Taken by Storm. Rochelle Alers
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done to deserve their sudden aggression.
"Where do you shop for your antiques?"
"I usually go to Cold Spring. It's close enough so I don't have to leave the state," Simone added when he shot her a curious look.
A slight frown creased Rafe's smooth forehead. He'd caught her innuendo. "You're not on parole or house arrest."
She wrinkled her nose. "I was just checking, Warden."
He wanted to tell Simone that what she'd witnessed was hardly a joking matter. Ian Benton and the people he worked for wouldn't hesitate to eliminate her as easily as swatting an annoying insect. He realized she had to make light of her situation or she wouldn't be able to function normally from day to day. Working out of her home complicated logistics, because if she hadn't been self-employed she would've been put up in a hotel or safe house where her every move would be closely monitored. But on the other hand, her house had an added advantage: it was built on a rise that permitted an unobstructed three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of everyone coming or leaving.
"I'm not your warden, and if you cooperate with me then there's no reason why you should feel like a prisoner."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh! How would you like to change places, Rafe?"
There came a lengthy pause. Simone was physically everything he wasn't: female, petite, dark-haired with dusky brown skin. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and if he'd met her under other circumstances he would've made that known to her. She was as beautiful and delicate as the flowers she cultivated.
"Maybe we can—after I complete this assignment."
For the first time in a very long time, Simone was at a loss for words. It was she, not her brother or sister, who was constantly grounded because she didn't know when to stop challenging her parents, her mother in particular. Lucinda Whitfield put up with a lot of things, but wouldn't tolerate sass from any of her children.
Rarely a week passed when she hadn't been banished to her room to think about what you've just said. Most times she didn't see what the fuss was all about because she was merely exercising her First Amendment right of free expression.
Lowering her gaze, a wealth of lashes touching the top of her cheekbones, Simone shook her head. "I don't think so." She'd enunciated each word.
"Whatevah," Rafe drawled.
A smile lit up her face. "Oh, no, you didn't go there."
His smile matched hers as he exhibited a set of perfect white teeth. "Yes, I did." Rafe winked at Simone. "You don't know what you're missing."
Her delicate jaw dropped. She couldn't believe his arrogance. "What did you eat this morning? A bowl of ego?"
"No. Froot Loops. Speaking of cereal, do you have any?"
Simone angled her head, not wanting to believe he'd just mentioned Froot Loops. "How old are you?"
"Thirty-five."
"Don't you think you're a little too old to be eating a kiddie cereal?"
He affected an expression of innocence. "No. I just happen to like Froot Loops."
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, because I don't have any in my pantry. However, I do have oatmeal and Grape-Nuts." Rafe made a face as if he'd caught a whiff of something. "Well, if you want Froot Loops, then you're going to have to go to the supermarket."
Reaching for her hand, Rafe cradled it gently. "Let's finish up with the other rooms on this floor before I check outside. Then we'll go to the store."
Rafe was amazed at Simone's transformation. She'd changed out of her baggy clothes and into a pair of jeans, a yellow tee and a pair of navy blue leather mules that added several inches to her diminutive height. The profusion of hair that had framed her face was pulled into a single braid, the curling ends secured in an elastic band.
"Is that you, Simone Whitfield?"
Rafe moved quickly, stepping in front of Simone and sandwiching her between his body and the shopping cart. "Don't move." A rush of adrenaline had all of his senses on high alert.
"I can't," she whispered. Bracing her hands against his broad back, Simone tried moving him, but to no avail. She tried peering around his shoulder. "Will you please let me see who's calling me?"
A hand resting on his holstered weapon concealed under his shirt, Rafe took a step; his gaze lingered on a tall, slender, middle-aged woman with feathery coiffed silver hair that flattered her porcelain complexion. She appeared harmless enough, but when it came to witness security he couldn't afford to trust anyone.
Simone smiled when she recognized the woman who'd called her name. "Good afternoon, Miss Jennings." The retired high school teacher had put her Mount Vernon home up for sale and moved to Tarrytown to live with a widowed sister.
Corrine Jennings offered Simone a warm smile. "I thought that was you. How're your folks doing?"
"Very well, thank you."
"What are they up to?"
"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