Stacey’s hopes of becoming Mrs. Myles Eaton ended when her biological clock began winding down and she married a neurosurgeon she’d dated off and on for years. She was now the mother of a two-year-old daughter.
“So, you’re really serious about putting down roots in Pittsburgh?”
Myles’s dark eyebrows framed his eyes in a lean mahogany-brown angular face that once seen wasn’t easily forgotten. “I’ve been house-hunting,” he admitted. The one-year lease on his rental would expire at the end of August. “And I’ve seen a few places I happen to like.”
Stacey angled her head. “I thought you’d prefer a condo or co-op.”
“I’d thought so, too. But after living in apartments the past nine years I’m looking to spread out. I don’t like entertaining only a few feet from where I have to sleep.”
“You could buy a duplex.”
Myles studied Stacey’s face, one of the youngest jurists elected to Philadelphia’s Supreme Court. Stacey Greer-Monroe had always reminded him of a fragile doll. But under the soft, delicate exterior was a tough but fair judge. Her grandfather was a judge, as was her father. And Stacey had continued the tradition when she was elected to the bench.
“I miss waking up to the smell of freshly cut grass and firing up the grill during the warm weather.”
Stacey smiled. “It sounds as if you’re ready to settle down and become a family man.”
Myles wanted to tell her he’d been ready to settle down ten years before. Then he’d looked forward to marrying Zabrina and raising a family, but that changed when she’d married Thomas Cooper and gave him the son that should’ve been theirs.
“Excuse me, Judge Monroe, but are you ready to order a cocktail?”
Frowning slightly, Stacey shifted her attention from Myles to their waiter. Talk about bad timing. She was just about to ask him whether he was seeing a woman, and, if he was, was it serious? “Yes.” She smiled at Myles. “Do you mind if I order a bottle of champagne to celebrate your return to Philly?”
“Not at all, Judge.”
He’d come back to Philadelphia to spend the summer and reconnect with his family. He’d checked into a hotel downtown for the week. After the wedding he would move into Belinda’s house for the summer. His sister hadn’t decided whether she wanted to sell or rent her house. It was to be the first time in a decade that he’d spend more than a few days with his parents, siblings and nieces.
Waiting until the man walked away, Stacey said to Myles, “I told you never to call me that!”
“Aren’t you a judge, Stacey?”
“Yes, but only in the courtroom.”
“I’ve never known you to be self-deprecating. When we met for the first time all you talked about was becoming a judge.”
“I was all of twenty-six and I wanted to impress my very bright protégé. You had to know that I liked you.”
“And I told you I was in love with someone else,” Myles countered.
A beat passed. “Are you still in love with her, Myles?”
His eyebrows flickered before settling back into place. “Yes,” he admitted truthfully. “A part of me will always love her.”
Stacey curbed the urge to reach across the table to grasp Myles’s hand. “I’m glad I married when I did, because I’d still be waiting for you to notice me.”
He angled his head and stared directly at his dining partner. “I noticed you, Stacey, only because you were trying too hard. The flirtatious looks, the indiscriminate touching and the occasional kiss on the lips instead of the cheek were obvious.”
Stacey’s lashes fluttered as she tried to bring her emotions under control. She’d always thought she’d been subtle in her attempts to seduce Myles Eaton, but evidently she had been anything but. “You knew?”
He nodded. “I knew, and I promise I won’t tell your husband.”
“You must have thought me a real idiot.”
Reaching across the table, Myles covered her hand with his. “No, Stacey. We weren’t that different. We both wanted someone we couldn’t have.”
He’d wanted Zabrina at eighteen, and at thirty-eight he still wanted her.
Chapter 4
It was a picture-perfect day in late June when two ushers opened the French doors and Dr. Dwight Eaton escorted his daughter over a pink runner monogrammed in green with the couple’s initials. Light and dark pink rose petals littering the runner had been placed there by the bride’s nieces wearing pink-and-green dresses and headbands with green button mums and pink nerines, the colors representing Belinda’s sorority, Alpha Kappa Alpha.
The one hundred and twenty guests, welcomed with champagne and caviar into a Bucks County château built on a rise that overlooked the Delaware River, stood as the intro to the Wedding March filled the room where the ceremony was to take place. The restored castle and all of the estate’s thirty-two rooms were filled with out-of-town guests and those who didn’t want to make the hour-long drive back to Philadelphia after a night of frivolity.
Zabrina felt her heart lurch when she saw Belinda. Her childhood friend and sorority sister was ravishing in an ivory Chantilly lace empire gown with a floral appliqué-and-satin bodice. Embroidered petals flowed around the sweeping hem and train of the ethereal garment. She’d forgone a veil in lieu of tiny white rosebuds pinned into the elegant chignon on the nape of her long, graceful neck.
At that moment Zabrina was reliving her past—she should have walked down the aisle on her father’s arm as Myles waited to make her his wife. Blinking back tears, she stared at his distinctive profile as he stood on Griffin Rice’s right.
She noticed changes she hadn’t been able to discern the week before. His face was thinner, there were flecks of gray in his close-cropped hair and there was a stubborn set to his lean jaw that made him appear as if he’d been carved from a piece of smooth, dark mahogany. Her gaze dropped to his left hand. She smiled. He wasn’t wearing a ring.
Zabrina had searched her memory for days until she matched the face of the woman clinging to Myles’s arm with a name. The woman was Judge Stacey Greer-Monroe.
She smiled when the rich, deep voice of the black-robed judge punctuated the silence. Griffin Rice, devastatingly handsome in formal attire, stared directly into the eyes of his bride as he repeated his vows. There was a twitter of laughter when the judge pronounced them husband and wife and Griffin pumped his fist in the air. It was over. Belinda was now Mrs. Belinda Rice.
The wedding party proceeded along the carpet to the reception. Zabrina didn’t notice Belinda, Griffin, Keith Ennis, Chandra or Denise Eaton. Her gaze was fixed on Myles as he came closer and closer, and then their eyes met and fused. His eyes grew wider as a wry smile parted his firm lips.
The smile, Myles and his powerful presence were there. Then they vanished as he moved past her. Emerging from her trance, she followed the crowd as the hotel staff ushered everyone down a wide tunnel that led outside where an enormous tent had been erected. Belinda and Griffin stood in a receiving line, greeting family members and friends who’d come to witness and celebrate their special day.
Belinda’s eyebrows shot up when she saw her friend. Zabrina had cut her hair in a style that drew one’s attention to her luminous eyes. Raven-black waves were brushed off her face. The style would’ve been too severe for some with less delicate features. She was stunning in a silk chiffon off-the-shoulder black dress that hugged