he would have liked. That reality pricked him more so today. Rather than roaming the cozy rooms of his home, listening to music, maybe catching up with a friend or taking his bike out for a spin along New York’s highways, he was going home to get ready for a stuffy black-tie dinner. The very thing he worked at not doing—at least as much as he could.
He had Alan Harte to thank for this one, he thought, as he followed the line of boarding passengers and took his seat in coach. Alan could convince the devil to change his ways. He smiled to himself.
They’d been friends for years from Claude’s early days of doing community work back in his home state of Louisiana. Alan was newly divorced and climbing up the ranks at the State Department. They’d met during an education forum in Baton Rouge and had been friends ever since. It was Alan who’d introduced him to Senator Lawson.
They tried to get together as often as they could, but with Alan’s constant traveling and Claude’s busy schedule it was often difficult. So when Alan strong-armed him into attending an embassy event, he relented for old times’ sake. He’d said that it was high time that Claude had a woman in his life—not that Alan ever would again—and that his sister Melanie was the one who could make magic happen.
Claude had no real interest in a permanent relationship. At least he didn’t think he did. But in the weeks leading up to today the notion began to take shape in his head. When he looked at his life, it was a complete success. He had what most longed for. Yet, there were times when the loneliness of his life hit him. Like today, when Joyce talked about her husband and kids and visiting relatives during the brief time off. Most days he didn’t miss that kind of thing. But more often than he cared to admit he’d begun to long for a life that he’d almost had—once.
He fastened his seatbelt and opened his copy of The Washington Post. He turned to the arts and entertainment section.
The captain announced that they were next in line for takeoff and they should be landing at New York’s LaGuardia airport on time.
He folded the newspaper on his lap, leaned back and shut his eyes. Might as well catch a quick nap, he thought. He had a long night ahead of him. As he drifted off into a light sleep he wondered fleetingly if Alan’s sister was as good as he claimed she was. He’d always spoken of her in such glowing terms, and curiously enough in the years that he and Alan had been friends, Claude had never met Melanie.
He’d seen pictures and he’d often wondered if she was as attractive in person. There was something about her smile and her eyes that drew him. And he often wondered with the business that she was in if there was a man in her life. He’d never ask Alan anything like that, so it was ironic that their first meeting would be with her in the role of matchmaker for him.
He was the last person to even think about using a dating service, but Alan insisted it was much more than that—and he’d guarantee a wonderful outcome.
“Then why don’t you use it?” Claude had asked after Alan had all but browbeaten him into attending the gala and meeting Melanie.
“First of all, I’m family. That would be like winning the sweepstakes grand prize and being an employee of the company that sponsored it.”
Claude just looked at him, shook his head and chuckled. “Whatever, man. I’m only doing this because we’re friends.”
Alan slapped him on the back. “You won’t regret it. Promise.”
That remained to be seen, Claude thought as he finally put his key in the door to his Westchester home. It remained to be seen.
Chapter 2
Melanie had been to her share of high-class soirees—from Paris to the Caribbean, rubbing elbows with athletes, billionaires, movie and television stars, corporate moguls and media-shy executives. But it was always a treat to be in the company of real power, the political machine that made the decisions about everything from health care to appointments to the Supreme Court. There was an unmistakable energy that emanated from the men and women in politics that could be found nowhere else in the world. For Melanie, it was a definite turn on.
Tonight the party was being hosted by the newly named American ambassador to Spain, which decidedly influenced the evening’s décor, entertainment and menu.
Alan escorted his small entourage through security and took them into the grand ballroom. When Alan said black tie, he wasn’t kidding. The men were decked out in tuxedos, some with tails and cummerbunds. The women perfectly complemented their escorts’ attire in cocktail dresses and evening gowns. But it was the jewelry that competed for attention, sparkling from ears, wrists and throats with enough joint wattage to light up the heavens.
Melanie preferred cocktail dresses over full-length gowns. She had great legs and used every opportunity to show them off. Tonight she’d chosen a bronze Vera Wang dress that was so close to her natural skin tone that she almost appeared naked were it not for the rhinestone appliqué that framed her décolletage. Her stilettos, in a matching color, accentuated her five-foot-nine height. The dress hugged her upper body, dipped dangerously low in the back and flared from the waist to just above her knees.
A trio of Spanish guitarists played in the background as the wait staff, outfitted in traditional dress, moved in and around the well-heeled crowd.
“You probably know a lot of these people,” Alan said as he and Melanie made their way across the room, nodding and smiling at familiar faces.
Vincent had taken his wife, sister and cousin to get drinks while Alan and Melanie mingled.
Alan lifted his chin. “There’s Claude over by the balcony talking to the attorney general.”
Melanie followed the direction of Alan’s gaze and spotted Claude. Perhaps it was the timing, a sixth sense or kismet, but he turned his head in her direction at the very moment she focused on him.
A sudden rush like that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when the roller coaster drops down from its highest point at breakneck speed swept through her. Air shot up from her lungs and lodged in the center of her chest. His eyes, as dark and mysterious as the edge of the universe, held her in place. The barest hint of a smile teased his mouth and her before he gave her an imperceptible nod and turned back to his conversation.
Claude Montgomery was a standout in any room. There was a commanding air about him, a swagger that amplified his deep chocolate skin, broad chest and long legs. Wearing an Armani tux, Claude Montgomery was damn-near edible. He was a shoe-in for Idris Elba’s better-looking brother. Whoever was lucky enough to land him was in for a treat—at least in the looks department. She’d have a better idea once they did his profile. In the meantime she needed to regain her composure and quit imagining herself naked in his bed.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you,” Alan said, oblivious to the shift in her world that had just taken place.
The last time Melanie was nervous about meeting a man was in fifth grade when she got called into Principal Harrison’s office for starting a hunger strike in the lunchroom to protest the lousy food. That was a long time ago. But she hadn’t forgotten the racing pulse, wobbly knees and damp palms.
As they approached, the conversation drew to an end when the attorney general was pulled away by his wife.
Claude deposited his empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. His broad smile was in full effect as he extended his hand to Alan.
“Good
