Heart's Reward (2 page)

Claude loosened his tie. He veered off from the throng of suits that filled the hallway. He checked his watch. A three-hour meeting. Inwardly he groaned. Most of the time had been spent arguing points that had been debated for the past month. Typical Washington politics. He fully understood the frustration of the President and the American people. He was just as frustrated. No one else seemed to mind. It was business as usual on Capitol Hill. He strode down the hall, putting on his game face to deter even the most relentless lobbyist.

“Mr. Montgomery, these papers need your signature,” his secretary said, waylaying him. She carried
a folder under her arm that bulged. Her smile was sympathetic.

He'd hoped to be able to sneak away under the radar, tie up some loose ends in his office and catch a plane to New York.

She quickened her step to keep up with him. “I know you have a flight to catch. I've tabbed the pages that you need to sign.”

They turned left and walked down another corridor lined with doors. Name plates identified the offices. His office was around the next turn. He opened the door and let her go in first. She crossed the room and stood in front of his desk.

Joyce had worked for him since he was named chief of staff for Senator Lawson. Six years. She knew him well, and that meant catching him when she could. She was a master at timing his entrances and exits. She was smart, discreet and damned good at her job, Claude thought. What he appreciated most was that she never wielded her sexuality. Joyce Holden was stunning. She was an exotic mix of East Indian and African American with a luminous honey-brown complexion, wide dark eyes and silky black hair that hung like a veil to the middle of her back. Her body rivaled a Victoria's Secret model. He'd been hesitant about hiring her for all of those reasons. He didn't need or want the distraction. But her professional demeanor dwarfed her allure. He
gave her a chance and there wasn't a day that he'd regretted his decision. They were co-workers, equals and friends. He wouldn't be able to manage without her.

He took off his jacket. His stark white shirt appeared to gleam against his rich chocolate complexion. There was a line of women in D.C. who vied for Claude's attention, Joyce thought. She placed the folder on his desk and opened it. What she admired about him was that he never mixed business with pleasure. In all the years she'd worked for him, there was never even a whisper of impropriety. He was often the topic of discussion among the female staffers. They all wanted her take on his availability and their chances with him. Her answer was always the same: “Set your sights elsewhere.” She was one of the few people that knew anything about his personal life and what had scarred him. Her loyalty and admiration of him would never allow her to share that knowledge.

“These are the staff reviews that you approved for this quarter.” She lifted them out of the folder and handed them to him one at a time.

As chief of staff he was responsible for more than one hundred employees who were part of Senator Lawson's team, from file clerks to committee members. It was his job to know each and every one of them by name, their responsibilities and their ability
to do what they were hired to do. He also took time to get to know them personally, their families, their long-term ambitions, their shortcomings and strengths. If the team looked good, Senator Lawson looked good. He had the senator's ear and his complete confidence, and every member of the team knew that if they wanted to get ahead they needed to stay on the right side of Claude Montgomery.

“Long weekend coming up,” he said, glancing at the document in front of him. “Any special plans?” He scrawled his signature at the bottom. Joyce handed him the next file.

“Me and Luke and the kids are going to Seattle to spend some time with his parents.”

“How is his mother?”

She handed him another document. “Better. But she hasn't been the same since the stroke.”

He glanced up and caught the unhappy look in her eyes. “I'm sorry. I wish there was something else I could do. I know it must be a real strain on Luke.”

“You've done more than anyone could ask. The therapist and home attendant that you got for her has made a world of difference and took a lot of weight off of Luke's and his father's shoulders. We can't thank you enough.”

He waved off the sentiment. “If you need more time, just let me know. We'll work it out.”

They pushed through the paperwork and finally closed the folder.

“Your flight leaves in an hour. I have the car waiting for you outside.”

He stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. She walked to the corner and handed him his briefcase on his way out of the door.

They walked out together.

“Try to enjoy yourself. I know how much you hate those gatherings.”

He groaned. “I'll try.”

“Have a safe trip,” she said.

He walked out of the building and into the late afternoon breeze. “Thanks.” He waved goodbye and jogged down the stairs to the waiting Lincoln Town Car.

Within moments he was reclining against the lush interior upholstery of the car and speeding through the streets of D.C. Before long the iconic images of the White House, the Washington Monument and the Capitol building became smaller until they disappeared in the distance.

He leaned back against the soft leather and closed his eyes. Getting out of town and back to his home in Westchester was always something that he looked forward to. It was an opportunity for him to unwind and shed the rigors and stress that confronted him in his life in Washington. Unfortunately, the demands
of the job didn't allow him to get home as often as 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 rela
tionship. 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.

M
elanie 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 decid
edly 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 to see you, Al,” he said, shaking his hand heartily while slapping him on the back with the other.

They both turned to Melanie and there was that look again that seemed to suck her into his soul.

“Claude, this is my sister Melanie. Mel, Claude Montgomery.”

The seas parted and disappeared into the background. It was only the two of them waiting to cross that great divide.

Melanie reacted first. “Alan has been singing your praises,” she said, extending her hand toward him.

Claude took her slender fingers in his hand and brought them to his lips. He placed a feather-like kiss
on the back of her hand. “Your reputation precedes you,” he said, his voice low and throbbing like distant thunder.

“I do hope that's a good thing,” she said forcing herself not to concentrate on the currents of electricity that shot up and down her arm.

“Most definitely. Can I get you a drink?”

“Thank you. Yes.”

He raised his hand and signaled for a waiter, who was at their side almost instantly. He plucked a glass of champagne from the tray and handed it to her.

“Thank you.” She took a tiny sip. “Alan says you're chief of staff for Senator Lawson. I'm surprised we haven't met before.”

“I try to stay away from these shindigs whenever possible,” he said with a gleam in his eyes. Melanie grinned.

“I'll let you two get acquainted. I'm going to look for my son and company,” Alan pressed Melanie's shoulder and walked off.

“So, Alan tells me that you are the consummate matchmaker.”

Melanie lowered her gaze for a moment. “That's the rumor,” she answered, her tone teasing. “And I understand that you may be interested in our services.”

Claude drew in a long breath. “I've been considering it for a while now,” he said, the levity gone from
his voice. “My job takes up a great deal of my time and I believe I'm reaching the point where I'd like to come home to more than paperwork, my BlackBerry and cognac.”

Hmm, he likes cognac. A man with taste.

“I see. Believe me, I totally understand. If I didn't know better I'd think I was talking to my brother.”

Claude chuckled. “I don't think Alan will ever settle down again. He lives and breathes his job.”

“Tell me, what type of woman are you looking for?”

His deep gaze played across her face, like the sun warming the earth, and something stirred inside of her.

“There you are.”

They turned in unison to see Senator Lawson come up beside them.

“Melanie. Melanie Harte?”

Melanie beamed. “How are you Bradford?”

He captured her in a hug. “I had no idea you'd be here. What a pleasant surprise.”

“It's good to see you, too.”

“I knew her grandmother, God rest her sweet soul. I watched this little lady grow up. Her grandmother introduced me to my late wife Louisa and the rest is history,” he ended with a wistful chuckle. He lowered his voice. “I understand you took over the business.”

Melanie nodded. “I did, along with my nieces and nephew.”

“Wonderful! We'll have to talk before the night is over. I want you to meet my son Rafe.” He looked around. “If you'll excuse me, I want to catch Senator Morgan before he tries to slip out.” He lightly bussed Melanie's cheek. “Don't leave before we talk.”

“I won't,” she promised, squeezing his hand.

The newest Supreme Court justice walked by and waved at Melanie.

“Congratulations,” Melanie mouthed.

“Call me,” she said in return before being swept into a crowd of senators vying for her attention.

“You travel in lofty circles,” Claude said, finishing off his drink.

“My grandmother and then my mother traveled in these circles all their lives. They made sure that I knew everyone that they did. I really don't think about it much. It's part of my life, which happens to help with the business that I'm in. I'm totally unimpressed by status and celebrity at this point. Once you strip that all away, the real person emerges. That's who I want to get to know. And most of them, once you get beyond their public personas, they're just regular folks with the same wants, needs, flaws and fears as everyone else. They simply have the money and the power to hide it better than the rest.”

“Point taken.” He paused a moment. “So what do you see beneath my layer?”

She looked up into his eyes. Her heart suddenly thumped. “That's what we'll have to find out. Won't we?”

“You've been monopolizing this beautiful woman all night, Claude.”

Claude turned to his left. “Rafe. Your father was just looking for you.”

Rafe chuckled and his light-brown eyes sparkled in the light. “I'm sure he was,” he murmured, the hint of his Louisiana accent seeping through. He stepped closer and zeroed in on Melanie. “Raford Lawson,” he said, taking her hand. “Melanie Harte.”

“My pleasure.” He kissed her hand. “Dance with me.”

She hesitated a moment. “Of course. Please excuse me, Claude.”

Claude gave a short nod of his head as Rafe escorted Melanie onto the dance floor.

“So Melanie Harte, what brings you to this stuffy affair?” He took her hand in his—the other went to the small of her back as they swayed to the music.

Melanie laughed lightly. “My brother Alan invited me.”

He arched his neck back and looked down into her face. “Alan Harte is your brother?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Well I'll be damned,” he said over his laughter.

“You're
that
Melanie Harte. Your grandmother fixed up my daddy and mama.”

“So the story goes.”

He stepped back, released her and made a gallant bow. “I am in the arms of greatness,” he teased.

Melanie shook her head and chuckled. “You are much too dramatic.”

He swept her back into his arms and whispered deep in her ear. “I've been called much worse.”

They danced together for two more songs before Melanie begged off.

“Save the last dance for me,” Rafe said with a light kiss on her cheek.

He was definitely a charmer, she thought with amusement as she watched him saunter away toward a group of beautiful women, who all but swooned when he approached. Melanie shook her head and smiled.

“I 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.”