The loft was large and open except for the center, which housed the kitchen, bathroom and closets in a cleverly designed addition.

  The kitchen was galley-styled with the stove, refrigerator, sink and dishwasher all neatly lined up. Directly across from the galley area was a wonderful work island that doubled as a breakfast bar. It was custom-made of oak satined to a deep espresso color and was the perfect height and size for serious cooking as well as casual dining. Above the sink were long shelves that displayed her collection of Blue Willow plates inherited from her grandmother. Dark green ivy was festooned along the shelves and lent an air of homey charm to the room. That charm continued through the apartment. Everything from the dining room area to the living area spoke of Ruth; the furnishings were traditional but the accessories were unusual and exotic, just like the owner.

  Ruth had a delightful spread ready for her book club. She’d prepared an easy to consume buffet of artichoke dip with crostini, crudites, antipasto, chicken skewers with pesto, stuffed mushrooms and an assortment of lemon, frangipane and raspberry tarts. Beverages were her excellent Hawaiian coffee and a special iced tea made from a blend of white tea flavored with pear and peach essence. The bar looked wonderful with the food arranged on square pottery platters glazed in a pretty shade of green. In addition to the dining room table, there were two round tables set up for easy dining, all of them dressed in soft peach tablecloths with coral napkins that echoed the centerpieces of spring flowers. Ruth always looked forward to hosting the club. She loved to entertain and the ladies of the club were some of her favorite people on earth. She glanced at the kitchen clock just as her buzzer rang. The ladies were arriving and right on time. If she knew her friends, Kimmi and Capiz would be the first to arrive. Throwing open the door, she smiled widely. “I was right, you two are always the prompt ones,” she said happily.

  “That’s because you have the best food,” Kimmi said, licking her lips. Kimmi was the youngest of the group, she wasn’t quite thirty. Capiz was closer to Ruth in age, although she was still in her forties. The group members ranged in age from twenty-eight to seventy-two, and in Ruth’s opinion it was the disparity of ages, ethnicities and backgrounds that made the group so much ftin. Today they were doing the first part of a two-part Brenda Jackson retrospective. They had decided to do it in two parts to encompass her romances in one session and her mainstreams in another. Usually they concentrated on one book at a time, but before tackling a new writer they decided to do an homage to one of their favorite authors.

  The discussion was lively and entertaining as always, and when the meeting wound down, the usual friends were left cleaning up and rehashing the funniest parts of the meeting. Kimmi and Capiz remained, of course, as well as Ruth’s dear friends Cherelle and Sylvia. Cherelle was in her fabulous fifties and Sylvia was in her sixties. Both ladies were gorgeous, although few could hold a candle to Sylvia. She might have been one of the oldest of the group but she was the raving beauty, with rich brown skin that was smooth and unlined, start-lingly platinum-white hair and a figure that many a younger woman envied. She had been a dancer in her youth and she was still a member of a dance troupe that Ruth longed to join, but she was too young.

  “I keep telling you, kitten, you have to be at least sixty to audition. Hang in there, girl, your day is coming,” Sylvia teased her.

  Ruth pretended to pout while she offered more iced tea. Capiz held up her glass at once. “Ruth, I don’t know where you get these teas but they’re always wonderful! I was never fond of tea but I think you’ve converted me. Even my husband is into tea these days,” she said in her throaty voice. Capiz was fascinating; her round face combined the best of her Filipino and African-American ancestry and her smiling countenance always made people feel good. She was so funny and charismatic she’d started her own business as a business consultant and motivational speaker and she was wildly successful.

  In the meantime, the youngster, Kimmi, was staring at Ruth. Kimmi was sporting a daring new hairstyle with dramatic auburn highlights. She’d even had her brows tinted to match, something that amused Cherelle to no end.

  Cherelle’s own hair was almost jet-black except for one lock of white hair that grew over her left eye. Her caramel skin was smooth and flawless and she was full-figured, but trim and tight because she worked out daily in her capacity as an aerobic instructor. Cherelle loved Kimmi like a daughter and loved to tease her.

  “Since you got those brows tinted I’m just wondering if the carpet is going to match the curtains anytime soon. I’m just askin’,” she drawled.

  “Who says it doesn’t already?” Kimmi returned saucily. “But check this out, y’all. Something has happened to Ruth. Look at her, she doesn’t even look the same,” she said accusingly.

  Ruth was busy at the refrigerator, getting out a bowl of her special artichoke dip that she had held in reserve, knowing her friends would linger past the meeting and would require sustenance. She took a deep breath and turned to face her inquisitors, each one sitting on one of her comfortable bar chairs with a look of avid curiosity on her face. They resembled eager birds lined up to ambush a freshly filled feeder. She looked at Kimmi, Capiz, Sylvia and Cherelle and the time-honored phrase “resistance is futile” came immediately to mind. She steeled herself to bare her soul and actual
ly had her mouth open to begin when the buzzer rang. Reprieve! She raced to the door and made a poignant sound of defeat when the visitor proved to be a handsome delivery person bearing a large box that read Blossoms by Betty in fancy script. Oh, she was busted all right; there was no getting around it now. She handed the box to Kimmi, who was right on her heels, and asked the delivery man to wait until she got her purse.

  “No, ma’am, the gratuity has already been handled,” the young man said politely. He was tall and lean with smooth pale skin and freckles. His eyes were gray and he had very kinky red hair, cut neat and short. “I’m supposed to unwrap it for you and take the box away,” he informed her as he did just that, quickly and neatly. “Now I just need you to sign for this,” he added as he held an envelope out to Ruth. “I hope you ladies have a nice evening,” he added as he gave a slight bow before departing.

  Kimmi flirted her long lashes at him and gave him her best smile, the one where all her snowy-white teeth showed and her dimples winked like stars. “You, too, sweetie,” she cooed.

  As soon as the door closed behind the young man, Ruth looked at the contents of the box and sighed deeply. It was resting on the breakfast bar and was another exquisite arrangement of exotic blooms. These were green, like the last bouquet she’d received from Mac. Lovely green and white calla lilies, more cymbidiums and some other blooms she couldn’t identify. She wanted to just wallow in their beauty, but a low umm-hmmph was heard behind her. She turned around and was pinned in place by four pairs of curious eyes. “Now I know what a mouse feels like when it’s ganged up on by a herd of cats,” she said resignedly.

  “Don’t be melodramatic, woman. Just spill your guts and no one gets hurt,” Capiz said merrily. “Let’s start with the contents of that envelope, shall we?”

  As if she had no control over her fingers, Ruth mutely opened the envelope to reveal a handwritten note in fine calligraphy which read simply “I want you for my Valentine.” There was also a first-class round-trip plane ticket to New York City.