see you’ve already become acquainted with my son,” Senator Lawson said.
Melanie turned in his direction. “Yes. He’s certainly a charmer.”
The senator chuckled. “Oh, is that what you call it?”
“What would you call it?”
“Oh, I’d never say what I thought to a lady.” He winked. “But I will say that he needs taming. Rafe is a free spirit. Can’t get him to settle down to anything serious. But I think the right woman could do what me and the whole damn family have not been able to,” he said, his Creole background filtering through. “That’s where you come in. I’d like to secure your services.”
“Are you sure he would be agreeable?”
“Every now and again I can get the boy to listen to me. And if it has anything to do with women, he’ll listen.”
Melanie’s right brow rose for an instant. “I’m sure we could find someone special for your son.”
“Good. I’m counting on it. I want Rafe to step into my shoes one day and I want him to have a good woman at his side—someone strong enough to stand up against some of his foolishness.”
She drew in a breath, reached in her purse and handed him her card. “If he’s willing and when he’s ready, have him call me.”
The senator took the card and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “It will be sooner than you think.”
Melanie moved around the room, chatting with many of the familiar faces and catching up on the political gossip. Throughout the evening she caught glimpses of Claude and each time her insides quaked. It was clear that he was a man completely comfortable in who he was and how he’d gotten there. She noticed the way he held his muscular body, never lording his height over people but rather inviting them into his space. He focused on people when they talked as if they were the only person in the world that mattered. He was intelligent, witty, a great dancer and well-connected. Yes, on the surface, Claude Montgomery was a man that any woman would desire. Not to mention that his sex appeal was off the charts.
Then there was Raford Lawson. There was no doubt that Rafe could charm a blind woman out of her panties. He was breathtakingly gorgeous from the natural waves of his ink black hair, the honey brown of his eyes, his dark sweeping brows down to his imported Italian shoes. He was wealthy, spoiled and brought up to believe that he could have whatever he wanted. He was like an unbridled Arabian stallion: magnificent and wild, never harnessed and never ridden. His father was right. It would take a special woman to rein in Rafe Lawson. Inwardly, she smiled. The Platinum Society would certainly have their work cut out for them.
As the family was preparing to leave, Raford stopped Melanie at the door. He took a sip of his bourbon. “My father insists that you can find me the perfect woman.” He extracted the card his father had given him from his pocket and held it between his two fingers.
“It’s what we do.” A glint lit her eyes.
The corner of his exquisite mouth curved upward. “You’re on Ms. Harte. Expect my call.” He winked and walked away.
“What was that about?” Veronica asked, draping her wrap across her shoulders.
Melanie turned to her niece. “It seems that we may have two new clients instead of one.”
“What do you think about Claude?” Alan asked as they headed back to Sag Harbor, cocooned in the luxury of a stretch limousine. Everyone chimed in except Melanie. Sensing she was being scrutinized, she glanced up and focused. “What?”
“You were definitely someplace else,” Alan teased.
“I was asking what you thought of Claude.”
That’s exactly who she was thinking of when she’d zoned out of the conversation. “I’m sure we can find someone for him. On the surface he totally fits our criteria. Of course we’ll know much better after Veronica works up his profile.”
“And Senator Lawson wants us to find someone for his son,” Veronica added.
“Rafe?” Alan asked, clearly surprised.
Melanie nodded her head. “That’s what he told me.”
“And Rafe agreed?”
“He told me in no uncertain terms that I would be hearing from him,” Melanie said. “It was almost a challenge.”
Alan chuckled and leaned back against the plush leather seats. “Trust me, it will be.”
“Rafe, are you ready to leave? I’m tired.”
Rafe turned his gaze away from the entourage as they said their good-nights. He focused on the lovely woman in front of him. For a moment he couldn’t recall her name. It didn’t matter really. They all loved being called sweetheart or baby. He set down his glass on the tray of a passing waiter and turned his hundred-watt smile on his date.
“Not too tired,” he teased, trailing his finger along the curve of her exposed back.
She purred with pleasure and moved closer to him. “Never too tired for you. You should know that by now.”
He probably should, he thought while he absently nuzzled her neck, imagining Melanie’s warm caramel skin beneath his lips. The truth was this woman who was ready to do whatever he asked was one of so many like her. Beautiful, nameless women that saw the Lawson name, heard whispers about his skills in the bedroom and put themselves in his path. He loved women. All types of women. Tall, thin, thick, short, black, white, Latina, Asian. They were all wonderful, willing and desirable in their own way. And the southern gentleman in him compelled him to please as many of them as he could.
His trio of sisters—Lee Ann and the twins Dominique and Desiree—steered all of their friends clear of their playboy brother and admonished the youngest Lawson, their brother Justin, not to follow in their big brother’s footsteps.
Rafe grinned to himself as he helped his date with her wrap. He loved his family dearly, even though he constantly remained on the receiving end of their reprimands. But no amount of scolding, threats of being cut out of the family fortune or hints of scandal stopped him in his relentless pursuit of women.
It was in his nature. It was in his blood as sure as the champagne that flowed through it now. He accepted that. He knew that deep inside he was looking for something. He simply didn’t know what that something was and he would not stop until he found it.
Rafe slid into the back seat of the chauffeured limo. He tossed his tuxedo jacket across to the other side of the horseshoe-shaped leather seat. He leaned toward the mini bar and uncorked a bottle of wine. He poured a glass for himself and his date, confident that before the night was over her name would come back to him.
“Rafe,” she cooed, leaning forward to expose her heavenly depths. “I was hoping you’d like to join me and some close friends for a weekend in Cancun.”
He looked at her over the rim of the flute. Her makeup was a little too heavy and he concluded it was to mask her acne. Her body was lovely but he could tell from experience that it didn’t come naturally. She did have interesting eyes and a lovely mouth. Kissable. That much he did
