Sex, Lies & Black Tie

by Kris Calvert

  In the distance, I could hear Miss Celia greet him and his security detail at the door. Nervously, I ran my hands down the black pencil skirt I’d chosen for the meeting to dry them. The last thing I wanted was shake his hand with a soggy palm. He was Boone Henry for mercy’s sake. He was voted The Hill’s most beautiful person in Washington—twice. And he’d only been on Capitol Hill three years. People, GQ and Men’s Fitness magazine had dubbed him the Hottie on the Hill.

  Miss Celia escorted him and two other men dressed in dark suits and sunglasses into the front parlor of Lone Oak, where I’d set up. “Miss Samantha, your guests have arrived,” she said, giving me a reassuring smile to calm my nerves.

  “As I live and breathe,” he drawled. “I’m finally in the company of none other than Samantha Callahan herself.”

  I extended my now dry hand. “The pleasure is mine, Senator Henry. Welcome to Lone Oak.”

  He was taller and thinner than I expected and his presence in the room made the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention. His navy pinstriped suit fit him to a tee—no doubt made just for his muscular body. The bright purple tie he wore brought out the blue in his sapphire eyes. He was a beautiful man, but I knew that from the photos I’d seen of him.

  I wiped the imaginary perspiration from my brow with two fingers and composed myself. After all, I was married. But I wasn’t blind.

  It was easy to see why he was a media darling, and when the dark haired, blue-eyed man flashed me a Hollywood smile as he shook my hand, I couldn’t think of anything but Mac’s description. Senator Boone Henry really did look like Superman—all the way down to the forelock that curled and fell naturally against his brow.

  “Please, call me Boone. Thank you for taking time out of your schedule this late in the afternoon to meet with me on such short notice, but as you know, we don’t have a lot of time.”

  Noticing his security had taken up post outside the doorway of the room, I opened my palm and gestured to the seat across from me as I sat in an old parlor chair covered in thick gold fabric before pouring his tea. “How do you take your tea, Sen—I mean, Boone?”

  “Lemon, no sugar.”

  Placing the delicate cup and saucer in his large hand, I caught him inspecting the room with an expression of astonishment.

  “Thank you, Samantha.”

  “It’s a lot to take in,” I admitted, pouring my own. “I felt the same way the first time I came to Lone Oak.”

  “Yes. This is really something.”

  “Steeped in family tradition and love,” I replied, joining him as he considered the room. “I think it will be a lovely location for the North Star gala. Mac and I are honored that you and others from Washington will be in attendance. The tents are already going up in the back. The flooring will go down tomorrow so the decorating can begin.”

  “Well,” he paused, bringing his gaze back to me. “That’s something I wanted to discuss with you.”

  I felt a pang in my stomach. Were the party plans for Lone Oak over before they’d even begun? I shook it off, not wanting my anxiety to show. Politicians had good poker faces and Boone Henry’s was epic. He never flinched—even when faced with an assassin during a press conference hoping to end his life on live television. I needed to work on mine. “Absolutely. I’m listening.”

  “The president has accepted our offer to attend the event. Ending human trafficking was something he spoke about two years ago when he ran for office and he feels this is a good opportunity to show his support for the work being done. You know,” Boone said sitting back in his chair to rest his hands on his knees. “Government agencies working hand in hand with non-profit organizations to end crimes of this nature. It’s a wonderful partnership that Washington likes to show off.”

  I swallowed hard and nodded, doing my best keep my excitement from leaping out of my heart. I wanted to stand up and do my happy dance but instead I slowly uncrossed and immediately re-crossed my ankles to the other side, tucking my feet beside the leg of the chair. “We would be honored to have the president as a guest in our home, Senator Henry.”

  He flashed me the Hollywood smile again and paused. My excitement was showing through my cool demeanor and he’d caught on. It was as if he delighted in my joy. “Boone,” he corrected.

  “Boone.”

  Slapping his knee, he stood and offered me his arm. “How about you show me around this amazing place? We have a lot to discuss before I go.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” I said, rising to meet him. “Let’s start at the beginning.”

  Taking his arm, I led him into the front foyer of the house. The open and elaborate imperial staircase and crystal chandelier were the centerpieces of the front hall. I wanted it to be the starting point for all the guests.

  “We will receive the guests here in the front hall with champagne, and walk them through the house to the open veranda on the west end that will lead to the climate controlled tent.”

  “Sounds like you’ve done this before.” Bringing his watchful eye from the crystal lights over our heads back to me, he paused. “That chandelier is spectaculah.” Dropping the r in the last word, I relished his southern accent.

  “Mac’s great-great-grandmother had it shipped to America from Waterford, Ireland before the War Between the States. His family hid it when the Yankees got too close to Lone Oak. It was a time when many of the neighboring plantations were robbed and burned to the ground. As the story goes, the Union Army took a shine to Lone Oak and used it as a meeting place. There was some damage, but after the war was over, his family put the house back together again.”

  “You know, most people call it the Civil War.”

  “I’m aware,” I said with a smile. “Lone Oak has remained the same for nearly two hundred years—including that little bit of history. If you’re a Callahan, that’s the way the story is told.”

  With each word, I became more sure of myself and less nervous. I held my arm out for him to walk ahead, directing him toward the west end of the house and the open veranda. His security detail followed closely behind. Miss Celia had already taken the liberty of opening all the doors, and the early fall breeze tossed the gossamer curtains to and fro. The day couldn’t be more beautiful if I’d dialed up the weather myself.

  Boone nearly gasped at the view. The sun had just begun to set and the illuminated clouds were making the scene like a Monet painting over the rolling Alabama countryside. “It’s breathtaking,” he said.

  “I’d love to take credit, but I don’t want to insult Mother Nature. I would hate for her to rain on our party.”

  “Good point,” Boone said with a twinkle in his eye. “I like the way you think. The gazebo is stunning. The flower gardens are more beautiful than I could’ve imagined.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, walking down the steps and through the gardens. “If there’s anything specific you’d like, please let me know.”

  “The party planner has already been here I take it?”

  I nodded. “Sheila? Yes, and everything is going quite smoothly—at least for now.”

  “I’m happy to hand this part of the night over to you and the others. I’ll work on getting as many important people with fat checkbooks here as possible. What about the hotel situation?”

  These were all odd questions for a man of his importance. I assumed today would be a walkthrough where he gave orders to those of us who would carry them out, but he seemed more engaged and hands on than I’d ever expected. “There is a small inn in Shadeland, but the best option for hotels is going to be Birmingham. The private airfield is there—Kershaw—for those who are coming via their own jets.”

  “The President’s plane will arrive at Maxwell-Gunter Air Force Base in Montgomery. Can we land a chopper on the grounds here?” he asked, looking around at the property.

  “Surely someone else is better qualified to answer that question,” I replied, unable to hold back my nervous smile.

  He turned around to look at me and
cocked his head in the direction of his security detail and grinned. “I was actually asking them.”

  “Oh.” I found myself stepping away from the group, my embarrassment fully on display. “Of course.”

  “No, please,” Boone said placing his hand in the small of my back. “We’re invading your home. You should have a say in everything.” As quickly as he’d touched me, he removed his hand. “I was supposed to meet with your husband tonight for dinner, but postponed it to tomorrow.”

  “Yes. Mac is in D.C.”

  Boone looked away from me and across the horizon. “I needed to see you first, Samantha. We’re going to be working closely on this event. You. Me. My people.”

  Facing me again, I clasped my hands in front of my body, quelling the urge to cross my arms. I didn’t want to seem put out or closed off in any way, but I was suddenly jumpy and needed to do something with my nervous energy. “I understand.”

  “Your husband won’t have a problem with us working together?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Perfect,” Boone replied. “I don’t want to take up anymore of your time, Samantha. We have a lot ahead of us. Secret Service and Mac can iron out security and my people will get to work on accommodating the guests now that we’ve moved the party.”

  “Perfect,” I replied, using his word.

  We walked back inside in silence and I watched his security detail carefully inspect our home.

  “If you have any questions, or—” he paused to take my hand in his as we stopped in the foyer. “You just need to talk in the next couple of crazy days, don’t hesitate to call me.”

  Pulling a business card from his coat pocket, he placed it in my hand. “This card has my super-secret cell phone number.” He stared into me as if he could read the thoughts running through my mind.

  “Thank you. I’ll only use it if it’s a super-secret emergency.”

  “Use it any time you’d like, Samantha.” His gaze was hooded and it honestly left me a little weak in the knees.

  We stood in silence, only to be broken by the sound of the doorbell.

  “Excuse me,” I apologized. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

  “I am.”

  Opening the front door, I found a tall, muscular man with thinning salt and pepper hair, wearing a suit that didn’t fit him as well as Boone’s. He reminded me of one of Dax’s GI Joe dolls—solid and stern.

  “Samantha,” Boone began. “I’d like you to meet Special Agent Harlan Jackman. He’s on my staff—one of my advisors. Right now it’s on an as-needed basis, but he’s soon to be full-time.”

  Shaking his hand, I offered the new guest a smile. “The pleasure is mine, Agent Jackman. Welcome to Lone Oak.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Callahan.”

  “Please, call me Samantha.”

  Jackman looked to him as if Boone was missing his cue.

  “Harlan is going to take a look around the house, check on the electrical and mechanical side of things—you know, make sure the security team will have enough connectivity.”

  I paused. I knew from Mac that the Secret Service and the FBI were fully capable of bringing their own mobile entourage with enough equipment to launch the Space Shuttle into orbit. But if he wanted to look around Lone Oak, I wasn’t going to stop him. “Sure. Do you need me to show you around? The house is empty. The children are playing at a friend’s.”

  “No ma’am,” Harlan replied, his southern drawl also on display. “It won’t take me but a minute to check things out. You know, I trained your husband at the Academy. Smart guy.”

  “You did?” I asked, now feeling even more comfortable with him walking through Lone Oak unaccompanied.

  “I guess we’re meeting him tomorrow for lunch, right Boone?”

  Boone didn’t say a word, but nodded. “I’ve got a couple of phone calls to make, so I’m going to wait in the car,” he said, taking my hand in his once again before bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you face to face, Samantha. We’re going to show Washington a wonderful time and get the word out about our organization. This is going to be a night they will all remember, so thank you.”

  “Thank you. I agree it will be a special night.”

  “Well,” he said looking to Harlan. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  Before Boone could make it out the door, Harlan Jackman was in front of me. I had a feeling he wanted to do whatever it was he needed to do and get out. “How may I assist you, Agent Jackman?”

  “Please, call me Harlan. I don’t need anything. Are there any doors or rooms in the house that are locked?” he asked.

  I thought about the hidden passageways inside Lone Oak, and the safe rooms contained deep inside the walls. There’d be no reason for anyone to know about those, and if they did, I’d leave it up to Mac to explain it. “Not at all. Make yourself at home. When you’ve finished, you’ll find me in the kitchen, just around the corner.”

  He nodded, adjusting the computer bag on his shoulder. “This won’t take long.”

  Walking away, I saw him begin to wander, stopping in the front parlor where Boone and I’d had tea. He sat and opened his computer. With a shrug, I walked to the kitchen, hoping to find Celia.

  “How’s it going out there?” she asked, gesturing with her head.

  I shrugged. “Senator Henry’s gone. His associate is looking around the house—making sure they’ll have connectivity or something.”

  Celia raised her eyebrows at me, resting her hands on her hips. “Does Mac know this man is snooping around Lone Oak? I may be wrong, but I don’t think my baby would want some stranger goin’ through his underwear drawer.”

  I giggled. Celia had practically raised Mac and he thought of her as his second mother—especially now that both of his parents were gone. She always looked out for him, and she always called him Baby. Lord help anyone who ever got between her and her baby. And Lord help anyone who ever did her baby wrong. I was thankful she loved me right from the start.

  “He was one of Mac’s teachers at the FBI academy. I think he’s okay—I mean, he is a fellow agent,” I said, walking to the counter to see what Celia was peeling. “Whatcha making?”

  “It’s the last good week for peaches and I’m making the best of it. Cobbler.”

  Pulling up a stool, I let out a sigh. “I’m doing my best not to get fat but you don’t make it easy, Miss Celia.”

  “C’mon now. Cobbler’s good for the soul. Anyone who tells you otherwise is just the devil talkin’.”

  We both looked to the ceiling when a loud noise rang through the kitchen. It sounded like Harlan had dropped something.

  “You best be gettin’ upstairs to make sure he’s not stuffin’ your jewelry and fancy purses down his trousers. I don’t trust anyone rootin’ around here that doesn’t belong. Never have, never will.”

  “Goodness gracious, Celia. You sound like Mimi,” I said, rolling my eyes and thinking of my one hundred and one-year-old grandmother. “I’ll go up. He probably tripped over some Lego monstrosity Dax built and left in the hall. You know how he is.”

  Celia smiled. “I love that boy. He can build his Legos anywhere he wants. His daddy did too.”

  I rolled my eyes a second time. Celia’s love for Mac and the children was like a mother grizzly guarding her cubs. I never thought someone would be more protective over my family than me. I was wrong.

  She widened her eyes giving me her you know I know what I’m talking about look and said one word. “Get.”

  “I’m going,” I whined, knowing she wanted me to check up on our guest.

  Climbing the stairs, I met Harlan coming down. “Everything okay? It sounded like maybe you dropped something.”

  “No ma’am. Sorry about that. I tripped over a toy,” he said making his way to the bottom of the staircase. I turned to find Celia eavesdropping at the kitchen door and smiled. In turn, she pursed her lips and shook her head. She didn’t like Agent Jackman roaming throu
gh the house and wasn’t afraid to let me know.

  “All done?”

  “I just need to take a quick look around down here and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Take your time,” I said. “I’ll still be in the kitchen when you’re finished.”

  “Is there a garage or anything, ma’am?” he asked.

  Before I could answer, Celia was out of the kitchen furiously wiping her hands on her apron. “Mr. Timms is the groundskeeper. You’ll need to speak with him before going into the garage,” Celia said, speaking of her elderly father. “He’s not here today, but you can come back tomorrow.”

  “No. No need. I was just wondering,” he said before turning to make his way down the hall.

  “Celia,” I whispered. “What are you doing?”

  She looked over my shoulder, waiting for him to be out of earshot. “He’s got no business in the garage. There’s not a thing out there he needs to see or know about. At least not without Dad.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “I’m not as nice as you are, Samantha.”

  “No,” I said, giving Celia a smile. “You’re nicer.”

  Walking into the study, I found Harlan at Mac’s desk. My computer sat open on the edge.

  “Sorry,” he said, nodding to my laptop while maintaining a stern and focused look on his face. “I moved it so I could sit and make some notes.”

  “No problem.”

  Shutting his computer, he looked up to me. “That should do it.”

  “Wonderful.”

  He slid the laptop into his bag and slung it over his shoulder with ease, pulling out a business card. “Call me if you have any questions or concerns. I’ll be meeting with Mac tomorrow, but don’t hesitate to contact me. Actually,” he said pausing at the door. “If you’ll let me have your cell phone, I will put my information in right now.”

  “Oh,” I said, taking it from the charger on the desk. “Here.”