“What if we have plans of our own?” Chante asked.
“Then change them. You’re going to have the rest of your lives to be together and do whatever it is that you have planned.”
“You’re absolutely right, Mrs. Britt,” Zach said, and Chante wanted to strangle him.
“Please, call me Allie.”
Chante could’ve been pushed over with a feather. Allie? When in the world did she start going by a nickname?
“Well, Miss Allie, I will make sure Chante and I arrive for the boil on time, especially since this will be my first one.”
Chante rolled her eyes at the big Kool-Aid grin on her mother’s face. This time, making sure her mother was gone, she turned to Zach and shook her head.
“Have you lost your ever-loving mind? You know when we get to that house tonight it’s going to be filled with her closest friends, asking about wedding dates, rings, and . . .”
“So?” He smiled. “Your mother looked so happy when she thought you were getting married.”
“Did you just say so?”
“Yes. We’re supposed to be having fun, remember? Your mother and her demands for you to get married put a damper on our tour. I’m all about giving women what they want.”
Oh, I can tell you what I want, and it has nothing to do with a low-country boil, she thought as she looked at his lips.
“What?” he asked as their eyes locked.
“This is a bad idea.”
“It’s one night. You get your mom off your back, and you can spend the rest of your vacation with me without interruption.”
“And what makes you think I want to spend the rest of my time in Charleston attached to you at the hip?” she asked as she picked a basket filled with chocolate and Firefly Sweet Tea. Zach looked at the goodies in the basket.
“What is Firefly Sweet Tea?”
“Oh, you’re going to find out, my dear Yankee.”
Zach was about to respond when his cell phone went off. Retrieving the phone from his pocket, he saw it was Kia calling him. “I have to take this,” he said as he took a few steps away from her. “Hello?”
“Zach, the feds are here,” she said frantically.
“What the hell do they want, and do they have warrants?”
“Yes. They’re looking into her ties with that judge.”
Zach groaned and muttered, “What the fuck does that have to do with me?”
“I asked, but not in those words. Everybody in New York is looking for you.”
“Make sure they don’t find me.”
“Ooh,” she moaned.
“What’s wrong?” Zach asked, his voice laden with concern.
“Your goddaughter feels the same way about these feds as I do. They want to question you.”
“Give them my attorney’s phone number, and tell them to kiss my ass.”
“Now, Mr. Harrington, is that anyway to speak of the United States government?” a male voice asked.
“Who is this?”
“Special Agent Carver Banks.”
“Call my lawyer.”
“Listen, Mr. Harrington, I understand that you and Natalie are divorced. I believe you’re a victim, but I’m only doing my job. However, we need to find out how many people are involved in her operation, and if you’re innocent, then you have nothing to worry about.”
“I’m on vacation, and I’ve already told you people I have nothing to do with her criminal enterprise. The only thing I have to worry about is that you’re in my office for no reason.”
“True. But this is another crime, and having a judge in your pocket would make your business a lot easier.”
“Go to hell and call my attorney.” Zach hit the END button on his phone. When he slammed the phone into his pocket, he noticed that Chante was giving him the side eye.
“What was that all about?”
“Nothing for you to worry about.”
She shook her head, thinking about the hushed conversations she’d ignored when she and Robert were together. Wait, why was she acting as if this was the same thing? She and Zach weren’t a couple. He was right. Whatever drama he had going on was none of her concern.
“You really need this tea now,” she said, keeping her voice light.
Zach offered her a weak smile. “Listen, that call was . . .”
“Nothing for me to worry about,” she parroted.
“My ex-wife is in some more trouble, and it’s come to my front door.”
Chante shook her head, remembering the reporters at her front door and the reason for her trip to Charleston. “And you didn’t ask for that. I just don’t understand why people try to make the sins of others your problem.”
Zach knew right then that Chante Britt was the phenomenal woman Maya Angelou wrote about in her poem. “You know what, you’re amazing.”
“Yes, and I’ve been on the other side of that. So before we go and pretend we’re madly in love and going to break up after this vacation is over, let’s get drunk.”
“Sounds like a great idea. But know this: after this low-boil thing, I want to strip you bare.”
His words sent a tingle though her body, but a warning voice in her head told her to chill. “You sure you’ve haven’t been drinking already?”
“No, but I’ve been wanting to see you out of these clothes for a long time.” He brought his lips to her ear. “And I’m not talking about getting you into bed. I want you on the sand.”
“Huh?”
“I want to see you in a sexy two piece on the beach, while we drink.”
Smiling, she said, “Just so you know, indecent exposure in South Carolina can put you in prison for up to three years.”
“All right, good to know. I’ll make sure I’m really discreet when I untie your top,” he said with a wink.
Chapter 6
Meanwhile, in Charlotte, Robert and his campaign staff huddled around a television watching an Erica Bryant report on the race for Charlotte’s next mayor. Dominic Hall paced back and forth as the face of former Mecklenburg County Commissioner David Clemmons filled the screen.
“That lame duck. He was voted off the board of county commissioners. Why does he think people want him to be mayor?” he muttered.
“Calm down, Nic,” Robert said, trying to hear what Clemmons had to say. Clemmons had lost his seat on the board of county commissioners after his affair with the former head of the Department of Social Services became public. But for as many people who wanted his head, there were just as many who cheered his comeback.
Robert knew he didn’t have the long history that Clemmons did in Charlotte politics, but surely he still had supporters. And being that Charlotte claimed to be a family-oriented city, if he could get Chante on board, then he’d be able to mend those fences that Liza had brought down. That bitch, he thought. All she had to do was mind her business. That senate seat was mine. Now I have to work my way up from the bottom as though I haven’t been preparing to lead for my whole life.
“You’re up,” Gabrielle Tanks, a young staffer on Robert’s campaign said as she grabbed the remote and turned the volume up.
“Robert Montgomery seems like an unlikely candidate for mayor,” Erica Bryant began as she walked in front of a picture of Robert on a big screen. “In the race for the North Carolina senate seat for District Forty-five, Montgomery was humiliated when it was revealed he’d had a relationship with a woman whom he paid to have sex with him. At the time, he was engaged to Charlotte attorney Chante Britt.”
A picture of the smiling couple flashed on the screen. Robert had hoped to talk Chante into making amends for her role in sabotaging his senate bid. She owed him a chance to restart his political career. Had she not participated in Liza’s smear campaign, then he might have been in Raleigh as the first senator from District Forty-five—not that blunt instrument Jackson Franklin.
“But,” Erica Bryant said, “it was his former fiancée’s forgiveness that inspired Montgomery to return to the public eye.”
The camera cut to a pre-recorded interview of Robert and Erica.
“Robert, after what you went through last year, most people would think your political career would be over,” Erica said. “What made you decided to run for mayor?”
“Charlotte needs a new voice. One that isn’t afraid to stand up to policies in Raleigh that hurt our city. And Charlotte is a city that looks past rumors and lies, as did the love of my life.”
“So there is no truth to you and Dayshea Brown having a sexual relationship that you paid for?”
“None at all. I was the victim of a smear campaign. Chante didn’t believe it, and the people of Charlotte should follow her lead.”
Robert smiled as he watched the interview replay, then saw Dayshea appear on the screen. He and Nic expelled more curse words than an Eddie Murphy stand-up routine.
“We didn’t agree to this!” Robert exclaimed.
Dayshea had lost the glamor she’d had the last time she’d been on the news. She looked like a plain around-the-way girl.
“I only met Robert once, then his fiancée and her friend came to me. I told them when I was about that life that I had one rule: I didn’t sleep with married men or men who had someone at home. I was a different person back then. But I’ve changed, and maybe Robert has too.”
“Turn it off,” Nic bellowed. “Just what we need, an endorsement from a hooker.”
“What about all the people who were standing by me last year?” Robert asked, now on his feet and pacing back and forth.
“I’ve made calls,” Nic said.
“Do more!”
The staff members in the room headed for the door. Robert turned to Gabrielle. “Wait,” he said. “You’re the head of my social media campaign. How many likes do we have on our Facebook page?”
She looked down at her iPad Mini. “One hundred and three.”
“That isn’t enough,” Robert exclaimed.
Nic tented his hands underneath his chin. “Maybe this Chante angle isn’t working, No one has seen you two together, and she’s suspended from her law firm.”
“But,” Robert interjected, “if she doesn’t forgive me, how can I expect voters to do so?”
“Then we have to find her and get you two on camera.”
“I need to talk to Gabby, alone,” Robert said, basically dismissing Nic.
When he was alone with the young woman, he pulled her into his arms. “You are so sexy,” he breathed against her ear.
“What about Chante?”
Robert slipped his hands between Gabby’s thighs and stroked her womanly core. “Chante who?”
Gabby moaned, and Robert believed that free sex was the best sex ever.
Back in Charleston, Chante looked at herself in the mirror. She hadn’t worn a bikini since she and Liza went to Cancun on spring break. Looking at her image in the mirror, she smiled. All the running and working out she’d done since her suspension had done her body good. She was impressed with the reflection she saw in the mirror and knew Zach would be as well.
“What am I doing?” she mused aloud. Chante knew her grandmother would get a kick out of this ruse. But Chante wasn’t so sure that going to her parents’ house with Zach on her arm, acting as if they were getting married, was a good idea. Lying to her overbearing mother was one thing, but her Dad didn’t deserve this. Then again, he’d probably laugh too. Don’t overthink it. You’re here to have a good time, and Zach is just a distraction. Satisfied with her reflection, Chante tied a yellow sarong around her waist and headed for the lobby to meet Zach.
Zach was glancing at a brochure about Folly Beach as he heard the ding of the elevator. When he saw those legs, those thighs, and those pretty toes, he wanted to take Chante back upstairs and suck the polish off her toenails. If Zach had any weaknesses, Chante highlighted each and every one of them in that yellow bikini. “Well, I think I’ve found the highlight of my trip. Wow,” he said, then took off his Brooklyn Nets hat and bowed.
Chante smacked him on his shoulder. “You’re too much,” she said.
“You look too damned good,” he said as he gave her a slow once-over. “Let’s get out of here before I change my mind.”
“Change your mind?”
He nodded. “Change my mind and take you into the Jacuzzi, then put up an out-of-order sign.”
Shaking her head, she headed for the door with Zach in tow. “Slow down,” he said as he tugged at her sarong. When Chante took a step forward, the sarong came off in Zach’s hand. Taking a look at her barely covered behind, he knew that God was a mighty, mighty good God.
“Zach!” Chante called out as she placed her hands behind her back. “I can’t . . .”
“I was trying to slow you down,” he replied as he twirled her sarong. “Ended up slowing myself down.”
She walked up to him and reached for her sarong. Zach held it above his head. “No, ma’am,” he quipped.
“Stop playing,” she said as she reached for it again. But she was no match for Zach’s height. As she reached up, he couldn’t help but smile at how her assets bounced.
“All right,” he said, handing her the sarong when he saw a man staring at Chante’s luscious curves. “I guess we’re putting on too much of a show for people.”
“You think?” she snapped as she tied her sarong around her waist. “You’re a bit of a jackass, huh?”
“That hurts,” he said.
Chante rolled her eyes. “The truth usually does.”
“Is this our first argument?” he asked with a smile.
“Oh, please,” she quipped. “You don’t want to argue with me. That’s what I do for a living, and I’m good at what I do.”
“All right, I will take note of that.” Zach took her hand in his and gave it a gentle kiss. “I don’t like to fight anyway. I do like the making up, though.”
Chante laughed, and it felt good. But she had to remember, what she and Zach had was a farce. Getting this comfortable with him would most likely be a mistake. When she went back to Charlotte and he returned to New York, this thing would be over. Sighing, she leaned against his arm. He had great arms. Strong, hard. She closed her eyes for a second as the image of those arms holding her while they made love flashed in her mind.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when she moaned slightly.
“Nothing. Just letting my mind wander.”
Zach stopped walking and faced Chante. Cupping her face, he brushed his lips across hers. “Let me guess. You were thinking about you and me ditching the little bit of clothes we have on and having some real sex on the beach.”
“You are so nasty,” she said, though he wasn’t far off from what she was thinking.
“And you have the most irresistible lips I’ve ever seen.” Zach covered her mouth with his. His kiss was slow and succulent. Chante pressed her body against his and felt every muscle harden. Why did she want this man so much when he was practically a stranger? How was it that he knew how to kiss her and where all of her hot spots were?
When his hand slipped between her thighs, Chante knew she was done for. She wanted him, and he was giving her all the reasons to believe this would be a magical moment. Her love-starved body purred as he stroked her womanly core through her bikini bottoms. Pulling back from her lips, he continued stroking her as if he wanted to bring her to climax right there in the parking lot.
And when he did, Chante thought she was going to pass out. She muted her scream as she fell against his chest. “How-how . . . wow.”
“I can tell someone has been neglected for too long,” he whispered against her ear. “We’re going to have to change that.”
Chante wanted to tell him to change it now, but she took a deep breath instead and waited for her body to stop twitching. “Let’s get to the beach before . . .”
Zach scooped her up into his arms. “Before I decide to take you upstairs and make you come again?” He smiled, and she melted like ice on the sidewalk.
“You’re too much.”
“You might find out that I’m just enough.” Winking, he took off with her in his arms toward the shore.
If Zach thought Chante was going to be one of those women who didn’t want to get her hair and body wet in the ocean, he was wrong. When they made it to the water, Chante headed in and let wave after wave hit her. She reminded him of a mythological sea nymph as her hair curled up and her suit clung to her body. If he were a sailor, he’d be in trouble because he would’ve followed her to the edges of the Earth.
“What are you waiting for?” she called out. “This water feels so good!”
“The view is quite stunning,” he said as he walked toward her. Chante kicked water his way when she noticed that he still had his shoes on.
“Come on, Yankee. You don’t know good fun until you dance with a wave barefoot.”
Zach splashed water on her. “Is that so?” Chante dashed away from him, and Zach easily caught up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“You look good in the water,” he said as he kissed her neck.
“Umm,” she moaned. “This has always been my favorite place. Granny and I used to come out here and toss all the negativity away.”
“You and your grandmother had a lot of good times,” he said, slipping his hands from her waist and palming her ample behind. Chante moaned as his fingers drummed against her cheeks.
“Your hands should come with a warning label,” she said.
“I’ll keep that in mind. But your body is giving my hands all kinds of life.”
She playfully slapped him on the shoulder. “Whatever. You know, I’m glad we’re doing this,” she said. “Maybe my dad won’t see that we’re a fraud.”
“So you and your dad have a different relationship than you and your mother?”
Stepping back from him, she nodded. “He always encouraged me to follow my dreams—husband or not.”
“We don’t have to do this,” he said. “I know that the relationship between a father and daughter is important.”
“You’re a lot sweeter than I thought you were. My dad will probably understand after I tell him the full story. Sometimes I wonder how my mother hooked him when they were college. She had to have dazzled him with her brilliance, because I don’t even want to think about it happening any other way. I don’t know why my mother decided that Margaret Mitchell’s southern ideals were the way women were supposed to live.”
I Heard A Rumor Page 6
