Heart's Reward (8 page)

She shook her head in sharp disbelief. Of course, she had to tell Cynthia that Rafe was one of her clients and that they were in the process of setting him up. He was worse than she thought he was. Fury brewed in the center of her stomach. Rafe was the consummate player. But her best friend was not going to be one of the notches on his belt. As a matter of
fact, she was going to cancel his contract with TPS. They didn't need his business.

She opened the fridge and found a bottle of mango nectar. She twisted off the cap and drank straight from the bottle.
Men.

 

By the time they reached the restaurant in the center of town, Melanie was all but bursting.

“What is wrong?” Cynthia asked once they'd been seated. “You look like an overblown balloon, and you've been on edge since we left my house.”

Melanie reached for her glass of water and took a long swallow. She set the glass down and leaned forward. “I never got to tell you who was on the phone while you were in the shower.”

Cynthia flicked a brow. “Okay, you forgot and so did I. Who was it?”

“Rafe Lawson.”

Cynthia's eyes lit up and a smile moved slowly across her mouth. “What did he say?”

“He said he'd try you later.”

She tsk tsked. “That Rafe is a real character. He told me he's one of your clients.”

Melanie was totally taken aback. “He did?”

“Yes. It's how we got to talking actually. He'd stopped in the gallery when he was here last.” She looked up toward the ceiling thoughtfully then back at Melanie. “Hmm, maybe a week or so ago.”

That would be about right, Melanie calculated.

“He said his father insisted that he work with TPS but that after meeting you and the others, he actually liked the idea. We talked for a pretty long while. He told me that it was really hard for him to meet women who weren't after him for his money, his family name or his connections, so he'd steered clear of anything serious, but he was willing to give you all a shot.” She took a sip of her apple martini. “Now do you want to tell me why you were so upset that he'd called?”

Melanie shook her head. She'd been totally wrong about Rafe. He wasn't what he seemed at all, and she'd gotten sucked into the role he'd mastered. The one she should have been worried about was Claude, who came across as this above-reproach gentleman. She'd been wrong all the way around.

“Mel, talk to me. What is going on? What's the big deal about Rafe calling me? I'm sure it was only about the art that I ordered for him.” She reached out and covered Melanie's hand.

“I slept with him.”

Cynthia jerked back in surprise. Then she beamed.

“Well, damn girl, I don't blame you. If I would have had an extra minute, I might have tried him out myself.”

“Not him.”

“Oh. Okay. Then who?”

“Claude Montgomery.”

Cynthia frowned. “Who is he?”

“A client.”

Cynthia's eyes widened in surprise. “You! You're kidding. How in the world did that happen?”

Over dinner Melanie poured it all out from the time she and Claude met, the night they'd spent together right up to her visit to the hospital.

When she was done, Cynthia, who usually had a comeback for everything, was momentarily speechless.

“Don't just sit there staring at me, say something.”

“I…I'm trying to get my mind wrapped around this. It's so not you, Mel.” She looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “You're not impulsive. And you definitely don't get involved with your clients.” She drew in a breath and took Melanie's hand once again. “So he must be really special,” she said softly.

Tears welled in Melanie's eyes. “I thought he was,” she said, her words catching in her throat. “But he's not. Apparently.”

“Things aren't always as they seem, sweetie. Tonight's phone call from Rafe is a perfect example. Even someone as good as you at what you do can be wrong sometimes. You're human.”

“Are you telling me that what I saw at the hospital was all in my mind?”

“I'm saying that it might not be what you think.
You know how women are. Maybe she was testing the waters.”

“What if she wasn't?”

“What if she was? And if I remember from what you were telling me, you were the one who slunk out in the middle of the night with no explanation. How do you think he felt?”

Melanie sighed heavily. “It doesn't matter anyway. He's a client. I should have never crossed the line.”

“But you did, sweetie, you did.”

“M
r. Lawson is here, Aunt Mel,” Jessica said, poking her head in her aunt's open office door.

“I'll be right out.”

It had been nearly a week since she'd walked into the hospital room and the conversation she'd had with Cynthia. Although she'd made no effort to change the situation, it wasn't resting as heavily on her heart. She'd see Claude soon enough and by then the dust would have settled and they could have their long overdue talk. In the meantime, she had clients to deal with.

She pushed back from her seat and went into the conference room.

“Mr. Lawson,” she greeted.

He grinned at her. “I thought we agreed you would call me Rafe.” He crossed the room to where she stood and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “Good to see you again,” he said in an intimate tone that brought to mind everything she'd thought about him. But she'd been wrong, she had to remind herself. His playboy routine was just that—a routine.

She took his hand and led him over to the seating area. “How have you been?”

“Good. Busy. And you?”

“The same. We seem to have a mutual friend.”

His brandy-tinted eyes brightened. “Yes. Cynthia. She thinks the world of you, by the way. And so do I,” he added in a seductive undertone.

“I hope you don't try to overwhelm her with your southern charm.”

He roared with laughter. “Is that what they call it? And all along I thought I was just being social.”

Melanie chuckled. “Let me turn you over to Veronica. She has some exceptional ladies lined up for you.”

“You wouldn't happen to be on that list, would you?”

Melanie stood and looked down at his upturned face. “I don't mix business with pleasure,” she said, going along with the flirty word game.

“Oh, I can guarantee it would be all pleasure,” he said, his patois slow and sweet.

She looked into his eyes and saw the playfulness and something else…desire. Was she really that far off base when it came to Rafe, or was she reading something that wasn't there? She was seriously beginning to doubt herself and her judgment. “Veronica is waiting.” She led the way out.

 

A little less than an hour later Rafe stepped out of the media room with Veronica behind him. Melanie was crossing the foyer when they emerged. “Are you pleased with our selections?” she asked.

He grinned. “Not bad,” he conceded. “I'm looking forward to meeting them.”

“Jessica is going to set the first date up for this weekend.”

“Perfect. And as you know everything is taken care of from the limo to the food, entertainment, everything,” Melanie said.

“Makes my life easier. If it doesn't work, I can always point my finger this way.” He winked at Veronica.

“We rarely make mistakes,” Melanie said. “It's usually a matter of having to choose between more than one suitable woman or man than the match being wrong.”

“I live to be the exception,” he said with a wicked
smile. “Good night, ladies.” He walked to the door and out.

“He's a handful,” Veronica said softly, her eyes following his progress through the window.

Melanie caught the note of longing in her niece's voice. “Roni, is there something I should know?”

Veronica turned away from the window. “No, Aunt Mel. Everything is fine.” She walked away.

Melanie folded her arms and turned back to the window as Rafe's Mercedes pulled out of the driveway. He better not even think about “charming” her niece.

 

Traci had made herself quite at home in Claude's space, waiting on him hand and foot. She'd even told Lin that she could take the rest of the week off because she would be more than happy to look after Claude. She felt like the lady of the house and thought that it might be time to act on it.

She took extra time and care getting bathed and dressed. She wanted Claude to really see her, not as a former affair and now “the good friend” but as a woman who could make him happy. Claude wasn't the kind of man who needed some dating service to get a woman. He had her, if he would only look. When they'd met for dinner that night and he told her in so many words that he'd prefer a blind date than having a relationship with her, it tore her up inside. She'd tried to be cavalier about it, hiding her real
feelings, but she couldn't. It had been killing her and she'd wanted to tell him how she really felt before it was too late, and then she got the call about the accident.

It was as if fate had finally dealt her a winning hand and given her the chance that she needed to make Claude hers.

She took a final look in the mirror, fixed a smear from her lipstick and walked out of her bedroom. Claude was downstairs. She could hear the music from the stereo. He was moving around much better and had said that the pain in his ribs was all but gone. All good signs. But time was not on her side. She didn't have weeks to wait. Her postponed trip to Turkey was rescheduled. She had to leave in two days. She wanted her position with Claude established and locked before she left, and she was certain that one night together would make him remember how good it was between them and could be again, for good.

She descended the stairs and walked up behind him. He was seated on the couch with his head back against the cushions. His eyes were closed. She leaned over and kissed him lightly on his forehead. His eyes opened. He sat up and turned to look at her over his shoulder. His dark eyes ran quickly over her body that was barely covered by a sheer floral robe that served as a flimsy coverup for her thong and nothing else.

She came around to sit beside him.

“Traci…”

She put her finger to his lips. “Shh, just listen.”

But she didn't talk—she leaned closer and pressed her lips to his. Her tongue teased the fullness of his mouth, longing for access. She looped her arms around his neck while she pushed her hot body flush against him.

She felt so good against him. She smelled so sweet, her scent filling his head. He remembered how good it was between them and how he felt afterward. He clasped her arms and gently removed them from around his neck, breaking the kiss.

Traci sat back, her eyes still heated with longing. “What's wrong?” she managed to say. Her heart pounded. She stroked his cheek. He took her hand and put it down in her lap.

“Let's not do this, Traci. You know that I care about you. We had some great times together, but it can never be more than what it was and that's not fair to you and it's not fair to me.”

She blinked rapidly as the reality of what he was saying began to resonate within her and tears threatened to overflow. “You have no idea how I feel about you.”

“I do and that's why I'm telling you this. It can't work.”

“Why—because I'm white?” Her question carried
the ring of a child who can't believe there is no Santa.

“No.” He squeezed her hand. “You know me better than that. It's us, Traci. It takes more than great sex to make a relationship and that's what it's been between us,” he said as gently as he possibly could. “It takes deep feelings and commitment. And I don't feel that way about you to make a long-term commitment. I never wanted to hurt you,” he said, knowing how hollow and cliché it sounded.

She lowered her head, nodded slowly and wiped her eyes.

Claude lifted her chin with the tip of his finger and looked into her eyes. “You deserve someone to love you, Traci. And I know you'll find him or he will find you.”

“This is awkward,” she said, forcing a smile behind her tears and finding someplace to look other than into his telling eyes. Slowly she stood. “Thank you for being honest with me. I guess it hit me that I was on the verge of losing what we had when you told me about the service you were using. I wasn't ready to let go.” She sniffed.

“I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry.”

She straightened her shoulders. “I'm a big girl. You don't have to apologize for being honest. I appreciate that.”

He stood. He wanted to hug her and tell her that everything would be fine, but he didn't want that to lead to anything that couldn't be fulfilled.

“I'm going to leave in the morning, get ready for my trip.”

He nodded.

“So I guess that's it then.”

“Yeah,” he murmured.

“I'll give you a call next time I'm in town…see how you're doing.”

“I'd like that.”

She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling, turned and went back upstairs.

Claude flopped down onto the couch, wincing slightly. It was the right thing to do, he told himself. If there ever was a real chance for the two of them, it dissolved after the night he'd spent with Melanie. But it didn't appear that he would have her in his life either. What he needed was a fresh start—the start that TPS could provide for him. He'd find a woman who could totally erase memories of Traci and especially Melanie. They guaranteed satisfaction, and he was going to hold them to it.

 

“We have Mr. Lawson all set for his first date. I think he and Dominique will be perfect,” Veronica said. “She can definitely stand her ground with him.”

“Great. I'm eager to hear how they feel about each other.”

“Any word from Mr. Montgomery?” Jessica asked.

Melanie swallowed. “No. I'm guessing he's still recovering from his injuries.”
With the lovely Ms. Traci, no doubt.
“I'm sure he'll be in touch when he's up to it.”

The office phone rang. Jessica answered. “Speak of the devil,” she mouthed. “Of course, Mr. Montgomery. I'm sure I can get everything back on track. Both of the ladies are eager to meet you. Of course. Tomorrow afternoon would be perfect. Absolutely. See you then.” She hung up the phone. “Mr. Montgomery will be here tomorrow afternoon to go over the tapes of our choices for him and decide on his first date.”

Melanie's pulse was pounding so loud that she could barely make out what Jessica was saying.

“I'm going to go over all the details and make sure we didn't forget anything,” Veronica said, getting up.

“And I have about five potentials to sort through that have been referred to us,” Jessica said, following her cousin's lead.

Moments later, Melanie found herself alone. Claude would be there tomorrow. She could come up with a million reasons why she couldn't be there, but that would be childish. What happened between them happened. It was over, it was done, it was a
mistake and it simply wouldn't happen again. She'd keep a low profile as she generally did when clients met with the team for consultation. She'd greet him when he arrived and wave goodbye when he left. Simple and utterly uncomplicated. And it was like Cynthia had concurred—she'd crossed the line and now she was going to have to deal with it.

 

He had to admit, though reluctantly, that the house seemed different now that Traci was gone. She definitely brought a certain energy with her. She seemed better, Claude thought as he dressed in preparation for his visit to TPS. They'd talked for a long while over coffee and bagels on the morning she'd left. What it all boiled down to was that she was getting older and scared. Her conversation with Claude about him finding someone to settle down with had rocked her more than she realized. It brought her life and how she lived it into sharp focus. She panicked, she'd said.

Claude pulled his slate-colored cotton knit shirt over his head, adjusting it along the lines of his body. He was glad they had talked before she left and cleared the air. He didn't want her to leave with hard feelings. There were too many years between them to throw it all away. She promised to stay in touch, if he promised to send her an invitation to his wedding whenever that may be.

He gazed into the mirror. The small stitch that he'd
received over his eyebrow as a result of the accident had healed nicely or as well as scars healed, he supposed.

He brushed the tip of his finger across the slight imperfection, getting acquainted with this new dimension of himself. He turned away from his reflection to put on his shoes, opting for loafers instead of ones that he would have to tie to avoid bending over. Although the pain in his ribs was almost gone, he still wasn't one hundred percent and he didn't want to do anything to aggravate the injury.

He grabbed a light jacket from the hall closet, put his wallet in the inside pocket, took his keys and let Lin know that he was leaving.

“No motorcycles!” she called out, bustling in from the kitchen.

Claude chuckled and assured her that there was no motorcycle in his immediate future. He was taking the Explorer and would probably be back late.

The day was brilliant. The air was exceptionally clear and still. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. The trees were in full bloom and their lush branches stood in sharp contrast against the blue sky.

Claude slowly inhaled the stillness of the air. He wanted to stretch and take it all in but, mindful of his ribs, he opted not to. He unlocked the SUV and got behind the wheel. While the engine warmed up, he checked his CDs and lined up a few to play on
the road, plugged his cell phone into the hands-free outlet, then eased out of the driveway and onto the road.

Traffic was light as he proceeded onto the Hutchinson River Parkway, gliding along to the smooth sounds of Teddy Pendergrass. Hard to believe the world had lost so many legends in the past few years. Truly made you respect and appreciate each and every day, which was just another reason why he needed to seize the moment and plan for his future. Ever since Regina, he'd shut down a part of himself and operated on autopilot. He became his job. That was no way to live and nothing made it clearer than his night with Melanie. Maybe nothing could ever happen between them, but it wasn't all for nothing. He discovered that he still had the ability to feel, that sensation deep inside that made you warm, that made you smile, that made you want more. That's what Melanie had done for him and for that he would always be thankful.