by Donna Hill
“You do a very good job of it, considering that you are his political adviser of sorts. At least that’s my understanding.”
“I do oversee his activities, but it’s more like a personal assistant,” she said.
They reached the bar. “What will you have?”
“A white wine spritzer.”
He gave the order to the bartender and ordered a bourbon for himself.
“My brother’s favorite drink,” she commented as they were served.
“A man after my own heart,” he joked. “And apparently the ladies, as well,” he added with a lift of his chin in the direction of her brother.
Rafe was in a close conversation across the room with a stunning woman who Lee Ann hadn’t recalled seeing before.
She shook her head in amusement. “Rafe does keep busy.”
“And what about you? When you’re not personally assisting your father, what do you do?”
She was thoughtful for a moment. “Running the house and keeping an eye on my sisters and brothers is pretty much a full-time job.”
“It doesn’t sound as if you allow time for yourself.” He stared into her eyes over the rim of his tumbler.
Her heart fluttered. “I find ways to enjoy myself,” she said in her defense.
Preston studied her for a moment and decided to let the topic go. “What’s it like growing up with a father like Branford?”
They walked together to an available table and sat down.
Lee Ann’s smile was wistful. “Where can I begin?” She gazed around the room. “My life has been pretty much like this for as long as I can remember,” she said with a sweep of her hand. “Politics and parties and entertaining and being in the spotlight has been a way of life.”
He heard something in her voice, a note of hesitancy, regret. He couldn’t be sure.
“I would think it was pretty exciting.” He sipped his drink and watched the muted light play across her finely etched features.
Her warm hazel eyes flickered across his face. “I suppose it would be looking in from the outside. But to us, all of the people who everyone else reads about were like family.” She drew in a breath, reached for her glass and realized that her hand was shaking. She concentrated on bringing the glass to her lips without spilling her drink. “What about you?” she asked, steering the conversation away from herself, a topic that she didn’t relish discussing.
Preston set his glass down, tilted his head slightly to the side, his full lips pressed lightly together and puckered out. “Well, I’m a product of a single teenage mom. Public schooling. My mama worked two jobs that added up to one most of my life.” His dark eyes drifted away from Lee Ann. “She would tell me every day that she expected me to make something of myself. She wasn’t working so I could grow up to be a nobody.” The corner of his mouth jerked as the images of those days of “have not” flashed through his head. “As soon as I was old enough, I got a part-time job after school, packing groceries, delivering whatever needed to be delivered, flipping burgers, waiting tables. You name it, I did it at one point or the other.”
“It must have been hard.”
He looked directly at her. “I suppose to someone looking in from the outside,” he said, playing with her statement to him. “But like you, it was the only life I knew. Sometimes I would see the other kids in their new sneakers or tooling around town in their daddy’s car, walking into fancy houses.” His face and voice took on a hard edge like a tide that suddenly rushed to shore pulling the sand out from under your feet—unexpected and scary. “I knew there was more out there than what was in front of me, and I had to find a way to get it. My life and my mama’s struggling made me what I am. Determined and focused to get what I wanted. And I did, but I’m not finished yet.”
Lee Ann held her breath anticipating what she wasn’t sure. And then he smiled and the tide slowly receded, and she was standing on solid ground again.
“Don’t mind me, I can get a little caught up in my own rhetoric sometimes,” he said, catching the look of apprehension in her eyes. “Come dance with me.” He stood and extended his hand, once again the dashing, gallant gentleman.
Lee Ann placed her hand in his, and he helped her to her feet. They moved onto the dance floor, and then she was in his embrace. And he was all around her, his arms, the lines of his body, his scent. Her head barely reached his shoulders, so she found herself resting it against his broad chest as they moved in harmony, swaying easy to the music of the band, and she had the oddest sensation that she had done this all before, with this man. It was all so familiar and right. But of course that couldn’t be true. She’d never met him before.
Preston didn’t want to give in to the urgent need to pull her closer, to feel her fully against him. The sensation of her being so close and still so far was messing with his head. The fresh scent of her hair, the barely there fragrance that she wore combined with the heat of her body had him coiled tight as a rattlesnake. He had to concentrate on the music, the aroma of food, the smatterings of conversation that floated around him to keep his mind off what she was doing to his body. In as much as he wanted her closer, there would be no doubt about her effect on him if he did. She’d be sure to think that he was some randy fool who couldn’t control his urges. He was almost thankful when the music ended. He needed some air and some space.
He released his hold around her waist and stepped back. She tilted her head up to look at him; the dewy softness of her lips, the light dancing in her eyes and the tiny pulse beating in her throat had him wanting to forget what was proper and simply take her mouth and sample it until they couldn’t take it anymore.
“Thank you for the dance,” he managed to say, his voice thick and jagged. “I’m going to go mingle a little.”
“Oh…of course.” She put on a practiced smile and wondered what she’d done wrong.
He took her elbow and walked her back to the table. “Thanks again for the dance and the conversation.”
She offered a tight smile while she watched him walk away, and for reasons that she couldn’t explain she felt like bursting into tears.
“Hey, baby doll, come on and dance with your big brother.” Rafe curved his arm around her waist before turning her petite body into his.
His arms were strong, familiar and secure, and for a few minutes she could forget how small and insignificant she felt, which of course was ridiculous. It was just a conversation, a drink and a dance. No big deal.
“You’re stiff as a board.” He peered down at her. “What’s wrong? Did he say something out of the way to you?”
She heard the sudden rise in his tone. The smooth easy cadence was gone. Lee Ann dared to look up at his piercing dark eyes.
“Don’t be silly,” she soothed. “I’m fine, and no, he didn’t say anything out of hand.”
Rafe took a hard look over his shoulder, seeking out the young senator as if seeing him would somehow validate what his sister said. He turned back to Lee Ann. “You sure, because I have no problem sharing a few words with him man-to-man.”
Lee Ann gently pressed her hands against Rafe’s hard chest. “I can take care of myself. Thank you very much,” she added with a slight smile.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead then skillfully moved with her around the floor. “All you have to do is say the word,” he said, his protective instincts kicking into high gear. He’d always been that way with his sisters, since they were all little. He took great pride in being the big brother, and yes, it was true that he loved women but none more than his sisters and of course his mother. Lee Ann was the one most like their mother, and he was sure that was one of the reasons they were so close, as children and as adults. “I’ll hang around if you need me to,” he said.
“No, please. I know your lips are itching to play, so whenever you’re ready just go on. It’ll be fine. I’ll tell Daddy something or nothing.” She grinned at him.
The dance came to an end, and they walked across the grand ballroom out
to the balcony. The air was still heavy and filled with the scent of a hot spring night. Beyond the cove of streets, the lights of the city peeped in and out, and the soft sound of the Mississippi rolled gently in the distance.
For a fleeting moment, caught in the beauty of the evening, Lee Ann wished that she was peering out into the night, whispering soft words and sharing light laughter with her own someone special.
“Looks like everyone who’s anyone is here tonight,” Rafe commented, taking a brief look over his shoulder into the main room.
“Well, you know Uncle Jerry never does anything halfway.” She continued to stare out into the night.
Briefly Rafe put his hand around her shoulder, and she tilted her head to rest it against him. “Can I get you a drink, a plate of food?”
“Another spritzer would be nice, thanks.”
“Be right back.”
She inhaled deeply and reentered the ballroom, watched the milieu move around her and felt so apart from the activities. It was so unlike her she thought, not to be like a butterfly flitting from one guest to the next, enjoining and cajoling as if she was the hostess. Smiling, as was her habit as she passed familiar faces, she found herself back on the balcony, sure that her brother would instinctively find her.
She leaned against the balustrade with her back to the Mississippi, and her stomach quivered when she saw Preston heading with purpose in her direction. She tried to glance away, ignore his approach, but it was too late.
He walked right up to her, cutting off everything and everyone around them. He took up her vision.
“I’m usually much more the Southern gentleman than I was earlier,” he said. Thick lashes lowered over his dark eyes for an instant then settled on his face. A half-shy smile tickled the corners of his rich mouth. “I… You rattled me, Ms. Lawson,” he said. The soft twangy cadence of his voice was both charming and unnerving.
Lee Ann tilted her head slightly to the right, for the first time since they met having a sense of standing on firm ground without her legs wobbling beneath her. She smiled and, always the tactful lady being Louisa Lawson’s daughter, said, “Senator Graham, I have no idea what you mean.”
The imaginary rift they’d created was crossed with their relieved laughter.
Chapter 2
“Where’s that brother of yours?” Branford asked as the family headed out to the waiting limo.
The siblings shared a look behind their father’s expansive back.
“If you think I don’t know that he snuck out of here to go into N’awlins to play that damned sax of his at some juke joint, think again.”
“Don’t think they call them juke joints anymore, Daddy,” Dominique said. Mischief sparkled in her eyes and tickled the corner of her mouth.
The quartet stifled their giggles. Dominique was notorious for intentionally pushing their father’s buttons. He threw her a thunderous look over his shoulder, and she looked back at him in wide-eyed innocence. Branford simply shook his head and muttered to himself about “damned children.”
They all tumbled into the limo still sailing on the high of the evening, still amazed that no matter how many of “these things” they attended they always had a good time. Dominique, Desiree and Justin were totally immersed in conversation. Lee Ann, who was seated near the window, took the opportunity to steal a few moments for herself, retreating to that space in her mind and spirit where she was carefree, devoid of responsibility and worry about anyone other than herself. She rested her chin on her palm and glanced out at the rolling panorama that sped in front of her: the stately homes that once served as plantations, the lush greenery, manicured lawns and the distant sound of ships sailing along the river to parts unknown to her—adventures maybe.
She drew in a long breath of calm, and the subtle scent of Preston wafted beneath her nostrils, triggering a surge of sensory delights. The feel of the pressure of his hand on her waist, the beat of his heart when he held her close against him while they danced, the way his voice vibrated through her when he leaned down to whisper something outrageous about one of the guests. For her, the evening had turned from ordinary to something special.
She wanted to see him again, she realized as the evening progressed then began to draw to a close—away from work and politics and parties. And it was as though he mimicked her thoughts, and he said the very words that were playing in her head. Still, as much as she’d wanted him to ask, had almost willed it, his asking surprised her. At first she thought he was asking just to be nice, to make up for that awkward beat that had happened between them earlier in the evening or like most eligible men in Louisiana who wanted to get close to her father through her.
“Before you start thinking anything beyond what I asked you, I want us to be clear about one thing.”
Her brow arched in question.
“I’m my own man. Everything I have I worked for, I earned. So don’t you think for a hot Louisiana minute that my wanting to see you is because of your family name and your daddy.” He grinned. “I have both. That no good SOB who fathered me is out there somewhere,” he added.
Lee Ann tossed her head back and laughed from the bottom of her feet. Her delighted expression stirred Preston in a way that he couldn’t put into words, and all he needed was for her to say yes, give him something to look forward to, and she did.
“You’re mighty quiet over there, sis,” Justin said, drawing her back from her momentary retreat. “Everything okay?”
Lee Ann patted his arm. “I’m fine. Just a little more tired than I thought.”
Desiree yawned. “Me, too. I can’t wait to lay my head down.”
“I could go for a few more hours,” Dominique said. “Wish I would have snuck out with Rafe. Bet he’s having a ball.”
Lee Ann chuckled to herself and heard her father’s snort of disapproval even as he pretended to be sleeping. This was her family, she thought with loving amusement.
Preston was thankful that the reception the prior evening was on a Friday night and not one of the typical midweek galas that zapped you for the rest of the week. He never did understand why so many fundraisers and political dinners were invariably on Tuesday. He laughed to himself as he continued on his early morning jog. Jogging was the one thing he tried to do on a daily basis no matter what his life was like the night before.
Running through his neighborhood, around the park and along the familiar pathways always invigorated him, cleared his head and stimulated his blood. Whenever he had a complicated issue to tackle with his constituents or had to break down the complexities of a bill that he needed to vote on, running always helped. When he was a kid and he saw the often defeated look on his mother’s face, he ran to keep from crying and to run from the world that had him grow up without a father to help his mother. Or like now, when he ran because his sudden and all-encompassing reaction to Lee Ann Lawson had dominated his thoughts from the moment he’d met her.
He turned the bend and jogged in place on the corner while a lone car crossed in front of him before he sprinted across the intersection toward the park.
Mist was still on the leaves, and the earth was moist beneath his feet. The sun turned the horizon a brilliant orange as it rose above it all.
There were less than a handful of joggers in the park, some of the regulars who seemed to have the same pull to this moment of the morning as he did. He adjusted the earbuds of his iPod in his ears and started around the track, lifting his chin in acknowledgment to those he met along the way.
He wondered what Lee Ann did to unwind. He wondered what her first thought would be this morning when she awoke. He wondered if she thought something special had happened between them or if it was simply wishful thinking on his part and if she was as eager to see him later that afternoon as he was to see her.
They’d agreed to meet at Treme, a new bistro that had recently opened in downtown Baton Rouge. The service was said to be excellent and the food even better. He ran a little faster as if mentally pushing the
day forward.
Back home he showered and changed into his college T-shirt from Loyola University and his favorite pair of khaki shorts that were frayed around the waist and hem from so many years of washing.
While he sipped his coffee and read the paper, he kept getting distracted by thoughts of Lee Ann. More than once he thought of calling her, just to say good morning. But it was barely 7:00 a.m. By ten o’clock, however, he couldn’t wait any longer and pressed in her numbers on his cell phone.
Lee Ann was in her home office, reviewing and revising her father’s calendar and planning his itinerary for the upcoming week. At sixty, Branford Lawson was still incredibly busy between his enormous responsibilities as senior senator and his social obligations. She tried to maintain an even balance for him and still factor in some time for family and relaxation.
But today she found it impossible to concentrate on a task that she could do with her eyes closed. That was the problem; every time she blinked she saw Preston, as she had throughout the night. And when her eyes opened with the sun, the images that had slept with her were so potent that she was stunned to realize that he was not there with her.
She reached for the phone on the desk, thinking of calling him but decided that was much too forward. What would he think? And at the same time that doubt entered the equation, her cell phone rang on the other side of the desk. She lifted it, and Preston’s name and phone number appeared on the illuminated face. Hot air filled her lungs. She pressed Talk and hoped that she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.
“Hello…”
“Good morning. I hope this isn’t too early.”
His voice soothed her. She relaxed against the leather of her seat. “Not at all. I’ve been up for hours.”
“Then I rescind my attempt at an unnecessary apology.” Her laughter tinkled in his ears. “So other than dying to see me this afternoon, what are your plans for today?”
“At the moment I was going over my father’s schedule and making a few adjustments here and there. At least it’s only a few more grueling weeks before the Senate breaks for summer recess. But of course you know that already.”
