Texas Love Song

by Altonya Washington

  “No,” the men answered in unison.

  Avra waved her hands to urge them out then she called out to them when they were halfway to the door, “What’d my dad mean when he told you to follow the money?”

  “He wasn’t clear on that,” David said. “The killings were definitely pro hits. Mr. B thinks maybe somebody’s targeting MM.”

  Noah piped up next. “That’s why we think he wanted us to hold off on revealing what we’d found.”

  “And what about you two? Do you think someone’s targeting Melendez for whatever reason?”

  “It’s a path worth checking out.”

  Avra grimaced over Noah’s response. “Anything to protect the good name of Melendez,” she muttered. “Thanks, guys. You can go.”

  Walking circles around her office, Avra processed her suspicions. “John Holloway.” She spoke the name as if it held some special power.

  The topic of Wade Cornelius’s last story with the Review; John Holloway was a former Machine Melendez employee who’d committed suicide—or at least that was the story everyone believed. Avra tapped her fingers to her chin and remembered. Wade and her father had a huge fight following the story’s publication. Then Wade quit. After decades of friendship and partnership with Basil, he just quit.

  As far as Avra knew, the two of them hadn’t spoken since.

  “What the hell is going on?” she whispered.

  * * *

  “Good morning, Ms. Melendez,” Marta greeted Setha when she arrived for her meeting with Khouri.

  “You probably won’t be in the office long today anyway,” Marta explained once they’d exchanged pleasantries.

  “Oh?” Setha finished pulling the teal scarf from her neck. “Why’s that?”

  “He likes to work elsewhere when he’s got things on his mind.”

  “Like what?”

  Marta opened the office door. Her bracelets jingled when she waved Setha inside. “I probably shouldn’t say.”

  Setha looked disappointed but didn’t press the issue. Instead, she sighed and fixed Marta with a steadier expression. “I was sorry to hear about Wade Cornelius. I know he’ll be missed around here.”

  “He was such a great man, even greater reporter,” Marta drawled while reminiscing over her former colleague. “He will be missed but I doubt there’ll be much outward lamenting after the way he left.”

  Setha followed Marta through the office as the woman rushed around tidying things. “Not such a good time, huh?”

  “Hmph, that’s understating it, hon. Him and Basil had an awful fight over his last story.”

  “Got it. Differences of opinion can start some knock-down, drag-outs.”

  “It was a lot more than that,” Marta rambled absently while going through a stack of mail left forgotten along the windowsill behind the desk. “I think Wade was just tired of making a sow’s ear look like a silk purse and I—” She blinked, glancing up and around the room as though she realized she was saying far too much.

  “You just make yourself comfortable, Ms. Melendez.” Marta returned the mail to the sill and headed for the door. “Khouri’ll be out shortly.”

  Setha didn’t try persuading more from the woman. Once Marta had made her hasty exit, Setha cursed acknowledging the fact that any attempts to find out more would likely end up the same way. Clearly Marta realized who she was talking to and clammed up. Chances were, any other employees would follow her example. Mulling over an answer to her dilemma was stifled when the office door opened again.

  “Good morning,” Khouri greeted with a wave and a teasing wink. “How’s your toilet?” He savored the sound of her responding laughter.

  She nodded. “Everything’s fine, thanks for asking.”

  The mood grew heavier as silence made its presence known. Khouri’s bright eyes took their time charting a leisurely trail along her body in the curve-clinging black suit and the matching short-waist jacket. Teal piping trimmed the jacket and flirty uneven hem of the skirt. Khouri made no effort to mask the intensity or the interest lurking in his gaze.

  Setha, holding her portfolio now, gave it a quick shake near her legs where his eyes were focused then. “Maybe we should get started?” she asked.

  Khouri merely waved, leaving it up to Setha to choose a place to get settled. She debated but a moment, before deciding that one of the chairs right near the desk would be better—safer.

  Khouri stroked the light beard shading his jaw, in order to hide his smile at her avoidance of the living area. He took his place in the chair next to her instead of sitting behind his desk.

  Setha cleared her throat, making a stab at finding her notes. She was, of course, far more preoccupied with observing him. Her dark, luminous gaze harbored a helpless quality while she watched him roll his sleeves over muscle-corded forearms. His eyes shifted her way as he did so.

  Setha shook her head and opened the portfolio. “Sam’s takes on the campaign are obviously pretty, uh, raw and basic but I think we may be able to use ’em. They could stand a bit of softening, though.”

  Khouri caught the edge of one of the racy pictures and tugged it from the portfolio sleeve. “Yeah.” He brought his elbows to his knees while studying the glossy. “A ‘softer’ reaction might be the way to go.”

  Eager to share her ideas, Setha got comfortable in the chair. Kicking off her pumps, she curled her feet beneath her and reached over to hold a corner of the photo Khouri had taken. The shot captured a bikini-clad woman, bent over a convertible above the slogan: Count on Machine Melendez parts for a good ride.

  “I think we could keep the woman, but have her seated on the hood of the car while she’s looking out at a view of the ocean. Probably a sunset view—and she could maybe have a light blanket wrapped around her body—we could show a hint of shoulder.” She brushed her fingers across the teal trim near her shoulder. “Maybe a little thigh, show her hair lifting against the breeze…”

  Setha continued the idea, but Khouri had lost interest in the photo. Instead, he indulged in the beauty of her neckline and collarbone. A hint of her thigh was visible by the cut of the business suit she’d worn for the meeting. He was tuning back into her words just as she voiced her thoughts on the slogan.

  “…and we could just tweak that—give it a less suggestive meaning. Let the customer know that MM parts will take them wherever they want to go and back. What do you think?” She waited a few beats and then let go of the photo and eased up a little. “Khouri?”

  “Come with me,” he said next, leaving his chair before she could reply.

  Setha stepped into her shoes and quickly followed him to a far corner of the office. When an elevator arrived, she blinked and her lips parted. Uncertainty was on the heels of her surprise, but she felt silly hesitating and followed him into the car.

  The ride was quietly…tense. Setha kept her eyes on the floor the whole time. His stare on her skin felt as potent as a physical touch. When she thought her anticipation would send her heart pounding right out of her chest, the elevator bumped to a stop.

  The oak-paneled doors eased open and Setha forgot her agitation and almost everything else. They stood on the rooftop where a devastating Houston view awaited them. The day was set to be a sunny one and beams of the orange-golden light winked at them between the clouds and the scrapers outlined against the sky.

  Setha walked across the brick-laid top as though she were in a daze. Mouth opened in amazement, she could scarcely form words. “This is…”

  Khouri chuckled and pressed a thumb to his cleft chin as he savored her reaction. “Surely you’ve seen views like this at Melendez?”

  Setha shook her head, wide coal-colored eyes still focused beyond. “Never like this…” she admitted.

  Easing both hands into the pockets of his walnut-brown trousers, Khouri looked toward h
is shoes. “Happy I could please you,” he said without looking her way.

  Slowly, Setha looked away from the view and turned. “Why’d you bring me here?”

  Looking up at her finally, Khouri kept his hands hidden while strolling toward her. “What you said gave me an idea—” he shrugged “—hope you don’t mind me adding my two cents?”

  “No.” She shook her head in an eager manner.

  Khouri’s gaze narrowed against the sun when he took in the view. “There’re all these great scenes in and around Houston. It’d be great to use them as the background or foundation of these ads—emphasize that a person can go anywhere content that MM parts will get ’em there and back.”

  “Khouri…” Setha brought a hand to her forehead and turned back to the scene at hand. “I love it and it’s the perfect tie-in to what I’ve been saying.” She smirked and fixed him with a saucy look. “You’re pretty good at listening to women, Mr. Ross.”

  “Hmph.” Khouri glanced toward his shoes again. “You can thank my sisters for that.”

  “So, um, what’s next?” she asked before the captivating quality of his eyes caused her to swoon.

  “Well, since we’ve got our model, all we need now is to pin down the locales.”

  Setha’s expression grew wary when he reached out to rub a lock of her hair between his fingers. “You mean the model in Sam’s photos, right?”

  “No.”

  “Khouri? No,” she answered his unasked question. “You’re crazy,” she said when he continued to leer at her.

  At last, he nodded. “That may be true, but I think it’s my best idea yet.”

  “Forget it.”

  “Don’t tell me it doesn’t excite you?”

  How did he do that? Use this voice to instill such lurid throbs inside her. She stepped back and gave one firm wave of her hand. “No way.”

  Khouri watched her coolly and then raised his hands in defeat. “Guess I’ll have to settle for you helping me scout locales. You understand that means we’ve got lots of traveling ahead of us over the next few weeks?”

  Setha blinked. “But we don’t—”

  “I expect you to come with me, Setha.”

  “I can’t.”

  He leaned against the reinforced steel beams lining the rooftop. “Ms. Melendez, I can’t accept a ‘no’ on this one.”

  “Why not?” She could barely hear her own voice.

  Khouri focused on brushing his thumb across the silver links of his watchband. “I only allow one ‘no.’ You’ve used yours.”

  She would’ve laughed had her heart not been flipping from her throat to her stomach.

  “Think how disappointed our dads will be to know we can’t work together, either. Damn.” He began to massage his jaw then. “I’d sure hate to break that to ’em.”

  “You wouldn’t.” She eyed his smug look warily. “You wouldn’t let all this hinge on whether or not I’ll come with you? You would,” she answered when his expression remained unchanged.

  “Fine,” she obliged with a none-too-gentle slap to her thighs.

  “Good.” Khouri pushed off the railing and moved close to her. “Now are you sure I can’t change your mind about being my model?”

  Her head tilted just a fraction out of confusion. Just then, she wasn’t sure if he meant modeling for Ross Review or for him personally.

  “Um—yes. Yes, I’m sure.” She swallowed.

  Khouri trailed his index finger around the piping at her jacket sleeve. “And there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

  The sun was starting to feel unbearably hot. Or perhaps it was just her. She wanted to melt. “You’re welcome to try.” Was that her voice?

  “Thanks,” he whispered seconds before his mouth slanted across hers and applied the sweetest pressure.

  Setha, unfortunately, had no patience for sweetness then. She’d thought of kissing him for days and met the pressure of his lips with her own. Eagerly, she worked to entice his tongue into playing with hers. Unfortunately, he didn’t appear to be interested. She was so hungry for him, that it took some moments for her to grasp that he wasn’t responding. Once realization hit, her cheeks burned from embarrassment and she jerked out of the embrace.

  “Sorry,” she gasped, viciously smoothing back wavy locks from her dark face. “I’m sorry, Khouri,” she murmured, practically tripping over herself to get back to the elevators.

  Chapter 7

  Setha made a mad dash from the elevator and returned to Khouri’s office. She went back to the desk and began shoving items into the portfolio she’d brought to the meeting. She stopped, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth.

  Stupid! Khouri Ross was the last man she should be inviting into her bed.

  A throat cleared, grabbing hold of her attention then. Setha saw a slender dark young woman across the room.

  “I take it my brother’s on the roof?” she said, curiosity sparkling in her eyes as she smiled knowingly.

  “Yes.” The confirmation came slowly as Setha frowned a bit and headed toward the woman.

  She nodded. “Figures.”

  “Marta says he only goes up there when he’s got something on his mind,” Setha probed.

  “Mmm…that’s true and he’s definitely got something on his mind.”

  “Setha Melendez.” She extended her hand.

  “Avra Ross. Thank you for taking over the account meeting.”

  Setha smiled and nodded slowly. “Not a problem.”

  “So everything’s moving along all right?”

  Setha placed her free hand over the one she shook with Avra. “Everything’s fine. I promise you it’s all gonna work out.”

  “You’ll have to forgive me.” Avra rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean to pry.” The hint of a grimace curved her mouth then. “I’m sure your brother already told you what an ogre I am.”

  Setha couldn’t help but laugh. “I can honestly say that I’ve never heard him call you an ogre.”

  “Ah, well then.” Avra smoothed her hands across the seat of her tailored black linen capris. “Guess that’s one of the many words he’s yet to learn.” She gave a look of phony regret then. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Setha’s laughter bubbled up again. “No, trust me, it’s fine.” It was refreshing to meet a woman who didn’t think Samson Melendez was some kind of god. “I’m sorry,” she said, blinking tears from her eyes as she struggled to put on a straight face.

  “Forget it.” Avra waved off the apology. “We need more laughter around here.”

  Setha reached out to squeeze Avra’s elbow then. “I was sorry to hear about Wade Cornelius.”

  Avra covered Setha’s hand where it rested on the sleeve of her tanned blouse. “Thanks.”

  “Guess it’s hit everybody around here pretty hard.”

  Avra nodded. “No surprise. He was important to a lot of folks ’round here.”

  Setha bit her upper lip and debated only a second. “Marta said he didn’t leave under the best circumstances—something about an argument with your dad.”

  “Ah, yeah.” Avra closed her eyes. “It was a doozy.”

  “What happened? Marta made it sound like a difference of opinion?” Setha was past caring about decorum, the possibility of getting answers had her almost giddy with excitement.

  Thankfully, Avra wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Wade was tired of making Machine Melendez look like a company for the people. My dad disagreed with his opinion.”

  Setha blinked and took a step back. A sense of dread merged in with her excitement. Sound coming from the elevator shaft told her Khouri was probably on his way down.

  “Avra, I’d like to know more about this. Would you be willing to talk to me?” Setha’s voice was rushed but
soft.

  Intrigued, Avra responded with a slow nod at first. “Call me here. They’ll connect you to my office.”

  “Thank you.” Setha squeezed Avra’s arm again and then grabbed her scarf and rushed from the office just as the elevator dinged its arrival.

  Avra spread her arms when the doors opened. “Not the woman you were expecting, I guess.”

  Khouri rolled his eyes. “Not in the mood, Av.”

  She laughed. “Oh, I’m willin’ to bet you’re definitely in ‘the mood.’” She sobered when he slammed down a fist to his desk, causing everything there to jump.

  “Khouri, I’m sorry. I am but—” she took a tentative step closer to the desk “—we really need to talk.”

  In spite of his mood, the tone of Avra’s voice gave Khouri pause. “What’s up?”

  “The murdered workers are all Melendez employees.”

  “What?” His rich brogue carried a softer quality. “How do you know this?”

  “One of Gwen’s colleagues at the Journal has a contact at the police department.” Avra planted herself on her preferred spot on Khouri’s desk. “David and Noah know about it, thanks to Wade.”

  Khouri sat on the opposite edge of the desk then. “Wade?”

  “And that’s where the info well goes dry,” Avra interjected before he could ask how the man found out.

  “Does Dad know?” Khouri asked instead.

  “David and Noah told him and he essentially told them to bury it and pursue a different lead. Hence his ‘follow the money’ suggestion.”

  “But why?”

  “Oh, Khouri, please.” Avra scooted off the desk and began to stalk around the office. “You know about Dad’s soft spot for Melendez. The stories we run on that company are proof of that.”

  “So you think he knows more than he’s saying?”

  “God, I hope not.” Avra curled her fingers into either side of her head. “No way he’s gonna tell us ‘yea’ or ‘nay.’”

  “Right.” Khouri stroked his whiskered jaw while moving behind his desk. “Melendez must know.”