Marc crossed the room. “Redemption?”
“For Fernelle,” Josephine spoke without hesitation. She looked right at him through the mirror and loved the spooked expression that shadowed his face when he heard her sister’s name. “Guess it makes sense they’d think that. She was pregnant with your child when she…died.”
The brass backed vanity chair hit the carpet with a thud when Marc pulled Josephine out of it.
“Never mention that. Ever.” His hold was tight on her arms even as his voice was whisper soft. “I never want to hear her name again. Do you understand me?”
Josephine nodded, her light eyes raking his face expectantly.
Smiling then, his expression turned light and he brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. “Sorry for bullying you into that party tonight.” His lips followed the trail his hand had taken over her cheek. “Talking to you about people you don’t know and all the while you were here having to deal with your jealous sisters.” His lips blazed a sultry path along her jaw and neck. His hands massaged her form pliant beneath the satin nightgown she wore.
As livid as she felt toward him, Josephine felt herself reacting- anticipating more of his touch. She hadn’t even realized he’d undressed her until he gathered her close and carried her to their bed.
***
Briselle was sprinting towards the front door after the bell rang. She laughed, finding Georgia out in the hall and quickly waved her inside the house.
Clearly suspicious, Georgia scrunched her nose and glanced around. “What’s going on? Did West make another genius move at Ramsey?” She yawned, pretending to be bored.
Briselle slapped her sister-in-law’s arm. “Y’all need to stop actin’ like you don’t care about each other. Come on and have dinner with us.”
“Bri…”
“At least stay for drinks.” Briselle didn’t wait for an answer but tugged Georgia into the living room where Westin sat laughing and talking with Felix Cade.
Georgia was hardly one to burst into tears (unless it was from laughter). She certainly never gasped, shrieked or committed any of the purely feminine reactions she found so stupid. Gasp was exactly what she did when she saw Felix enjoying drinks with her brother.
“Hey Georgie,” West casually greeted from the relaxed position in his favorite armchair.
Felix rose quickly from his relaxed position. His ebony gaze was unguarded, revealing all the desire and need coursing through him.
That look was mirrored in Georgia’s stare.
“Well then,” Bri smoothed hands across her burgundy checkered skirt, “I’m gonna go and check on things in the kitchen. Help me West? West?”
“Right,” he tuned in having been momentarily fascinated by the staring session between his sister and Felix.
“What are you doing out here?” Georgia was first to break the silence when they were gone.
Felix was shortening the distance between them. He rounded the sofa and cupped her face when she was close enough to touch.
“You look so good,” his voice was a whisper before he kissed her.
Her mind was blank when he finally let her up for air. “What are you doing here?” She managed after quite some time.
“Had a meeting.” His hand remained about her neck, his thumb stroked her cheek and he studied her as though he were fascinated. “The car drove by Ramsey. I took a chance on seeing if I’d recognize anyone inside. Got to see the big boss himself.”
“Meeting?”
Georgia listened intently, greedy for the information he shared about what he’d been doing since leaving Savannah. He told her about making it to California where he was getting a couple of garages off the ground. He was working to get a deal in place for parts, hence the meeting in Seattle.
“You’ve done so much.” Disbelief was evident in her wide stare.
“Tried to tell you I was serious, G.”
The remark stung no matter how softly it’d been delivered.
“I was sorry to hear about Mr. Quent.” Felix said following another bout of silence. “He was a good man.”
Georgia smoothed hands over her arms chilled beneath the aqua blue of her snug sweater. “I hoped you’d come back for the funeral but seeing as how you were in California…” she blinked at the feel of tears behind her eyes.
“It was way after the fact when I heard.” He started to touch her but changed his mind and eased a hand into his trouser pocket. “I don’t really keep Ma aware of my every move.”
“Right I- I understand.” She gave a quick toss of her hair and smiled. “I was so sorry about what happened to your father but…I really didn’t understand what you were going through ‘til I lost mine.” She gave in to the tears then. “It feels like nothing will ever be right again.”
“Shh…” Felix moved close brushing her tears away with his thumbs. “You know that’s not true and Mr. Quent wouldn’t want you thinkin’ that way.”
“Damn,” Georgia cursed when his soothing deep tone only triggered more tears. “My life’s such a mess.” She sniffled and looked around at the cozy elegance of the living room. “West and Bri have it so together while I feel like a sheet twistin’ in the wind.”
Felix bit his lip. He wouldn’t ask if she was regretting not coming with him. He already knew that she was, but she’d never admit it. Still, he was intent on having her. The challenge would be in having her believe that she was fully in charge of the situation when it was her heart that was truly in command.
“Hey y’all, come on and eat!” West called when he and Bri brought steaming dishes into the dining room.
***
“What’s the world comin’ to when a fool like you manages to dodge the draft?” Marcus laughed full and long for what had to be the tenth time since him and his old friend Charlton Browning sat down for drinks.
“Hell, when you got no place to call home, them fools got no place to come knockin’ or send their bullshit letters.”
“Right…” Until then, Marcus figured only those with money found creative ways to dodge the dreaded draft. Though Charlton found the humor in his genius, Marc was concerned by his friend’s living situation and said so.
“All’s well, man. Shit…I need to be able to pick up roots quick with all I got goin’ on.”
“You mind elaborating…if you can.” Marc waited until the waitress set fresh drinks to their table.
Charlton winked, feeling a surge of confidence and something a tad darker coursing through him. He was older and a great deal wiser-this wouldn’t be another instance of Marc Ramsey’s name and charm overshadowing him. He’d spent the last several years bumming and looking for his next meal. He’d been making connections and acquaintances that hadn’t presented themselves easily. There had been too much hard work and sacrifice put in to not have those seeds of effort sprout into benefits. Benefits for himself; and others as well. But for him first and foremost.
“If you’re interested, I do have a proposition to discuss.”
Marcus felt the familiar stirrings of excitement in his stomach. In spite of his standing at Ramsey, he knew all too well how impressively Charlt’s…propositions paid off. The possibilities made it all too good to not at least hear out.
“I’ve got a connection to a supplier of industrial equipment.” Charlton tugged a pack of cigarettes from his brown suede suit coat. “The shit is top notch though it has seen its share of use.”
“Shoddy.” Marc guessed.
“Inexpensive.” Charlt corrected with a cool smile and lit his cigarette. “Cheap as far as you, me and my supplier know. For your accounting department at Ramsey however…”
Marcus grinned narrowing his striking stare. “Hmph, cheap becomes top dollar.”
Charlton raised his glass. “And we pocket the difference.”
Chuckling deviously, the old friends shared a toast.
“I like it. When do I meet the supplier?”
Charlton’s cool vanished. “You deal with me
only.” He shrugged at the faint suspicion lurking in Marc’s expression. “Keeps things simpler that way.”
“Do I at least get to take a look at the equipment?” Marc signaled the waitress for a refill. “The money folks at Ramsey are squares but even they know junk when they see it.”
“Next week sound good?”
A handshake across the table confirmed the date.
***
Daphne rang the bell to the Ramsey’s majestic hilltop home before she lost her nerve. She’d debated on the visit for so long- since Quentin Ramsey’s death actually. She prayed that all the talks to keep herself motivated enough to see it through would keep her from backing out now.
The door opened and it was clear from the look on the young maid’s face that she did not approve of the visitor.
“Yes?”
“Yes, yes Daphne Monfrey to see Mrs. Ramsey.”
The maid eased a hand into the pocket on her uniform. “I doubt anyone here is interested in whatever you’re…selling.”
Daphne bristled, feeling a definite chill through the long sweater covering her pantsuit. She leaned in on motivation to keep her feet planted on the porch. It didn’t work. When she would have cowered and backed away, she heard the voice as cool and regal as it’d been the first time she heard it.
“Who is it, Tammy?”
Before Tammy Burnett could respond, Daphne inched forward.
“Hello Mrs. Ramsey.” She watched in awe as the lady of the house arrived at the front door.
Recognition filtered Marcella’s expression. “Babydoll Monfrey’s girl.”
“Hmph,” Tammy grunted.
“Daphne Monfrey ma’am. I-I’m sorry to just drop by like this-”
“Nonsense child. It’s been years since my party on a summer’s day.” Marcella’s alluring gaze misted over with memory as though she were recalling the happy occasion. “Where are my manners?” She gave a start, turning back to her guest. “Come in child. It’s been way too long since you’ve visited me, you know?”
“Yes ma’am,” Daphne’s voice was hushed as she crossed the threshold. “I didn’t know if it’d be appropriate.” She looked over at the maid who still hovered.
“Tammy go get us some hot tea and cookies.” Marcella bustled the girl off, then took Daphne by the arm and led her deeper into the house. “I could certainly use the company.”
“You?” Daphne blurted. “But you have so many friends.”
“Right. Friends my age- who make me feel my age.” Marcella followed the words with a saucy wink. “My kids are practically gone. Having some young life in the house is just what I need.”
“I was sorry to hear about Mr. Ramsey.” Daphne said when they entered the living room. “It was a real loss to the town. He was a great man.”
“Yes…yes he was.” Marcella tapped her fingers along the fireplace mantle. The area teemed with family photos. Her gaze was riveted on pictures of her late husband.
“The two of you must’ve had a beautiful marriage.” Daphne strolled the room, trailing her fingers across the glossy carved wood framing the sofa and armchairs. “Beautiful children, beautiful things, beautiful people…”
Marcella turned from the mantle. “Beautiful marriage and children are all that matter.”
Daphne hid her grimace. “Anyone can be married and have kids. It takes special people and respect to have the rest.”
“Honey all people are special in their own way.” Marcella’s silver linen duster swished lightly as she approached Daphne. “As for respect, well…respect is something earned.”
Daphne’s smile held a politeness. “I’m sorry, but everybody knows anyone with the Ramsey name is respected at birth.”
“Ah yes,” Marcella tapped her fingers to the silver chain at her neck. “The ‘respect by birthright’ crowd…” her voice was light but her expression was anything but. “Those folk work twice as hard to keep their respect as others do to earn it.” Marcella focused full on Daphne then. “It’s not an easy thing to keep honey and if one isn’t careful, it can slip away without being noticed until it’s far too late.”
***
“How’d he talk you into this shit?” Marcus’ temper was thoroughly stoked over Westin’s news of Damon’s approved proposal for an in-house troubleshooting department.
“Just what the hell is it?” Houston didn’t bother to hide his edginess over the idea or his confusion over what the idea actually entailed.
Marcus propped his wingtips on the black lacquer coffee table in the office. “It’s a way for baby brother to get his foot in the door and get past havin’ to answer to anybody in the process.”
A heavy thud sounded drawing Marcus’ and Houston’s attention to the speaker box where Westin’s voice transmitted from his Seattle office. The brothers knew West had just slammed his fist to the desk as a command for silence.
“The proposal’s a good one. Look it over so you’ll know what to expect.”
“Oh we know what to expect.” Marc’s upper lip curled. “We can expect our shoulders bein’ looked over every damn day by our nosy little brother.”
“Well I guess you’ll just have to get used to it.” Westin’s low voice brooked no argument and was followed by the sound of papers shuffling across his desk. “As for the business, the two of you will be overseeing day to day operations with the assistance of key people. They’re experienced and were hand-picked by Dad. Your respect for them and attentiveness to their input is expected.”
Marcus flashed his middle finger toward the speaker box.
“As for Damon’s troubleshooting department, he won’t be running it single-handed but with a similar group of experienced and hand-picked folk as well. How the three of you work together will determine whether any of you ever get any real control.”
Houston felt a chill and slanted a quick glance toward Marcus to see if he’d noticed his reaction. In that moment, Westin had sounded exactly like their father.
“I’ll be in touch.”
When the speak box line buzzed it was Marc’s turn to slam his fist to the table.
“What’s D up to?” Houston rested elbows to knees when he leaned forward in the armchair.
Marcus left the sofa shoving his hands into the deep pockets of his trousers. “Tryin’ to live up to some promise he made to Pop about keepin’ the family squeaky clean.”
Houston stilled. “What? Does he? Does D suspect somethin’ about his stroke? We were there and-”
“Stop. Houston? Stop.” Marc raised a hand and shook his head to soothe his brother’s paranoia. “No one knows that for sure. No one and it’d better stay that way.” He waited for his brother’s nod and began a stroll of the office.
“No, this will all come down to a case of loyalty from the Ramsey execs picked by Pop.” Stroking his jaw, Marc spoke more to himself than Houston. “When they see how much richer I intend to make them… well we’ll just see how long it’ll take before Westin’s real control comes our way.”
R
~CHAPTER FIFTEEN~
Briselle and Georgia were folding shopping bags following a day in town. Briselle would be heading home, but dropped Georgia off first and helped her cart her wares inside.
“Seems like old times with Felix around, doesn’t it?” Briselle asked while propping three shopping bags against the side of the love seat.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Georgia let the bags she held; fall to the floor in a clutter.
Briselle shrugged. “Nothing at all, it’s just nice seeing him again and he’s looking so well. Very well.” She went to collect the bags Georgia let fall. “I’m betting I’m not the only woman who thinks that.”
“Jeez Bri, how many times are you gonna talk about this?”
“Sorry,” Briselle smiled at the sour look Georgia shot her in response to the phony apology. “So have you two been alone since he’s been back?”
Georgia removed her gloves and tossed them to the message desk in the li
ving room. During the past week, she and Felix had spent most of their time out with Westin and Briselle. It was just as well, Georgia decided.
“He’s going back to California soon- no sense in getting all riled up over him again.”
Briselle studied the buckle on the side of her black go-go boots. “So you’re regretting not going with him, huh?”
“Shit Bri, gimme a break, would you?”
Briselle threw up her hands. “Alright, alright. Guess I’ll be saying goodnight.” She tugged Georgia into a tight hug, grabbed her purse and breezed down the hallway.
Briselle was heading out just in time for Felix who stood outside and was just about to ring the bell to the apartment.
The uncertainty on his dark handsome face appeared to deepen. “Sorry Bri, I didn’t know you and Georgie had plans-”
“No such thing.” Briselle was already tugging him inside by the sleeve of his trench coat. “We’re done.” She pointed down the hall. “Bedroom’s that way.”
~~~
Leslie Gore’s “You Don’t Own Me”, wafted from the bedroom radio. Georgia had already headed off to start trying on dresses once Briselle walked out. Just then she wore only a lacy peach bra and panty set while deciding on which frock to try on first. She held up one dress and was viewing herself in the floor length mirror when she saw Felix. Embarrassed, she gasped and whirled around to make certain he was really standing there.
“How…?”
“Briselle,” was his only explanation as he walked toward her.
Georgia didn’t realize she was backing away until her hip brushed the armchair near the bed. She swallowed, watching him with a mixture of expectancy and awe as he removed his coat and went to work on the shirt tucked inside his trousers.
“I um, what can I do for you?” She grimaced at how weak that sounded.
Felix barely smiled. “You know damn well,” he said kissing her then as he backed her to the wall.
Georgia’s moan rose instantly, hungrily she absorbed the kiss. Her response was eager and fiery. Every part of her shivered in the wake of his fingertips; skirting her flesh as he removed the scant under things covering her body.
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