Taken by Storm - Rochelle Alers

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to push him away. She wanted to tell him that he was wrong because there was no us. "Are you finished shopping?" she asked instead.

      Her protector's idea of grocery shopping was going to a supermarket warehouse. She'd given him the directions to a Sam's Club in nearby Elmsford, where he'd filled a shopping cart with fresh fruit and vegetables, peanut butter, meat, fish, poultry and dairy products. When they'd gone down the cereal aisle he'd selected the largest box of Froot Loops available.

      "I need to pick up some milk, then we can leave."

      Two young women, both with toddlers seated in the front of their shopping carts, slowed, turned and stared openly at Rafe. His hair had dried and flowed down around his strong neck like sun-streaked wheat. Lifting their eyebrows in approval, they shared knowing glances. Without warning, their smiles faded when they noticed Simone standing a short distance away.

      "Do you think he's here with that?" one whispered.

      "Yes, he is," Simone spat out recklessly. Both women blushed noticeably with her comeback. Under another set of circumstances, she wouldn't have said anything, but it was the first time someone referred to her as if she were an inanimate object.

      Rafe turned when he heard Simone's voice. "Is something wrong?"

      "No, darling. I'm good." Her smile was as sweet as the words dripping facetiously off her tongue. The women raced down the aisle as if in a timed supermarket shopping competition.

      Rafe placed a gallon of milk into his cart. "What was that all about?" he asked Simone.

      Tucking a wayward curl behind her left ear, she affected an expression of unadulterated innocence. "What are you talking about?" She'd answered his question with one of her own.

      Rafe studied the large hazel eyes staring up at him, enthralled by what he saw. "Do you make it a habit of talking to strangers?"

      "No."

      "Do you know those women?"

      "No," she repeated. "And they don't want to know me. I hope you're ready to leave because I have to take care of some paperwork."

      Eyes narrowing suspiciously, Rafe knew something had gone down between Simone and at least one of the women, but it was apparent she'd defused whatever it was before it got out of control. What he didn't want was for her to draw attention to herself before she was to appear in court. Once the trial began, the proceedings were certain to draw a lot of media attention.

      Simone sharing her home with him was nothing compared to how her life would change, not only drastically, but also dramatically, the moment he escorted her into the courthouse. The government's lead attorney had begun building a case against Ian Benton, while taking the necessary steps not to leak the name of their witness until the trial.

      Half an hour later, Rafe maneuvered into the driveway of Simone's home. When she'd shown him around the outside of the house, he hadn't known what to expect. It certainly wasn't the enclosed back porch that was perfect for a gathering at any time of the year. The space was filled with wicker furnishings and a natural-fiber rug that set the tone for a gardenlike romantic setting. There were an assortment of floral and red-and-white striped throw pillows, vases of fresh flowers, potted plants and dwarf lemon trees.

      She'd added an expansive deck that led from the back porch out to a distance half the length of a football field on which sat a Victorian-style gazebo with a cozy settee, white wicker chairs, a small round table and flowering plants positioned on a periwinkle-blue and white rug. A gas grill, picnic table and chairs were protected from the weather by custom-made, heavy-gauge waterproof fabric. He hadn't been able to conceal his surprise when seeing the hot tub with a maintenance-free redwood cabinet.

      Two large, barnlike greenhouses, the life's blood of Wildflowers and Other Treasures, were erected on the southeast end of the three-acre property. The structures were clearly visible from his bedroom window, not that he planned to let Simone work there alone. He intended to stick as close to her as a permanent tattoo.

      Shutting off the engine, Rafe reached over and caught Simone's wrist. "You're not to get out of the car or go into the house until I give you an all-clear signal. And please don't ever leave the house without me."

      "Rather than checking in with you, I'll give you a printout of my schedule for the next two weeks," she volunteered. Simone knew she had to go along with whatever Rafe proposed or he was certain to make her day-to-day existence a living hell.

      Smiling, he nodded. "That'll do."

      She resisted the urge to salute him. "I'm glad you approve."

      Rafe stared out the windshield. "It's not about you getting my approval, Simone. It's about making my job and your life less stressful."

      "That's not going to happen until Ian Benton's locked up for the rest of his life."

      "Let's hope that's sooner than later. And another thing—" His words trailed off.

      "What is it, Rafe?"

      His head swung around and his indigo-hued eyes bore into her. "Don't call me darling unless you mean it."

      "And don't you flatter yourself, Raphael Madison," she countered as he opened the door and stepped out of the truck. Smiling broadly, he winked at her over his shoulder seconds before he closed and locked the SUV with a remote device.

      Arrogant pig! Simone fumed silently. She hadn't meant to call him darling, but once the endearment slipped from her lips she hadn't been able to retract it. Slumping against the leather seat, she grunted softly. There was no way Rafe would ever become close to what she considered her darling.

      Chapter 3

      "I'll put the groceries away," Rafe told Simone in a no-nonsense tone while at the same time giving her a don't-challenge-me look. He'd unloaded the government-issued Yukon Denali.

      What Rafe did not know was that Simone didn't want to challenge him or anyone. During the ride back from Elmsford, all of her spirited spunk had dissipated. Although the images were still as vivid as they'd been hours before, she hadn't wanted to believe what she'd become involved in. She knew she was in denial, because like so many who lived in suburban neighborhoods, she believed crimes like this don't happen here. Not only had she witnessed a heinous assault, but she was also drawn into circumstances not of her choosing.

      In a moment of weakness she wanted to tell Rafe to drive her to Mount Vernon, but then remembered that her parents were in Bermuda, celebrating their wedding anniversary. She needed their reassurance that she would cope with this crisis as she had when the man with whom she'd fallen in love and married turned out not to be who she'd wanted him to be. The only difference was it wouldn't take sixteen years to resolve the case of U.S. v. Ian Benton.

      "I'm going to print out my schedule for the next two weeks before I go upstairs and lie down," she told Rafe.

      "Are you all right?"

      Simone gave him an incredulous look. Of course she wasn't all right. Would he be all right if he'd seen someone nearly get murdered? "Yes," she said instead, walking in the direction of her office.

      What she didn't want or need was his sympathy or pity, because she'd lost count of the poor Simones or isn't it too bad she wasted her life with a man who was so wrong for her when her marriage fell apart. A few times she had to tell off a few folks when they spoke as if her life were over and that she would never find another man. She would celebrate her thirty-fourth birthday in September and she certainly wasn't too old to remarry or have children.

      Fifteen minutes later, Simone had entered her schedule from the planner to the PDA, downloaded it into her computer and printed a hard copy for Rafe.

      "Do you need help?" she asked, strolling into the kitchen.

      Rafe glanced over his shoulder at Simone as he dried his hands on a paper towel. "No, thanks. I think I have everything under control."

      Closing the distance between them, Simone placed her schedule on the countertop. "That's my schedule for the next two weeks."

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