sleeping with them.” Faith looked at Tessa. “I know you’re getting your freak on with Micah, but you, Miss Simone Whitfield, are a different story. Once you fell under Anthony Kendrick’s spell you never looked at another man.” She cupped a hand to her ear. “How many men, other than Tony, have you slept with in the past…” She paused. “How long has it been—seven or eight years?”
“Eight,” Simone mumbled. “But that’s over and done with, and Tony knows it.”
Faith blinked once. “You told him?”
Simone nodded. “Yes. Tessa is my witness.”
“Yes!” Faith said through clenched teeth. “I know I’ve kissed a lot of frogs, but with all you have going for yourself, Simone, I always thought you could do so much better than that…Tony,” she said, biting back the criticism she usually reserved for her cousin’s highly educated, bum-ass ex-husband.
Tessa smiled at her sister and cousin. “Now that we’re done discussing men, I’m going to wash up so we can eat. I’m starved.”
Both pairs of eyes, one light and the other dark, stared at Tessa. “Are you sure you’re not pregnant?” Simone asked.
Tessa gave her a saccharine grin. “I know I’m not.” She headed for the bathroom.
“Do you and Micah plan to have children?” Faith said as Tessa retreated.
Tessa smiled over her shoulder. “Yes.”
Simone winked at Faith before following her sister into the bathroom. “Hot damn! We’re going to be aunties.”
“I’m going to spoil my niece or nephew!” Faith called out.
“You better not,” Tessa called out.
“Try and stop me, Theresa Anais Whitfield.”
Tessa stuck her head out of the bathroom. “Oh, no, you didn’t call me by my full name.”
“Yes, I did.” Faith returned to the kitchen area to turn off a simmering pot of shrimp chowder. She added a Thai peanut dressing to the salad, tossing the crisp greens and crispy-fried popcorn shrimp, placing the bowl on the table next to the floral centerpiece. She planned to begin the five-course meal with shrimp cocktail, followed by soup, salad, an entrée of shrimp and snow peas with white rice and a dessert of frozen cassata—a vanilla ice cream cake that incorporated the flavors of an Italian cannoli filing: ricotta, chocolate, pistachios and orange peel.
The sisters returned. Tessa offered to uncork the bottle of wine while Faith ladled the steaming chowder into soup bowls. Her cell phone rang, and before she could tell Simone not to answer it, she’d picked it up.
“Good evening, Let Them Eat Cake.” Simone knew Faith used her cell phone exclusively for business.
“May I please speak to Faith Whitfield,” said a deep male voice.
Simone’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Who shall I say is calling?”
“Ethan McMillan.”
Simone covered the mouthpiece with her thumb. “It’s Ethan McMillan.”
Faith’s breath caught in her chest before she let it out slowly. “Ask him if he can leave a number so I can call him back.”
Simone repeated Faith’s request. “Hold on while I get something to write with.” She gestured for something to write, and Faith handed her a pen and paper from the magnetic pad attached to the side of the refrigerator. Simone wrote down the number, then repeated it for accuracy. She was smiling when she ended the call. “Who’s the brother with the X-rated voice?”
Faith schooled her expression not to reveal what she was feeling at the moment—a rush of excitement for a man who’d managed to affect her more than she wanted, a man whose very presence disturbed and piqued her curiosity.
“How do you know he’s a brother?” she asked Simone as they sat down.
“Don’t play yourself, cousin,” Simone drawled as she placed a cloth napkin over her lap. “Only brothers are blessed with voices that deep.”
Tessa peered closely at Faith. “Who is he?”
Faith knew that if she didn’t give the two a plausible explanation, then they would pester her throughout dinner. She could lie and say he was a client, but she’d never lied to her cousins and didn’t want to start now.
“He’s someone I promised to go out with.”
Tessa shared a smile with Simone. “I’m going to ask you one question, then I’m going to get out of your business.” Faith nodded. “Is he what Aunt Edie would call ‘potential husband material’?” Faith’s mother had lectured them sternly once they’d begun dating, saying, “Every man you date should be considered a potential husband. If not, then don’t waste your time.”
Faith filled the wineglasses with the pale wine rather than meet Tessa’s questioning gaze. “I’ll reserve comment. First I have to find out whether he’s a frog.”
“Ribbit!” Simone croaked.
Faith and Tessa burst out laughing, setting the tone for an evening of good food and a closeness that had begun with earlier generations of Whitfield women.
Tessa pushed back her chair and stood up. “I forgot to give you Bridget’s gift.” She retrieved her purse and took out a small gaily wrapped box, handing it to Faith.
Simone and Tessa stared at Faith as she removed the paper, opened a small black velvet box and stared numbly at a pair of thirteen-millimeter Tahitian pearl earrings suspended from a drop clasp of bezel-set diamonds.
“Oh, my!” Faith gasped in awe. “They are stunning!”
“I got the same pair,” Simone said.
Faith smiled at Tessa. “I’m going to wear them at your wedding.”
“Speaking of weddings, Faith,” Tessa began softly, “I’d like to ask you if you’d be my maid of honor.”
A rush of tears filled Faith’s eyes. She blinked them back before they fell. “I’d be honored, Tessa. How many attendants do you plan to have?”
“That’s going to depend on Micah. He’s asked his father to be his best man, and his two brothers will be groomsmen. You’ll be my maid of honor, Simone a bridesmaid and I’m thinking of asking Micah’s sister-in-law whether her teenage daughter can be a bridesmaid.”
Faith wrinkled her pert nose. “Isn’t it going to feel funny planning your own wedding?”
“I’m not,” Tessa admitted smugly. “Simone’s going to be my wedding planner.”
“You’re kidding, aren’t you?” Faith asked, an expression of shock freezing her features.
Simone shook her head. “No, she’s not.”
A blush suffused Tessa’s face. “Micah and I have decided to begin
