Keeping Secrets

Keeping Secrets

By E. J. Black

Copyright 2014 E. J. Black

Smashwords Edition

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Chapter One

It was cold. It would not have been unusual if she had been anywhere else, but she wasn’t. This is Florida, for God’s sake. It isn’t supposed to be so cold, Danielle thought as she sat behind the wheel of her new Toyota Camry. If she had wanted cold, she would have moved to New York or Chicago. There were more opportunities for her new and struggling business and it was far away from her over protective parents. But she could never stand the cold. It depressed her. She needed a regular dose of sunshine and heat, so she had stayed in Florida surrounded by a mother and father who always stifled her and had not stopped simply because she was grown, married and living on her own.

She looked out at the frost coating her windows and turned the heater up full blast, hoping it would warm her. She shivered as another cold chill raced up her spine and down her arms. It was spring! The time of warmth and rebirth. So why was it so cold and why did she feel as if her hopes and dreams were dying inside of her? It had only been five years. Wasn’t marriage supposed to be for life? At least that’s what she’d thought, what she had dreamed of when she was young and still believed in fairy tales. But life had ended those fairy tales and changed the meaning of forever.

Forever was no longer immeasurable. She could count all of her forevers. They added up to five. That was how long hers and Michael’s forever was: five years. She was sure they’d stood before the preacher, family and friends and promised before God they would love, honor and cherish each other until death parted them. So what happened? No one had died. But somehow something had – her innocence, her youth and her dreams. They had all withered away from lack of attention.

What had Michael lost? She wondered looking over at the dark, quiet house. He had lost nothing. At least he had lost nothing personal. Nothing of himself. How could he lose something he never gambled with or shared? She had lived five years with him and knew nothing more about him than she had before they married. She knew he never put the top back on the toothpaste, never slept in pajamas and loved the color blue. But those were superficial, surface things. They were not the important things that strengthened a relationship. She knew his parents were dead but did not know how they’d died. She knew he spent most of his time at the office, but she didn’t know why he preferred that to spending time with her. She did not know if he really loved her or what he liked when they made love. But that was a moot point since it had been almost a year since they had made love. So yeah, she knew about the man, but she did not know the man. She pulled the collar of her light jacket up around her neck, quickly dashed away the fresh set of tears streaming down her face and thought back to the time when she had first met her husband.

If she had been fresh out of high school, it would have been easy to understand the instant attraction she had felt for Michael Whitfield. But she had not been. In fact, she had been a 24-year-old business major trying hard to make it in the catering business. She’d thought she was a polished, self-assured businesswoman who could not be intimidated by anything or anybody, but she’d been wrong. Michael had intimidated and excited her. Catering a business party at his house had been her second catering job since starting her business one month before. A friend of the family, intent on ensuring her business was a success, had recommended her for the job. Without ever having heard of her or her little startup, - Just Desserts, Michael had agreed to let her feed his family, business partners and associates at a small gathering that was crucial to his continuing success. Based on that alone, she was halfway in love with the man and she had not even met him.

She was a nervous wreck as she dressed for dinner. In her excitement, she’d had to make several attempts to apply her makeup, a task made even more difficult given that she rarely wore the stuff. As she shimmied into a little green number picked out for the occasion, she felt even more nervous wondering if it was a bit much. Cut above the knee with a small slit up the back, it was both provocative and tasteful. The v-cut front showed a hint of cleavage – just enough to tease and tantalize, but not enough to offend. Her long, golden-brown tresses were wound into a neat chignon at the back of her head and she wore small pearl earrings given to her by her father on her 16th birthday. She wore no other jewelry. As she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she saw a confident, self-assured professional who could handle anything, but inside she was a bundle of nerves.

That feeling lasted right up until she walked into the sprawling, two-story ranch house and fell in love with the spacious kitchen with its copper pots hanging from hooks placed strategically over a breakfast nook. The rich, brown carpet was so plush and luxurious it made her want to kick off her shoes and sink her feet down in it. But she resisted the urge and went into the kitchen to oversee the set-up of the buffet, check the servers’ uniforms and make sure the hors d’oeuvres were ready to be circulated.

As she stood with her back turned to the kitchen entryway, she heard his voice. Just the sound of it made her tingle with awareness and yearn for things she couldn’t put a name to.

You must be Danielle Cross.

The rich, sinful timber of his voice glided across her body like a lover’s hand and she fought hard to suppress the shiver it caused in her. She turned slowly toward that voice and caught her breath. The man who stood before her was more man than anyone else she had ever seen. From the top of his full head of black hair to the toes of his Italian shoes, he screamed male. It touched something deep inside of her.

Yes, she said huskily, holding out her hand.

It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Whitfield and thank you so much for taking a chance on me. It means a lot."

How could I not? Reaching out he clasped the hand she’d extended to him. She watched, mesmerized, as her hand disappeared into the warmth of his.

She felt the electricity shoot up her arms and on to other parts of her body. It took all of her willpower not to jerk her hand out of his and run as fast as she could away from danger, away from him. She was so overwhelmed it was a moment before she realized he had continued with the conversation as if he hadn’t felt the electrical currents that were still racing through her body.

It’s not as if I had much choice. When people like Mrs. Vandermire and your mother get together, there’s not much we unsuspecting souls can do but shake our heads in agreement. I’ve found that it’s better to give in early on than to be submitted to continuous phone calls and disguised invitations to dinners just to sample your food.

Why do I find it hard to believe that you could be browbeaten by two little old ladies into agreeing to anything this important? This is business. I get the feeling you would never make a business decision without first knowing everything you needed to know about the individual involved. You would have to make sure that it was the best decision for WHITFIELD’s.

Tilting his head in silent agreement and giving her a look of both approval and mischief, he replied, You are a very observant lady.

Releasing his hand, she turned and took a few steps away from him. She found it exceedingly difficult to think while he was so near. She was also having trouble keeping her eyes off of his muscular body. The black suit he wore hugged his body to perfection and had to have been tailor made for him. Under it, he wore a stark white shirt that brought out his tan. A maroon tie was knotted firmly at his throat to give it all a splash color. A lock of his black hair fell casually across his forehead and it took all of her self-control to keep from reaching up and pushing it back into place.

If she wasn’t careful, she would find herself in this man’s bed so fast she would not remember how she got there. Even now she found herself wanting to beg for his kiss. She needed to know if his lips were as firm as they seemed or if they would be soft and gentle against hers. Would he be a demanding lover or would he treat her with tender concern?

But instead of saying all the things on her mind, she replied, Not really. You’re just well published and I’m well read. You’ve been described as a playboy, humanitarian, wonder boy and ruthless SOB among other things. I’m not sure how much of that is true, but I’m sure you would not have gotten as far as you have by making decisions to placate little old ladies. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to make sure there are no loose ends before your guests arrive.

With that, she made a hasty retreat and managed to avoid him for the rest of the event. Between checking the food, the servers and the bartender, it wasn’t very hard. Most of her time was spent in the kitchen. But when she did escape, she felt his eyes following her around the room. Once or twice she got the courage to look in his direction and was amused to find him standing in the middle of a group immersed in quiet conversation.

Although it would seem to the average onlooker that he was engrossed in the conversation, she could tell his mind was not on what was said. His gaze constantly strayed to where she stood near the kitchen door. She had felt hot and fluttery each time she felt his hungry gaze on her. When the last guest had departed, she breathed a sigh of relief. As the clean-up crew worked to put his house back in order, she packed up her few belongings so she could sneak out undetected.

But as her hand closed around the kitchen door knob, the sound of his voice caused her skin to shiver. I never took you for a coward.

She hesitated before turning around and took several deep breaths to slow down her heartbeat. How could one man have such an effect on her? For 24 years she had managed to avoid the trap of the opposite sex. She had never fallen in love, never given any part of herself to any man. But with just one word, one glance, or one touch she knew she would give herself completely to Michael.