DANA SANDERS HILL
ALLEGRA'S SHADOW
Southeast Raleigh, North Carolina
As Mariah moved into the middle of the living room, Gran D slowly ambled to the couch, circling the wooden and glass coffee table, her footfalls making hefty, temporary impressions in the plush butterscotch carpet. She didn’t have a soft tread, but her steps were never as heavy as they were tonight. Using the arm of the couch for support, Gran D sank down next to a young woman she introduced as Thomasina.
Before she could utter another word, one of the men in the room stepped toward Mariah and held out his hand. “Thomas Payton,” he said in a smooth, Southern flavor, a sharp contrast to his handshake, which was cool, forceful and formal. The message was clear: Okay, I’m here. Deal with me. Disquiet rolled through Mariah and she removed her hand—which he engulfed in his, making her feel like a caged bird—promptly. She noticed how Gran D’s lips curled slightly in distaste and was relieved that she wasn’t wrong in her original assessment of the man.
Even though Mariah instantly disliked Thomas, he was impressive. A cobalt blue dress shirt and black dress pants fit the lines of his tall, attractively-proportioned body, and black Oxfords completed the dressy ensemble. Being handsome didn’t hurt, either. Olive-brown skin highlighted keen dark brown eyes framing features so perfect that any more delicacy would have made him too beautiful for a man.
“And this is Anthony Caine,” Gran D interjected as if Thomas hadn’t said a word. Great affection laced her voice as she made her introduction. She extended a hand, palm up, in the direction outside of Mariah’s peripheral vision. Anthony Caine. A spark of familiarity coursed through Mariah. She’d never met him, but she’d heard about him off and on throughout the years.
Mariah slowly turned her eyes to Anthony, and a quiver surged through her veins. Taken aback, she made a quick, involuntary appraisal of his features. Mother Nature had certainly blessed him in abundance with a body that was heavily muscled, but not bulky, smooth caramel skin and a remarkably handsome face that could have belonged to royalty. He strolled forward, his large hand outstretched. Anthony stepped a foot within her personal space, and for such a big individual, his approach was inaudible.
He smelled incredible, like cedar. He stood about six-three, slightly taller than Thomas. A classic robin’s egg blue T-shirt emphasized wide shoulders, powerful biceps and sharply toned abs. Bruised-washed jeans hugged narrow hips. In the light, his hair looked almost brown and was cut in a tapered fade, working well for a man with his features. But his masculine beauty was not untouched. He sported two curved scars, one along his high right cheekbone, and the other extending from the right corner of firm, full lips to the middle of his chin. Oddly enough, they did nothing to diminish his appeal.
Anthony turned his head slightly to give Thomas a brief, enigmatic glance, the lines of his profile were somber, sharp and confident. Mariah found herself captivated by his eyes. Yellow and gold with russet and copper tint, they were full of contradictions, impassive, yet razor-sharp. Wolf eyes. But that detachment evaporated seconds later when they traveled to Mariah’s mouth, focusing on her lips with laser-like precision before lifting to meet her wide gaze.
Mariah’s breasts tingled against the fabric of her shirt and she swallowed hard. The man was standing in her personal space, preventing her from ignoring the strength and heat of his physique. Warm, strong, blunt-tipped fingers surrounded hers, and Mariah hesitated. A bizarre tremor, a combination of caution and unwanted awareness; of needing to move closer and run away; of feeling safe and being exposed to a maelstrom, slid up her spine when his unusual eyes moved over her face, as if he could see into her soul with one look.
“I’m sorry for your loss, and I’ll help in any way I can.” His voice, gravelly, like Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry, was strictly Northern and carried with it a curious mix of compassion, danger and underlying sensuality.
“Thank you, Mr. Caine,” she replied in a voice that seemed to come from a long way off as she hastily tried to disengage her hand.
His hold tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but just enough to keep her attention as his amber eyes locked with hers. “Anthony,” he replied with quiet emphasis before releasing her hand.
Gran D spoke low. “This morning, Allegra’s maid called, and she was frantic. She said she’d left something at the house and tried to catch Allegra before she left for work, since she only worked on Saturdays when Allegra was home and didn’t have the alarm code. She said she found Allegra on the floor…and the front door was unlocked.”
Mariah frowned. Why would Allegra’s front door be unlocked? “What about her alarm?”
“It wasn’t on.”
Disturbed, Mariah shook her head. That didn’t sound right. Allegra was keen on security.
Gran D turned to Thomas. “I know y’all came over to help with the funeral, but it’s not necessary. We can handle this.” Her message was polite enough, but something in her tone captured Mariah’s attention.
She didn’t want their help.
Both siblings gave a nod. Thomasina’s was gentle and accepting, but Thomas’s had a slight edge. “Alright, Ms. Della. I’m here if you change your mind,” he offered.
“Mmmm hmm,” Gran D replied. With a weary sigh, she got up and headed to the door. Taking the not-so-subtle hint, the twins did the same. Before she reached the door, Gran D switched her attention to Anthony, who also readied to leave. “I need ya to stay a little while.”
Thomas’s gaze shifted in Anthony’s direction. The look in his dark eyes was colder than a loan shark’s glare when a borrower comes up short on cash.
And the hairs on the back of Mariah’s neck stood up.
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