Frost on My Window (13 page)

“It’s not like I’ve been keeping the two of you apart,” I said defensively.

“I know it’s been my schedule, but that’s in the past. I’m ready and willing to take care of the both of you.”

“I don’t know, Sean.”

“Trust me, Leah. Just get on the plane tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Whatever you decide, I’ll be waiting at the airport.”

I picked up my coffee cup with a shaky hand only to discover that it had turned cold and undrinkable. I closed my eyes and sighed, feeling the start of a headache. Just what I needed, a migraine. Right then it seemed like pink icing on the cake of a horrible day.

* * *

I arrived home later that evening to see a furiously blinking red light on the answering machine. I hesitated before pressing down the button: fifteen messages. Half of them were for Rena, the other half were for me.

“Ms. Russell, Steve Hirsch from the
New York Times
. We’d like to do an exclusive on your story. We’re doing an expose on the new trends in interracial dating. We think you and Sean should be our feature story.”

“Ms. Taylor, Vanessa McAdams at
Newsday
. We want to tell your side of the story. Tell us about the harassment. Will there be a lawsuit? Did rapper Nine threaten your life?”

“Ms. Taylor,
Entertainment News
. We’d like to interview you for our upcoming Sunday night segment.”

“Ms. Russell, Karen Adder from
US
magazine. How does it feel to be Sean Andrews’s newest leading lady?”

C
hapter 14

The next morning, I left everything behind as the plane lifted off the ground. It was an escape from thoughts of Rena, telephone calls from the press and excited friends. I was taking my life back. Lance’s face could no longer cause me pain. The boy I fell in love with, the lanky go-getter on the corner, my partner in crime at church, was still alive only in my memories.

I got off the plane in Chicago and made my way to Gate G for the connecting flight to Phoenix. As I sat in O’Hare airport curled up in one of the tight black seats, I watched life pass by pulling carry-ons, holding duffle bags or pushing carts. I was the unseen voyeur watching as couples embraced and families welcomed loved ones from far away.

I turned on my iPod and put the earbuds into my ears. As the smooth sounds of jazz filled my mind the minutes ticked by and the time of my flight came closer. As Simba lay asleep in the mesh covered pet carrier on the seat next to mine, I imagined how I would greet Sean when I got off the plane. What would I say? When the gate attendant announced that they would begin boarding in fifteen minutes, I caught myself laughing at the way pretentious middle-aged business men in cookie-cutter suits herded around the ticket counter to be the first on the plane.

By the time I stepped off the plane in Phoenix, I never wanted to see anyone under the age of twenty again. Three bad kids with an exhausted mother and a stupid father had annoyed half the plane. It had gotten to the point that even the flight attendants were avoiding our section.

Holding tight to Simba’s carry-all, I exited the jetway and entered the terminal. It took me a moment but I spotted Sean leaning against the windows. His sunglasses might have disguised his eyes, and the curly brown wig his hair, but nothing in the world could hide that sexy smile of his.

“Welcome to Phoenix,” he said, taking Simba’s carrier from me.

“Glad to be here,” I replied, surprised at the happiness I felt.

“So how was your trip?” Sean asked as we made our way to the baggage claim area. “I tried to book you into first class but all the seats were taken.”

“That’s okay. I slept most of the way,” I lied.

“That’s good because we have a long ride ahead of us.”

We had to wait only a few minutes for my suitcase to arrive, and by that time Simba had begun to wake up.

Sean placed my suitcase next to a bench outside and said, “Okay, you wait here and I’ll run and get the Jeep.”

I sat on the bench and took a deep breath of the dry air. Unzipping the top of Simba’s pet case, I stuck my hand inside and rubbed his head, hoping that he’d be okay in the car. I looked up a few minutes later to see Sean jumping out of a dust-covered Jeep Wrangler.

“Ready to ride?” He smiled.

Nodding as he picked up the pet case, I followed and jumped up into the open passenger side door. Although the outside of the car was a mess, the inside was spotless.

“Sean, is it okay if I let Simba out?”

“Sure,” he said, sparing me a glance before turning into traffic. “He’s probably dying to get out of that bag.”

I let Simba loose onto the back seat, watching as he proceeded to take up residence on the floorboard. After a few meows, he settled into cleaning himself.

“The flight wasn’t bumpy?” Sean asked.

“No, actually it was pretty smooth,” I answered awkwardly.

“Well, we’ve got a drive ahead so you might want to settle in.”

“Where exactly are we going?”

“My place is about an hour south of here.”

“Oh.” I turned to look out the window at the passing scenery.

“I’m sorry, Leah,” he said. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I know, and I don’t blame you.”

“You should.”

“Oh, don’t go all noble on me,” I bit out, really looking at Sean for the first time. “We both knew this could happen. Just what my mama warned me about. When you start hanging out with the wrong crowd…” My voice trailed off.

Sean glanced at me. “The wrong crowd?”

“You’ll get into trouble.” I chuckled.

“What do your parents have to say about this?”

“Nothing yet, but I expect to get an earful when they get back from vacation.” I grimaced.

“My father asked about you.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Nervous. He’s only got one more month left as a free man.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like he’s going to jail. He’s just getting married.”

“Speaking of marriage,” he turned towards me with a raised eyebrow, “you haven’t returned your RSVP yet.”

“I was going to, but I really don’t think it’d be a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to make people uncomfortable,” I answered vaguely.

“Try again,” Sean said.

“What?”

“That was a bad excuse, Leah. What’s the real reason?”

I shifted a bit in the seat. “I don’t like weddings.”

“It won’t be so bad. They’re having it outdoors in the garden.”

“No, Sean,” I emphasized. “I really don’t like weddings.”

“Because of Lance?”

I opened my mouth to deny it. Instead I sighed, “Yes.”

“Did he hurt you that bad?”

“No. I hurt myself,” I admitted. “I thought he’d wake up and see that I was in love with his sorry behind. I hoped that he’d be able to see behind a pretty face. Either way, I was wrong.”

“You didn’t commit a crime. You just got your heart bruised, that’s all.”

“I know. We’ve talked about this before,” I interjected. “I still don’t like weddings.”

“You can not like wedding all you want. You’re coming to this wedding if I have to drag you there.”

“Why?”

He reached over and brushed his fingers against my cheek. “Because misery loves company and I want you with me, that’s why.”

Remembering the reason for my being in the middle of the desert with the man I could look at for hours just made me want to scream even more.

* * *

I woke from my nap just as the sun was going down. Soft light filtered into the bedroom through the lowered rice paper roll-up shades framed by amber-colored silk drapes. I looked around the bedroom and smiled. No denying that it was a beautiful place in which to wake. The decorator had spared no expense in creating a room that anyone would love. The room spoke of relaxation and peace.

Cool shades of white and tan came together in a soothing design. I just remembered snuggling into the fresh-smelling sheets seconds before sleep claimed me. Now awake and alert, I admired the white sheer canopy that hung from the ceiling, framing the queen-sized bed.

Pushing aside the sheets, I stood up and stretched, rubbing my hands over my arms as the cool dryness of the room sent chills over my skin. It was then that I noticed the silence. It was complete. There wasn’t noise from passing cars or the ever-present sounds of life. No creaks, vibrations, ticking. It was a deep quiet that I had never experienced. It frightened me, yet at the same time filled me with wonder that the world could be so still.

“Come in,” I replied at the soft knock on the door. I turned to see Sean peek in.

“Thought I heard you moving about.”

I blushed. “Guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“You’ve more than earned a long rest. Hungry?” he asked as he leaned against the doorway.

“A little.”

“Good. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“I’m just going to hop in the shower.”

“Don’t rush. You’ve got time.”

“Thank you, Sean.” I looked at him and smiled. In those three words I let him know that all was forgiven and that he had been right. This was what I needed.

“Anytime.” He backed out the room and shut the door behind him, leaving me alone.

I turned and walked over and opened my suitcase. Taking out a pair of slacks and a white cotton blouse as well as undies, I walked into the bathroom and wanted to pinch myself. The light peach-colored room with sand-colored inscribed tiles was a woman’s dream.

A large marble sink stood by itself next to a white painted wood vanity tower. The glass framed shower stood separate from the tub. I walked over and ran my fingers over the edge of the white claw-foot tub. I’d seen bathtubs like that one only in movies or in designer magazines. Its deep polished inside spoke of long soaks with low lights and burning candles.

I smiled, seeing myself with a green oatmeal avocado facemask and hair coved by a towel sitting in the tub with my eyes closed. I moved towards what I guessed was the closet door. I pushed back the sliding door and just stood there with my mouth wide open. On one side each and every shelf was stocked with oils, soaps, gels, shampoo, conditioner, perfume, scrub, and sprays. The other side was filled with different colored towels. After digging though I pulled out a simple green tea-scented shower gel and a large, soft towel.

“So this is how the other half lives,” I murmured.

Sean hadn’t been kidding when he said that this house was a retreat. I shook my head in disbelief. As far as I was concerned, it could have been a resort for the rich and famous. I had spent time at Sean’s place in L.A. but I’d made it a point to never wander. I didn’t want to get used to the luxury. I’d never want to get caught up in the star madness. I’d clung to my simple Philly girl image like a lifeline.

By the time I’d showered and dressed, the sun had almost gone down and the clock chimed that it was eight o’clock. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door. The smell of food made my stomach rumble. As I headed downstairs, I took my time glancing around. Everything in the place seemed to fit. The paintings, the furniture, the rugs. It was as though everything had been created to be in this place, and that made it feel like a home.

The wide windows in the living room brought in the sunset and a beautiful view of the desert mesa. A white ceiling fan whirled gently, stirring the incense-scented air. Underneath the stained overhead beams, I stood by the sofa letting my eyes drift out the glass doors to the desert landscape. Brown and tan with bits of green. My eyes traced the cactus-covered ground and then I looked further out to the mountains. Sean’s backyard emptied into the dry landscape. The only source of color was a barn set catty-corner to the house.

I turned away from the window and followed my nose to the kitchen. Pushing through the swinging door, I stepped into what could have doubled for a Williams Sonoma print ad. Gray commercial-sized anodized pots and pans hung from strategically placed hooks over the stove and shiny gourmet appliances sat neatly on the countertops. Sean stood by the electric grill.

I leaned against the island countertop and let out an appreciative whistle. “This is a pretty serious kitchen, my friend. I’m impressed.”

Sean turned and smiled. “Believe it or not I’m a pretty serious cook.”

“You cook, sing, and paint. You have the makings of the perfect man. Better watch out or you’ll have every man in America trying to take you down,” I teased.

“And why would they want to do that?” He turned over the salmon.

“Let me clue you in on something, my very naïve superstar. Right now it’s only the single women that chase after you while the married women dream about being single and dating you. If the press got wind of your culinary skills, married women everywhere would have another skill to nag their husbands about.”

Sean let out a bark of laughter before turning around and checking on the food. “You should have been a comedian, Leah. Your talents are being wasted.”

“True. But I don’t have the patience for show business. I’ll leave that to you. So what’s cooking and how can I help?”

“We’re having salmon tonight with sautéed garlic spinach and baked red potatoes. For dessert, I’ve got spiced apple tarts warming in the oven.”

“Please don’t tell me you bake, too.” That would be too good to be true.

“I could lie,” he answered. “But I’m not a baking kind of guy. These tarts came with simple directions. Remove from box and place in oven.”

I heaved a sigh of relief and walked towards Sean. I stopped next to him and noticed, not for the first time, how wonderful he smelled. “So what can I do?”

“Hmmm, how about you pick out a wine for dinner?”

“Isn’t that a man’s job?”

“Not tonight. The rack’s over there.”

“Can you at least give me some selection criteria? I’m not a wine connoisseur.”

“Pick a red.”

Okay, I mused, this ought to be easy. That was my thought until I opened the door he had pointed to and walked into a small wall-to-wall bottle-filled wine closet.

“You have got to be kidding,” I shouted.

“You can do it.”

My eyes glazed over at the sheer number of bottles. “Sean, no one needs this much wine.”

I jumped when I heard his voice so close to me. “It’s not for quantity, Leah. It’s for selection,” he said.

I turned and playfully punched him on the shoulder. “You just took a year off my life. Could you make some more noise next time?”

“I’ll try.”

“I can’t pick a wine.”

“Close your eyes and chose one.”

“Why can’t you do this? You’re the one with the collection.” I pointed my finger at him.

He leaned in closer. “I’ve a secret.”

“What?”

“I didn’t buy any of this, someone else did.”

“So you don’t know what to get either…” I smiled.

“You’re wounding my pride right now.”

“I won’t tell a soul.” I wandered towards the back wall and pulled out what I hope was a good bottle.

“Pinot Noir 1988. This has to be a good year,” I proclaimed.

“Why’s that?” Sean asked as we returned to the kitchen.

“That was the year I got straight A’s on my report card, and Rena and I got our braces taken off.”

“You had braces?”

“All of us aren’t born blessed with perfect teeth.”

“I had to wear a retainer for three years,” he replied off handedly.

My defensiveness vanished as I stared at Sean. He never ceased to amaze me. He smiled and picked up a serving plate and walked through the open doorway that led to the living room. The square hardwood table was set for two. Picking up the wine bottle and salad bowl, I followed Sean out of the kitchen. A dark-colored chandelier with candle-shaped lights hung from the ceiling, illuminating the room with a soft glow.