It was as if the action lifted the veil that had covered his eyes and he wondered why he was with her. What was he doing? “I’ll check my schedule and get back to you.” He smiled to soften the disappointment. “Where do you live again, cher? Forgive me.” He held up his glass. “One too many.”
“Park and 62nd Street.”
“Of course.” He winked at her and tapped on the partition that separated them from the driver.
The Plexiglas whirred downward.
“Park and 62nd,” Rafe instructed. He reclined against the thick leather back seat. He ignored her pout.
“I thought we were going to your place,” she whined.
“I’m sorry, cher. Not tonight. Maybe another time.”
She flopped back against the seat and folded her arms tightly to her body, elevating the expensive enhancements. Rafe turned his attention to the traffic outside the window, lighting up the night sky with the gleam from streetlights that danced off their hoods, their headlights illuminating onto the blacktop. It seemed to create a magical lightshow, much like his life. It was all smoke and mirrors. He’d mastered the art of illusion. The ability to charm and woo, to talk his way into and out of anything he wanted.
He draped his arm along the back of the seat and drummed his long fingers against the firm surface. He hated these introspective moments, those times when all of the scolding, threats and warnings from his family stirred his conscience. In those moments he came face to face with the pointlessness of the life that he led.
His father was a powerful senator, his sister Lee Ann had the education, skills and family lineage to move into politics. The twins, when they weren’t trying to spend the family fortune, were both involved in philanthropy. His brother Justin was being primed for the political arena. Rafe’s unambitious lifestyle went against everything that the Lawson family stood for.
“Much as I loved your mother, God rest her soul, she spoiled you rotten, boy. Doted on you like you were the king of damned England and enabled all of your philandering ways,” Bradford Lawson had said, glaring at his son with the same vehemence that he reserved for his opponents on the senate floor.
Rafe endured the periodic tongue-lashing from his father with practiced chagrin. There was probably some truth to what his father said, although he would never admit it to him. His beloved mother had been his rock, the only one in the family who understood him. She knew how to rein him in without holding him in place.
God he missed her. There was an emptiness in his soul since she’d been gone and he filled it with one woman after another, wild parties, good liquor and tabloid-worthy adventures. For a while the space would be filled, but inevitably the emptiness would return.
Maybe his father was right. Maybe he did need a good woman in his life to help him settle down. And his thoughts shifted to Melanie.
She was different from the other women he had known and bedded. She couldn’t care less who he was. She was independent and didn’t appear to need the arm of a man to make herself look good or feel important. She already was—all qualities that were rare in the women he saw. Melanie Harte.
“You’re smiling again,” his date said, cutting into his thoughts. He turned from the window and realized that she was sitting right by his side. “I thought I’d done something to upset you.”
His smile wavered and held. He stretched a finger toward her chin and gently lifted it. Yes, she had beautiful eyes and kissable lips. He remembered now. Her name was Stephanie. His gaze caressed her slightly over-made-up face. He leaned forward and pressed his lips toward her kissable ones. She sighed ever so softly.
“Should we bring the wine up to your place?” he said against her mouth. He felt her body loosen with delighted relief.
The idea that he was the source of her happiness, real or imagined, only helped to reaffirm his mantra. He couldn’t disappoint a woman. After all, he was a southern gentleman.
The car pulled to a stop in front of Stephanie’s building on Park Avenue. The driver opened the door. Rafe stepped out first and helped Stephanie to her feet. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side.
She laughed and it was the music that always made him weak, made him dance—the sound of a woman’s laughter.
He walked behind her as the building doorman greeted her. She turned, her smile bright and her eyes inviting.
His dimple appeared. The elevator door closed behind them. He’d let Melanie Harte try to reform him tomorrow.
Chapter 3
When Melanie walked into her office the following day, the team had already assembled. No matter how appealing a client might be or how much money they had, it was protocol that the decision to take on a new client was unanimous.
“Hey, Aunt Mel,” the trio said in unison.
“Morning, troops.” She set her cup of coffee on the side table. “Everyone have a good time last night?”
“Absolutely,” they agreed.
Melanie took a sip of her coffee and settled down on the overstuffed couch. Her office was an eclectic blend of functionality and comfort. Her high-tech equipment was housed inside floor-to-ceiling wooden cabinets that were rolled out for use. The video screen was mounted on the wall for full presentations of clients and their prospects. The bay windows looked out onto the bluffs and ocean beyond. Pale peach walls were adorned with one-of-a-kind pieces of art. Glass and chrome were the focal accessories, with conversational seating throughout. Fresh flowers graced the tables, shipped in weekly from the florist. This was TPS central, where all of the decisions were made.
“I’ve done some preliminary work on Mr. Montgomery and Mr. Lawson,” Veronica said, “based on observation and what I was able to pull from the Internet. I’ll have a full profile of each once we set up the meeting.”
“You certainly didn’t waste any time,” Melanie said. “Let’s see what you have so far.”
Veronica pressed a button on the console and the screen lit up. The first screen was filled with basic data about Claude and Rafe—date of birth, physicality, where they lived, profession, education and relationship status.
Melanie stared at the near life-sized images of Claude and felt her body come alive in response. She knew she’d have to keep her lusty thoughts to herself if she was going to be effective in finding a suitable match for him.
The sound of male voices coming in their direction drew everyone’s attention. Moments later Alan stuck his head in the door.
“I thought I smelled smoke,” Alan joked. “All this brain power brushing up against each other like kindling.”
“Very funny,” Melanie said.
“I brought company.”
Claude stepped into the frame of the door. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
Melanie’s heart banged in her chest and a sudden rush of heat flooded her body. She shifted
