Bittersweet Love. Rochelle Alers
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students to whom she taught American history.
“What are you doing here?” Belinda asked, her voice a breathless whisper.
Leaning against the doorframe, Griffin stared at the rise and fall of her breasts under the cotton fabric. He swallowed a groan when a part of his body reacted involuntarily to the wanton display of skin.
“I came to see if the…my daughters are okay.”
Belinda was surprised to hear Griffin refer to his nieces as his daughters. It was apparent he intended to take surrogate parenting seriously. “Of course they’re okay, Griffin. If you hadn’t run off you would’ve known that.”
Griffin straightened. “I had a prior engagement.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Call it what it is.”
“And that is?”
“You had a date, Griffin.”
A slow, sexy smile found its way over Griffin’s face. “Do I detect a modicum of jealousy, Eaton?”
“Surely you jest, Rice. Let me assure you I’m not attracted to you, and there’s nothing about you that I find even remotely appealing.”
Griffin brushed past her, walking into the entryway. “Sheath your claws, Belinda. What you should do is channel your frustration in an anger management seminar because we’re going to have to deal with each other until the girls celebrate their twenty-third birthday. You don’t like me and I have to admit that you’re certainly not at the top of the list for what I want in a woman.”
Belinda affected a brittle smile. “At least we can agree on one thing.”
“And that is?” he asked, lifting his expressive eyebrows.
“We won’t interfere in each other’s love lives.”
“You’re seeing someone?”
“Does that surprise you, Griffin?” she asked, answering his question with one of her own.
Belinda’s revelation that she was involved with a man came as a shock to Griffin. He never saw her with a man, so he’d assumed that she spent her nights at home—alone. “I hope you’re not going to schedule sleep-overs with your man now that the girls are living with you. It wouldn’t set a good example—”
“He’ll only come when the girls stay at your place,” she interrupted.
Griffin didn’t know where he’d gotten the notion that Belinda wasn’t seeing anyone. Although he would never admit to her that he was attracted to her in that way, it didn’t mean that other men weren’t. Earlier, he’d sat watching Jonathan Connelly unable to take his eyes off her. And Griffin didn’t blame the man because Belinda Eaton was stunning.
If she hadn’t been so unapproachable he would’ve considered asking her out. Even when they’d come together as best man and maid of honor for the wedding of their respective siblings, he’d thought her shy and reticent. But then he hadn’t expected more from a nineteen-year-old college student who’d lived on campus her first semester, then without warning moved back home, driving more than thirty miles each day to attend classes. When asked why she’d opted not to stay on campus, her response was as enigmatic as the woman she’d become.
Griffin remembered why he’d come to Belinda’s house. “May I see the girls?”
“I’m sorry. They’ve already gone to bed.”
He glanced at the clock on the table filled with potted plants. “It’s only nine-fifteen. Isn’t that a little early?”
“No, it isn’t, Griffin. My mother had a problem with getting them up on school days, so I’ve instituted a nine o’clock curfew Sunday through Thursday and eleven on Fridays and Saturdays.”
“That sounds a little strict, Belinda.”
“Children need structure.”
“Structure is one thing and being on lockdown is another.”
Belinda walked around Griffin and opened the door wider. “I don’t want to be rude, but you really need to go home, Griffin. I’m going to be up late grading papers, and hopefully I’ll be able to get a few hours of sleep before I have to get up earlier than usual to drive the girls to school. I need to stop in the school office to update their emergency contact numbers and bus route.”
After seeing that Layla and Sabrina had completed their homework, she’d eaten leftovers, applied a facial masque and sat in a tub of warm water waiting for it to set. By the time she’d emerged from the bathroom the girls had come to kiss her good-night. They’d gone to bed, while she would probably be up well past midnight.
Griffin heard something in Belinda’s voice that he’d never recognized before: defeat. Although they shared custody of their nieces, it was Belinda who’d assumed most of the responsibility for caring for them five of the seven days a week. And for the weeks when he had to travel on business, it would be the entire week.
“What time do your classes begin?”
“Eight. But I have a sub filling in for me.”
Griffin knew he had to help Belinda or she would find herself in over her head. It was one thing to raise a child from infancy and another thing completely when you found yourself having to deal with not one but two teenagers with very strong personalities.
“Let me help you out.”
Belinda stared at the man standing in her entryway as if he were a stranger. “You want to help me.”
Slipping his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers, Griffin angled his head. “Yes. I’ll take the girls to school and take care of the paperwork. That way you don’t have to have to miss your classes.”
“It’s too late to cancel the substitute.”
Attractive lines fanned out around his eyes when he gave her a warm smile. “Use the extra time to sleep in late.”
His smile was contagious as Belinda returned it with one of her own. “It sounds good, but I still have to get up and prepare breakfast.”
“Can’t they get breakfast at school?”
“Donna wouldn’t let them eat school breakfast because they weren’t eating enough fiber.”
“I’ll fix breakfast for them,” Griffin volunteered.
“It can’t be fast food.”
He winked at her. “I didn’t know you were a comedian. Why would I give them a fast-food breakfast when it has a higher caloric content and more preservatives than some cafeteria food? I’ll cook breakfast for them.”
Belinda hesitated, processing what she’d just heard. “You’re going to come here from Paoli tomorrow morning in time to make breakfast and take the girls to school?” The ongoing family joke was that Griffin Rice would be late for his own funeral.
“Yes.”
Belinda waved a hand. “Forget it, Griffin. I’ll get up and make breakfast and take them to school.”
“You doubt whether I’ll be here on time?”
She leaned closer. “I know you won’t make it.”
The warmth and the subtle scent of lavender on Belinda’s bared flesh wafted in Griffin’s nostrils, making him more than aware of her blatant femininity. For years he’d told himself that he didn’t like his sister-in-law because she was a snob—that her attitude was that she was too good for him because she came from a more prestigious family.
But in the past four months he saw another side of Belinda Eaton that hadn’t been apparent in the dozen years since they first met. Not only was she generous, but also selfless in her attempt to become a surrogate mother for her sister’s children. She had reconfigured the design of her house to accommodate