Texas Love Song

by Altonya Washington

  “Av!”

  Avra was already walking into her father’s office without so much as a knock to announce herself. Basil didn’t seem bothered by the intrusion. He barely turned his head toward the door when it opened.

  “Daddy?” Avra rushed around the desk, falling to her knees before Basil’s chair. Her large, coffee-brown gaze searched his face almost half a minute. “Is it Mr. C, Daddy?” she asked, referring to her father’s oldest friend, Wade Cornelius.

  Basil nodded, cupping Avra’s face when she gasped. “Shh…” He gestured sweetly and pulled her close as her eyes pooled with water. “Shh…”

  “What happened, Daddy?” Her voice was muffled in his shirt as they embraced.

  “They…they say they found him dead.”

  Khouri stepped deeper into the large sunken office in the uppermost corner of the building.

  “Found him?” Avra squeezed her father’s shoulder. “How? When— Do they suspect—?”

  “Shh, baby, shh… They don’t know much more than that just yet.” He kissed her forehead and patted the small of her back. “I need a little more time to myself, sugar, all right?”

  “Let’s go, Av,” Khouri called before she thought about asking more questions. He moved behind the desk, gently but firmly pulling Avra from Basil’s lap.

  “It’s okay, Av,” he soothed while leading her to the door. Before leaving, Avra caught Khouri sending a narrowed meaningful look toward his father. Basil barely sent him a wave, before turning his chair to face the windows lining the rear wall of the room.

  Avra was shaking noticeably by the time they were back out in the hall. Khouri’s soft tone and reassuring rubs to her back had her measurably calm soon after.

  “Mr. C?” he queried when he and Avra were seated in the small waiting area outside the office.

  Avra studied her hands smothered in one of Khouri’s and took solace in the comfort it instilled. “Wade Cornelius. He was my mentor here right out of college. He was a very respected writer—more than Pop even once they got the magazine up and running.” She smiled. “Daddy was more interested in the business end of things—left the writing to Mr. C.” Covering her face in her hands, she inhaled for a few seconds and then continued. “He was a wonderful man. I learned a lot from him.” She sniffed. “That was back when I was naive enough to think I had what it took to be a hard-nosed journalist.”

  Khouri listened intently, cupping Avra’s cheek when she wept. “You gonna be okay, honey?”

  “Sorry.” She sniffed again frowning at herself for losing reign over her emotions. “Didn’t mean to get sappy.”

  “Stop,” Khouri whispered, using his thumb to brush a tear from her cheek. “You’re entitled. Can I do anything?”

  Avra laughed amid her weeping. “Just don’t tell me you can’t take over the Melendez ad account. I’m definitely not in the mood to deal with that or anything else heavy right now,” she said, watching as her little brother graced her with one of the adorably guileless smiles that made her heart melt even when she was mad enough to spit nails at him.

  “No sweat,” he said.

  Avra brushed his face. “Go handle your business.” She kept her smile in place until he was gone.

  * * *

  Setha had a full evening planned that night. It was to take place right there before the TV in her sitting room.

  “What a lucky girl I am.” She sighed, grimly eyeing the two hefty folders on the pine coffee table before her. She’d gone through the Melendez ad file several times, but would take another look once more for good measure before tomorrow morning’s meeting.

  The file that held her full attention just then was the one simply labeled with a question mark. Everything inside had proven to be one big riddle after another. Setha fingered the pink message slip that had started it all.

  “What now?” she asked herself. Her “stalker” had effectively ruined the meeting she had hoped to have with Raquel Ross at her club. It was a good thing she hadn’t alerted the woman beforehand, Setha thought. She wondered whether she should risk another meeting and then decided it could be a moot point after tomorrow.

  The entire reason for visiting the club had been to get a sense of the Ross family—to discover what side of the fence they were really on.

  Hmph. Setha leaned forward to brace her elbows to her knees. Would she even know how to make the distinction? Lately, it’d been very difficult for her to tell the good guys from the bad.

  That thought made her think of her rescuer from the night in the alley. Definitely a good guy. She hadn’t even told him “thank you” when she ran from his car….

  She was lost in her thoughts until something caught her ear from the news broadcast on TV. Frowning, she moved aside the folds of the chiffon robe in search for the remote which rested beneath her rump on the sofa cushions.

  “Come on…” she muttered, clicking the rewind button on the DVR.

  “…was found dead in his condo. Police have not determined cause of death at this time. Wade Cornelius had a well-respected reputation for fair and intelligent reporting. He will be missed. Once again, Wade Cornelius, dead at…”

  “Oh, my God,” Setha breathed.

  Chapter 3

  “Are you sure it’s all right?” Setha was asking the next morning when she stood in the executive hall of the Ross Review.

  “It’s just fine, honey,” Marta Leonard drawled, already leading the way to her boss’s office. “Khouri’s just finishing up with another matter—he’ll be along directly. Already asked that you be shown in here to wait ’til he gets back. Coffee, honey?”

  “Oh, uh…no, no, thank you. I’m fine.” Setha put down her things and smiled.

  When Marta was gone, Setha regretted turning down the coffee but knew it was for the best. That indulgence would definitely be a mistake since her stomach was already a barrel of nerves.

  Following the news broadcast on Wade Cornelius’s death, she needed something different to focus on—to settle her mind. Reviewing more of the lurid shots for the proposed Melendez ads wasn’t the ticket. Instead, she decided to do some research on her new business associate. As a result, her nerves rewound again quite nicely.

  The second eldest and only son in a family of four kids, Khouri Ross had a reputation that could epitomize grace under fire. He was known for being wickedly intelligent, very soft-spoken. It was rumored that, when he walked into a meeting, folks waited for his input and tended to agree. Additionally, and probably the asset which fueled the power of the others, were the looks encasing the package.

  And what a package. Setha recalled the pictures she’d uncovered. The man was definitely…to-die-for. Tall, he had the sort of lean powerful frame that made any piece of clothing look good. Deep-set eyes, she couldn’t make out the color only that they were bright and striking. Then there was the strong jaw and cleft chin… She wondered if the pictures did him justice?

  She’d lived among gorgeous men all her life. It went without saying that she was well aware how difficult they could be if they were vain enough. If Khouri Ross gave her half the grief her brothers were capable of, this business association would be yet another level of hell in her once quiet and easy life.

  Shaking off what she could of her nervousness, Setha began a stroll of the office. Smoothing clammy hands across the seat of her putty-colored low-rise skirt, she more closely observed her surroundings. Sadly, the stroll did little to settle her nerves.

  On top of to-die-for handsome, intelligent and respected, she could also add “accomplished” to the list. The mahogany shelving which lined the walls abounded with plaques, trophies and pictures of Khouri Ross accepting awards…and looking very nice while he did it.

  What really caught her eyes though were the magazine covers. How had this man escaped her radar? Because you’re a party-dodg
ing workaholic who’ll trust a man to friendship but nothing more.

  Setha blinked. “Shut up,” she told the silent, responding voice. Stepping closer to the center shelf, she took a closer look at one of the magazine covers. In actuality, it was a calendar cover. Some sort of eligible bachelor thing for one of the city’s numerous big-name charities. She only recognized it because two of her brothers were in it. Setha was more interested in scanning Khouri Ross’s page.

  Obviously the calendar had little to do with assisting one in finding the day’s date. Setha’s full mouth curved into a knowing smile, observing the sexy beefcakes inside—her brothers excluded. She gave a playful grimace at their photos and flipped to August and Khouri’s shot.

  Every entry was created as a centerfold and Setha took great pleasure in extending the sheet to its full length. She was letting out a low whistle in reference to the devastating image before her eyes, when the life-size version walked through the door.

  Khouri softly cleared his throat.

  The low rumbling did the trick.

  The calendar fell from suddenly weak fingers when Setha spotted the man twenty feet across the room. Her charcoal-black stare widened in tandem to her mouth forming a larger O.

  “Sorry.” She blinked, stopping to collect the calendar and put it back in its place.

  “Damn,” she whispered when it fell and she stopped again to grab it. Expelling a slow breath, she set it back on the shelf a bit more deliberately.

  Khouri watched, smiling more broadly after her curse. She stood and was walking toward him with her hand outstretched when he began to frown.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Ross.” Setha was offering her hand while introducing herself. The frown he wore was hard to miss.

  “I’m sorry.” She glanced awkwardly across her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to go through your things.”

  Slowly, very slowly, Khouri shook himself out of his stupor. “No, it—it’s all right.” He took the hand she offered.

  “Thank you—” she let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding “—for, um, taking the meeting.” Dammit, Seth, get a hold of yourself! When he just stood there staring, she swallowed and wondered whether he’d mind her doing the same. His pictures didn’t do him justice. No sirree, they didn’t do him justice at all.

  * * *

  Taking Setha Melendez’s lead, Khouri swallowed as well and with no small effort. He even managed a slight nod, while waving toward the office living area. “Would you like to sit?”

  Nodding, Setha flexed her hand a bit once he’d released it from his firm grip. She was taking her place in one of the deep merlot-colored armchairs before the desk when she noticed he’d moved to the living area and was waiting for her to join him there. She batted at a loose wavy tendril that had slipped from her coiffure and collected her things before meeting him across the room. He was standing near a long black sofa, so she took that as her cue to sit there.

  Remember to blink, she told herself, praying he’d start first. Her mind was too busy making mental images of him to formulate words.

  “Looks like we’ve got some work ahead of us.”

  “Yes.” She practically breathed the word in response to his observation. She blinked again, reminding herself that she didn’t want the man to think she was a total idiot. Putting her mind to the task at hand, she reached over to grab the folder she’d been reviewing over the last several days.

  “Looks like your sister and my brother got a lot of work done.”

  “And didn’t come up with much.”

  She seasoned her shrug with a smirk. “I can tell they put a lot of effort into it.”

  Khouri’s shoulder barely rose beneath the walnut-brown shirt and matching suit coat he wore. “A lot of effort may’ve gone in but a lot of crap came out.”

  Setha raised a brow while observing the glossy photo she held. “You don’t agree that sex sells?”

  He only spared a second’s glance at the photo before his uncommon hazel eyes returned to her face. “Only if it’s good sex,” he said.

  The glossy fell from Setha’s fingers that had once again gone weak.

  Khouri bent to retrieve it. Setha fought the urge to shift in her spot as his bright gaze made an astute trek along the length of her legs below the uneven hemline of her skirt.

  “So how should we begin this?” she asked once he’d straightened.

  Khouri passed her the photo. “That file you’re holding?” he prompted and waited for her nod. He cocked his head toward his desk. “Start by tossin’ it in the wastebasket.”

  Setha threw back her head and laughed. Loudly.

  “Does your sister know how much you hate her work?” Setha relaxed a bit more on the sofa.

  Khouri leaned back, crossing his legs at the ankles. “She hates it herself, so no harm done.”

  “Right.” Setha scanned the photo again. “So is it my brother’s take on it that you hate?”

  “Not at all.” He was already shaking his head. “It’s just obvious that he’s going against what he really wants and tryin’ to please Avra at the same time. That was his first mistake.”

  A tiny frown worked its way between Setha’s long, arched brows. “What is it you think he really wants?”

  Khouri motioned toward the photo. “May I?” Taking the artwork, he used two other glossies to crop the photo in question.

  Setha watched with bland interest. “A woman in a bikini standing over a caption that reads ‘Buy Melendez.’” She smirked. “You’re serious?”

  Khouri regarded her more intently. “Machine Melendez is a male-dominated company selling a male-dominated product.”

  Setha’s laughter was a bit less humor filled then. “Women do buy the occasional alternator, Mr. Ross.”

  “Khouri.”

  Dammit, she thought, did he have to make her want to moan when she was trying to make a valid point?

  “Can I get you anything?” he offered, easily noticing her strained expression.

  Setha only shook her head to decline.

  “Your point’s well taken,” Khouri continued, “and in Samson’s defense, what makes him so good at promoting Melendez is that he speaks to the majority of his clientele and he speaks in their language.”

  “Chauvinism. Sexism.”

  “Good guesses.” Khouri grinned when she gave him a playful wave. “It is what it is. But if Melendez wants advertising in the Review we’re gonna have to come up with something that speaks to all Melendez clientele.”

  “Equally?” Setha’s tone was hopeful.

  Khouri pushed aside the photos. “We’re not miracle workers, Ms. Melendez.”

  “Setha, please.”

  “Setha.”

  A shiver kissed her skin beneath the material of her white French-cuffed shirt. Thinning her lips, she steeled herself against reacting to it. “So do you know what your sister wants for this campaign?”

  “That’s easy.” Khouri took the photos and turned them facedown. “Nothing. She doesn’t think we should even be doing business with your family’s company.”

  Once again that morning, Setha broke into full-bodied laughter.

  * * *

  Avra set the lock on her office door and then took a seat on the edge of her desk. Facing her view of downtown Houston, she dialed out and waited for the connection.

  “Avra!” a cheerful feminine voice greeted.

  “Off the record, Gwen.”

  “Heffa,” Gwen Bennett huffed in the most affectionate tone. “So what’s up?”

  Avra trailed fingers through the short, glossy, onyx-colored curls covering her head. “Did you hear about Wade Cornelius?”

  “Yeah…” Gwen’s sigh came through the line. “The man was a legend. I’m pretty sure the Houston Jo
urnal’s got some sort of memorial planned for him in the op-ed section later in the week.”

  “And that’s all?”

  “Well, that’s what—”

  Avra rolled her eyes. She could practically see the veteran reporter’s internal antennae going up.

  “What’s up, Av?”

  “You knew he was my mentor, Gwen.”

  “Yeah…” Gwen sighed again, that time realizing how hard the man’s death must have hit her friend. “I’m sorry if I sounded crass, I—”

  “Have you heard anything else about his death?” Avra moved off her desk and closer to the windows. “All it said on the news was that he’d been—been found… Do you know whether the authorities suspect some foul play?”

  “Honestly, Av, I haven’t heard a thing. Is this…something you want me to dig around in?”

  Avra hedged instead of offering a prompt reply.

  “I promise not to print anything without talking to you first. But, Av, if it turns out that foul play did account for the death, you know it’ll be news.”

  “I know.” Avra turned her back on the view and worried the hemline of her silver ruffled blouse. “Look, just do whatever you can to find out whatever you can and keep it quiet for as long as you can, all right?”

  “Avra…honey, don’t take this wrong but do you think I will find something?”

  Avra began to wear a path before the floor-to-ceiling windows in the office. “I can’t say one way or another. I mean, Mr. C was no spring chicken—high blood pressure, diabetes…so who knows? But it’s nagging at me. Whether anything’s up or not, the cops’ll hide it for as long as they can, and I’m not patient enough to wait on them to share the news.”

  “Understood. All right then, girl. I’ll be in touch.”

  The call ended and Avra cradled her forehead in her palm.

  * * *

  After a lengthy discussion, Setha and Khouri broke for a brainstorming session. Seated on opposite sides of the office, they scribbled ideas for possible Machine Melendez ads.

  At least, Setha scribbled. Khouri stared. It was all he could do to get through the first hour of their discussion that morning. It would have probably been a chore for him to keep his full attention on business anyway.