Taken by Storm (Arabesque)

Author:Alers, Rochelle [Alers, Rochelle]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Kimani Press Arabesque
Published: 2008-07-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Simone recognized Abram and William Sanborn’s SUV and minivan parked near the garages as she and Rafe approached the house. “Micah’s brothers are here.” There was a slight tremor in her voice. She’d wanted to get to the house before they’d arrived.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Rafe asked when he reached for her trembling hand.

She gave him a bright smile. “Of course I’m all right. Let’s go in.”

They walked into the smaller of the two kitchens where the Sanborns had gathered. Simone’s gaze shifted from her sister, sitting on a high stool at the countertop sipping coffee, to Micah, handing his mother a mug, and then to Bridget, who massaged her husband’s back as he sat at a table, cradling his head in his hands.

“Oh, there you are, Simone,” Rosalind announced when she saw her future daughter-in-law’s sister.

Simone went completely still when she saw countless pairs of eyes staring at her and Rafe. She smiled at Micah’s mother. A retired family court judge, the mother of four and doting grandmother of four, Rosalind Sanborn was blessed with a smooth, flawless peaches and cream complexion and brilliant topaz-blue eyes. The sixty-something matriarch was not only elegant, but unabashedly stylish.

“We went out for a walk.” She chided herself for sounding like a child who was expected to explain her whereabouts.

Setting down her cup, Rosalind walked over to Simone. “I wanted to wait so you could introduce your young man to everyone. And I also want to thank you for the champagne. We’ll be certain to open it for a special family occasion.” Her husband had discovered the case of premium wine in the entryway with a tag reading: From Simone and Rafe.

Looping her arm through Rafe’s, Simone met his amused stare. “This is my very good friend, Rafe Madison. Rafe, this is Micah’s mother, Rosalind. The man wearing the Kiss The Cook apron is Edgar Sanborn, and his grandsons Jacob and Isaac are wearing Cook In Training aprons. The twins belong to William and Melinda.” William nodded, while Melinda stared slack-jawed at Rafe.

Rafe nodded to Rosalind, then offered his hand to Edgar. “Thank you for offering your home.”

Edgar Sanborn, who’d left the bench to teach law courses at Princeton, bore an uncanny resemblance to the late leading man Clark Gable. He patted Rafe’s shoulder. “As Simone’s friend, you’re always welcome in our home.”

Redheaded Melinda Sanborn stepped forward, her clear brown eyes sparkling like newly minted copper pennies, and extended her hand. “Hello, Rafe. Please call me Lindy.”

All gazes were fixed on Melinda, whose flushed face was only a shade lighter than her dark red hair. William Sanborn cut his eyes at his wife. It didn’t take a genius to discern that the mother of his children was gushing over Simone’s boyfriend like a starstruck adolescent. He forced a polite smile. “How’s it going, Rafe?”

“It’s all good, William.”

“I’m Isaac and this is my brother Jacob. We’re going to be eleven tomorrow,” William and Melinda’s sons announced proudly.

“I’m older than he is,” Jacob stated, pointing at his identical freckled-face, curly-red-haired twin.

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