A Yuletide Affair

by Monica Richardson

  He found a nice jazz station on her stereo and then maneuvered the car toward the interstate.

  “You sure you don’t want me to drive?” she asked.

  “I can drive. You just lead the way.”

  The music was loud as they stepped into the South Beach nightclub. Women were dressed in tighter dresses than the one that Alyson wore, but he thought she was by far the most beautiful.

  He grabbed her hand and led the way to the bar. Wrapped his arms tightly around her as if they were the only two people in the room.

  “I’ll have a Heineken, and a cosmopolitan for the lady,” he told the bartender, but then asked, “Are you in the mood for a cosmopolitan tonight, or did you want something else?”

  “Cosmopolitan’s fine.”

  They turned to look at the crowd. People crowded the dance floor, and all the tables were filled. There was standing room only. One seat opened at the bar, and Samson ushered Alyson there and pulled the bar stool out for her. She took a seat, while he stood close behind. The bartender placed their drinks in front of them, and she swiveled around so that she was facing Samson. He grabbed his beer, took the lime from it, sucked on it and then gave Alyson a lime-filled kiss on the lips.

  “You are the most beautiful woman in here,” he said in her ear, trying to speak over the loud music.

  She crossed her legs and sipped on her drink. “I hope that at some point we’re going to dance.”

  “We will. As soon as I get back from the men’s room,” said Samson. “Will you be okay until I get back?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll be quick,” Samson said, and then walked away.

  * * *

  After Samson left, the man at the bar next to Alyson gave her a smile and then leaned toward her. “What a beautiful accent you have,” he said.

  “Thank you.” She barely looked his way. It was a compliment that she received often.

  “Where are you from?”

  She caught a whiff of his alcohol-filled breath. “Bahamas.”

  “I knew it was one of them... Jamaica, Bahamas or something,” he said. “Is that your man with you?”

  It was a question she hadn’t pondered, but knew that she needed to provide an answer, even if it meant lying to keep Drunk Man at bay.

  “Yes,” she said emphatically.

  “Corny ass dude. You need a real man. A man that knows what to do with all that damn junk in your trunk.” He smiled and touched her rear end.

  “Hey!” she yelled over the music, appalled. “Don’t touch my ass again.”

  “You mean like this.” He touched her again, and she slid from the bar stool.

  He grabbed her arm. “I was just teasing. Where are you going so soon?”

  She tried pulling away from his grasp.

  “Let her go,” Samson said as he approached the bar.

  “Or what?” Drunk Man asked.

  Samson grabbed him by the collar. “Or I’ll take your ass outside.”

  * * *

  Samson hadn’t had to take anyone outside in some time, but being from Chi-Town, he wasn’t afraid to do just that. The man released Alyson’s hand and gave Samson a hard shove.

  “Don’t even waste your time,” Alyson said as she stood between the two and pulled Samson away. “You have too much to lose.”

  Bystanders began to look their way.

  Drunk man said, “I was only complimenting your woman’s accent. And with a beautiful mouth like that, I bet she could suck—”

  Before he finished his sentence, Samson had landed a right hook to his face. Alyson let out a loud shriek, and Drunk Man wiped blood from the corner of his mouth with a grin followed by laughter. Within a moment, a large man had grabbed Samson by his armpits and began to escort him toward the door.

  “Let’s go, buddy!” the bouncer said.

  “I’m going.” Samson pulled away, straightening his clothes. He grabbed Alyson by the hand, and the two left the club in a hurry.

  He handed the valet his ticket and then turned to Alyson.

  “I’m sorry.” He’d blown it. He’d let his anger get the best of him, something that he rarely did. He was always in control, but he’d lost it in front of the woman who was slowly capturing his heart.

  “It’s okay.” She gave him a warm smile and tried to make light of the situation. “Hopefully no one recognized you and Tweeted it.”

  “Hopefully,” he said drily.

  He was disappointed in himself. Spent the entire drive home rethinking things—wondering how he could’ve handled the situation better, wishing he had the opportunity again. He would do things differently. He was an upstanding man, a man of honor, and had never been thrown from a nightclub before.

  When they got back to the condo, Samson lay down on the leather sofa in the living room and turned the television to ESPN, while Alyson disappeared into the master bedroom, and returned shortly with a wet washcloth. She grabbed his hand and wiped dried blood away from his knuckles with the wet cloth, then gently kissed his knuckles. She got up and walked over to the stereo, turned on some music and finally grabbed the remote control from Samson, muting the television.

  “You owe me a dance,” she said.

  His head bounced against the leather sofa, a half grin on his face.

  “Come on,” she demanded, and pulled him up from the sofa.

  He stood and grabbed her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck. They moved to the music.

  “So you’re not mad at me for making a fool of myself?” he asked.

  “No,” she said simply. “I can’t remember a man ever making a fool of himself for me.”

  “I lost it. It made me crazy hearing someone disrespect you like that,” he said. “I’m sorry I ruined your night.”

  “The night is still young.” She stood on her tippy toes and kissed his lips. “And not at all ruined.”

  He held her tighter and plunged his tongue into her mouth. Grabbed the roundness of her behind. He’d wanted to do that since he first saw her in that dress. He was falling for her, and she him. And neither of them knew what to do about it.

  Chapter 15

  She opened the white envelope with the red-and-gold monogrammed seal. It was a formal invitation with raised lettering, and a personal note inside.

  Alyson,

  I hope you can make it.

  This is a great opportunity for you to meet my dad.

  Pick his brain.

  And bring that handsome man you’ve been seen gallivanting about town with. The sexy one...

  Best wishes,

  Jennifer Madison

  She quickly slipped the note back into the envelope and placed the invitation on the table.

  “What’s that?” asked Jasmine.

  “Invitation to a fundraiser hosted by a client. It’s next weekend on Abaco.”

  “You’re not going,” said Jasmine. “You can’t.”

  “I am going. I have to. This is about my career.”

  “We’re down to the wire with these wedding plans. Have to make sure everything is right. The caterers, the band, the men getting fitted for their tuxedoes. Christmas is less than a month away. And have you even gone to the final fitting for your dress?”

  “Of course...” Alyson lied, but then dropped her head. “No. But I will. This week, I promise.”

  “Alyson! What is going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “There was a problem with Whitney’s dress, and the seamstress wasn’t sure if she could have it altered in time.” Jasmine placed her hand over her face and sighed. “I’ve been looking for you all this week! Where were you?”

  “I had to fly back home to Miami. Had business there. I told you I have to split my time between the islands and Florida. My business doesn’t stop because you’re getting married, Jazzy. My work is priority.”

  “I know that, but can you let us know when you’re going away? The people who love you also worry about you.”

  “I’m s
orry. I should’ve said something.”

  “Yes, you should have. Instead, I have to see it on Twitter.”

  “What?”

  Jasmine handed Alyson her phone. There was a photo of Samson punching Drunk Man in the face. The caption read Washed up Illinois mayoral candidate takes his frustrations out on an innocent bystander. #SamsonSteel #MiamiHeat

  “What the hell?”

  “My sentiments exactly. Imagine my shock when I saw your face in the background,” said Jasmine. “Now again I ask, what is going on?”

  “Oh, my God. Samson is going to freak. It was just one big misunderstanding. He was defending me against that creep, and the story got twisted.”

  “As if he needs any more trouble,” said Jasmine.

  “It wasn’t his fault,” Alyson defended him.

  “I was just surprised to see you and Samson...in South Beach...together...”

  “I know it seems strange, but...”

  “Are you sleeping with him, Alyson?”

  “Well...”

  “You are!” Jasmine exclaimed. “When did this relationship go from dinner at the Rock House to a weekend rendezvous in Miami? Did he stay at your condo?”

  “Eat your breakfast, Jazzy,” Alyson said, hoping to avoid any further conversation about her love life.

  “I want to know every single little nasty detail. And don’t leave anything out,” Jasmine said.

  Their sister Whitney walked up, saving the day.

  “Well, if it isn’t my elusive big sister,” she said.

  Alyson stood and gave Whitney a tight squeeze. “Good to see you. Missed you!”

  “I can’t really tell, honey, because I’ve been on this island all week, and this is my first time seeing you.” Whitney took a seat at the table. “Did you completely forget about Thanksgiving dinner?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve had business in Miami.” Alyson glanced at Jasmine, who raised her eyebrows.

  “I understand you have a little business here, too.” Whitney grinned. “I’ve heard rumors about a certain tall glass of water.”

  Alyson peered at Jasmine, who gave her a look of guilt.

  “It’s not like you’re hiding it,” Jasmine defended herself. “And besides, social media tells all your business.”

  “I’m happy for you,” said Whitney. “Glad to see you’ve finally moved past that Jimmy Franklin thing.”

  An uncomfortable silence filled their space. Jimmy Franklin had been a sore spot for Alyson and her family.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to open old wounds,” Whitney said. “It’s just that you and Jazzy lost so much time over that whole thing.”

  “But we’re over it now. After Jazzy told me what really happened.”

  Jimmy Franklin had been Alyson’s high school sweetheart, until he was sent away to Philadelphia. For years, Alyson didn’t know why he’d been sent away—only that Jasmine was responsible. Only recently had she learned that all those years ago, Jimmy Franklin had tried to rape Jasmine. The revelation had been the beginning of healing old wounds for the sisters.

  “I’m just glad to have both of my sisters back,” said Whitney. “And I’m excited about Jazzy’s Christmas wedding! Give me all the details of what to expect.”

  “The rehearsal dinner is scheduled for Christmas Eve. We’ll have a Bahamian spread, of course. Raquel is putting a menu together as we speak. The fellas are planning a bachelor party for Jackson, and of course we have some wicked things planned for Jazzy later that night.”

  “No strippers!” warned Jasmine. “And I mean it. I don’t want some strange man shaking his stuff in front of me. I’m perfectly happy with the stuff I have at home.”

  The sisters laughed.

  “You know that the guys are going to have a stripper.”

  “Jackson promised they wouldn’t.”

  Alyson and Whitney looked at each other, and then laughed hard.

  “Anyway,” Alyson continued, “early Christmas morning we’re having a masseuse and a hairstylist come to the Grove and pamper us and make us pretty.”

  “Why did you both laugh about the stripper?”

  Alyson disregarded Jasmine’s question and continued with her wedding itinerary. “The wedding starts promptly at noon. We will be on time. And I mean it, Jazzy. Make sure that everyone knows that this wedding will start with or without them. Groom included.”

  “Now, how in the world will you have a wedding without the groom?” Whitney asked.

  “We’ll manage it. We’ll put him on speakerphone.” Alyson laughed. “Immediately following the ceremony, the guests will migrate to the cabana on the back on the Clydesdale. They’ll mingle and buy drinks at the cash bar while the crew rearranges the seating for the reception.”

  “Sounds wonderful! I’m leaving tomorrow, but will be back for Christmas break. I’ll get here a few days early in case you guys need my assistance,” Whitney said, her hands propped beneath her chin and a dreamy look on her face. “I’m so happy for you, Jazzy...you found your knight in shining armor. I hope to be so lucky someday.”

  “First you have to lose these nerdy glasses,” Alyson said as she removed her sister’s glasses from her face, “and you need to let your beautiful hair down. You look like a schoolteacher.”

  “I am a schoolteacher. And this from a woman who doesn’t even understand what it means to dress down,” said Whitney.

  “She’s been letting her hair down lately.” Jasmine smiled. “Now that a certain man has her attention. Or should I say, she has his?”

  “About this guy...” said Whitney thoughtfully.

  “We’re not having this discussion.” Alyson stood. “I have to go. I have a lot of work to do today. Breakfast was nice. I’ll see you both at the house later.”

  Alyson kissed each of her sisters on the cheek, left the Talbot house and walked next door to Samson Place. She rushed up the stairs to Samson’s room and knocked on the door. He answered, a plush white towel wrapped around his waist and a toothbrush in his mouth.

  “Good morning, love,” he said.

  “Good morning,” she said, feeling as if she’d interrupted him too early. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were just now moving around.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Come on in.” He opened the door wider. “What’s on your mind?”

  She held her phone in the air, showed him the Twitter post. “Have you seen this?”

  He nodded. “My brother sent it to me last night. Damn shame how they twist details.”

  “You’re not concerned at all?”

  “No. People take things to social media all the time, and always out of context. I’m used to it.”

  She was relieved that the Twitter post wasn’t a problem for him. She needed him calm for her next order of business.

  “I wanted to ask you something.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “I have this invitation from one of my clients. She’s the owner of the magnificent home on Abaco—the one we visited not long ago.”

  “The mansion,” he concluded with a grin, and then sarcastically said, “the one I can’t afford.”

  “Anyway—” she ignored his quip “—the owner, Jennifer Madison, is having a fund-raiser dinner there this weekend. It’s a black-tie affair...five hundred dollars a plate—”

  “Five hundred dollars a plate!” he repeated.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t been to functions like this. You’re a politician. At any rate, there will be lots of big, important people there. Namely, her father, Jonathan Madison, with whom I’m hoping to do business. He owns several commercial properties, and I think it would be prosperous for Alyson Talbot and Associates to dabble in the commercial industry.”

  “You mentioned that,” he said, and went into the bathroom. Spit in the sink, rinsed his mouth.

  “I need a date for the fund-raiser. Well, maybe not a date...an escort,” she said thoughtfully. “I just need someone to accompany me.”

  “So you need m
e?” he asked, coming back into the bedroom.

  “If you don’t want to go...or have other plans...”

  “I’d love to go.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “It’s black tie.”

  “Okay.”

  “They have a tuxedo rental shop on the island...” Alyson began to suggest. “I can show you where it is.”

  “I have a tux, for your information, Miss Presumptuous,” Samson said as he grabbed a pair of boxer shorts from the chest of drawers.

  Alyson grinned. “It’s Saturday night at seven. I’ll have Stephen drive us over in his boat.”

  “I look forward to it.” Samson dropped his towel and slowly stepped into the boxers. “Did you need anything else?”

  Alyson inhaled deeply. Took in every inch of him, from his chiseled chest to the bulge in his briefs. She needed to feel him between her thighs again, is what she needed. He was quickly becoming her addiction, making her weak. He had her out of character.

  “No, I’m good,” she said and headed for the door.

  Samson stood in front of the door, blocking her from leaving. “You’re sure?”

  She needed to exercise control, preserve her dignity. She was a strong woman and wouldn’t fall prey to the advances of any man. And he needed to know that just because he planted little sensual kisses up and down her neck, she wouldn’t give in. And just because his mouth engulfed hers with a passionate kiss, he couldn’t break her. Even as he began to gently squeeze her breasts, she was still in control.

  Or so she thought.

  Chapter 16

  Christmas lights adorned the magnificent property. Stately palm trees stood glamorously about the grounds, while huge wreaths and garland played peekaboo in every window. The mansion smelled of cinnamon and cranberry. Red and gold candles burned in every corner of every room. Soft Christmas jazz played faintly as trays filled with flutes of champagne traveled about.

  Samson looked dazzling in his navy tuxedo. Alyson wore a matching embellished navy gown that flattered her figure. The two were a handsome couple as they arrived at the Madison property. Alyson slipped her hand into the crease of Samson’s arm as he escorted her inside. They quickly began to mingle, and Samson grabbed a flute of champagne for each of them. He handed Alyson hers.