by Donna Hill
The car door slammed, and the car slowly eased down the driveway and out to the street. Avery felt a rush of emptiness open inside her. A warm arm slid around her shoulders and held her close. Alice smiled knowingly up at her.
“Mr. Rafe will be fine, and back before you know it. Come inside. You must try my jambalaya! Just a little taste,” she teased with a sparkle in her eyes.
“I’d love some.”
* * *
“Oh. My. God. This is sooo good,” Avery gushed, finishing off another mouthful.
Alice beamed. “Have as much as you like. There’s plenty.” She pulled out a chair and sat opposite Avery at the circular wrought-iron and reclaimed-wood table.
“I am so happy that Mr. Rafe finally settled down.”
Avery glanced up from beneath her lashes.
“His heart was so broken...after Janae.” She slowly shook her head. “I didn’t think he would ever be the same.” She turned her palms up. “And he’s not,” she said succinctly. “He’s better.” She wagged a finger at Avery. “Because of you.”
“What...was he like after...”
Alice’s open expression grew somber. Her brows tightened. She spread her palms down on the table. “Rafe was always a little wild and reckless, especially with that motorcycle of his. But after Janae, whatever piece of himself that kept him halfway grounded broke. On the outside, he was the same—that easy smile, the charm, the chivalry. But there was a darkness that settled inside him. He took crazy chances, went from relationship to relationship, in constant conflict with his father—more than usual. I was afraid for him. Every time he got behind the wheel, or on that bike or up in that plane of his, I prayed.” She made a quick sign of the cross. “Because I knew, under that smile, he didn’t care about his own life anymore.”
“I had no idea,” she murmured.
“I’d been with the family for years, but when Rafe decided to take over this house, I came here. He needed someone to look after him since he wasn’t going to look after himself. Back in ’Nawlins, he has his sisters and brother.”
“The move had to be hard on you.”
“I’ve been taking care of Mr. Rafe and his family since they were running around in shorts. He’s like a son to me.” She lowered her voice as if she feared being overheard. “Always was my favorite.” She winked.
Avery grinned.
“Then he met you and the light came back to his eyes. His laughter is real again and that...thing that drove him to be so reckless seems to have stepped into the background. He wants to be around for you.”
Avery’s throat tightened. “How’d you know I needed to hear this today?”
Alice patted Avery’s fisted hand. “I haven’t spent half my life taking care of people without being able to spot need in someone.”
“I’m glad he has you in his life.”
Alice pushed up to her feet. “Now that you’re part of the family, I’ll be looking after you, too. And I think you could use a hot bath, a fluffy robe and a good movie.”
Avery tossed her head back and laughed. “You read my mind. Alice, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” She collected the plates.
“How do I get Dominique, Desiree and Lee Ann to...let me have my own wedding?”
Alice pursed her lips. “Hmm, those three sisters together are like a hurricane, with Dominique at the center of the storm.” She turned on the faucet in the sink, rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher. “They adore their brother, and they’re so thrilled that he’s happy again—they want to orchestrate every detail of the occasion for him.” She dried her hands on a black-and-white striped towel, blew out a breath. “One piece of advice I can offer, you don’t want to get in between Rafe and his sisters. If what they’re doing is too much, talk to them. Make sure you’re part of the plans and decisions. All of you women love him, so do it together.”
Avery bobbed her head. “Thanks.” She got up. “In the meantime, I’m going to take your advice and sit in a hot tub for a while.”
Avery went upstairs. She searched the cabinet beneath the sink and located the bath beads that she’d brought over the last time she was here. She poured a handful into the water rushing into the tub from the jets. Although she took a shower earlier, the bath would be therapeutic. Almost immediately the scent of soothing lavender filled the room. She stripped out of her clothes, turned off the faucets and sank into the steamy, scented water.
Every muscle sighed in pleasure. She leaned her head back against the lip of the tub and closed her eyes. Alice’s words of advice played softly. She didn’t have the time or opportunity to go down to Louisiana to do a face-to-face with Rafe’s sisters. She’d figure something out. She’d find a way to get them to accept that it was time to let Rafe go and that she would be part of his life and their family.
Chapter 2
Rafe disembarked from his Cessna. Flying always filled him with an awesome sense of invincibility. High above the clouds was a feeling that he could not describe. The only thing more thrilling was being with Avery. He smiled. He’d barely been gone three hours and he missed her already.
He thanked the crew, hopped on his motorcycle that he’d left parked at the landing strip and sped home. As he rode with a controlled abandon, the landscape of his life spread out before him. He’d spent years doing just this, racing through life, not taking the time to really see what was in front of him. Sure, there were good times to be had, and he’d never want to go back and change them. But he’d done it all while running on empty. For all the travel, the music gigs, the successes—and failures—and the women, there was a space inside him that none of those things could fill. He was starting to feel whole again from the inside. All the bourbon, reckless behavior, and even the fights with his father were all part of trying to fill the emptiness.
He maneuvered around a slow-moving minivan, resisting the urge to lean in and press the gas all the way down to the blacktop of the highway. He smiled beneath the tinted visor that shielded his face. It was all Avery’s fault. She was the one responsible for his reincarnation.
Rafe signaled for his exit, dutifully followed the flow of cars up the ramp and out into residential traffic. After a short ten-minute ride he pulled into the driveway of his two-story townhouse. The garage door whirred open. He parked his bike inside and entered the house through the door that led to the kitchen. He set his helmet on the granite countertop, tugged off the black leather gloves and tossed them there, as well.
He walked through the kitchen and into the living space to be greeted by the pile of mail that had been slid inside the mail slot of the front door. Scooping up the stack of bills, newspapers and subscription magazines, he absently sorted through half of them, deciding what to keep and what to toss, before dropping them on the end table. And then he headed upstairs to his bedroom.
He wanted to change his clothes first. After that he would get in touch with his producer to set up a meeting about the new tracks, and then check in with Quinten and try to twist his arm into coming to the Big Easy to sit in on a set. He’d bribe him with gumbo. Tomorrow he would go to the office. Although he’d put together a solid team for his foundation, he still needed to show his face and be a presence. Besides, there was something intangibly fulfilling about walking into a building and into rooms he’d envisioned that were now a reality. But it was the good work the RBL Foundation did for the young people of the community that was immeasurable. For all the crazy bull that he’d done in his life, the Foundation at least put a fresh coat of paint over it, and it was certainly an endeavor that he could be proud of.
He pulled on a pair of well-worn gray sweatpants and a T-shirt and then went back downstairs in search of food. Passing through the living room he grabbed the mail he’d tossed on the end table and took it with him to the kitchen.
Although the Lawson family always had a houseke
eper, each of the Lawson siblings learned how to cook. And if Rafe had to say so himself, he was pretty damned good. He tugged open the fridge. Milk, eggs, a half roll of salami and something in a plastic bowl that he didn’t recognize. The trick of course was to remember to shop. He pulled open the vegetable bin and grinned with relief at the sight of a green and a red pepper that still had life in them, along with a package of shredded cheddar cheese. Omelet coming right up.
While he wolfed down his omelet, he snapped open one of the major New Orleans newspapers that he received via delivery service. He started at the back of the paper, in the sports section, worked his way forward and nearly choked on his omelet when a picture of him and Avery—taken when he had no idea—with the caption “Rafe Lawson, New Orleans’s most eligible bachelor, engaged to Avery Richards.” There was a short paragraph that followed, announcing the engagement and that Avery was the daughter of Senator Horace Richards. It went on to state that the marriage of Lawson and Richards will redefine the political power couple. The nuptials are scheduled for early summer. No date has been set.
With every word, the knot in his stomach tightened. First of all, where the hell did anyone get their picture? Were they being followed? And most important, who gave the damned newspaper information on his and Avery’s engagement? He slapped the paper down on the counter. Had to be one of his sisters, and he would bet money that it was Dominique. It had her signature all over it.
“Shit.” He pushed back from the table with such force that the stool toppled backward, hit the floor and rolled. He gripped the paper in his fist and stormed upstairs to get dressed. His visit to the family home was going to be sooner rather than later.
Friday nights when the family was in town they generally turned up at the family home at some point. Hopefully tonight would be no different, which would help him avoid having to make a round of house calls. More than likely Lee Ann was in DC with Sterling. And he didn’t think the announcement in the paper was her doing, anyway.
Rafe opted to drive his Audi. As furious as he was he didn’t want to get on the road with his bike. He checked the trunk to make sure his small duffel bag with his “on the road” change of clothing was inside. He unzipped the bag and did a quick check of the contents. Satisfied, he slammed the trunk shut and got in behind the wheel. He had a very strong feeling that tonight would be a three-bourbon evening and driving would not be an option.
Halfway between his home and the family residence Rafe used the voice-activated phone feature and called Avery.
“Hi, darlin’,” he said the moment the call connected.
“Hi.” She yawned.
“Everything good? Sounds like I woke you.”
“Hmm, I guess I really did nod off. Alice fed me and insisted I take a hot bath.” She yawned again. “I thought I was reading,” she said over light laughter.
Rafe chuckled. “Not going to keep you. You need your rest. Just wanted to hear your voice and let you know I got here okay.”
“Sounds like you’re outside or something.”
“Yeah, I’m on my way to the family house.”
“Oh.”
“Plan to talk to my sisters...about the wedding.” No reason to tell her more than that. He’d deal with the mess in the papers.
Alice’s advice rushed to the forefront. “Rafe...babe, I was being overly sensitive. I’m not going to put you in between me and your family. When I come down there next month I can talk to them myself. I know they mean well.”
Rafe ran his tongue across his bottom lip. He couldn’t let it go. It wasn’t in his DNA, but he wasn’t going to upset Avery. “Whatever you want to do, darlin’. As long as you’re happy and stress-free. To me, that’s what’s important.”
“Thanks. Well, say hello to the fam for me.”
“I will.”
“Love you.”
“You, too, cher. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Have a good evening.”
“You, too.”
The call disconnected. Rafe frowned. He didn’t want to slip into a habit of lying to Avery. Even though what he told her wasn’t an out-and-out lie, it was a lie by omission. If he could stomp out the newspaper reports, then she wouldn’t have to know. His line of reasoning was thin to say the least. What he needed to do, in the meantime, was set his sisters straight. The last thing he wanted was for Avery to get bombarded with her face plastered on the tabloids and splashed across every Louisiana paper’s gossip section. He was used to it. He grew up on the receiving end of razor-sharp pens and intrusive flashbulbs, lived much of his adult life as a “trending topic” and grew immune to seeing his face on the pages of the news or covers of magazines. But that wasn’t Avery’s life. He had to do everything in his power to protect her. She may carry a gun and have security clearances, but both were useless against vigilant and determined journalists.
Rafe made the turn onto the private grounds where the Lawson mansion stood, glad to see some lights on, signaled right and eased his vehicle down the winding road that opened onto the sweeping green landscape that braced the eight-bedroom, six-bath family home. Growing up, it was nothing to play hide-and-seek in the massive house, peek into the formal dining room to see the famous faces of those that most only saw on television, slide down the mahogany bannisters, race for hours across the grassy lawn, attend the best schools or skip rocks along the pond that ran behind the house. For him and his siblings, and cousins that frequented the home, it was all pretty normal. But his father and his uncles drilled into them from the time that they were old enough to sit still and listen that the life the Lawsons lived was a privilege, not a right, and as such they owed society a debt, and that debt was to pay it forward. Each of his siblings, minus himself and Dominique, embraced the Lawson mantra. As the two rebels of the family, Rafe and Dominique were hell-bent and determined to do whatever was necessary to tick their father off. Their track record in that regard was impeccable. Dominique should have been his twin instead of Desiree’s. He and Dom were true sibling soulmates. However, that pesky thing called love swept through the Lawson clan like a summer storm and took each of them out one by one, Dominique included. Rafe remained the last holdout—until Avery.
He parked on the side of the house, used his key to open the front door. The aroma of backyard barbecuing mixed with laughter beckoned him. He followed the lip-smacking scents and was met by the wide-eyed surprise of his aunt Jacqueline, his brother Justin and his fiancée, Bailey.
“Rafe!” Jacqueline greeted him, her smile wide. “I thought you were in DC, baby.”
“Hey, big bro,” Justin said, raising a bottle of beer in salute.
Rafe rounded the white wrought-iron table, leaned down and gave his aunt a hearty kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Aunt J, good to see you. Where’s Ray?”
Raymond Jordan had long been his aunt’s freelance photographer. They’d traveled the world together, chasing that elusive story in some of the most exotic and often dangerous places on the globe. Finally they realized that what they needed—beyond the excitement of the next assignment—was each other. More than that, Raymond was instrumental in seeing his aunt through one of the most difficult times in her life. As much as her brother Branford’s bone marrow saved her body, Raymond’s love saved her soul. Now that the Lawson children were either married off or working on it, the house for the most part was empty. Jacqueline and Raymond decided to return to Jacqueline’s childhood home and finally put down some roots.
Jacqueline laughed at her nephew’s question. “Down in the wine cellar. He swears he’s a wine expert now.”
Rafe chuckled and went to bear-hug his brother. “Hey, bro. Didn’t expect to see you here. When did ya’ll get in?”
“Came in from New York this morning. Just for the weekend.”
Rafe turned to his sister-in-law-to-be. “Bailey, woman, you still hanging out with this guy,” he teased and b
uzzed her cheek.
Bailey giggled. “No other choice. He’s stuck with me.”
Justin draped his arm around Bailey’s shoulder and winked up at his brother.
“You two keep it up and somebody’s gonna write a book about you,” Rafe playfully warned.
“Very funny,” Justin groused. “But I see you’re still in the headlines.” He lifted his chin toward a magazine tossed on top of the side table.
Rafe’s eyes narrowed and zeroed in on the magazine.
“My man,” came a hearty greeting from behind Rafe.
Rafe looked over his shoulder. Raymond stepped out onto the veranda with a bottle of wine in each hand.
“Now it’s a party,” Raymond joked and set the bottles down on the table.
Rafe grinned. “Was just asking about you. Looking good, man.”
“Other than the snowcaps,” he said, running a hand over his head and then stroking his tapered goatee, “I’m feeling good.” He patted his chiseled belly. “Gotta keep up with my gorgeous wife.”
“How’s Avery doing?” Bailey asked.
“She’s good,” Rafe said on a breath. “Heading back to work next week.”
“So soon,” Jacqueline said with a frown. She held out her flute, which Raymond filled with chilled red wine. “Seems like that mess in France was just the other day,” she softly said and mouthed her thanks to Raymond, who took a seat next to her. “Your father is still recovering. Still needs a cane to get around and rehab once per week.”
“Dad’s injuries were a little more severe, Aunt J. He had broken bones, and he’s no kid.”
“Still...” She sipped her wine. “As long as she’s better.”
The headaches, the nightmares... The family didn’t need to know all that. “Yeah, me too.” He stepped around his brother and pulled up a chair from the back end of the veranda.
“Beer’s in the cooler,” Justin offered.
“Thanks.” He flipped open the cooler and took out a can and then reached for the magazine. His jaw tightened. There was a picture of him holding open a car door for Avery, with the caption “Louisiana playboy Rafe Lawson a person of interest to Secret Service Agent Avery Richards.” He muttered a string of curses under his breath. “You wanted to know what brought me here,” he ground out, flashing a look at his aunt. “That’s why.” He tossed the offending magazine onto the table.