Bittersweet Love. Rochelle Alers
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I’m not your aunt. And secondly, you and I don’t share blood, therefore we’re not family. If you want to stay over then you’re going to have to sleep in the living room on the sofa. It converts to a queen-size bed and the mattress is very comfortable.”
“How would you know it’s comfortable?”
“I slept on it before my bedroom was completed.” Although she’d moved her bedroom from the second to the first floor she liked her new space because it was larger, airy and filled with an abundance of light during daytime hours.
Griffin nodded. “I’ll take your word that it’s comfortable, but if I wake up with a bad back then I’m going to hold you responsible for my medical expenses.”
“You won’t need a chiropractor after I walk on your back,” Belinda countered confidently. “My feet and toes are magical.”
He glanced down at her slender pedicured feet in a pair of thong slippers. Her feet were like the rest of her body—perfect. Belinda Eaton was physically perfect, yet so untouchable. He wondered about the man who’d managed to get next to her. There was no doubt he was nothing less than Mister Perfect himself.
“We’ll see,” he replied noncommittally. “I’m going to head out to Paoli, get a few things. Are you sure you’ll be up when I get back?”
“I have an extra set of keys you can use.”
“What about your alarm?”
“I won’t set it.”
“Set it,” Griffin ordered. “I’d feel better knowing you and the girls are protected by a silent alarm before I get back. Now, give me the password. Please,” he added when Belinda glared at him. He repeated it a couple of times aloud, then to himself. “I’ll bring back a set of keys to my place for you, and I’ll give you my password.”
Belinda turned and walked in the direction of the kitchen where she retrieved a set of keys to her house from a utility drawer. She returned to find Griffin standing in the middle of her living room staring at photographs on tables and lining the fireplace mantel. His gaze was fixed on one of himself, Grant and Donna together at an Eaton-Rice family picnic. It’d taken her weeks to come to grips that her sister and brother-in-law were gone and that she would never hear their laughter again. She’d put away all of their photographs, then caught herself when she realized that if she wanted to remember them, it would be best to see them smiling and happy.
“Griffin.”
Griffin turned when Belinda called his name, his expression mirroring the sadness and pain that returned when he least expected it. There had only been he and Grant, the two of them inseparable. Grant was two years older, but he never seemed to mind that he had to take his younger brother everywhere he went.
They were always there for each other throughout their triumphs and failures. Grant was gone, but his spirit for life lived on in the daughters he had called his “princesses.” Grant had asked him whether he’d take care of his “princesses” if anything ever happened to him and Griffin hadn’t hesitated when he said of course, unaware that a decade later he would be called upon to do just that. Grant had also revealed that Belinda Eaton had agreed to share guardianship of his children with him. He’d always thought Donna’s younger sister was shy and very pretty, but that had been the extent of his awareness of the young woman who’d been Donna’s maid of honor at his brother’s wedding.
Now standing several feet away wasn’t a shy, pretty girl but a very confident, beautiful woman who always seemed confrontational, something he’d never accept from other women. But he had to remember that Belinda Eaton wasn’t just any woman. She was now the mother and he the father to their twin nieces.
“Yes?”
Belinda held out her hand. “Here are your keys.” He took the keys suspended from a colorful Lucite souvenir from Hershey Park. “I’ll make up the sofa and leave a light on for you.”
Griffin nodded. “Thank you. I’ll lock the door and set the alarm on my way out.”
Belinda was still standing in the middle of the living room when she heard the soft beep that signaled that the alarm was being armed. In another forty-five seconds it would be activated.
Today she’d spent more time with Griffin Rice than she had since planning and rehearsing for her sister’s wedding. Her opinion of him hadn’t changed over the years. She still found him outspoken, brash and a skirt-chaser. What had changed was that she saw for the first time that he truly loved his nieces. His reference to Sabrina and Layla as his daughters really shocked her, and his volunteering to take them to school was a blessing. He’d stepped up to the plate much sooner than she’d expected he would.
Perhaps, she thought as she made her way upstairs to the linen closet, Griffin did have some redeeming qualities after all. What she didn’t want to linger on was how good he looked and smelled. He’d removed his tie and jacket and when she opened the door to find him standing there in just a shirt and trousers she discovered that her pulse beat a little too quickly for her to be unaffected by his presence, and at that moment she knew she was no different than the thousands of other women who lusted after the sports attorney who’d become a celebrity in his own right.
What Belinda had to do was be careful—be very, very careful not to fall victim to his looks and potent charm.
Chapter 3
Belinda woke as daylight filtered through layers of silk panels covering the French doors. Every piece of furniture and all the accessories in her bedroom were in varying shades of white. The absence of color in the bedroom was offset by the calming blue shades in an adjoining sitting/dressing room. Blue-and-white striped cushions on a white chaise, where she spent hours reading and grading papers, and a blue-and-white checked tablecloth on a small table with two pull-up chairs were where she usually enjoyed a late-night cup of coffee and took her breakfast on weekend mornings.
Stretching her arms above her head, she smiled when the sounds of birds singing and chirping to one another shattered the early-morning solitude. It was spring, the clocks were on daylight savings time and she’d spent the winter waiting for longer days and warmer weather after a brutally cold and snowy winter season. Rolling over on her side, she peered at the clock on the bedside table. It was six-thirty—the same time she woke every morning.
She’d just gotten into bed when she heard Griffin come in around midnight. She didn’t know why, but the notion of whether he slept nude, in pajamas or in his underwear made her laugh until she pulled a pillow over her head to muffle the sound. That was her last thought before she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.
Sitting up, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for the wrap on the nearby chair. Today was Thursday and she had a standing appointment with her hairdresser. Wednesdays were set aside for a manicure and pedicure and she planned to ask her nieces if they wanted to accompany her.
The house was quiet as she took the back staircase to the full bathroom on the second floor. Belinda hadn’t wanted to walk past the living room where Griffin slept. Her feet were muffled by the hallway runner as she made her way past the closed doors to Sabrina’s and Layla’s bedrooms. She’d told the girls to set their alarms, because she wasn’t going to be responsible for waking them up. Like Griffin, they also liked to sleep in late. It had to be a Rice trait.
Belinda didn’t linger. Having completed her morning routine, she left the bathroom the way she’d come, encountering the smell of brewing coffee. A knowing smile parted her lips. Griffin was up.
By the time she’d made up her bed, slipped into a pair of faded jeans, T-shirt and brushed her hair, securing it into a ponytail, the sound of footsteps echoed over her head. It was apparent her nieces had gotten up without her assistance. Donna had made it a practice to wake them up and the habit continued with Roberta.
When she and Donna were that age, Roberta had insisted that they set their alarm clocks in order to get up in plenty of time to ready themselves for school. Griffin had accused her