Bittersweet Love

“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 of being rigid, while she thought of it as preparation for the future. No one would be coming to their homes to wake them up so they could make it to work on time.

Belinda walked into the kitchen to find Griffin transferring buckwheat pancakes from the stovetop grill onto a platter. The white T-shirt and jeans riding low on his slim hips made her breath catch in her throat. Her gaze was drawn to the muscles in his biceps that flexed with every motion. She regarded Griffin as a skirt-chaser, but after seeing him moving around her kitchen as if he’d done it countless times she realized he would be a good catch for some woman—provided he would be faithful to her.

“Good morning.”

Griffin glanced up, smiling. “Well, good morning to you, too.”

Belinda walked into the kitchen and sat on a high stool at the cooking island. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

He winked at her. “That’s because you don’t know me.”

She decided not to respond to his declaration. “How’s your back?” Belinda asked instead.

“Good. Remember when you banish your man to the couch that it’s not going to be much of a punishment.”

“When I have to put a man out of my bed he won’t end up on the couch but on the sidewalk.” She’d stressed the last word.

Griffin grimaced. “Ouch!”

Belinda slipped off the stool. “Do you want me to help you with anything?”

“I stopped at a twenty-four-hour green grocer and bought some fruit. I put it in the refrigerator, but if you prepare it for me I’d really appreciate it.”

Working side by side, Belinda washed and cut melon, strawberries and pineapple into small pieces for a fresh fruit salad while Griffin finished making pancakes. When Sabrina and Layla came downstairs, dressed in their school uniforms—white blouse, gray pleated skirt and gray blazer and knee socks—the kitchen was redolent with different flavors of fruit, freshly squeezed orange juice, pancakes and coffee for Belinda and Griffin. There was only the sound of a newscaster’s voice coming from the radio on a countertop as the four ate breakfast.

“I have an appointment for my hair this afternoon,” Belinda said, breaking the comfortable silence. She looked at Sabrina, then Layla. “Who would like to go with me?”

“I do,” Sabrina said.

“Me, too,” Layla chimed in.

“I’ll pick you up from school, and we’ll go directly from there to the salon. Make certain you bring your books so you can do your homework while under the dryer. Thursday is girls’ night out, so let me know where you’d like to eat.”

Belinda’s last class would end at two and the twins weren’t dismissed until three. The half-hour drive would afford her more than enough time to pick them up. However, if she ran into traffic, then she could call her mother to have her meet them. Layla peered over her glass at her uncle. “Even though it’s for girls, can Uncle Griff eat with us?”

Belinda stared at Griffin, silently admiring his close-cropped hair and the smoothness of his clean-shaven jaw. Mixed feelings surged through her as she tried to read the man sitting in her kitchen who continued to show her that there was more to Griffin Rice than photo ops with pro athletes, A-list actors and entertainment celebrities. His success in negotiating multimillion-dollar contracts for athletes was noteworthy, while his reputation for dating supermodels and actresses was legendary. A tabloid ran a story documenting the names of the women and a time line of his numerous relationships—most of which averaged six to nine months.

“I can’t answer for him, Layla.”

She smiled at her uncle. “Can you eat with us, Uncle Griff?”

Dropping an arm over Layla’s shoulders, Griffin kissed her mussed hair. “I can’t, baby girl. I’m going to see my folks before they leave on vacation.”

In their shared grief over losing their firstborn, his parents had become at sixty what they hadn’t been in their twenties—friends. Now they were embarking on a month-long European cruise they’d always planned to take for their fortieth wedding anniversary. Lucas and Gloria Rice’s marriage hadn’t survived two decades. However, both were older, wiser and sensible enough to know they couldn’t change the past, so were willing to make the best of the present.

“When are Grandma and Grandpa coming back?” Sabrina asked.

“They won’t be back until the beginning of May.” Griffin stared at the clock on the microwave.

Layla wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Are you going to fix breakfast for us tomorrow, Uncle Griff?”

“Your aunt and I agreed you would spend the weekends with me, and that means I’ll make breakfast for you Saturday and Sunday mornings.”