The senator’s diamond ring had come out of left field. And now she was in a real old-fashioned pickle. What the hell was she going to do?
Mickey led them all into the kitchen where they gathered around an antique table with four chairs from different periods from New Orleans’s past, all covered with soft yellow seat cushions which gave the room a homey feel. After they’d moved in last year, they’d patched and polished the lovely mosaic tile floors, dark wood paneling, original ceiling medallions and refurbished the antique wood ceiling fan. From the kitchen they could see into the now darkened dining room filled with potted palms, a fluted iron post railing and flickering gaslights which they could turn on when guests arrived to show off the turn-of-the-century chandelier. But the sisters preferred to camp out in the kitchen where they could also look outside through beveled-glass windows to the draping weeping willow tree over their home’s private courtyard.
There had to be a way to avoid the senator, but in her bleak frame of mind the only way out seemed to be to flee the state. In reality, though, she knew she couldn’t leave her home. She loved living here and couldn’t imagine just disappearing and giving up her home, her sisters, her business.
Mickey did most of the cooking, and the scent of the bread she took out of the oven combined with the gumbo simmering on the stove normally made Toni’s mouth water. But as one sister ladled soup and another sliced the warm homemade bread, her unsettled stomach warned her not to eat. Not until she figured out a solution to her dilemma.
“There’s no avoiding the senator without leaving the state. But I’m not going.”
Jude set a bowl of gumbo in front of her. “Why should you leave?”
“I’m not sure what else to do. Last week, the newspaper ran a small article about the senator’s engagement. Although he didn’t mention my name, that won’t last long now that he’s delivered the ring. I’m afraid of what he’ll do next.”
“Why don’t you tell the newspaper that he’s insane?” Jude suggested.
“I can’t ruin his career just because he sent me a diamond ring. He’s a good senator. And I don’t want to hurt Dad’s chances of getting the Washington job with Birdstrum.”
Mickey poured lemonade, then took a seat. “Come on, eat. We’ll put our heads together and think up a way out.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why does he want you, anyway?” Jude asked.
Toni shrugged. “He thinks our family is solid, that my past won’t embarrass him and because I have a hip career. He thinks marriage to me will help him attain the young votes in his upcoming election.”
Jude swore, Bobby sighed, and Mickey shook her head.
Toni appreciated her sisters’ support and suggestions—she did—but they weren’t helpful. “If I make an enemy of the senator, my business will likely go down the tubes, too. Birdstrum has powerful friends, lots of influence in this city. If he puts out the word, women will avoid my boutique.”
Bobby tore off a piece of bread and dipped it into the gumbo. “So if you can’t refuse, then we have to think of a way to make him change his mind.”
Toni raised a questioning eyebrow. “Not a bad idea coming from someone who only wears pink,” she teased. “But how do I get him to back out?”
Her sisters might squabble among themselves, but against an outsider, they pulled together. Unfortunately, they had yet to come up with a usable scheme.
“We could set him up with another woman,” Jude suggested.
“I don’t think so,” Toni shook her head. “The senator doesn’t have feelings for me. Actually, I’m not sure he’s capable of having feelings for anyone.”
“You could claim you’re engaged to someone else and only dated the senator because you had a fight with your real love,” Bobby suggested, hungrily eyeing the bread, but stoically denying herself.
“Who could I claim as a fiancé? Between coming up with new designs and opening the retail operation, I haven’t dated anyone in the past year.”
“Two years,” Bobby corrected, “but who’s counting?”
Toni restrained a frustrated sigh. One of the reasons Birdstrum wouldn’t take no for an answer was that there was no other man in the picture. If her sisters were worried about the lack in her sex life, it must be really obvious. When had she stopped paying attention to men? She liked men and they liked her. Except for her recent drought, she’d never gone too long without some special man in her life. But compared to her sisters, she now lived the life of a saint.
Last year, Mickey’s heart had been broken and she’d sworn off men, but she’d come in last week after a date with a happy grin and smudged lipstick. Jude had her steady guy, and since Bobby had lost weight, she’d been something of a party girl. Sure, they’d all gone through ups and downs with various men over the past few years, but Toni had been alone way too long. She needed to find a man. Needed to put energy into going out, looking good, having fun, working off some sexual steam. Toni was ready for a mad, passionate love affair, the kind that made her flushed with lust and lighter than air. But first she had to lose Birdstrum.
“What about Alan?” Mickey suggested. “His looks could make anyone jealous.”
Alan had been Toni’s high school sweetheart. Gorgeous but with no sense of humor, they’d both gone their separate ways after he’d taken her virginity the night of the senior prom. She hadn’t planned on having sex that night, but her curious and reckless nature had taken over and she’d never regretted her decision. Alan had been sweet, careful and experienced. He’d shown her a very good time. “I don’t think Alan’s wife and two kids would appreciate him trying to act as if he’s my fiancé.”
“Okay, so Alan’s not a good choice. What about one of your college boyfriends?” Jude suggested. “The redhead was cute.”
“And he’s unavailable. He’s attending Stanford Law School.” Not only had the redhead been cute and smart, he definitely knew how to please a lady. They’d met during a study session for history that had turned into a passionate all-nighter. Once again, she’d made a hasty decision that had turned out quite well. During the two years she’d spent with him, she’d matured into a woman who knew how to please herself as well as her lover. Ever since college, redheaded men always made her feel warm inside.
Bobby sipped her lemonade and tossed a napkin over the bread, probably so she didn’t have to face temptation. “Paul Summers?”
“He went to Tibet to find himself and study with his guru.” What Toni didn’t mention, but hadn’t forgotten, was that Paul’s study of yoga had extended into the bedroom. He’d been a master of self-control, and she’d benefited both physically and emotionally from the experience.
“Steven Pascal?”
“He’s gay.”
“Kevin Mc—”
“Don’t even think it.” Kevin McPherson had made her pulse pound and her knees weak. They’d met in a bar after a football game. He’d been great in bed, but the Tulane backup quarterback’s vocabulary had been limited to two things: football and sex. If he’d had a brain, she would have married him in a minute. However, she’d enjoyed their time together way too much to hold his lack of intellect against him. Toni held up her hand to forestall any further suggestions. “There’s no one suitable from my past.”
When she’d graduated college, she’d considered her social life normal. She’d never been overly concerned that she hadn’t yet found the right man to share her life. Now with still another three years until she reached her thirtieth birthday, she had plenty of time to meet that special someone. And thirty was by no means her deadline. Toni knew what passion felt like, that heady, giddy, floating-on-air feeling, and she’d be damned if she’d settle for less than the best. She wanted a man who she could respect, a friend to share her life with, a lover to have blazing hot sex with, a soul mate to snuggle up to at night—unfortunately the senator didn’t come close to her stringent requirements.
“How long until the senator returns to New Orleans?” Micke
y asked.
Toni shrugged. “Why?”
Mickey grinned. “Well, what do politicians hate above all else?”
“Losing an election?” Jude guessed.
“Admitting to doing drugs?” Bobby added.
Toni frowned at Mickey. “Answering questions about adultery?”
Mickey’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Politicians hate scandals. If you create a scandal, you’ll no longer be perfect in his eyes.”
Mickey’s idea had merit. Toni’s hopes rose. All her life she’d played by the rules, been the good girl, the responsible daughter, the conscientious sister. She’d had several discreet flings but for the most part had reined in her reckless nature. But her method of dealing with the senator—up-front honesty—wasn’t working. It was time to switch her modus operandi. “So what kind of scandal are you talking about?”
“To work in New Orleans, the scandal has got to be juicy,” Jude chimed in.
“Oh, I like that, the hotter the scandal the better.” Bobby sighed dreamily.
“One that won’t hurt anybody,” Mickey added.
“I’ve got it.” Toni grinned with satisfaction, knowing her idea could get rid of the senator and accomplish her goal of jumping back into the dating scene all at the same time. “I’m going to create a sex scandal.”
Mickey rolled her eyes. “Create a sex scandal? I thought you’d conquered your reckless streak. You’d better think this through with care.”
“And just how are you going to create a sex scandal?” Bobby asked, her eyes glimmering with encouragement.
“I need to hook up with someone famous. Someone hot. Someone in the news. Get my picture taken with him.”
“In bed?” Mickey asked.
“Only if I like him. A scandal is mostly innuendo and rumor and manipulating the press. I’ve just got to find the right man.”
“Don’t we all,” Bobby muttered.
“Poor Senator Birdstrum,” Jude said. “He won’t know what hit him. When our Toni puts her mind to something, she always carries through.”
Mickey grinned. “Yeah, and, amazingly, things always seem to work out.”
“But I still need the right man.” Toni glanced at page one of yesterday’s newspaper, did a double take, then picked it up with triumph. “Someone like Grey Masterson.”
“He’s perfect,” Jude agreed.
“Perfectly yummy,” Bobby said.
Mickey grunted. “I just read that actress’s book about him.”
Toni grinned. “So did I. The man’s nothing if not sexually creative.”
Jude leaned over and stared at Grey Masterson’s photograph. “I agree he’s the perfect man for a sizzling one-nighter.”
Toni didn’t bother to contain her enthusiasm. “Why limit myself to one night when I could have two or three?”
“But how are you going to meet him?” Bobby asked.
“I’ll have to get creative.” At the challenge of arranging a meeting with the handsome newspaper publisher, excitement burned through Toni’s veins like bubbling hot wine. She couldn’t wait to make up for two years of sexual abstinence. She only hoped he was as sexy in person as he looked in the newspaper. She was going to have fun with Grey Masterson. Lots of fun. Hot, sweaty fun.
2
One Week Later
“A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IS stalking you. And you’re complaining? Did I miss something?” Zane Masterson spoke into his speakerphone, leaned back in his comfortable plum-colored leather sofa and imagined Grey, his identical twin, in a straitlaced navy suit with a traditional red tie choking his neck, sitting behind a cluttered desk and bristling with indignation. Grey didn’t like Zane’s teasing, which made irritating his big brother all the more fun. They might share identical DNA, they might look so alike that their parents, who had a fondness for Westerns, had had so much difficulty telling them apart that they’d mixed them up when naming them. But there the resemblance ended.
Grey was the older brother by two minutes. Those two minutes had thrust Grey into the seat of responsibility running the family business, the Louisiana Daily Herald, and allowed Zane the freedom to explore wherever his curiosity led him. Although the two men were very different, they shared that special bond that only twins seem to have. Zane and Grey knew one another so well they could predict how their twin would act in any given situation. Each of them was aware of what was important to his twin and knew one another’s likes and dislikes. Happy to have nothing better to do at the moment than needle his brother, Zane clasped his hands behind his head and grinned.
“You don’t understand.” Grey used the tone. The tone that caused his reporters to scurry for cover. The tone that made his secretary cringe and that caught the attention of city leaders. From the mayor to the chief of police to the Historic Restoration Society, his brother had clout. What Zane didn’t understand was why Grey was complaining to him.
While Grey was editor-in-chief of the city’s second largest newspaper, Zane did a little of this, a little of that and lived off his real-estate investments in the up-and-coming Art District. If his investments didn’t work out, he could always fall back on his trust fund, but, in fact, he hadn’t touched that account in years. Their lives suited their personalities. Since the brothers had been old enough to understand that people couldn’t tell them apart, they’d seemingly set out to establish their own identities. They’d even attended different schools. Grey went to prep school and then an Ivy League college. Zane barely made it through public high school and their father had to pull strings to get him into Tulane. Grey wore suits and ties and oxford shoes. Zane preferred the casual look, in the finest cuts and fabrics, of course.
Zane loved his extravagant and luxurious lifestyle and couldn’t imagine a better existence. He enjoyed the company of good friends here in New Orleans and kept in touch with other friends in cities all over the world. He never tied himself to business ventures unless he could install an outstanding manager to shoulder the day-to-day responsibilities, leaving him free to drop and go at a moment’s notice. He would leave on a whim to catch an eclipse in Fiji or watch a sunset over the Indian Ocean. The options of total and complete freedom fulfilled him. Despite his mother’s occasional nagging for grandchildren, he didn’t feel any compunction to alter his life.
He enjoyed playing the field, and while Grey had yet to settle down with a wife and kids, Zane was leaving the responsibility of carrying on the family name to his older brother. He just seemed so much better suited to the task. While Grey associated with the city’s movers and shakers, Zane’s friends were the jet-set crowd who partied until dawn. As kids, then teens and into college, they may have occasionally switched places on a lark, trying on one another’s lives for size, just to stir things up, but the switches never lasted long.
Zane much preferred his fun-loving friends to Grey’s stuffy ones. In fact, he’d occasionally been a bit concerned about his brother’s stoic lifestyle, wondering if his brother would know what to do with a beautiful woman if she fell into his bed—but not recently. Instead of writing the news, Zane’s ultraconservative brother, much to Grey’s chagrin, had become big news.
Apparently, over the past year, his oh-so-secretive brother had been carrying on a relationship with Lane Morrow, last year’s leading lady of B movies and this year’s best actress Oscar contender for the summer’s surprise blockbuster. He’d been proud to know Grey had had it in him. Then Lane had ditched Grey for her new leading man. As if suffering being dumped hadn’t been bad enough, Lane had written a tell-all book that hit the New York Times bestseller list.
Zane grinned. Apparently, his brother was quite the lover. Lane had supplied lots of juicy details, and poor Grey had yet to recover from his newfound notoriety.
Zane made an effort to appear sympathetic. “What don’t I understand?”
“In addition to being stalked by some lunatic—”
“She’s crazy?”
“Well not certifiable, not according to my investigat
or—”
“You’ve had her investigated?”
“I wanted to know if she escaped from some mental institution before I decided what to do with her.”
“Why do you have to do anything?”
“Because she’s stalking me, damn it.”
“What does she want?”
“I don’t know—”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“—and I don’t care. I have other things to worry about than women and their impossible desires.”
“Not according to Lane’s book,” Zane teased.
“I’m surprised you actually read a book, brother,” Grey muttered. “And, of all things, that damned piece of—”
“Did you really make love in the back of her limousine while your reporters waited to interview her?”
“That’s private.”
Zane chuckled. “No, it’s public now, bro. Very, very public.” He pushed a little more. “Even I haven’t done it in the bathroom stall at Commander’s Palace. All these years you’ve pretended to be so restrained, then I read in this book about—”
“Zane.” Grey used the tone again. This time Zane heard the edge of anger. “If you’re done having fun at my expense, I could use some of your expertise.”
“I have expertise? Can’t wait to hear in what.”
As far as Zane knew, he was an expert of nothing. He dabbled, dallied, puttered, and he savored—especially the ladies. He liked tall women and short women, lean ones, curvy ones, quiet ones and not-so-quiet ones. He enjoyed them shy, and bold. He relished the differences, lingered over his encounters until boredom overtook him, and then he moved on to more interesting subject matter. As a consequence, he knew a little about a lot of things, but was master of none.
“Don’t you have a private investigator’s license?”
“The instructor was a knockout. The only way I could get close to her” and boy, had they gotten close, in the bathtub and on the kitchen table “was to take her course.”
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