A Yuletide Affair

by Monica Richardson

  When the older woman walked in, he knew that she was Alyson Talbot’s mother because she looked like an older version of her. With a flawless brown face and long, graying hair, she was a spitting image of the woman he thought of more often than he should. She rushed in to see her husband. And later, when she returned to the lobby where Samson paced the floor, he barely knew she was there.

  “What’s your name, baby?” she asked.

  He turned to greet her. “I’m Samson.”

  “I’m Beverly Talbot,” she said. “I understand you’ve been right here with my husband all morning. And you’re responsible for getting him here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She hugged him. “You are a godsend.”

  “I’m glad I was able to help. How is he?”

  “He’s going to be just fine. He’s resting now,” she said. “Paul John has a hard head. I struggle to get him to watch his cholesterol. And he’s a physician, too. He should know better.”

  “I’m glad I could help, Mrs. Talbot.”

  “You’re Jackson’s friend from the States?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “So nice to meet you,” said Beverly. “Would you please join us for dinner at our house on Saturday?”

  “I would be honored,” said Samson.

  “Good. Five o’clock.” She smiled. “And bring your appetite. My daughters and I are preparing a Bahamian feast.”

  “Thank you.”

  She placed the palm of her hand against his face and gave him a warm, motherly smile. She reminded him of his own mother, and how he missed her. When she rushed back to be with her husband, Samson pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed his mother’s phone number.

  “Ma, it’s me.”

  “Samson, why are you calling me? You know these international rates are outrageous. You should’ve sent me an email, or a message on that Faceplace thing.”

  “It’s Facebook, Ma, and you don’t even visit your page. And I wanted to hear your voice,” he said. “How did it go today?”

  “I nailed it!” She giggled. “That damn parallel parking almost messed it up for me, though. But I did it. I got my license.”

  “I’m so proud of you.”

  “You should’ve seen me, Sammy, adjusting my mirrors and carrying on. And your daddy let me use the Chrysler. Can you believe it?”

  “I can’t believe it. He’s anal about that car.”

  “Damn right he is! And you know how bullheaded he can be. Not wanting me to get my driver’s license. It might’ve taken me thirty years, but I was determined. And I did it.”

  “I love you, Ma.”

  “I love you back,” she said. “What do I hear in your voice? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” he lied. “Just missing my favorite girl.”

  “Oh, shoot, I’m fine. Now tell me about the Bahamas. Are they anything like the pictures I’ve seen on television?”

  “Better. It’s absolutely gorgeous over here.”

  “Are you staying out of trouble?” she asked. “You’ve got to stop playing the field, Sammy. Find a nice girl and settle down.”

  “I will, Ma. One day.” He knew that he needed to end the conversation before she went into her spiel. “You need some money?”

  “You know I don’t need your money, son. I’m doing just fine.”

  He’d saved his money and invested in the stock market. He’d done well. A single man with no children, Samson had more expendable funds than he knew what to do with. Early in his career, he made sure he took care of his aging parents. He knew they would never consider leaving their two-story brick home where he grew up. No, that was not an option. So instead, he’d renovated it for them—had beautiful hardwoods installed, fresh paint throughout, and all new appliances to replace old run-down ones. He’d set up a bank account for them—a place where he would deposit cash for them on a regular basis. That was before the scandal.

  After the scandal, his father insisted that he shut the bank account down. “We don’t need your dirty money.”

  It was a punch to Samson’s gut, but he pretended not to be bothered. For so long, he’d lived for the approval of his father, whose footsteps he hadn’t followed. And his father often reminded him that he wouldn’t be in the predicament that he was in had he not followed his own path.

  Samson was from a long generation of cops. His grandfather had been a police officer for over thirty years, and his father’s career had been nearly as long, with twenty-nine years on the force. His older brother, Jessie, and his younger brother, Calvin, were both officers. Samson was the only one who’d taken a different route. He’d gone to the University of Chicago and then to Harvard Law School. He had no desire to chase criminals through Chicago neighborhoods. Instead, he preferred to try their cases before a court of law. He’d landed a job in the DA’s office shortly after graduation.

  When he decided to run for mayor, his mother had been his strongest supporter. She’d worked diligently on his campaign, putting in long hours, raising money and answering phones. She was proud of her baby, and didn’t care one bit that he hadn’t become a police officer. The job was way too dangerous for her taste anyway. She worried herself sick about her other two sons who spent their days patrolling the streets of Chicago, and didn’t mind one bit that one of her sons had chosen a different path.

  Samson was her hero, but in his mind she was one of the bravest people he knew. She’d endured chemotherapy, and the cancer had been in remission for the past two years. Yet she never missed a beat. Even when the treatments left her exhausted and sick, she kept fighting, always caring more about the next person than her own faltering health. He was so proud of her that he’d had her name etched across his biceps in bold letters, Toni. It was a reminder that when things got tough, her bravery was his strength.

  “If you need anything, you let me know,” he told his mother.

  “I need a new daughter-in-law, is what I need. And some grandchildren.”

  “You have a daughter-in-law. Jessie’s wife. And they have a kid,” Samson teased. “And Calvin has a kid. Last time I checked, you had two grandchildren.”

  “You know what I mean, boy,” Toni said. “I want you to settle down.”

  “Something’s going on with my phone. I think we have a bad connection. Hello. Hello.”

  “Okay, bad connection, Sammy Steel,” she said. “You just remember that time doesn’t wait for anyone.”

  “I love you, Ma.”

  “Yeah, I love you, too,” she said. “I’m going to have Calvin scan my driver’s license so I can send you a copy by email.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “Are you coming home for Christmas?”

  “I don’t think so. Jackson is getting married on Christmas Day, and I want to be here,” said Samson. “I’ve unofficially joined the band that was hired for the reception.”

  “Unofficially, huh?” His mother chuckled. “You got your guitar with you?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s always been your first love. I’m glad to see you’re staying true to it.”

  “Always.”

  “Send pictures of the wedding.”

  “I will.”

  “And, Samson.” She hesitated. “Take care, baby.”

  “You do the same, Ma. I’ll call you again soon.”

  He hung up, but held the phone against his chin. He missed her more than he realized. He missed her almost as much as he missed seeing Alyson Talbot’s face around the Grove. She’d only been gone for a short time, and he already missed her presence. No doubt, she was under his skin. Which was odd, because he didn’t allow women to get under his skin—he was always in control. Women chased him, not the other way around. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been the chaser.

  But he was chasing this time, and she was running. And he intended to figure out why. His original intent was to get her in bed, but something had happened along the way. She intrigued him, and he
wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

  Chapter 9

  Samson was quite fond of Bailey, his acoustic guitar made of Sitka spruce with its rosewood fingerboard. He rarely went anywhere without it. He rested it on his leg, and his fingertips quickly began to fret the strings as he joined Onyx while they performed their Caribbean Christmas medley. He’d never heard Nat King Cole’s “The Christmas Song” played quite like that. He felt nervous as a crowd gathered in the Grand Room to listen to the band play. They sipped wine and other cocktails and danced to the music. Some of them sang along, while others nibbled on hors d’oeuvres. Soon the crowd had grown bigger than he expected. It seemed that every guest staying at the Grove was in one room.

  He was surprised to see Alyson’s face in the midst of the crowd. Dressed in a business suit, with her arms folded across her chest, her lips curved into a slight smile. He gave her a wide grin and a wink. She blushed, unfolded her arms and began to move to the music a bit, trying to ignore him. After the news of her father’s heart attack, he’d expected her to return from Miami soon. And he was pleased to see her. Couldn’t wait to finish the set and work his way over to her.

  “Look up,” he whispered in her ear as he held the mistletoe above her head.

  She looked up, and he kissed her cheek.

  “How dare you kiss me in front of all these people?” she whispered. “And it’s not even Christmas yet.”

  “Close enough. And you didn’t seem to mind.” His smile was intoxicating.

  “Are you always this full of yourself?”

  “Always,” he said.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” Suddenly they seemed like old friends. “I wanted to thank you for what you did for my father. You saved his life, and I am eternally grateful.”

  “I didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have done for my own father. I just went with him to the clinic.”

  “It was a big deal to my family,” she said. “And to me.”

  “Maybe you can repay me with dinner.”

  “Maybe I can,” she resolved.

  “How about tonight?”

  “The Rock House, I suppose,” she said with a smile.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Good.” He said it casually, but could hardly contain his excitement.

  He decided to walk away, leave before she changed her mind or came up with an excuse. He walked back toward the band and prepped for the next song. The anticipation of getting to know Alyson Talbot beyond her business suit and professional disposition caused him anxiety, but music always calmed his fears. He was enjoying himself in the islands, and was grateful for the recess from his life in Chicago. He wanted to forget about it, at least for now.

  It had been a while since the trial, and he should’ve been proud of how he’d single-handedly won convictions against mayor-elect Conrad Phelps and William Blue, owner of Blue Island Properties, who had paid Phelps thousands of dollars to get their bids approved. Blue Island had funded Conrad Phelps’s campaign, in exchange for him getting all of their development plans approved once he was in office. And Mayor Phelps had kept his promise.

  They’d been suspected of wrongdoings for years, but the corruption continued. Finally the FBI conducted a real estate sting that brought the racket to its demise, and ultimately Mayor Phelps, several city employees, William Blue and several of Blue Island’s employees were arrested. Samson, as assistant district attorney, was successful at bringing charges against them all. However, he wasn’t aware of the consequences involved in solving an agelong case. For years, evidence had been overlooked because the mayor and Blue Island had ties that were much bigger than the FBI. It wasn’t long before Samson realized just how deep those ties ran.

  After the convictions, Samson had become somewhat of a hometown hero, and running for mayor quickly went from a fleeting idea to an attainable goal. He had plenty of supporters and soon left the DA’s office to begin raising funds for his campaign. However, in the midst of his campaign, all hell broke loose. Suddenly, he’d been accused of accepting bribes—the same crime that his predecessor, Conrad Phelps, had been accused and convicted of. In fact, there was speculation that the reason Samson had worked so diligently to put Conrad Phelps behind bars was because he had intentions of running for office himself. It was no secret that someone was determined to bring him down.

  He quickly discovered that the criminals he’d placed behind bars a few years prior had accomplices on the outside who were intent on seeking revenge. They worked diligently to destroy him—and so far, they had been successful. Although the allegations were completely unfounded, supporters began to pull their funds. And although Samson had been cleared of all misgivings, his name and reputation had already been tarnished. And all hopes of becoming mayor were gone.

  He wasn’t sure that returning to his old job was what he really wanted. What he really needed was to get away. Before he knew it, he’d found himself on a nonstop flight to the Eleuthera Islands. He would only return to Chicago when his head was clear, and not a day before—if at all.

  And now, as he looked over at Alyson, who clapped her hands to the music, he wondered just how long he’d find himself in the Bahamas.

  Chapter 10

  She’d spent a great deal of time searching for the perfect outfit, and she’d fussed with her hair way too long for a man that she had no interest in. She ruled out her professional garb and chose a pair of cropped white pants and a simple melon-colored blouse instead. After slipping into a pair of white leather sandals, she dabbed perfume behind each ear and in between her ample breasts.

  Alyson’s stomach churned as she stepped onto the beautiful terrace of the Rock House. She’d never been nervous around anyone in her life, but Samson Steel caused her anxiety for some reason. She spotted him as he took a sip of his martini. The nerve of him, starting without me, she thought. He stood when he saw her, greeted her and then pulled her chair out. At least he’s a gentleman. She was startled when he kissed her cheek, but smiled a little when she caught a slight whiff of his cologne. She took a seat, and her back reclined against the wooden chair. Her gaze veered toward the beautiful sunset that was now descending upon the bay.

  A candle danced in the center of their table, and Alyson tried with all her might to peel her eyes from Samson. He looked dapper in his tan, slim-fit Levi’s and white T-shirt that hugged his core and revealed muscular tattooed arms. A straw Panama fedora hat rested upon his head. He had his own style, and she appreciated it.

  “Very nice to see you.” He smiled.

  “Likewise,” she said.

  “I was afraid you might not show up.” Samson chuckled.

  “I considered it.” She picked up the menu to distract herself from staring at him. “But I thought it rude to leave you sitting here alone.”

  “You mean like you did the other day?” he asked. “That was very noble of you.”

  “Why the insistence that I join you, anyway?”

  “I think you’re beautiful and smart. And I’d like to get to know you better. What’s wrong with that?”

  “There are plenty of beautiful and smart women on this island. Why me?”

  “Why not you?”

  “I’m not looking for a man right now.”

  “I never said I wanted to be your man. I just said that I want to get to know you better. A huge difference.” He grinned a breathtaking grin.

  She scowled at him. “What is your story? Why are you even here in the Bahamas? I’ve heard rumors, but I’d really like to hear from you.”

  She’d actually Googled him and read all about the scandal on the internet, but wanted to hear the story from the horse’s mouth.

  “What have you heard?” He set his drink down and peered into Alyson’s eyes.

  “That you were doing some shady stuff in Chicago, and now you’re on the run.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I heard that while campaigning for mayor, you accepted
some bribes. It was a huge scandal, and you fled to the islands for refuge.”

  Samson laughed heartily, and then gave Alyson a sideways glance. “I did run for mayor. That part is true. Turns out I had some enemies in high places, and they didn’t want me in office. So they fabricated a story that I was accepting bribes. There was no truth to it.”

  “Why would someone accuse you of doing something like that?”

  “I was responsible for bringing down the former mayor, who was, in fact, engaged in bribery.” Samson took a sip of his martini, and then opened his menu. “Unfortunately for me, he retaliated by having someone slander me.”

  “You know that running away from things is never the answer,” Alyson stated. “You should always face your fears head-on.”

  “Facing your fears is not always that easy.” Samson closed his menu and laid it on the table. “I’m having the lobster tail. What about you?”

  “I can’t seem to find anything on the menu that appeals to me. I never really liked this place. Maybe I’ll just have a salad. I’m watching my figure anyway.”

  “Why don’t you leave the figure-watching to me and order something worthwhile,” he told her. “How about a nice steak?”

  “I don’t eat red meat.”

  “Why don’t you like this place? It’s upscale, and bourgeoisie—”

  “Bourgeoisie like me, huh?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.” She gave a slight wave to get the server’s attention. “For your information, this is not my type of place at all. When I’m on the islands, I prefer an old-fashioned Caribbean meal at my parents’ house, one accompanied by conch fritters and collard greens. Not lobster tails and fancy steaks.”

  “Yes, ma’am?” The Caribbean waitress interrupted her rant. “Are we ready to order?”