by Donna Hill
She lived for being in the field. She relished the uncertainty, the level of focus needed no matter how mundane an assignment may appear to be. Sitting behind a desk was not what she’d worked and trained for. It was not what the previous director saw in her.
Heaving a sigh, she made a note next to an agent’s name when her cell phone began to vibrate on her desk. She snatched it up and the air hitched in her throat. “Hello...”
“Hey.”
The smooth sound of his voice enveloped her like a warm blanket. “Rafe.”
“I didn’t want to be too presumptuous and pop up at your job without calling.”
“You’re here? In DC?”
“Got in about twenty minutes ago. Still at the airfield. Didn’t know if I was going to have to turn right back around. Do I?”
Her heart raced. “No. I...want to see you.”
“When are you free?”
“I’m off at six.”
“I’ll come to you around eight. You are back in your place, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Everything been okay...reporters bugging you?”
“No. It’s been quiet.”
“Good.” He paused a moment. “We have a lot to talk about, Avery. Lot to straighten out.”
Her stomach clenched. “I know,” she said softly.
“I’ll see you at eight.”
“How long will you be in DC?”
“That depends on how the night goes. I’ll see you later.”
Rafe picked up his car that he kept parked at the landing strip and drove to his Arlington home for a quick change of clothes before meeting his father for a late lunch. He’d half expected his very busy father to be unavailable or out of town, but was oddly surprised that not only did he agree to meet with his son, but invited him to lunch at the club where the politicians on the Hill gathered for meals and to cut deals.
As much as he disliked wearing a tie, he’d don one for the occasion, knowing that if he didn’t, it would be the first bone of contention on the long list between him and his father. He chose a custom-tailored, slim-fitting charcoal-gray two-piece that he had made at the renowned Martin Greenfield’s Clothier during one of his trips to New York. He surveyed the row of shirts hanging in his walk-in closet and finally settled on a pearl-gray shirt. He paired it with an obsidian tie with barely perceptible maroon stripes.
Dressed and as mentally ready as he could be, he took the prenup from his go-bag, stuck it in the inside pocket of his suit and then headed out. He tossed his bag into the trunk of his Benz and headed out of Virginia to DC.
His father made reservations at Charlie Palmer’s Steak House on Constitution Avenue. It was his father’s favorite place. At any given time an array of who’s who could be found huddled over the linen-topped tables, or sequestered in the private dining room. His father always said the service and the food was impeccable and that that was the real reason he went there. But Rafe knew better. The steaks reminded Branford Lawson of home and the atmosphere reeked of the power that Branford Lawson wielded in Washington.
He pulled up in front of Charlie Palmer’s and a red-vested valet came to take his car. When he walked inside the tables were filled with suited men and women, waiters were balancing trays of wine and expensive liquor, and crystal flutes and tumblers gleamed beneath the chandelier lighting.
“Reservation?”
He blinked and focused on the young woman in front of him. “Yes. Lawson.”
“Oh, yes, the senator is here already. I’ll take you to your table.”
Rafe walked behind her and spotted a few familiar faces on their way to his father’s table—the two hosts from MSNBC, the speaker of the house was holding court in back, and he was pretty sure he spotted the junior senator from New Jersey in an animated conversation with his senior counterpart from New York.
His father had a private table by the window.
“Dad.”
Branford lifted his gaze from the sheaf of papers in front of him. “Son.” He extended his hand to the seat opposite him. “You look well.”
“Thanks.” He pulled out a chair and sat.
“I ordered for both of us. Save some time.”
Of course he did. He signaled for the waiter. “Bourbon.” He linked his long fingers together and focused on his father. “I got the papers from your lawyer.”
“Good. The firm is very thorough, made sure you were protected.”
“Protected? From what, Dad?”
Branford leaned back in his chair and surveyed his son from above his half-framed glasses. “You never fully understood the vastness of the Lawson fortune.”
“Don’t you get it? I don’t care about all that. I’m building my own fortune, my own legacy.”
Branford snorted a laugh just as the waiter arrived with the meals.
“Thank you, Ralph. Looks great as always.”
“Of course, Senator.”
Branford unfolded a white linen napkin and tucked it in his collar. He pursed his lips. “Food is excellent.” He lifted a steak knife toward Rafe. “Eat up.”
Rafe tossed back his drink and then set the glass down on the table.
Branford cut into his steak and put a piece in his mouth. He chewed slowly. “What this family has, who we are, didn’t just happen with your granddad Clive.” He rocked his jaw.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your great-grandfather Raford worked the land.”
“I know that. He married MaeJean Hughes.”
“They were barely more than slaves. Worked for the Fontaines.”
“Dad, what does any of this have to do with you writing a prenup for me?”
“That land that old man Fontaine left to your great grandfather wasn’t just any land. It was the seed for everything we have. The land birthed a string of small businesses, employed half the black folks in the area, multiplied and spread.” He paused, looked Rafe dead in the eyes. “Son, we own all of St. Mike, Everett, Joe and Montgomery parishes. All the land and businesses running along the south bank of the Mississippi, straight down to the delta.”
Rafe listened in stunned silence, trying to absorb the enormity of it all. “Why...didn’t we ever know this?”
“You’re the eldest. The heir. Your uncles know. Grandpa Clive told each of us when we married. The eldest sons are told when they marry.” He leveled his gaze at Rafe. “The legal arrangement wasn’t meant to control you—no one can do that—” He laughed lightly. “It was to protect our legacy and ensure that it would continue for the next generation. You’re the one that everything will fall to. You’ll be responsible for the prosperity of the businesses, the lives of employees, homeowners, the rest of the family, your siblings.” He leaned forward. “It’s why I’ve been so gotdamned hard on you, son. I needed you to be ready.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me, Dad? Talk to me.”
Branford nodded. “You’re right. I should have. When you got engaged to Avery, I knew it was time. This,” he waved his hand between himself and Rafe, “isn’t my forte. Pretty sure you know that.” He turned his attention back to his steak.
Rafe put down his knife and fork. “There’s something I need to tell you, too.”
* * *
“All this time...” He stared at his son with astonishment. “Son, I am so sorry.”
Rafe nodded.
“What are you going to do?”
“There’s no going back. That much I know for sure. I’m going to see Avery this evening. Talk. Work it out.”
“Make her listen. She’s the right woman for you, son.”
Rafe angled his head to the side. “Oh, really?”
“I like her.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
Branford raised his glass. Rafe did the same. The two talked and ate and drank while the lunc
h crowd disappeared and the early dinner customers arrived. The walls came down. They allowed themselves to be seen in ways they had not in the past, and it felt really good.
By the time they left the steak house, the sun was beginning to take a dip. They stood together in front, while Rafe’s car was brought around. Branford’s driver pulled up, as well.
“Dad, you had him waiting all this time?”
Branford shrugged. “I had food sent out and told him I’d call when I needed him back.”
Rafe chuckled. “You’re getting soft in your old age.”
Branford grumbled in the back of his throat.
The valet arrived with Rafe’s car. He turned to his father, extended his hand for a shake as they usually did. To his surprise his father pulled him in for an embrace and patted him solidly on the back.
“You work things out with Avery, and we’ll talk more about the future.”
Rafe’s throat tightened. He looked into his father’s eyes. “I’ll call you.”
“I’d like that.”
The valet handed Rafe his keys. He gave a final glance at his father, got in the car and drove off.
As he drove home it took all his concentration to focus on the road and the blooming evening traffic. His head was spinning with everything his father revealed to him. The Lawson family was not just well-off. They were beyond wealthy. They wielded the kind of wealth that shaped the landscape, government, altered the narrative, determined outcomes. He drove through large swaths of land, past buildings and homes, and realized for the first time that he was the steward over all of this and more. The magnitude of it was humbling and unsettling as he struggled to wrap his mind around it all. Then of course, there was his own businesses to run.
He pulled into his driveway and went inside. As much as he hated to admit it, the prenup made sense. Although he didn’t believe that Avery would ever take advantage, it was to protect her as well as the family.
He tugged on his tie and jogged up the stairs to his bedroom. It was nearly six thirty and he had every intention of getting to Avery’s at eight on the dot, and he wanted to stop on the way and pick up a bottle of the wine that she liked.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, he repacked his go-bag with fresh clothes and toiletries, along with the prenup. He exhaled. He seriously hoped that Avery was up to and willing to talk. They had a lot to hash out, but it was going to take a real commitment from them both to make it work. He could only do so much by himself.
Chapter 21
Avery checked the time—again. It was ten minutes later than the last time she’d checked. Her stomach was in knots and her heart kept thudding. The last thing she wanted was to get herself worked up and usher in an attack. She looked at the bottle of medicine on her dresser and debated taking a tablet, but decided against it. She needed to be clear and focused and since she had not taken these new meds before, she had no idea how her body would react.
She’d debated with herself ever since Rafe’s call whether or not she would tell him everything that was going on with her physically. She understood Kerry’s rationale that she should be up-front and honest—that he deserved to know the truth. He’d already endured being the recipient of a lie perpetuated by someone he loved.
Janae. He’d seen her by now. Too many questions about what happened between them trampled through her head. Images of them together, reunited, taunted her. What if he was coming to tell her...?
The doorbell rang and her entire body jerked in alarm. She drew in a long breath, hoping to slow her racing heart. At the door, she paused for a moment with her hand on the knob, neutralized her expression and then pulled the door open.
“Cher.”
The soft single word of endearment was like a love song to her ears. Her soul filled with only the kind of joy that Rafe could bring.
He took a step across the threshold, reached out to her and she found herself enveloped in the strength of his arms. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the renewal of his scent, and listened to the pounding of his heart, and the doubts that plagued her slipped away.
Rafe leaned slightly back. Avery looked up into his eyes an instant before his mouth covered hers. His fingers threaded through the soft tangle of her curls, pulling her into the heat of his kiss.
She sighed into his mouth as he kicked the door closed behind him and in the same motion pinned her against the wall.
The heat of their need for each other fused their bodies together.
“I’ve missed you crazy,” he groaned into her mouth.
She tugged at the hem of his Oxford shirt, pulled it out from the waist of his jeans and slid her fingers up and along his chest before loosening the buckle of his belt.
“Here?” he murmured, and suckled her neck.
“Yes. Yes.”
Rafe needed no further invitation. His hands knew all her secret places and found them while incrementally baring her warm skin to his hungry eyes. Her shorts and black panties pooled at her feet and the slight pop freed her breasts from the black bra, and he feasted on them as a man starved.
Avery’s moans spiraled while Rafe plied her with hot, wet kisses traveling downward until he was on his knees. She gripped his shoulder and bit down on her lip as his tongue separated her folds and awakened the epicenter of her desire with flicks of his tongue.
Rafe cupped her round behind in his palms and pulled her to him, suckled, kissed, licked her until her inner thighs trembled and her belly fluttered. Gently he drew the swollen bud between his lips and teased, stopped, teased some more. Avery whimpered and dug her nails into his shoulders. Her toes curled as a shiver raced up the back of her legs, spread through her limbs and shook her body with explosive jolts of release.
“Oh, god! Rafe...” Her knees weakened as another wave swept through her.
Rafe slowly rose draping her long legs over the bend of his arms. She wrapped them around his waist as he found his way inside her, pushing the air out of her lungs. She gasped as he filled her, moved hard and fast inside her—over and over and over until there was nothing he could do to hold back the jettison that flooded her.
Shaken and breathless they slid to the floor, limbs tangled, bodies wet.
“Up against a wall...two feet from my front door,” Avery managed to say with breathless laughter ringing in her voice.
Rafe braced his palms on the floor behind him and looked at her through the half slits of his eyes. “A testament to your power ovah me, darlin’...which isn’t totally satisfied.” He rocked inside her and his still stiff erection was unmistakable. “What are we gonna do about this?”
Avery smiled mischievously, pressed her hands against his chest and pushed him onto his back to straddle him.
“Naughty girl.” He cupped her breasts, which overflowed his palms as she rolled her hips and rode them to ecstatic release.
Wrapped in a single light blanket, curled on the couch with soft music in the background Rafe and Avery sipped wine between kisses and light touches.
“We really should eat something,” Avery said dreamily. She rested her head on his chest.
“I don’t feel like moving. Just want to hold you.”
Avery snuggled deeper against him, hummed softly under her breath. She wanted this time to last as long as possible to avoid the hard facts they still needed to deal with.
Rafe stroked her hair away from her face, kissed the top of her head. “It’s over,” he said quietly.
She lifted her head to look at him. “Janae?”
“Yes.”
Her heart thumped.
“How...how was it, seeing her again?”
“Hard. Unreal. Sad.”
She stroked his chest. “I...need you to tell me about it.”
Rafe drew in a breath. “I went to her house...” He told her in bits and pieces what they’d talk
ed about, her reasons for staying away.
“She still loves you.” She hesitated. “Do you still love her?”
Rafe leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. “I’ll always love her, love what we had, but I’m not in love with her. I know that. And I know that there’s nothing in me that wants to go back.”
Avery was quiet, taking in what he’d said. She could not imagine the agony that he’d experienced that day and all the days that followed. He’d found a way to piece his life together and found love again—with her. She didn’t want to do to him what Janae had done. If they were going to build a life together, it had to be on a foundation of trust.
“I need to tell you something,” she began.
* * *
“Baby...” He angled his body to face her. “You could have told me. You’ve been dealing with this and we should have been dealing with it together. Don’t you get it? I’m in this one hundred percent. All in.” He hugged her tighter. “I’m going with you to get the results. End of story.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “Whatever the deal is we’ll handle it together. I need you to hear me on this. No damned job is more important than your health and your life. Nothing is more important to me than you. Period. You got that?”
She nodded. A tear slipped down her cheek.
“No more secrets. I don’t need you trying to protect me from the truth. Ever.” His aunt’s words echoed in his head. He kissed her softly, tasted her tears. “It’s going to be all right, baby.” He brushed the damp tracks on her cheeks away with his thumb.
She sniffed.
He sat up. “Now I’m starved. And we have a lot more to discuss.”
“What?”
“Let’s order something first and talk over dinner.”
Chapter 22
They ordered two large pizzas, one with sausage and pepperoni for Rafe and the other with extra cheese and broccoli for Avery. Each of them were halfway through before they came up for air.
“Guess we were hungry, huh?” Avery giggled over a mouthful of food.
“Hmm. Umm.” Rafe washed down his pizza with a long swallow of red wine.