The Sweetest Temptation. Rochelle AlersЧитать онлайн книгу.
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The Sweetest Temptation
Rochelle Alers
MILLS & BOON
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The Whitfield Brides series
You’ve met Ryan, Jeremy and Sheldon—the Blackstones of Virginia—and now it’s time to meet the Whitfields of New York. In this Arabesque trilogy, you will meet the wedding divas of Signature Bridals: Tessa, Faith and Simone Whitfield. These three women are so focused on their demanding careers that they’ve sacrificed their personal happiness. Within a year, though, each will encounter a very special man who will not only change them but change their lives forever.
In Long Time Coming, wedding planner Tessa Whitfield never imagined that opening the doors of Signature Bridals to Micah Sanborn would lead to their spending the next twelve hours together after a power outage hits her Brooklyn, New York, neighborhood. Her vow never to mix business with pleasure is shattered when the Brooklyn assistant district attorney offers Tessa an extraordinary friendship with a few special surprises that make her reevaluate everything she’s come to believe about love.
Wedding cake designer Faith Whitfield, who owns the fashionable Greenwich Village patisserie Let Them Eat Cake, has all but given up on finding her prince, and refuses to kiss another frog. But when she least expects it, she discovers love in the passionate embrace of pilot to the rich and famous, and modern-day knight-in-shining-armor Ethan McMillan in The Sweetest Temptation.
After a disappointing marriage and an ill-fated reconciliation with her high school sweetheart, floral designer Simone Whitfield wants nothing to do with men. She’s content to run her business, Wildflowers and Other Treasures, in the greenhouses on her White Plains, New York, property. In Taken by Storm, Simone witnesses an attack on a federal judge and suddenly finds her cloistered suburban life turned upside down when U.S. Marshal Raphael Madison from the Witness Protection Unit is assigned to protect her 24/7. Although they are complete opposites, Simone and Raphael come to share a heated desire and a love that promises forever.
Yours in romance,
Rochelle Alers
For Sean D. Young—
The ultimate wedding planner diva
His left hand is under my head and his right arm embraces me.
—Song of Solomon 8:3
Contents
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
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 1
Faith Whitfield smiled at the doorman as he opened the rear door to the taxi and extended a hand. Grabbing her gloved hand, he helped her to her feet.
She’d come to record producer William “WJ” Raymond’s West End Avenue high-rise river-view apartment to prepare the dessert menu for his daughter’s engagement party. Tonight’s menu would differ from the traditional one because most of the candies, cookies, cakes and tortes would be made with chocolate. And those familiar with Savanna Raymond knew she was a diehard chocoholic.
It was January eighth, and the number of projects Faith had committed to had increased instead of slowing down as they usually did during the postholiday season. It wouldn’t have been a problem if Faith hadn’t signed a contract with a major publisher for a book featuring her cake designs.
She’d admitted to her cousins Simone and Tessa Whitfield that she was tired, but the truth was that she was beyond tired. She was worn-out, done-in and completely exhausted. Faith’s next projects included two cakes for afternoon and evening Valentine’s Day wedding receptions.
Her smile was still in place when she stood on the sidewalk under the maroon canopy. “Thank you, Thomas,” she said, reading the name tag pinned to his greatcoat.
The doorman touched the shiny brim of his cap. “You’re quite welcome, Miss Whitfield.”
His gaze lingered on her tall figure in a pair of jeans, low-heel boots and black wool wrap coat. He’d made it a point to remember the name of the incredibly beautiful dark-brown-skinned woman who’d come to see William Raymond. New York City luxury-apartment-building doormen were notorious gossips, and a housekeeper for the Raymonds had let it be known that Miss Whitfield had been hired to create a specialty wedding cake for their daughter’s Valentine’s Day wedding.
Thomas rushed to open the door to the lobby as Miss Whitfield strode by with an oversize black leather bag slung over her shoulder. “I’ll call to let someone know you’re on your way up,” he said to her as she walked past him.
Faith nodded, refusing to dwell on how long it would take her to bake and decorate a large heart-shaped chocolate and red currant torte for Savanna Raymond as she stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the penthouse. Her newly hired assistant, a recent graduate of a highly regarded New York City culinary school, had spent two days collecting and cleaning orange, bay, citrus and beech leaves, using them as templates for the chocolate leaves that would top the torte.
She’d baked everything, with the exception of the heart-shaped torte and chocolate-covered fresh fruits in her shop—Let Them Eat Cake—carefully packaging and labeling the contents before they were delivered to the Raymond residence the night before. The Raymonds had invited forty guests, and Faith had created a special gift for each: chocolate candies in edible boxes.
The door to the household staff entrance was open as Faith exited the elevator. A tall man standing a few feet away mumbled a greeting when he recognized her. He worked security for William Raymond.
A sensor set off a soft chiming as Faith walked through the door and into the stainless-steel kitchen reminiscent of those in restaurants or cooking schools. The Raymonds had employed a live-in chef who prepared gourmet meals for his employer and their guests. The smell of freshly brewed coffee reminded Faith that she hadn’t had her morning cup of coffee.
Placing her leather bag on a stool in the corner, she made her way through the kitchen to an area with walk-in closets to hang up her coat. Selecting a white tunic and toque