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Bittersweet Love
Rochelle Alers
The Eatons. For generations, the Eaton family has been dedicated to teaching others. Now siblings Belinda, Myles and Chandra are about to get some sexy, surprising lessons in love….Lesson #1: Love arrives when you least expect itBelinda Eaton is dedicated to her job as a history teacher in one of Philadelphia's most challenging high schools. Committing to a man? Not exactly on her agenda. But then a tragedy brings her closer to gorgeous attorney Griffin Rice and they have to share custody of their twin goddaughters.Griffin never saw himself as husband or father material. But suddenly family vacations and Sunday dinners with the girls are the highlight of his schedule–and getting closer to their smart, intriguing godmother is his number one priority. Can he teach her that their partnership has turned into a loving relationship powerful enough to last?



She opened her mouth to his kiss, drowning in the sexual heat, succumbing to the sensual spell that made her feel as if she and the man holding her to his heart were the last two people on earth.
Griffin’s heart slammed against his ribs when he showered kisses around Belinda’s lips and along her jaw. Lowering his head, he fastened his mouth along the column of her velvety, scented neck, nipping, suckling, licking her as if she were a frothy confection.
“You taste and smell so good,” he mumbled over and over.
Baring her throat, Belinda closed her eyes. She wanted to tell Griffin that he felt and smelled good but the words were locked in her throat when a longing she’d never known seized her mind and body, refusing to let her go.

ROCHELLE ALERS
has been hailed by readers and booksellers alike as one of today’s most popular African-American authors of women’s fiction. With nearly two million copies of her novels in print, Ms. Alers is a regular on the Waldenbooks, Borders and Essence bestseller lists, and has been the recipient of numerous awards, including the Gold Pen Award, the Emma Award, the Vivian Stephens Award for Excellence in Romance Writing, the Romantic Times BOOKreviews Career Achievement Award and the Zora Neale Hurston Literary Award. A native New Yorker, Ms. Alers currently lives on Long Island. Visit her Web site at www.rochellealers.com.

Bittersweet Love
Rochelle Alers
NATIONAL BESTSELLING AUTHOR


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Michele Robinson…
A true Philadelphia princess.
Hear, O children, a father’s instruction,
be attentive, that you may gain understanding!
Dear Reader,
Belinda, Myles and Chandra Eaton come from a family of Pennsylvania teachers, but they are about to learn something about love they could never find in a textbook.
In Bittersweet Love, Philadelphia high-school history teacher Belinda Eaton has made it a practice to avoid Griffin Rice. Now she finds her future inexorably entwined with his when they share custody of their goddaughters following a family tragedy. In this story, Belinda encounters a very different Griffin when the high-profile sports attorney romances her, and proves he can be a loving father and husband.
In the second installment of THE EATONS trilogy, law professor Myles Eaton has never forgotten the woman who jilted him two weeks before their wedding to marry another man. But when he comes face-to-face with recently widowed Zabrina Cooper at his sister’s wedding, he must decide whether to walk away or exact his own Sweet Revenge.
In Sweet Dreams, the final story of the Kimani Romance trilogy, elementary schoolteacher Chandra Eaton returns to Philadelphia after a two-year stint in the Peace Corps, and is distressed when she finds that she’s misplaced the journals in which she recorded her highly erotic dreams. Her life changes dramatically when celebrated playwright Preston Tucker informs Chandra that he’s found her journals. She is faced with the dilemma of walking away from the man she loves, because Preston’s latest play is based on her journal entries.
But before you enjoy the next two EATONS books, look for the next story in the Hideaway series from Arabesque. The next Hideaway-saga book, Secret Agenda features Diego Cole-Thomas and Vivienne Neale, whose romance takes them from business to pleasure.
This summer, wedding bells will ring again, but this time it’s the guys who fall in love in THE BEST MEN series from Arabesque. Three childhood friends are so focused on career success that they are reluctant to give up their carefree bachelorhood. Nevertheless, in one unforgettable year, each man will meet an extraordinary woman who will make him rethink love and marriage.
Yours in romance,
Rochelle Alers

Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15

Prologue
No one sitting in Grant and Donna Rice’s family room had even noticed Belinda Eaton’s brittle smile, clipped replies or that her delicate chin was set at a stubborn angle. They had come together to celebrate the birthday of twelve-year-old fraternal twins Sabrina and Layla Rice.
The two girls took turns opening envelopes, reading birthday cards, unwrapping gifts and hugging and kissing their parents as well as both sets of grandparents and their aunt and uncle.
Belinda, the twins’ aunt, hadn’t realized she was grinding her teeth until she felt the pain in her gums. It was either clench her jaw or spew expletives that were poised precipitously on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes narrowed when the object of her fury flashed his Cheshire cat grin.
That’s it! she raged inwardly. It ends tonight. Bracing her hands on the arms of the club chair, she rose to her feet and made her way to where Griffin Rice stood with his arm around his mother’s shoulders. The expressive eyebrows that framed his olive-brown face arched with her approach.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Rice, but I’d like to speak to your son.” Belinda deliberately neglected to acknowledge Griffin by name.
Griffin Rice’s large, deep-set dark brown eyes widened appreciably. Whenever he saw his brother’s sister-in-law, which wasn’t often enough, she looked different. Belinda had a wealth of thick dark hair that she’d styled in a ponytail. The soft glow from the recessed lighting in the room flattered her flawless sable face. A light dusting of makeup accentuated her exotic slanted eyes, high cheekbones, short nose and generously curved lips.
A hint of a smile lifted the corners of his lips as he stared boldly at the fullness of her breasts under a burnt-orange cashmere pullover, which she’d paired with black wool slacks and suede slip-ons. He’d always found her alluring, but Belinda gave off a vibe that made her seem snobbish and aloof. She’d been that way at nineteen, and now at thirty-two she was even more standoffish. Her request to speak to him was somewhat shocking yet a pleasant surprise.
“Where would you like to talk?”
“Outside.”
The response came across as a direct order and Griffin curbed the urge to salute her. He pressed a kiss to Gloria Rice’s forehead. “I’ll be right back, mother.” Grabbing Belinda’s arm, he steered her toward the rear of the house.
“The front porch,” Belinda ordered again. The back porch was too close to the kitchen and she didn’t want anyone to overhear what she had to say to him.
Reversing course, Griffin led her through the dining and living rooms and out to the front porch of the modest Dutch Colonial–style house. He held the front door open, waiting for Belinda to precede him, then stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind them.
Leaning against a thick column on the porch, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks and crossed his feet at the ankles. The seconds ticked off as Belinda sat on a cushioned love seat. Twin porch lanterns flanking the door provided enough light for him to make out her features. Griffin glanced away to look at the large autumnal wreath hanging on the door.
“What do you want to talk about?”
Belinda sat up, her spine ramrod straight. “What the hell do you think you’re doing buying the girls a PlayStation when I told you that I planned to give it to them for Christmas?”
Nothing moved on Griffin, not even his eyes as he glared at the woman who was godmother and aunt to his nieces. “You told me nothing of the sort.”
“When I spoke to Donna and asked what the girls wanted for their birthday she told me to give them gift cards for their favorite stores and to save the electronics for Christmas. I also remember her saying that she was going to tell you the same thing.” She’d given her nieces gift cards to several popular clothing stores.
“Your sister didn’t say anything to me, so take it up with her.”
“No, Griffin, I’m taking it up with you. Every year you do this. We talk beforehand about what we’re going to give the twins for Christmas and their birthdays, and invariably you do the complete opposite.” She stood up and closed the distance between them. “This is the last time I’m going to let you play Big Willie to my nieces.”
“Your nieces, Lindy?” he said mockingly. “How did you come to that conclusion when they’re my brother and your sister’s daughters?” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to come back at him. “Unlike you, I don’t have the time or the inclination to hang out in the mall. Layla and Sabrina said they wanted an Xbox, Wii or PlayStation, and I gave them the PlayStation.”
Belinda closed her eyes rather than stare at Griffin Rice’s gorgeous face. As an attorney for some of sports’ biggest superstars, Griffin had become a celebrity in his own right. Paparazzi snapped pictures of him with his famous clients, glamorous models, beautiful actresses and recording stars. His masculine features, cleft chin and exquisitely tailored wardrobe afforded him a spot on the cover of GQ. He not only looked good, but he smelled delicious. His cologne was the perfect complement to his natural scent.
“Next time speak to me before you decide to give them what they want.”
“Are you asking or telling me, Belinda?”
Her chest rose and fell, bringing his gaze to linger on her breasts. “I’m asking you, Griffin,” she said in a softer tone.
Straightening, Griffin stared down at his sister-in-law, wondering if she was aware of how sexy she was. If he’d had a teacher who looked like Belinda Eaton he would’ve failed, just to have to repeat her class.
He dipped his head and brushed a kiss over her ear. “I’ll think about it.” Turning on his heels, Griffin went back into the house, leaving Belinda staring at his back as he walked away.
Her fingers curled into fists. She’d called him out for nothing. He had no intention of checking with her. It was as if they were warring parents competing to see who could win over their children with bigger and more expensive gifts.
She folded her arms under her breasts and shook her head. There was no doubt Griffin would continue to undermine her when it came to their nieces, but there was one thing she admired about the man: since he wasn’t a father himself, he’d spared some woman a lifetime of grief.
Belinda waited on the porch a few minutes longer until the dropping temperature forced her indoors. Affecting a bright smile, she walked into the dining room in time to sing happy birthday before Sabrina and Layla blew out the candles and cut their cake.

Chapter 1
The soft-spoken attorney shook hands with Belinda Eaton and then repeated the gesture with Griffin Rice. “Congratulations, Mom, Dad. If you need a duplicate copy of the guardianship agreement I recommend you call this office rather than go to the Bureau of Records. I’ve heard that they always have a two-to-three-month backlog.”
Belinda still could not believe she was to share parenting of her twin nieces with her sister’s brother-in-law. Less than a year after she became an aunt, her sister had asked Belinda to raise her daughters if anything should happen to her and her husband. At that time she’d wondered, why would a happily married, twenty-two-year-old woman with two beautiful children think about dying? Apparently, her older sister, Donna, was more prophetic than she knew. Just weeks after the twins’ twelfth birthday, their mother and father had been killed instantly when a drunk driver lost control of his pickup, crossed the median and collided head-on with their smaller sedan.
Belinda forced a smile. The meeting with the attorney and signing the documents that made her legal guardian of her twelve-year-old nieces had reopened a wound that was just beginning to heal. Her sister and brother-in-law had died days after Thanksgiving and it’d taken four months for their will to be probated.
“Thank you for everything, Mr. Connelly.”
Impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, Jonathan Connelly stared at the young schoolteacher whose life was about to dramatically change. Her nieces were moving from the two-bedroom condo where they were temporarily living with their maternal grandparents into her modest house in a Philadelphia suburb. Although the children had been well cared for by their grandparents, Jonathan, the executor of her sister and brother-in-law’s estate, felt that the emotional and social interests of the twin girls would be best served living with their aunt.
His shimmering green eyes lingered briefly on her rich nut-brown attractive face with its high cheekbones, slanting dark brown eyes and hair she wore in a flattering curly style. With her wool gabardine suit with a peplum jacket, pumps and the pearl studs that matched the single strand gracing her slender neck, Belinda appeared more like a young executive than a high school history teacher.
“If you need legal advice on anything, please don’t hesitate to call me,” Jonathan said, smiling.
A slight frown began to creep across Griffin Rice’s good looks. “I believe I can help her with any legal problem,” he said curtly. Griffin intended to make sure that he was available for Belinda if she needed legal counsel.
He had spent the better part of an hour watching Jonathan Connelly subtly flirt with his sister-in-law. He and Belinda shared guardianship of their nieces, but he’d be damned if he’d allow the smooth-talking, toothpaste-ad-smiling, little-too-slick-for-Griffin’s-taste attorney take advantage of her.
Although they were related through marriage, Griffin and Belinda hadn’t spent much time together and when they did, they usually butted heads. Most of the time, he was involved in contract negotiations for his pro-athlete clients or taking a much-needed vacation. And whenever he invited her to his home for an informal get-together, she always declined. The last time they had been together was when the two families were making funeral arrangements for Grant and Donna.
Reaching out, he cupped Belinda’s elbow. “I think it’s time we leave.”
Belinda forced herself not to pull away from the pressure of Griffin’s hand on her arm. She didn’t like him, had never really liked him, but now they were thrown together because they shared custody of their nieces. She didn’t know what her sister was thinking when she and Grant decided on Griffin as the girls’ guardian. The high-profile, skirt-hopping sports attorney lacked the essentials for fatherhood.
She gave Jonathan a dazzling smile that curved her full, sensuous mouth. “If I need your assistance, I won’t hesitate to call you.”
Belinda sensed her brother-in-law’s annoyance at her rebuff of his offer of legal help when his fingers tightened around her elbow. At five-six and one hundred thirty pounds she knew she was physically no match for Griffin’s six-two, one hundred ninety pound viselike grip. Glancing over her shoulder, she glared at him.
“I’m ready.”
Griffin led Belinda out of the lawyers’ offices and waited until she was seated in his late-model Lexus hybrid and he was beside her before he allowed himself to draw a normal breath.
“Did I not say that I would take care of your legal concerns?”
Belinda shifted on the leather seat, glaring at the cleft in the chin of an otherwise incredibly handsome man who’d landed unceremoniously in her life. She’d lost count of the number of times women colleagues had asked her whether Griffin was available.
“Watch your tone, Griffin. I’m not one of your dimwitted girlfriends who is honored just to be in your presence.” Belinda knew she’d struck a nerve when she saw his flushed face.
“In case you didn’t notice, the man wasn’t looking to offer legal advice.”
She frowned. “Then please tell me what he was offering.”
“His bed.”
Griffin’s comment caught her off guard for several seconds. “How would you know that?” Belinda said when she recovered her composure.
A subtle smile parted Griffin’s lips as his gaze slipped from Belinda’s face to her breasts and back to her stunned expression. “I’m a man, Belinda. And as such, I recognized all the signals Jonathan was sending your way.”
Heat pricked little pinpoints across Belinda’s skin as she struggled not to look away from the large dark eyes that were sending sensuous flames through her body. She couldn’t move or blink. “Not every man who looks at me wants me in that way, Griffin.”
Griffin’s smile widened. “With your face and your body, you look nothing like the spinster schoolmarm.”
“Wrong century and definitely wrong woman,” she countered. “I’m not a schoolmarm but an educator. And whether I’m thirty-two or sixty-two I’ll never think of myself as a spinster.”
“The fact remains that Jonathan wants you. So I suggest that you not lead him on if or when you need legal advice. And, the offer still holds. If you need a lawyer, then I’m always available to you.”
She shook her head. “Why would I need you when my brother is a lawyer?” Her older brother, Myles, had recently resigned as partner at a leading Philadelphia law firm to teach at Duquesne, a private university law school in Pittsburgh.
Griffin inserted the keyless fob in the ignition slot and pushed a button, starting up the SUV. “Just make certain you use him.”
As Griffin maneuvered out of the parking lot, Belinda wondered if he was as brusque with the women he dated or slept with. Other than his looks and his money, she didn’t know why any of them would put up with his attitude.
They’d agreed that the girls would stay with her during the week and with Griffin on the weekends. But she doubted, with his busy social life, that there would be many weekends that the twins would stay with Griffin. That suited Belinda just fine, because what they needed more than anything was stability.
Sabrina and Layla Rice had lost both parents and since then had been living with their grandparents for the past four months. Now they would be moving again when they came to live with her. The fallout after the funeral and burial was difficult when grandparents and relatives began arguing about who would raise the twins. As an investment banker, Grant Rice and his family had been financially sound. And the prospect of the girls’ inheritance drew relatives Griffin hadn’t known or seen in decades like hungry sharks to the smell of blood.
The speculation as to the extent of Grant’s wealth ended when Griffin announced that he and Belinda were the legal guardians, and that Belinda was the beneficiary of Grant and Donna’s multimillion-dollar insurance policy. He had inherited vacant parcels of land that developers were interested in. The only thing he and Belinda had agreed upon was that all the proceeds and profits would be put aside for their nieces’ education and financial future.
Belinda had used the few months that the girls were living with their grandparents to decorate her house to accommodate the growing twins. She wanted the transition to be smooth and stress-free for everyone involved. She’d had more than ten years of teaching young adults, but this was to be the first time Belinda would become a parent in every sense of the word.

The drive from downtown Philadelphia to a nearby suburb was accomplished in complete silence. When Griffin turned off into the subdivision and parked in the driveway where her parents had purchased the town house after selling the large house where they’d raised their four children, Belinda was out of the car before Griffin could shut off the engine. She didn’t see his scowl, but registered the slam of the driver’s-side door when he closed it.
Ringing the bell, she waited for her mother to come to the door. It’s not going to work, she thought over and over as the heat from Griffin’s body seeped into hers when he moved behind her. How was she going to pretend to play house with the girls’ surrogate father when she could barely tolerate being in the same room with him?
The door opened and Roberta Eaton stood on the other side, her eyes red and swollen. Belinda knew her mother hadn’t wanted her granddaughters to leave, but the law was the law and she’d abide by her late daughter’s request and the court’s decision to have Sabrina and Layla live with Belinda.
“Hi, Mama.” Stepping into the entryway, she leaned over and kissed her cheek. “How are the girls?”
Roberta pressed a wrinkled tissue to her nose. “They’re much better than I am. But then, you know how adaptable young folks are. I’ve spent most of the day crying, while they came home going on about an upcoming class trip.” Roberta glanced over her daughter’s shoulder to find Griffin Rice’s broad shoulders filling out the doorway. “Please come in, Griffin.”
Griffin moved inside the house with expansive windows and ceilings rising upward to twelve feet. The elder Eatons had downsized, selling their sprawling six-bedroom farmhouse for a two-bedroom town house condo in a newly constructed retirement village. Unlike his parents, who divorced when he was in high school, Dr. Dwight and Roberta Eaton had recently celebrated their forty-second wedding anniversary.
He hadn’t remembered a day when his parents did not argue, which had shaped his views about marriage. His mother said her marriage was a daily struggle, one in which she was always the loser. His father remarried twice and after his last divorce he dated a woman for several years, but ended the relationship when she wanted a more permanent commitment.
When his brother had contacted him with the news that he was getting married, Griffin had at first thought he was joking, because they’d made a vow never to marry. But within three months of meeting Donna Eaton, Grant had tied the knot. At first he had thought his brother wanted a hasty wedding because Donna was pregnant. But his suspicions had been unfounded when the twins were born a year later. When he’d asked Grant about breaking his promise to never marry, his brother had said promises were meant to be broken when you meet the “right” woman.
Griffin dated a lot of women, had had several long-term relationships, yet at thirty-seven he still hadn’t found the “right woman.”
“Aunt Lindy, Uncle Griff!” Sabrina, older than her sister by two minutes, came bounding down the staircase. “Sorry, Gram,” she mumbled when she saw her grandmother’s frown.
Her grandmother had lectured her and Layla about acting like young ladies—and that meant walking and not running down the stairs and talking quietly rather than screaming at the top of their lungs.
Belinda held out her arms, and she wasn’t disappointed when Sabrina came into her embrace. Easing back, she stared at her niece, always amazed that Sabrina was a younger version of herself. She used to kid Donna by saying that her fraternal twin daughters’ genes had been a compromise. Sabrina resembled the Eatons, while Layla was undeniably a Rice.
“How’s my favorite girl?”
Sabrina rolled her eyes at the same time she sucked her teeth. “How can I be your favorite when you tell Layla that she’s also your favorite?”
Belinda kissed her forehead. “Can’t I have two favorite girls?”
Sabrina angled her head, and her expression made her look much older. Not only was she older than Layla, but she was more mature than her twin. She preferred wearing her relaxed shoulder-length hair either loose, or up in a ponytail. It was Layla who’d opted not to cut her hair and fashioned it in a single braid with colorful bands on the end to match her funky, bohemian wardrobe. Both girls had braces to correct an overbite.
“Of course you can,” Sabrina said. Pulling away, she went over to Griffin. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. “I like your suit.”
The charcoal-gray, single-breasted, styled suit in a lightweight wool blend was Griffin’s favorite. He tugged her ponytail. “Thank you.”
Sabrina gave her uncle a beguiling smile. “You promised that Layla and I could meet Keith Ennis. The Phillies will be in town for four days. Please, please, please, Uncle Griff, can you arrange for us to meet him?”
It was Griffin’s turn to roll his eyes. Keith Ennis had become Major League Baseball’s latest heartthrob. Groupies greeted him in every city and his official fan club boasted more than a million members online.
He’d considered himself blessed when the batting phenom had approached him to represent him in negotiating his contract when he’d been called up from the minors. The Philadelphia Phillies signed him to a three-year, multimillion-dollar deal that made the rookie one of the highest-paid players in the majors, and in his first year he was named Rookie of the Year, earned a Gold Glove and had hit more than forty home runs with one hundred and ten runs batted in.
“I’m having a gathering at my house next Saturday following an afternoon game. You and your sister can come by early to meet him, but then you have to leave.”
“How long can we stay, Uncle Griff?” asked Layla, who’d come down the staircase in time to overhear her uncle.
Belinda shot Griffin an I don’t believe you look. Had he lost his mind, telling twelve-year-olds that they could come to an adult gathering where there was certain to be not only alcohol, but half-naked hoochies?
“Your uncle and I will have to talk about this before we agree whether an adult party is appropriate for twelve-year-olds.” She’d deliberately stressed the word adult.
Layla pouted as dots of color mottled her clear complexion. “But Uncle Griff said we could go.”
“Your uncle doesn’t have the final say on where you can go, or what you can do.”
“Who does have the final say?” Sabrina asked.
Belinda felt as if she were being set up. Unknowingly, Griffin had made her the bad guy—yet again. “We both will have the final say. Now, please say goodbye to your grandmother. I’d like to get you settled in because tomorrow is a school day.”
Most of the girls’ clothes and personal belongings had been moved to her house earlier that week. Belinda had hung their clothes in closets but left boxes of stuffed animals and souvenirs for her nieces to unpack and put away.
“We’ll see you for Sunday dinner, Gram,” Layla promised as she hugged and kissed Roberta.
Roberta gave the girls bear hugs accompanied by grunting sound effects. “I want you to listen to your aunt and uncle, or you’ll hear it from me.”
“We will, Gram,” the two chorused.
Belinda lingered behind as Layla and Sabrina followed Griffin outside. “Why didn’t you say something when Griffin mentioned letting the girls hang out at a party with grown folks?”
Roberta crossed her arms under her full bosom and angled her soft, stylishly coiffed salt-and-pepper head. She wanted to tell her middle daughter that becoming a mother was challenging enough, but assuming the responsibility of raising teenage girls, who were still grieving the loss of their parents, and had just started their menses and were subject to mood swings as erratic as the weather, would make her question her sanity.
“I wouldn’t permit anyone to interfere with me raising my children, so I’m not going to get into it with you and Griffin about how you want to deal with Layla and Sabrina. Not only are you their aunt but you are also their mother. What you’re going to have to do is establish the rules with Griffin before you tell the girls what’s expected of them.”
Frustration swept over Belinda. Her mother wasn’t going to take her side. “I can’t understand what made him tell—”
“There’s not much to understand, Belinda,” Roberta retorted, interrupting her. “He’s a man, not a father. What he’s going to have to do is begin thinking like a father.”
“That’s not going to be as easy as it sounds. Layla and Sabrina will spend more time with me than with Griffin. Although he’s agreed to take them on the weekends that doesn’t mean he’ll have them every weekend.”
“Griffin Rice is no different than your father. As a family doctor with a private practice he was always on call. If it wasn’t a sprained wrist or ankle, then it was the hospital asking him to cover in the E.R. Dwight missed so many Sunday dinners that I stopped setting a place for him at the dinner table.”
“Daddy was working, and there is a big difference between working and socializing.”
“You can’t worry about Griffin, Lindy. Either he will step up to the plate or he won’t. At this point in their lives, Sabrina and Layla need a mother not a father. Once the boys start hanging around them, I’m certain he’ll change. Your father did.”
Belinda wanted to tell her mother that Griffin Rice was nothing like Dwight Eaton. With Griffin it was like sending the fox to guard the henhouse. And, if Griffin didn’t take an active role in protecting his nieces now, then she would be forced to be mother and father.
“Let’s hope you’re right.” She hugged and kissed her mother. “We’ll see you Sunday.”
Roberta nodded. “Take care of my girls.”
“You know I will, Mama.”
Belinda walked out of the house to find Griffin waiting for her. He’d removed his suit jacket, his custom-made shirt and tailored slacks displaying his physique to its best advantage. Sabrina and Layla were seated in the back of the car, bouncing to music blaring from the SUV’s speakers. Belinda fixed her gaze on a spot over Griffin’s shoulder rather than meet his intense gaze.
There was something about the way he was staring at her that made Belinda slightly uncomfortable. Perhaps it was his earlier reference to her face and body that added to her uneasiness. The first time she was introduced to Griffin Rice she was stunned by his gorgeous face and perfect body, but after interacting with him she’d thought him arrogant and egotistical when he boasted that he’d graduated number one in his law school class.
Subsequent encounters did little to change her opinion of him. Every time the Eatons and Rices got together Griffin flaunted a different woman. After a while, she stopped speaking to him. Even when they came together as godmother and godfather to celebrate their godchildren’s birthdays, she never exchanged more than a few words with him.
“We have to talk about the girls, Griffin.”
His thick eyebrows arched. “What do you want to talk about?”
“We need to establish some rules concerning parenting.”
“I’ll go along with whatever you want.”
“What I don’t want is for you to promise the girls that they can attend an adult party,” added Belinda.
“I didn’t tell them they could attend the party. I said—”
“I heard what you said, Griffin Rice,” Belinda interrupted angrily. “The girls will not go to your house to meet anyone.”
Griffin’s eyes darkened as he struggled to control his temper. He didn’t know what it was about Belinda Eaton, but she was the only woman who managed to annoy him. He’d stopped speaking to her because she had such a sharp tongue. And rather than argue, he ignored her. But it was impossible to ignore her now because he would have to put up with her for the next eleven years. Once Sabrina and Layla celebrated their twenty-third birthdays he and Belinda could go their separate ways. Having his nieces stay at his house on weekends would put a crimp in his social life, but he was totally committed to his role as their guardian.
Griffin knew what meeting Keith Ennis and getting his autograph meant to the girls. His dilemma was finding a way to get around Belinda’s demands. “Are you willing to compromise?”
“Compromise how?”
“You act as my hostess for the party. Let me finish,” he warned when she started to open her mouth in protest. “You and the girls can spend the weekend with me. You can be my hostess, and I’ll ask Keith to come early so that Sabrina and Layla can meet him. As soon as the others arrive they can go to their rooms while you and I—”
“Will meet and greet your guests,” Belinda said facetiously, finishing his statement.
Grinning and displaying a mouth filled with straight, white teeth, Griffin winked at Belinda. “Now, doesn’t that solve everything? The girls get to meet their idol, I get to interact with my friends and clients and you will be there to monitor Sabrina and Layla.”
I don’t think the girls need as much monitoring as you do, Belinda mused. “I hope when the girls stay over that you won’t expose them to situations they don’t need to see at their age.”
It took a full minute for Griffin to discern what Belinda was implying. “Do you really believe I’m so depraved that I would sleep with a woman when my nieces are in the same house?”
“I don’t know what to believe, Griffin.” Belinda’s voice was pregnant with sarcasm. “What you’re going to have to do is prove to me that you’re capable of looking after two pre-teen girls.”
“I don’t have to prove anything to you, Belinda. The fact that my brother thought me worthy enough to care for and protect his daughters is enough. And, regardless of what you may think—legally I have as much right to see my nieces as you do. I agreed to let them stay with you during the week because their school is in the same district where you live. It would be detrimental to their stability to pull them out midterm to go to a school close to where I live.”
He took a step, bringing him within inches of his sister-in-law, his gaze lingering on the delicate features that made for an arresting face. What he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the first time he was introduced to Belinda Eaton was that she was stunningly beautiful. She had it all: looks and brains. Also, what he refused to think about was her lithe, curvy body. The one time he saw her in a bikini he’d found himself transfixed by what had been concealed by her conservative attire. It took weeks before the image of her long, shapely legs and the soft excess of flesh rising above her bikini top faded completely. That had been the first and only time that Griffin Rice was consciously aware that he wanted to make love to Belinda Eaton.
“Okay, Griffin. I’ll compromise just this one time. But only because I don’t want to disappoint Layla and Sabrina.”
Griffin smiled, the expression softening his face and making him even more attractive. “Why, thank you, Belinda.”
Belinda also smiled. “You’re quite welcome, Griffin.”

Chapter 2
“Aren’t you coming in with us, Uncle Griff?” Sabrina asked as Griffin stood on the porch of Belinda’s two-story white house framed with dark blue molding and matching shutters.
Cupping the back of her head, Griffin pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I can’t. I have a prior engagement.”
Sabrina blinked once. “You’re engaged?”
Throwing back his head, Griffin laughed. “No. I should’ve said that I have a dinner appointment.”
“Why didn’t you say that instead of saying you were engaged,” Sabrina countered, not seeing the humor in her uncle’s statement.
Griffin sobered quickly when he realized she wasn’t amused. Everyone remarked how Sabrina had an old spirit, that she was wise beyond her years, while Layla the free spirit saw goodness in everything and everyone.
“It looks as if I’m going to have to be very careful about what I say to you.”
Sabrina winked at him. “That’s all right, Uncle Griff. I’ll let you know when I don’t understand something.”
Belinda listened to the exchange between Griffin and his niece. It was apparent he’d met his match. “If you’re not coming in, then I’ll say good night.”
Watching him drive away, she was grateful that Griffin had elected not to come inside because she wanted time alone with her nieces, to see firsthand their reaction to the rooms she’d organized and decorated in what she felt was each girl’s personal style.
Belinda glanced at her watch. “Girls, please go upstairs, do your homework and then get ready for bed. I’m going to have to get you up earlier than usual because I’m going to drive you to school. I also have to fill out another transportation application changing your bus route.” The sisters headed for the staircase, racing each other to the second floor.
Their bus route had changed when they’d gone to live with their grandparents, and it would change again now that they lived with her. It’d taken Belinda two months for the contractor to make the necessary renovations to her house when she realized the twins would have to live with her. She hadn’t known that when she’d moved out of her Philadelphia co-op and into the three-bedroom house. She’d originally bought the house because she’d been looking to live in a less noisy neighborhood with a slower pace. Now she would end up sharing the house with her nieces.
The house’s former owners, a childless couple who taught in the same high school as Belinda, had covered the clapboard with vinyl siding, updated the plumbing and electricity and had landscaped the entire property as they awaited the adoption of a child from Eastern Europe. The adoption fell through and the wife opted for artificial insemination. After several failed tries, she found herself pregnant with not one, but four babies. They began looking for a larger house at the same time Belinda put her co-op on the market. She made the couple an offer, and three months later she closed on what had become her little dream house.
Ear-piercing screams floated down from the second story. Glancing up, she saw Layla hanging over the banister. “Are you okay?” she asked with a smile, knowing the reason for the screaming.
Layla gestured wildly. “Aunt Lindy, I love, love, love it!” she shrieked incoherently before running back to her bedroom.
Minutes later Belinda stood in the room, her arms encircling her nieces’ waists. The contractor had removed the door leading into the master bedroom and installed doors to adjoining bedrooms that led directly into the space she’d set up as a combined office, study and entertainment area. The furnishings included two desks with chairs that faced each other and built-in bookcases along three of the four walls.
The remaining wall held a large flat-screen television. A low table held electronics for a home-theater system. Empty racks for CDs and DVDs were nestled in a corner, along with a worktable with a streamlined desktop and laptop computers and printer. Although the television was equipped with cable, Belinda had programmed parental controls on both the television and Internet. French doors had replaced a trio of windows that led to a balcony overlooking the back of the property.
“I know which bedroom is mine,” Sabrina crooned.
“Mine is the one with the bright colors,” Layla said, her voice rising in excitement.
Sabrina pressed closer to her aunt. “This is the first time we’re not going to have to share a bedroom.”
Belinda gave her a warm smile. She recognized them as individuals and sought to relate to them as such. “I have a few house rules that I expect to be followed. You must keep your bedrooms and bathroom clean. I don’t want to find dirty clothes on the floor or under the beds. The first time I find food or drink upstairs there will be consequences.”
Layla shot her a questioning glance. “What kind of consequences?”
“There will be no television or Internet for a week. The only exception is to do homework. You’ll also have to give up your iPods and relinquish your cell phones—”
“But we don’t have cell phones,” Sabrina interrupted, sharing a look with her sister.
A mysterious smile tipped the corners of Belinda’s mouth. “If you look in the drawer of your bedside tables you’ll find a cell phone. The phones are a gift from your uncle Griffin. He’s programmed the numbers where you can reach him or me in an emergency. You’ll share a thousand minutes each month, plus unlimited texting. You…”
Her words trailed off when the girls raced out of the room, leaving her staring at the spots where they’d been.
She’d turned the master bedroom into a sanctuary for her nieces, decorated Sabrina’s room with a queen-size, off-white sleigh bed, with matching dresser, nightstands and lingerie chest. Waning daylight filtered through sheer curtains casting shadows on the white comforter dotted with embroidered yellow-and-green butterflies. Layla’s room reflected her offbeat style and personality with orange-red furniture and earth-toned accessories.
Belinda had moved her own bedroom to the first floor in what had been the enclosed back porch. It faced southeast, which meant the rising sun rather than an alarm clock woke her each morning. Layla and Sabrina returned, clutching Sidekick cell phones while doing the “happy dance.”
“Girls, I want you in bed by nine.”
“Yes, Aunt Lindy,” they said in unison.
She walked out of the study and made her way down the carpeted hallway to the staircase. Giving her nieces the run of the second floor would serve two purposes: it would give them a measure of independence and make them responsible for keeping their living space clean.

Griffin couldn’t remember the last time a woman had bored him to the point of walking out on a date. However, he’d promised Renata Crosby that he would have dinner with her the next time she came to Philadelphia on business. The screenwriter was pretty, but that’s where her appeal started and ended. From the time she sat down at the table in one of his favorite restaurants, Renata had talked nonstop about how much money she’d lost because of the writer’s strike in Hollywood. He wanted to tell her that everyone affected by the strike lost money.
“Griffin, darling, you haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying,” Renata admonished softly.
Griffin forced his attention back to the woman with eyes the color of lapis lazuli. Their deep blue color was the perfect foil for her olive complexion and straight raven-black, chin-length hair.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled apologetically, “but my mind is elsewhere.”
Renata blinked, a fringe of lashes touching the ridge of high cheekbones. She’d spent the better part of an hour trying to seduce Griffin Rice, but it was apparent her scheme to get him to sleep with her wasn’t working. She’d met the highly successful and charismatic sports attorney at an L.A. hot spot, and knew within seconds that she had to have a piece of him.
At the time, he was scheduled to fly out of LAX for the East Coast. So she had followed him to the parking lot where a driver waited for him and got him to exchange business cards with her. She and Griffin had played phone tag for more than a month until one day he answered his phone. She told him that she was meeting a client in Philadelphia, and wanted to have dinner with him before flying back to California. Of course, there was no client and it appeared as if she’d flown three thousand miles for nothing.
“You do seem rather distracted,” she crooned, deliberately lowering her voice.
Griffin stared at his fingers splayed over the pristine, white tablecloth. “That’s because it isn’t every day that a man becomes the father of twin girls.”
An audible gasp escaped Renata. “You’re a father?”
Griffin angled his head and smiled. “Awesome, isn’t it?”
Pressing her lips together, Renata swallowed hard. When she’d inquired about Griffin Rice’s marital status she was told that he wasn’t married. Had her source lied, or had Griffin perfected the art of keeping his private life very private?
“I’d say it’s downright shocking. You didn’t know your wife was having twins?”
“I’m not married.”
“If you’re not married, then you’re a baby daddy. Or should I say a babies’ daddy.”
Griffin registered the contempt in Renata’s voice. Although he wasn’t remotely interested in her, he was still perturbed by her reaction. After all, he’d only agreed to have dinner with her to be polite. Raising his hand, he signaled for the check.
“I’m going to forget you said that.”
Renata concealed her embarrassment behind a too-bright smile. “I’m sorry it came out that way. Please, let me make it up to you by sending you something for your girls,” she said in an attempt to salvage what was left of her pride.
“Apology accepted, but no, thank you.” He signed the check, pushed back his chair to come around the table and help Renata. When she came to her feet, he offered, “Can I drop you anywhere?”
Renata was nearly eye to eye with Griffin in her heels. She knew they would’ve made a striking couple if some other woman hadn’t gotten her hooks into him. She’d met more Griffin Rices than she could count on both hands. Most were good-looking, high-profile men who were willing to be seen with women like her, but when all was said and done they married women who wouldn’t cheat on them, or whom other men wouldn’t give a second glance. As soon as she returned to her hotel room she planned to call an entertainment reporter and give him the lowdown about Griffin Rice having fathered twins.
“No, thanks. I have a rental outside.”
He took her arm. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
Griffin gave Renata the obligatory kiss on the cheek, waited until she maneuvered out of the restaurant’s parking lot and then made his way to where he’d parked his car. He wasn’t as annoyed with Renata’s inane conversation as he was with himself for wasting three precious hours he could’ve spent with his nieces. Glancing at the watch strapped to his wrist, he noted the time. It was eight thirty-five, and he wanted to talk to Sabrina and Layla before they went to bed for the night.
He exceeded the speed limit to make it to Belinda’s house in record time. She’d bought a house a mile from where Grant and Donna had lived, the perfect neighborhood for upwardly mobile young couples with children. Grant had tried to convince him to purchase one of the newer homes of the McMansion variety, but Griffin preferred the charm of the nineteenth-century homes along the Main Line. Though less exclusive than it once was, the suburb west of the city was still identified with the crème de la crème of Philadelphia society.
Whenever he closed the door to his three-story colonial on a half-acre lot along the tree-lined street in Paoli, he was no longer the hard-nosed negotiator trying to make the best deal for his client. Sitting on his patio overlooking a picturesque landscape of massive century-old trees and a carpet of wildflowers had become his ultimate pleasure. He opened his home on average about three times a year to entertain family, friends and clients. Living in Paoli suited his temperament. After growing up in a crowded, bustling Philadelphia neighborhood he’d come to appreciate the quietness of the suburb of fifty-four hundred residents.
Griffin maneuvered into Belinda’s wide driveway and shut off the engine. His dark mood lifted when he saw soft light coming through the first-floor windows. It was apparent Belinda hadn’t gone to bed. He rang the bell, waited and raised his hand to ring it again when the door opened and he came face-to-face with Belinda as she dabbed her face with a hand towel. Judging from her expression it was apparent that she was as shocked to see him as he to see her in a pair of shorts and a revealing tank top. And, with her freshly scrubbed face and headband that pulled her hair off her face, she appeared no older than the high school students to whom she taught American history.
“What are you doing here?” Belinda asked, her voice a breathless whisper.
Leaning against the doorframe, Griffin stared at the rise and fall of her breasts under the cotton fabric. He swallowed a groan when a part of his body reacted involuntarily to the wanton display of skin.
“I came to see if the…my daughters are okay.”
Belinda was surprised to hear Griffin refer to his nieces as his daughters. It was apparent he intended to take surrogate parenting seriously. “Of course they’re okay, Griffin. If you hadn’t run off you would’ve known that.”
Griffin straightened. “I had a prior engagement.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Call it what it is.”
“And that is?”
“You had a date, Griffin.”
A slow, sexy smile found its way over Griffin’s face. “Do I detect a modicum of jealousy, Eaton?”
“Surely you jest, Rice. Let me assure you I’m not attracted to you, and there’s nothing about you that I find even remotely appealing.”
Griffin brushed past her, walking into the entryway. “Sheath your claws, Belinda. What you should do is channel your frustration in an anger management seminar because we’re going to have to deal with each other until the girls celebrate their twenty-third birthday. You don’t like me and I have to admit that you’re certainly not at the top of the list for what I want in a woman.”
Belinda affected a brittle smile. “At least we can agree on one thing.”
“And that is?” he asked, lifting his expressive eyebrows.
“We won’t interfere in each other’s love lives.”
“You’re seeing someone?”
“Does that surprise you, Griffin?” she asked, answering his question with one of her own.
Belinda’s revelation that she was involved with a man came as a shock to Griffin. He never saw her with a man, so he’d assumed that she spent her nights at home—alone. “I hope you’re not going to schedule sleep-overs with your man now that the girls are living with you. It wouldn’t set a good example—”
“He’ll only come when the girls stay at your place,” she interrupted.
Griffin didn’t know where he’d gotten the notion that Belinda wasn’t seeing anyone. Although he would never admit to her that he was attracted to her in that way, it didn’t mean that other men weren’t. Earlier, he’d sat watching Jonathan Connelly unable to take his eyes off her. And Griffin didn’t blame the man because Belinda Eaton was stunning.
If she hadn’t been so unapproachable he would’ve considered asking her out. Even when they’d come together as best man and maid of honor for the wedding of their respective siblings, he’d thought her shy and reticent. But then he hadn’t expected more from a nineteen-year-old college student who’d lived on campus her first semester, then without warning moved back home, driving more than thirty miles each day to attend classes. When asked why she’d opted not to stay on campus, her response was as enigmatic as the woman she’d become.
Griffin remembered why he’d come to Belinda’s house. “May I see the girls?”
“I’m sorry. They’ve already gone to bed.”
He glanced at the clock on the table filled with potted plants. “It’s only nine-fifteen. Isn’t that a little early?”
“No, it isn’t, Griffin. My mother had a problem with getting them up on school days, so I’ve instituted a nine o’clock curfew Sunday through Thursday and eleven on Fridays and Saturdays.”
“That sounds a little strict, Belinda.”
“Children need structure.”
“Structure is one thing and being on lockdown is another.”
Belinda walked around Griffin and opened the door wider. “I don’t want to be rude, but you really need to go home, Griffin. I’m going to be up late grading papers, and hopefully I’ll be able to get a few hours of sleep before I have to get up earlier than usual to drive the girls to school. I need to stop in the school office to update their emergency contact numbers and bus route.”
After seeing that Layla and Sabrina had completed their homework, she’d eaten leftovers, applied a facial masque and sat in a tub of warm water waiting for it to set. By the time she’d emerged from the bathroom the girls had come to kiss her good-night. They’d gone to bed, while she would probably be up well past midnight.
Griffin heard something in Belinda’s voice that he’d never recognized before: defeat. Although they shared custody of their nieces, it was Belinda who’d assumed most of the responsibility for caring for them five of the seven days a week. And for the weeks when he had to travel on business, it would be the entire week.
“What time do your classes begin?”
“Eight. But I have a sub filling in for me.”
Griffin knew he had to help Belinda or she would find herself in over her head. It was one thing to raise a child from infancy and another thing completely when you found yourself having to deal with not one but two teenagers with very strong personalities.
“Let me help you out.”
Belinda stared at the man standing in her entryway as if he were a stranger. “You want to help me.”
Slipping his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers, Griffin angled his head. “Yes. I’ll take the girls to school and take care of the paperwork. That way you don’t have to have to miss your classes.”
“It’s too late to cancel the substitute.”
Attractive lines fanned out around his eyes when he gave her a warm smile. “Use the extra time to sleep in late.”
His smile was contagious as Belinda returned it with one of her own. “It sounds good, but I still have to get up and prepare breakfast.”
“Can’t they get breakfast at school?”
“Donna wouldn’t let them eat school breakfast because they weren’t eating enough fiber.”
“I’ll fix breakfast for them,” Griffin volunteered.
“It can’t be fast food.”
He winked at her. “I didn’t know you were a comedian. Why would I give them a fast-food breakfast when it has a higher caloric content and more preservatives than some cafeteria food? I’ll cook breakfast for them.”
Belinda hesitated, processing what she’d just heard. “You’re going to come here from Paoli tomorrow morning in time to make breakfast and take the girls to school?” The ongoing family joke was that Griffin Rice would be late for his own funeral.
“Yes.”
Belinda waved a hand. “Forget it, Griffin. I’ll get up and make breakfast and take them to school.”
“You doubt whether I’ll be here on time?”
She leaned closer. “I know you won’t make it.”
The warmth and the subtle scent of lavender on Belinda’s bared flesh wafted in Griffin’s nostrils, making him more than aware of her blatant femininity. For years he’d told himself that he didn’t like his sister-in-law because she was a snob—that her attitude was that she was too good for him because she came from a more prestigious family.
But in the past four months he saw another side of Belinda Eaton that hadn’t been apparent in the dozen years since they first met. Not only was she generous, but also selfless in her attempt to become a surrogate mother for her sister’s children. She had reconfigured the design of her house to accommodate the teenage girls. He hadn’t known she had a man in her life, and apparently that relationship would also change now that Layla and Sabrina were living with her.
“I’ll make it if I stay over.”
“You can’t stay here,” Belinda said quickly. “Have you forgotten that I no longer have an extra bedroom?”
She’d turned the master bedroom into the office/entertainment retreat for the twins and added half baths to the two remaining bedrooms. There was still a full bathroom on the second floor and a half bath off the kitchen, but with three females living under one roof everyone needed a bathroom to call their own.
Griffin affected a Cheshire cat grin. “I can always sleep with you.”
Belinda stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “You’re crazy as hell if you think I’m going to let you sleep in my bed with me.”
“And why not?” he asked quietly. “Aren’t we family, Aunt Lindy?”
“First of all I’m not your aunt. And secondly, you and I don’t share blood, therefore we’re not family. If you want to stay over then you’re going to have to sleep in the living room on the sofa. It converts to a queen-size bed and the mattress is very comfortable.”
“How would you know it’s comfortable?”
“I slept on it before my bedroom was completed.” Although she’d moved her bedroom from the second to the first floor she liked her new space because it was larger, airy and filled with an abundance of light during daytime hours.
Griffin nodded. “I’ll take your word that it’s comfortable, but if I wake up with a bad back then I’m going to hold you responsible for my medical expenses.”
“You won’t need a chiropractor after I walk on your back,” Belinda countered confidently. “My feet and toes are magical.”
He glanced down at her slender pedicured feet in a pair of thong slippers. Her feet were like the rest of her body—perfect. Belinda Eaton was physically perfect, yet so untouchable. He wondered about the man who’d managed to get next to her. There was no doubt he was nothing less than Mister Perfect himself.
“We’ll see,” he replied noncommittally. “I’m going to head out to Paoli, get a few things. Are you sure you’ll be up when I get back?”
“I have an extra set of keys you can use.”
“What about your alarm?”
“I won’t set it.”
“Set it,” Griffin ordered. “I’d feel better knowing you and the girls are protected by a silent alarm before I get back. Now, give me the password. Please,” he added when Belinda glared at him. He repeated it a couple of times aloud, then to himself. “I’ll bring back a set of keys to my place for you, and I’ll give you my password.”
Belinda turned and walked in the direction of the kitchen where she retrieved a set of keys to her house from a utility drawer. She returned to find Griffin standing in the middle of her living room staring at photographs on tables and lining the fireplace mantel. His gaze was fixed on one of himself, Grant and Donna together at an Eaton-Rice family picnic. It’d taken her weeks to come to grips that her sister and brother-in-law were gone and that she would never hear their laughter again. She’d put away all of their photographs, then caught herself when she realized that if she wanted to remember them, it would be best to see them smiling and happy.
“Griffin.”
Griffin turned when Belinda called his name, his expression mirroring the sadness and pain that returned when he least expected it. There had only been he and Grant, the two of them inseparable. Grant was two years older, but he never seemed to mind that he had to take his younger brother everywhere he went.
They were always there for each other throughout their triumphs and failures. Grant was gone, but his spirit for life lived on in the daughters he had called his “princesses.” Grant had asked him whether he’d take care of his “princesses” if anything ever happened to him and Griffin hadn’t hesitated when he said of course, unaware that a decade later he would be called upon to do just that. Grant had also revealed that Belinda Eaton had agreed to share guardianship of his children with him. He’d always thought Donna’s younger sister was shy and very pretty, but that had been the extent of his awareness of the young woman who’d been Donna’s maid of honor at his brother’s wedding.
Now standing several feet away wasn’t a shy, pretty girl but a very confident, beautiful woman who always seemed confrontational, something he’d never accept from other women. But he had to remember that Belinda Eaton wasn’t just any woman. She was now the mother and he the father to their twin nieces.
“Yes?”
Belinda held out her hand. “Here are your keys.” He took the keys suspended from a colorful Lucite souvenir from Hershey Park. “I’ll make up the sofa and leave a light on for you.”
Griffin nodded. “Thank you. I’ll lock the door and set the alarm on my way out.”
Belinda was still standing in the middle of the living room when she heard the soft beep that signaled that the alarm was being armed. In another forty-five seconds it would be activated.
Today she’d spent more time with Griffin Rice than she had since planning and rehearsing for her sister’s wedding. Her opinion of him hadn’t changed over the years. She still found him outspoken, brash and a skirt-chaser. What had changed was that she saw for the first time that he truly loved his nieces. His reference to Sabrina and Layla as his daughters really shocked her, and his volunteering to take them to school was a blessing. He’d stepped up to the plate much sooner than she’d expected he would.
Perhaps, she thought as she made her way upstairs to the linen closet, Griffin did have some redeeming qualities after all. What she didn’t want to linger on was how good he looked and smelled. He’d removed his tie and jacket and when she opened the door to find him standing there in just a shirt and trousers she discovered that her pulse beat a little too quickly for her to be unaffected by his presence, and at that moment she knew she was no different than the thousands of other women who lusted after the sports attorney who’d become a celebrity in his own right.
What Belinda had to do was be careful—be very, very careful not to fall victim to his looks and potent charm.

Chapter 3
Belinda woke as daylight filtered through layers of silk panels covering the French doors. Every piece of furniture and all the accessories in her bedroom were in varying shades of white. The absence of color in the bedroom was offset by the calming blue shades in an adjoining sitting/dressing room. Blue-and-white striped cushions on a white chaise, where she spent hours reading and grading papers, and a blue-and-white checked tablecloth on a small table with two pull-up chairs were where she usually enjoyed a late-night cup of coffee and took her breakfast on weekend mornings.
Stretching her arms above her head, she smiled when the sounds of birds singing and chirping to one another shattered the early-morning solitude. It was spring, the clocks were on daylight savings time and she’d spent the winter waiting for longer days and warmer weather after a brutally cold and snowy winter season. Rolling over on her side, she peered at the clock on the bedside table. It was six-thirty—the same time she woke every morning.
She’d just gotten into bed when she heard Griffin come in around midnight. She didn’t know why, but the notion of whether he slept nude, in pajamas or in his underwear made her laugh until she pulled a pillow over her head to muffle the sound. That was her last thought before she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.
Sitting up, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for the wrap on the nearby chair. Today was Thursday and she had a standing appointment with her hairdresser. Wednesdays were set aside for a manicure and pedicure and she planned to ask her nieces if they wanted to accompany her.
The house was quiet as she took the back staircase to the full bathroom on the second floor. Belinda hadn’t wanted to walk past the living room where Griffin slept. Her feet were muffled by the hallway runner as she made her way past the closed doors to Sabrina’s and Layla’s bedrooms. She’d told the girls to set their alarms, because she wasn’t going to be responsible for waking them up. Like Griffin, they also liked to sleep in late. It had to be a Rice trait.
Belinda didn’t linger. Having completed her morning routine, she left the bathroom the way she’d come, encountering the smell of brewing coffee. A knowing smile parted her lips. Griffin was up.
By the time she’d made up her bed, slipped into a pair of faded jeans, T-shirt and brushed her hair, securing it into a ponytail, the sound of footsteps echoed over her head. It was apparent her nieces had gotten up without her assistance. Donna had made it a practice to wake them up and the habit continued with Roberta.
When she and Donna were that age, Roberta had insisted that they set their alarm clocks in order to get up in plenty of time to ready themselves for school. Griffin had accused her of being rigid, while she thought of it as preparation for the future. No one would be coming to their homes to wake them up so they could make it to work on time.

Belinda walked into the kitchen to find Griffin transferring buckwheat pancakes from the stovetop grill onto a platter. The white T-shirt and jeans riding low on his slim hips made her breath catch in her throat. Her gaze was drawn to the muscles in his biceps that flexed with every motion. She regarded Griffin as a skirt-chaser, but after seeing him moving around her kitchen as if he’d done it countless times she realized he would be a good catch for some woman—provided he would be faithful to her.
“Good morning.”
Griffin glanced up, smiling. “Well, good morning to you, too.”
Belinda walked into the kitchen and sat on a high stool at the cooking island. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
He winked at her. “That’s because you don’t know me.”
She decided not to respond to his declaration. “How’s your back?” Belinda asked instead.
“Good. Remember when you banish your man to the couch that it’s not going to be much of a punishment.”
“When I have to put a man out of my bed he won’t end up on the couch but on the sidewalk.” She’d stressed the last word.
Griffin grimaced. “Ouch!”
Belinda slipped off the stool. “Do you want me to help you with anything?”
“I stopped at a twenty-four-hour green grocer and bought some fruit. I put it in the refrigerator, but if you prepare it for me I’d really appreciate it.”
Working side by side, Belinda washed and cut melon, strawberries and pineapple into small pieces for a fresh fruit salad while Griffin finished making pancakes. When Sabrina and Layla came downstairs, dressed in their school uniforms—white blouse, gray pleated skirt and gray blazer and knee socks—the kitchen was redolent with different flavors of fruit, freshly squeezed orange juice, pancakes and coffee for Belinda and Griffin. There was only the sound of a newscaster’s voice coming from the radio on a countertop as the four ate breakfast.
“I have an appointment for my hair this afternoon,” Belinda said, breaking the comfortable silence. She looked at Sabrina, then Layla. “Who would like to go with me?”
“I do,” Sabrina said.
“Me, too,” Layla chimed in.
“I’ll pick you up from school, and we’ll go directly from there to the salon. Make certain you bring your books so you can do your homework while under the dryer. Thursday is girls’ night out, so let me know where you’d like to eat.”
Belinda’s last class would end at two and the twins weren’t dismissed until three. The half-hour drive would afford her more than enough time to pick them up. However, if she ran into traffic, then she could call her mother to have her meet them. Layla peered over her glass at her uncle. “Even though it’s for girls, can Uncle Griff eat with us?”
Belinda stared at Griffin, silently admiring his close-cropped hair and the smoothness of his clean-shaven jaw. Mixed feelings surged through her as she tried to read the man sitting in her kitchen who continued to show her that there was more to Griffin Rice than photo ops with pro athletes, A-list actors and entertainment celebrities. His success in negotiating multimillion-dollar contracts for athletes was noteworthy, while his reputation for dating supermodels and actresses was legendary. A tabloid ran a story documenting the names of the women and a time line of his numerous relationships—most of which averaged six to nine months.
“I can’t answer for him, Layla.”
She smiled at her uncle. “Can you eat with us, Uncle Griff?”
Dropping an arm over Layla’s shoulders, Griffin kissed her mussed hair. “I can’t, baby girl. I’m going to see my folks before they leave on vacation.”
In their shared grief over losing their firstborn, his parents had become at sixty what they hadn’t been in their twenties—friends. Now they were embarking on a month-long European cruise they’d always planned to take for their fortieth wedding anniversary. Lucas and Gloria Rice’s marriage hadn’t survived two decades. However, both were older, wiser and sensible enough to know they couldn’t change the past, so were willing to make the best of the present.
“When are Grandma and Grandpa coming back?” Sabrina asked.
“They won’t be back until the beginning of May.” Griffin stared at the clock on the microwave.
Layla wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Are you going to fix breakfast for us tomorrow, Uncle Griff?”
“Your aunt and I agreed you would spend the weekends with me, and that means I’ll make breakfast for you Saturday and Sunday mornings.”
“I hope you don’t expect me to make pancakes every day, but I’ll definitely make certain your breakfasts will be healthy,” Belinda said when the two girls gave her long, penetrating stares. “As soon as you’re finished here I want you to comb your hair. Your uncle will drive you to school this morning.”
A frown formed between Layla’s eyes. She appeared as if she’d been in a wrestling match, with tufts of hair standing out all over her head. “I thought the bus was picking us up.”
Belinda stood up and began clearing the table. “Griffin will fill out the paperwork today changing your official address to this house. As soon as it’s approved, you’ll be put on the bus route.”
“Layla’s boyfriend rides the bus,” Sabrina crooned in a singsong tone.
A rush of color darkened Layla’s face, concealing the sprinkle of freckles dotting her pert nose. “No, he doesn’t!” she screamed as Griffin and Belinda exchanged shocked glances. “Breena is a liar!”
Resting his elbows on the table, Griffin supported his chin on a closed fist. “Do you have a boyfriend, Layla?” His voice, though soft, held a thread of steel.
Layla’s eyes filled with tears. “Stop them, Aunt Lindy.”
Belinda felt her heart turn over. Her sensitive, free-spirited niece was hurting and she knew what Layla was going through, because she’d experienced her first serious crush on a boy in her class the year she turned twelve. She’d confided her feelings to her best friend and before the end of the day everyone in the entire school, including Daniel Campbell, knew she liked him.
“If Layla likes a boy, then that’s her business, not ours.”
Griffin sat up straighter. “She’s too young to have a boyfriend.”
“But I don’t have a boyfriend,” Layla sobbed, as tears trickled down her cheeks.
Belinda rounded on Griffin. “Griffin, you’re upsetting the child. She says she doesn’t have a boyfriend.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “We’ll talk about this later. Sabrina and Layla, I want you to finish your breakfast then please go and comb your hair. And don’t forget what I said yesterday about leaving clothes on the floor.”
Layla sprang up from the table, leaving her twin staring at her back. Sabrina closed her eyes. “I didn’t mean to make her cry.”
Belinda shook her head. “If you didn’t mean it then you shouldn’t have said what you said. Remember, Sabrina, that your words and actions have consequences.”
Nodding, Sabrina pushed back her chair. “I’ll tell her I’m sorry.”
Belinda closed her eyes for several seconds and when she opened them she found Griffin glaring at her. “What?”
“The girls can’t date until they’re eighteen.”
“Are you asking me or telling me, Griffin?”
He stared, not blinking. “I’m only making a suggestion.”
“I believe seventeen would be more appropriate.”
“Why?”
“By that time they’ll be in their last year of high school and that will give them a year to deal with the ups and downs of what they’ll believe is love. Then once they’re in college they’ll be used to the lies and tricks dogs masquerading as men perpetuate so well.”
Griffin’s expressive eyebrows shot up. “You think all men are dogs?”
Belinda rinsed and stacked dishes in the dishwasher. “If the shoe fits, then wear it, Griffin Rice. If a woman dated as many men as you do women, people would call her a whore.”
“I don’t date that many women.”
“Why, then, didn’t you sue that tabloid that documented your many trysts?”
“I don’t have the time, nor the inclination to keep up with gossip.”
Resting a hip against the counter, Belinda gave him a long, penetrating stare. “Are you saying what they printed wasn’t true?”
There came a lengthy pause before Griffin said, “Yes.”
“What about the photographs of you and different women?”
“They were photo ops.”
“They were photo ops for whose benefit?”
“Most times for the lady.”
“So, all that dishing about you being a womanizer is bogus.”
Leaning on his elbow, Griffin cradled his chin in his hand. “If I’d slept with as many women as the tabloids claim I have I doubt whether I’d be able to stand up.”
Belinda turned her head to conceal her smile. “Real or imaginary, you’re going to have to clean up your image now that you’re a father.”
Now that you’re a father.
Belinda’s words were branded into Griffin’s consciousness as he got up to take the rest of the dishes off the table. He, who hadn’t wanted to marry and become a father because he didn’t want his children to go through what he’d experienced with his warring parents, now at thirty-seven, found himself playing daddy to his adolescent nieces.
When Jonathan Connolly had called to tell him that he had received the documents legalizing the girls’ adoption, Griffin felt his heart stop before it started up again. He’d feared his life would change so dramatically, that he would have to hire a nanny to take care of his nieces and that he wouldn’t be able to recognize who he was or what he’d become until he remembered Belinda telling him she would have the girls live with her, and if he chose he could have them on weekends.
Belinda’s suggestion had come as a shock to him. He’d thought of her as the consummate career woman. She taught high school history, spent her winter vacations in the Caribbean or Florida and traveled abroad during the summer months.
He had vacillated between indifference and new-found respect for Belinda when she’d decided to renovate her house to address the needs and interests of the two children she’d thought of as her own within days of them losing their parents.
Belinda Eaton had sacrificed her day-to-day existence for “her children” while he hadn’t given up anything. When he’d come to her house the night before he said he’d come to see his children. They weren’t only his children or Belinda’s children. Sabrina and Layla Rice were now legally the children of both Belinda Eaton and Griffin Rice.
“I’ll try, Belinda.”
She gave him a level look. “Don’t try, Griffin. Just do it.”

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