Long Time Coming

“Dress casually and wear comfortable shoes.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see when you get there,” Micah said cryptically.

“I don’t like surprises, Micah.”

“This one I’m certain you’ll like….” His voice trailed off. “I’m going to have to take this call, Tessa. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tessa held the receiver to her ear until she heard a programmed voice telling her to either hang up or try her call again. She hung up, wondering what it was Micah wanted her to see.

She couldn’t begin to think of the possibilities, so she decided to concentrate on the laundry list of things she had to do: glue crystal beads and faux pearls to the bodice of a sample gown she’d designed in her spare time, put up several loads of laundry and go through her closets to take out winter clothes and put away her summer wardrobe. The leaves on the trees lining the streets had begun changing color, a blatant indicator that the summer was over.

Tessa walked down the steps at ten on Sunday morning, cradling a large envelope in one hand, at the same time Micah drove up in a low-slung, two-seater BMW convertible Roadster in a subtle charcoal gray. A hint of a smile softened her mouth. He’d just gotten another gold star: he was on time.

He waved to her as he got out of the car. A pair of jeans, an off-white cable-knit pullover sweater and running shoes had replaced his tailored suit and imported footwear. Her smile widened when she noticed the well-worn New York Yankees cap on his head. Her smile faded as quickly as it’d come. Micah hadn’t shaved, and the stubble on his jaw enhanced his overt maleness.

Recovering quickly and holding her arms out at the sides, she spun around. “Is this causal enough for you?”

What Micah hadn’t been able to see in the dark was now blatantly on display for his viewing pleasure. His midnight gaze moved slowly over the curly hair Tessa had brushed off her face and secured in a twist on the nape of her neck, down to her face with a subtle application of makeup that highlighted her gold-flecked eyes, high cheekbones with a light sprinkle of freckles and a lush mouth outlined in a soft rose-pink shade. A single strand of pearls matched the studs in her pierced ears.

He stared at her lush, compact body in an apricot-pink cashmere tank top with a matching cardigan, brown body-hugging stretch slacks and matching suede slip-ons. Even her brown pony-and-calfskin leather shoulder bag complemented her elegant sense of style. The epitome of casual-chic, she looked as if she’d stepped off the pages of Town and Country.

What she wore wasn’t casual enough for what he’d planned for them, but he couldn’t tell her that. “You look beautiful.”

Caught off guard by the vibrancy of Micah’s voice, the tenderness in his eyes, Tessa was helpless to stop a rush of heat darkening her face. She lowered her gaze in a demure gesture. “Thank you.”

Micah winked at her. “Don’t thank me, Tessa. I had nothing to do with the way you look.” Cupping her elbow, he helped her into the car, closed the door and got in beside her. Pressing a button, he raised the convertible top, shifted into gear and maneuvered through the quiet Brooklyn neighborhood as the soothing sounds of jazz filled the racy sports car.

He took a quick glance at Tessa as she pressed her head to the leather headrest and closed her eyes. “Do you want me to put on a different CD?”

Tessa recognized the melodious horn of Wynton Marsalis playing a bluesy piece perfect for a nightclub setting. “No, please don’t. It’s nice.” The music was nice, Micah’s car was nice and he looked and smelled very nice.

Stopping at a red light, Micah reached for a pair of sunglasses off the console and slipped them on against the brilliant autumn sun. “Do you like jazz?”

She smiled. “I love it.”

“Cool or hot jazz?”

Tessa opened her eyes and stared through the windshield. “Both. I grew up listening to my father and uncles playing Coltrane, Miles Davis, Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Art Tatum, Thelonious Monk and, of course, the incomparable Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday and Abbey Lincoln.”

“What about hip-hop?”

“It depends on the artist. I prefer R & B to hip-hop.” Shifting on her seat, she stared at Micah’s distinctive profile. She preferred him dressed down because he appeared less intimidating. “Why did you ask?”

“I’ve been thinking about places where we could go for dinner and I’m leaning toward one that features live music. If you have a favorite place or are partial to a particular cuisine, then let me know.”

“I’ll let you pick the place.”

She didn’t want to give him the names of places where she’d eaten with the men in her past—Bryce Hill in particular. Once she’d ended her relationship with Bryce she’d promised herself that she would never look back.

Micah gave Tessa a quick glance behind his dark lenses. “I’ll pick the place and you can let me know when you’re going to be available.”

“I’m free this coming Saturday and Sunday.”

He took his hand off the gearshift, leaned over, opened the glove compartment and handed Tessa a PDA. “Please check and see what I have for next weekend.”

She scrolled through his calendar filled with entries of meetings and reminders. “You’ve blocked out Saturday.”

“What does it say?”

“‘Check heating system.’”

He smothered a groan. He’d forgotten about his upstate vacation home. He hadn’t gone up this past summer because he hadn’t had the time with moving to Staten Island and settling into his new position with the Brooklyn D.A.’s office.

He didn’t want to put off having dinner with Tessa any longer than necessary because, as a new prosecutor, his hours were slated to change from days to nights, and with most weddings taking place on weekends he wasn’t certain about her timetable. Perhaps, he mused, he could check on the house and have dinner with her.

“How would you like to go apple picking next Saturday?”

Tessa shot him a confused look. “Which one is it, Micah? Are we going apple picking or out to dinner?”

“We can do both. I have a place upstate, and across the road is an apple orchard where you can pick whatever variety you want. We can pick apples, I’ll winterize the house and then we’ll go out to dinner. But if we eat up there, then it’s not going to be fancy.”

“Is the food good?”

Giving her a quick glance, Micah smiled. “It’s very good.”

Her smile matched his. “That sounds like a plan to me.”

Micah covered her left hand with his right, bringing both to rest on the gearshift. He continued to hold her hand as he shifted gears. They lost track of time when they talked about the evolution of music from the early days of blues and jazz to the advent of pop, rock and roll, R & B and soul and the sampling and crossover of artists to different genres.

He was so engrossed in their conversation and the sensual pull of the woman sitting inches away that he hadn’t noticed he was in Bergen County until he saw the signs indicating the number of miles to Franklin Lakes. The landscape had changed, along with the size of the homes.

Tessa eased her hand from the protective warmth of Micah’s when they entered the city limits for Franklin Lakes. Judging from the number of gated properties, there was no doubt he’d grown up in a privileged environment.

He maneuvered off a local road and onto a private path with four mailboxes bearing the names of homeowners at the bottom of a steep hill. She peered through the copse of towering trees lining both sides of the unpaved path like sentinels on guard duty and filtering out the sun’s rays.

“You grew up in the woods.”

A soft chuckle rumbled in Micah’s chest. “It’s not the woods.”

Resting a hand on her hip, Tessa gave him a look that dared him to refute her. “Anytime trees grow high enough to block out sunlight, then it’s the woods.”

“Okay, you win. It’s the woods.”

Her delicate jaw dropped. “I don’t believe it!”

“What don’t you believe?” he asked.