by Donna Hill
Rafe chuckled. “I was just telling Vincent that your team could get a job with the FBI any day.”
Her right brow flickered in amusement. “Yes, they are very good at what they do.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing who you’ll come up with to fit the bill.”
Melanie extended her hand. “We’ll be in touch.”
He clasped her hand in his. “I’ll give you a call when I get back to New York—in about a week.”
“Fine. Safe travels.”
He released her hand and Vincent walked him to the door, clapping him heartily on the back before returning to the women.
“Should we meet now?” Jessica asked, “Or do we want to wait until tomorrow?” She looked from one face to the other.
“We may as well run through everything now and make our decision,” Melanie said, knowing that her real motivation was that she could rationally convince herself that Claude—and Rafe for that matter—were clients and nothing more. Some other woman’s dream come true. She inhaled deeply and released a breath of resolve. “Let’s do this.”
Claude let his Harley rev down to a soft purr and coasted into his Westchester estate driveway. It wasn’t often that he had a chance to ride, take his bike out and run her full throttle. But when opportunity presented itself, he took it.
There was a lone light coming from the ground-floor window of his two-story Tudor. His housekeeper, Lin, always left a light on when she knew he’d be coming home. The small gesture took some of the edge off of coming home to an empty house. The upside was he generally was only here maybe two weeks out of the month. The rest of the time he was either in Albany or in D.C., where the work and rigorous hours ensured his being alone. There were women. There were always women to take the chill off of lonely nights. But he had yet to find someone that he wanted to be with beyond a few meals at great restaurants and uncomplicated sex. In his world it took a certain kind of woman to understand the demands of his life. So for the most part he kept his relationships few and far between. It was simpler that way.
After changing into his workout clothes, he went downstairs to his home gym in the basement, loaded with the latest exercise equipment that could easily rival the most upscale gym.
He put in at least an hour three days per week. It not only kept him in peak physical condition, but also kept his mind sharp and his hormones at a manageable level. After a good workout and a hot shower, Claude settled down in front of the television and tuned into his favorite news show, MSNBC. Rachel Maddow was interviewing the Health and Human Services Secretary on the health reform bill.
He leaned back and tried to focus on the discussion, but his thoughts kept drifting back to his afternoon in Sag Harbor. Jessica and Veronica didn’t leave a pebble unturned during the interview. They’d all but taken notes about his life starting in the womb. He chuckled at the memory and wondered who they would find for him. What woman would be his perfect match? Someone like Melanie Harte, a distant voice whispered in his head. She would be ideal. Beautiful, intelligent, sexy, well-traveled and powerful in her own right—a devastating combination. He wondered if Melanie had a man in her life, and if so, what was he like? What did he do for a living? And the million dollar question: How did she feel about him?
A sudden clap of thunder startled him out of his mind games and none too soon. His imagination was on the verge of taking him someplace he didn’t need to go. Melanie Harte was not an option.
Claude crossed the room to the window and closed it. He stood in front of the arched panes of glass as the heavens lit up with a burst of brilliant white light, illuminating the sky.
The ringing phone drew his attention from the spectacle of light. He picked up the phone from the end table and recognized the cell number right away.
“Traci…how are you?”
Her laughter filled the phone lines. “Don’t you simply hate technology and what it has done to the element of surprise? I’m fine. Better than fine and I’m in town for a few days. I was hoping we could get together if you’re going to be around.”
“Where are you staying?”
“The Marriott in midtown. Lucked out and got a suite.”
He and Traci had met about five, six years earlier when he was at the U.N. conference with the senator. Traci was an attaché and spent most of her time traveling, as well. Never married, career politico with aspirations to run for office. Smart, easy on the eyes and low maintenance.
Claude glanced at the clock. Almost eight. He listened to the ping of the rain bouncing off the windows. An hour drive into the city and then back. What the hell. He could use some uncomplicated company. “Late dinner?”
“Sounds great. I’ll meet you in the bar whenever you get here. The restaurant closes at eleven but…room service is available until two.”
Her offer was clear. If he decided to stay, it wouldn’t be a problem.
“I’ll see you soon.” He hung up the phone and prepared for the rest of his night.
Claude strode into the lobby of the Marriot shortly after nine-thirty. As usual for midtown Manhattan hotels, the lobby, the bar and the restaurant were pulsing with activity. He slipped out of his black linen jacket and draped it over his arm as he wound his way around the bustling bodies and headed in the direction of the bar.
He spotted her before she saw him. Her fiery red hair with sunset highlights was like a beacon, falling in a tumble of silken waves to her bare shoulders. She wore black, as he did. Her snuggly fitted dress hugged every inch of her, at least the few inches that were covered by fabric. She was in an animated conversation with a man who seemed intent on discovering what she may have hidden between her very inviting cleavage that rose above the scoop neck top of her dress.
Claude smiled. Traci was still being her devilish self. He moved into her line of sight and when she spotted him, her emerald-green eyes lit up like fireworks. She put down her glass, patted her conversation companion on the shoulder and walked away, leaving him with his mouth hanging open.
“Claude.” She walked right up to him, slid her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips.
He hooked one arm around her narrow waist and pulled her tight against him for a quick trip down memory lane before breaking the kiss. “I would ask how you’re doing, but I can tell you’re doing just fine.”
Traci laughed and linked her fingers with Claude’s. “Girl has to have some fun. I’m starved. How about you?”
He thought of the plate Lin had fixed and left in the oven that he’d never had a chance to touch. “Me, too.”
“Good. Come on.”
“So, catch me up. How is life in the fast lane?” Traci asked as she cut into her steak.
“Well, you know the senator has his hands in as many pots as the law allows. He’s chair of two major committees and sits on a half dozen others. My plate stays full.” He chewed on his forkful of steak, which nearly melted in his mouth.
“Do you think it was the job or the whole black, white thing that kept us from getting together?” Traci asked casually.
Claude drew in a breath in concert with the rise and fall of his brows. “Hard to say. Maybe a little of both.”
“Or maybe,” she wagged her fork at him, “we were both living out some jungle fever fantasy. Know what I mean?”
Claude chuckled. “Maybe you’re right,” he said, adding to the repartee.
“But the truth is, neither one of us was or is ready to slow down.”
Claude chose not to comment. He sipped from his glass of wine.
“Hey, did you get to the embassy party the other night? I know you don’t usually attend, but I heard this was a good one, as embassy parties go.”
Claude’s thoughts flashed back to that night and meeting Melanie for the first time. Now that’s the kind of woman he would consider slowing down for.
Traci was waving her hand in front of his face. “Earth to Claude.”
He blinked the image away.
“Where�
�d you go?”
“Sorry…just thinking about the party. Yes, it was nice, great food, music…” His voice drifted off.
Traci angled her head to the side and tucked her palm beneath her chin. “Who is she?” Her eyes gleamed in the light.
Claude leaned back and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Why must there be a she?”
“There’s always a she…or a he when someone gets that look in their eyes.”
“Really?” he said, deadpan.
“Scientific fact. So, come on, tell.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “Hmm. Then you’re free and clear to spend the night with me, like old times,” she said, a hint of challenge in her voice.
Had it been a week ago he wouldn’t have hesitated. It was crazy to think that something could go on between him and Melanie. They barely knew each other. Not to mention that he’d laid down twenty-five big ones. The only thing between them was business. He focused on Traci. She was beautiful, fun, smart and hot as a volcano. He reached across the table and took her hand. “If I tell you this, you have to swear you won’t laugh.”
“If it’s funny, I’m going to laugh,” she said, totally serious.
Claude threw up his hands. “Okay, forget it.”
Traci surged forward. “Okay, okay. I won’t laugh. I swear.” She crossed her heart and stared at him with wide-eyed innocence.
Claude stared her down for a minute, drew in a breath and debated about what he was on the verge of saying. He linked his fingers together. “I went to a dating service.”
Her mouth opened but Claude’s warning glare kept anything from coming out.
“I’m not talking about some online stuff. It’s classy, high tech and cost fifty grand to get on board.” He went on to explain what had transpired and how it was Alan’s idea to find someone for him.
“Alan Harte? You’re kidding. Mr. Footloose and Fancy Free?”
Claude laughed. “Yes, him. His sister Melanie runs the family business.” Just saying her name made his stomach jump. He went on to tell her about The Platinum Society, how it operates and their money-back guarantee.
Traci was genuinely fascinated. “The Platinum Society, huh?” She twisted her lips in concentration, then turned her focus on Claude. “It all sounds fantastic, but why are you doing this? It’s so out of character for you.”
“That’s what I kept telling myself. But the truth…I’m getting tired of looking to the future and the only one in the picture is me.”
“I should be hurt and insulted,” Traci said, “that I’m not even in consideration.”
“Traci…I…”
She held up her hand to ward off an explanation that wouldn’t change anything. “I’m a realist, Claude. I know what goes on between us does not a forever make. I’m fine with that. You deserve someone, someone special.” She lifted her wine glass. “To The Platinum Society and finding the perfect woman for a perfect man.”
They touched glasses.
“You think maybe if I got a serious tan?” she teased and they both fell into laughter.
Claude opted not to stay the night, but they did spend a few hours over dessert and drinks catching up on Capitol Hill gossip, unrest in the Middle East and the ridiculousness of airport security, to which Claude declared, “Before it’s all over we’re going to be down to our birthday suits going through airport security.”
“Hopefully not before I leave for Turkey,” she said over her laughter as they prepared to depart. “I’m heading out next week.”
Traci walked with him to the entrance of the hotel, where they shared a hug and kiss for the road, and as he lay in bed that night, alone, he could have kicked himself for not taking Traci up on her generous offer as nature and hormones conspired against him. He turned onto his side. Hopefully, TPS was as good as they claimed. Then maybe he could stop turning down beautiful, willing women and get his mind off of Melanie.
Chapter 5
“These are the two that I came up with for Mr. Montgomery,” Veronica said as she pressed a button on the remote to activate the video projector. “The first is Dayna Grant. She runs several art galleries/lounges along the East Coast,” Veronica said. “She’s thirty-three, five foot eight, one hundred and thirty eight pounds, divorced, no children. She has an MBA from Stanford and loves to travel.”
Melanie made some notes as she listened to Dayna talk about herself in the interview and what she was looking for in a man.
“And then I thought that Grace Freeman was also a good choice. She’s not as high-powered as Dayna, but she can hold her own. I’ve seen her work a room during one of her book launch parties. She has class and style to match Mr. Montgomery.”
“Yes, I remember her. Really nice woman. I liked her a lot.” Melanie continued to make notes. Either of these women would be perfect for Claude, certainly on paper. The real test would come once they’d met and had gone out a time or two.
The screen darkened. Veronica turned to her aunt. “So what do you think?”
“I think you’re very good at what you do,” she said, her gaze glimmering with pride.
“Thanks, Aunt Mel.”
“Get it set up. And give Max a call at Deity Supper Club.”
“In Brooklyn?”
Melanie grinned. “Yes, take them both out of their element. Deity is super classy, great food and the drinks are to die for.”
Veronica nodded slowly as the idea took hold. “And since we’re going off script, how about sending Claude and Grace to Madame X in the Village in Manhattan for a Lady Jane Salon reading?”
Melanie giggled and clapped her hands. “I love it. Perfect. And maybe we can work it out so that Grace can do a reading.”
“I’ll get right on it.” Veronica looked at her aunt. “We usually do the yacht or fly the couple somewhere. Why the change?”
Melanie paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “Generally we make it so easy for the couple on the first date. We set them up in the lushness of what they are used to.” She lifted her chin and folded her arms. “I think they need a bit of a challenge. If they can get through it, experience something new, then we can pull out all the stops.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Melanie nodded. “Keep me posted. Give Mr. Montgomery a call, bring him up to date on what we have for him so far.”
“Oh…” The one word from Veronica hung in the air.
“Problem?”
“No, it’s just that, well it’s what you usually do.”
“We’re doing things differently, remember?” was all she said and walked out.
Melanie went to her room to change into her running clothes. The air was cool, almost chilly, but her body was on fire. She needed to douse the flames. A run along the beach and around the property always helped to clear her head.
Dressed and ready she told Evan that she was going out for a run in case anyone was looking for her.
She pulled her headband down over her ears and wrapped a towel around her neck. Her midnight-blue running jacket came just below her hips. Her running pants in the same blue clung to her legs like a second skin.
At the front door, she did several minutes of stretching before taking off. She began slowly, heading down the path from the mansion onto the bluff then to the steps that led down to the beach. The sun was pale today, barely strong enough to give off any rays of warmth. The sky was slightly overcast and storm clouds could be seen in the distance. The water was gray and choppy. She took this all in as she started out on her run. It was a picture of solitude and loneliness, emotions that she was unable to shake lately. And as a result she’d quietly begun to question her ability to manage the business. Between having the hots for her client and questioning her own feelings, she wasn’t sure of anything anymore. How effective could she continue to be in helping perfect strangers find love when she couldn’t even put together a relationship of her own?
She started off along th
e beach, following the horizon for about a mile, willing her mind to simply turn off and relax for a few minutes. But her thoughts refused to obey.
The truth was, after Steven, she’d dived into work, putting all that she had into finding love, the kind of love she’d shared with her husband, for others. And for a long time, that was enough. She felt fulfilled. There had been men from time to time, men that she met at parties or while traveling. She’d even received several proposals over the years. Yet there had been no one that made her want to say “I do.” She’d seen the rainbow, crossed the colors to the other side, but she never got her pot of gold, her reward.
A low ominous rumble caused her to look outward. The oncoming dark-gray storm clouds sped across the foamy waves. In the distance a zigzag of terrifying bright light cut across the sky. She had maybe five minutes before heaven and earth collided. She picked up her pace and headed back toward the house and none too soon. Halfway there, the first drops of rain began to fall and within moments, it was nearly blinding. If she hadn’t run this road a million times she would have never found her way back. The rain splashed against her face, whipped up by the frenzied wind, pinning her clothes to her body, determined, it seemed, to push her away from where she wanted to go. Her legs suddenly weighed a ton as she ran across the sand that sucked her feet like a vacuum. The added exertion accelerated her heart. She wiped water from her eyes as she rounded the bend and could just make out the shape of the house up ahead. If she wanted a workout, she’d certainly gotten one. She reached the steps and fought against the rising wind and rain to make it to the top then across the lawn and down the pathway to the front door, ignoring everything except the refuge of her home.
She came through the door, dripping wet and shivering cold. She stripped out of her jacket, took off her sneakers and walked toward the stairs when the sound of male voices drifted to her from the living room. One she recognized immediately, the second made her pulse race. She quickened her steps in the direction of the stairs and the safety of her bedroom. Just as she zipped by the partially opened door, Alan stepped out.