LITMIR.BIZ

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Griffin said, “I guess ours will keep.”

      “No doubt,” Belinda crooned, playing along with him.

      Roberta caught the surreptitious exchange between her daughter and Griffin. “What did you bring?”

      “Carrot cake.”

      “From where, Griffin?”

      “Ms. Tootsie’s Soul Food Cafe.”

      “Bertie, stop playing,” Dwight Eaton called out with his approach. “You know you love Ms. Tootsie’s carrot cake. But then again, any dessert from Ms. Tootsie’s isn’t as good as yours,” he added quickly, always the diplomat.

      Belinda gave her father a wide grin. He always said the right thing. Dr. Dwight Eaton was only a couple of inches taller than his wife, but what he lacked in height he compensated for with wit and personality. His patients loved him as much for his medical expertise as his gentle bedside manner. His dark brown face was smooth, except for a few lines around his equally dark eyes behind a pair of rimless glasses.

      “How are you, Lindy?”

      “Wonderful, Daddy.”

      Dwight smiled at Griffin. “Are you taking good care of my girls?”

      “I’m doing the best I can, sir.”

      The older man waved a hand. “Please, Griffin, none of that ‘sir’ business. Don’t forget you’re family.”

      Voices raised in excitement preceded a streak of dark fur running across the living room. Roberta caught a puppy—Belinda still couldn’t distinguish whether he was Nigel or Cecil because their markings were identical—and Griffin put the runaway puppy into the crate, while she went to retrieve the cake from his SUV.

      * * *

      A quarter of an hour later, everyone sat down at the dining room table to enjoy a traditional Southern dinner of macaroni and cheese, smothered pork chops, collard greens, buttery corn bread and sweet tea.

      Sabrina and Layla talked nonstop about school, the students who rode the bus with them on their new route and the research they’d gathered from the internet on Yorkies. It was the first Sunday dinner since the death of their parents that the sisters were animated and their mood ebullient. Both decided to forego dessert to play with the whining, yipping puppies that were anxious to be released from their confinement.

      Griffin, at Belinda’s urging, said their goodbyes at six to return home and prepare for the upcoming week. When Belinda retired for bed later that night her thoughts were of Griffin—how she’d come to look forward to seeing him, sharing meals and the responsibility of raising their nieces.

      * * *

      Belinda stared at her reflection in the mirror, not recognizing the image. It wasn’t so much that her face had changed but the woman to whom the face belonged—she had changed.

      She never would’ve imagined four months ago, or even four weeks ago that she would’ve accepted Griffin Rice’s request to step into the role as his hostess. She’d rehearsed for the part by making his house appear lived in. With the exception of his home office, every room in the large colonial was picture perfect, as if each piece of furniture and objet d’art had been selected and positioned for a magazine layout.

      Griffin admitted to hiring a design firm to decorate his house in a style reminiscent of grand Caribbean plantation homes erected during the British colonial period. Dark, heavy mahogany four-poster beds with posts engraved with decorative pineapples, leaves and vines, tables with curving legs, highboys, armoires, secretaries, settees, wall mirrors and chests of drawers transported you back to an era of ruling-class elegance whose enormous wealth was derived from slaves, sugar and rum.

      It’d taken her less than a day to transform the house into a home with large green plants in glazed hand-painted vases, fresh flowers and dozens of pillars, votives and tea lights in decorative holders. The gathering was small, with a confirmed guest list of fourteen. A caterer and bartender arrived an hour before the first guests were scheduled to arrive.

      For the first time in a week, anticipation at meeting their sports idol shifted Layla’s and Sabrina’s attention from their pets to the party. Much to Belinda’s surprise, the girls kept their promise to take care of the puppies. They set their clocks to rise earlier than usual to clean the cage and put out food and clean water for Cecil and Nigel before readying themselves for school. Playing with the puppies had become a priority. As soon as they came home after school the cage was opened and each puppy bounded out to pounce on its respective owner.

      She’d continued to call the Yorkies by the wrong name until Griffin pointed out that Nigel had a tiny tan spot on the tip of his tail. The dilemma of transporting the puppies and their supplies between households was eliminated when Griffin bought a cage large enough to accommodate both pups and purchased an ample supply of wee-wee pads, food, treats and chew toys to have on hand in Paoli.

      Peering closer in the mirror, she checked her makeup for the last time, pleased with the results. Eye shadow, which she rarely wore, and vibrant vermilion lipstick highlighted her eyes and lips. And, because the get-together was casual, Belinda had chosen a pair of black stretch cuffed capris, a long-sleeved, off-the-shoulder fitted top and added an additional three inches to her five-six height with peep-toe pumps.

      She left the bedroom and walked down the hallway to the staircase, shiny curls bouncing around her head and face with each step. After a week of painstakingly brushing her hair each night to keep the strands smooth, she’d gone back to her curly hairstyle.

      Her steps slowed as she looked down to find Griffin waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase. Belinda smiled. She and Griffin were dressed alike. He was wearing a black pullover, slacks and slip-ons. The recessed light glinted off his close-cropped black hair.

      Griffin extended his hand, helping Belinda as she stepped off the last step. His gaze lingered on the curls framing her round face, then moved lower to her full mouth outlined in a shimmering, sexy red shade. However, it was her eyes, the lids darkened, lashes spiked and lengthened by mascara that held him enthralled. Expertly applied makeup had served to highlight and accentuate Belinda Eaton’s natural beauty.

      He hadn’t lied to Belinda when he told her that he’d dated his share of women, although he was very discriminating with whom he slept. But none of them could match her natural beauty.

      “You look so incredibly beautiful.” The sincerity in his compliment was evident.

      Lowering her gaze, Belinda glanced up at him through her lashes. “Thank you.”

      He angled his head and pressed a kiss to her ear. “You’re welcome.” He didn’t think he would ever get used to her smell. It was an aphrodisiac he was helpless to resist.

      It’d taken Griffin only two weeks to come to the realization that he did like his nieces’ surrogate mother, that he’d changed his opinion of her and he wanted to get closer to the intelligent, intriguing woman who unknowingly made him forget all the others.

      Increasing his protective hold, he tucked her hand into the bend of his elbow and led her across the living room. Recorded music floated from concealed speakers throughout the first floor. An outdoor fireplace provided additional warmth for those who wanted to dine or sit outdoors.

      “I asked Keith to get here earlier than the others. That way Sabrina and Layla can talk to him one on one.”

      Belinda smiled. “I’m willing to bet they’ll do more gawking than talking.”

      “You’re probably right.” Reaching into a pocket of his slacks, he took out an ultra-thin digital camera. “Evidence,” he drawled, grinning. “I’m certain they’re going to want to prove to their friends that they do know Keith Ennis.”

      “I hope it doesn’t backfire on them.”

      Griffin’s expression mirrored confusion. “Why would you say that?”

      “If they tell everyone their

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