by Donna Hill
“Thank you, Lin.”
She moved to stand in front of him. She looked up into his eyes. “I don’t mean to pry, Mr. Montgomery, but for weeks now you haven’t been yourself. You seem sad and distant, which is so unlike you.” She lowered her gaze for a moment, then looked back at him. “I hope that this evening will bring your smile back.”
Before he could respond she left the room and hurried downstairs. For a moment, Claude was completely stunned. Had his emotions been that obvious? He always prided himself on keeping his feelings hidden deep beneath the surface. He glanced at his image in the mirror. He was more determined than ever to make this evening work.
Seated in the plush interior of the limo, he smiled with pleasure. When Jessica reiterated that TPS was a classy organization she wasn’t kidding. The limo was fully equipped and the driver was professional yet attentive. If this was any indication as to what the rest of the evening would be like, perhaps he was in for a treat.
Grace lived about forty minutes away in Parkchester. As they drew closer to her home, Claude actually grew nervous. Even though he’d seen her pictures, got the inside story of her life and accomplishments and watched her interview, it was still equivalent to a blind date. He hadn’t been on one of those since a dare in college, and that turned out to be an awful experience. He rubbed his damp palms together. Just relax, he kept reminding himself—she’s probably just as nervous as he was.
Shortly, the car slowed onto Grace’s block, which was composed of modest single-family homes with long driveways and manicured lawns on a tree-lined street. From what he knew of Grace, this setting was what he would have expected. He smiled.
The driver parked at the curb and came out to open his door.
“Thank you. We should be right out.”
“Take your time, sir. The drive is not that long.”
Claude nodded. He slipped his suit jacket back on as he stepped out of the car. The air had cooled considerably as the days had already begun to grow shorter. Before long summer would come to an end and the rush of the holiday season would be upon them. He glanced up for a moment before walking down the path to the front door. The sky was clear. The whites of the clouds looked like a portrait against the night sky. A sprinkling of stars beyond the half moon made the perfect picture. Maybe it was all a sign of good things to come. He stepped up to the front door and rang the bell. He could hear the soft chimes reverberate inside the house. Moments later, Grace opened the door with such a smile of welcome that she made you feel that you’d come home after a long time.
She extended both hands and covered his. “It is so good to meet you in person.”
Grace Freeman was thinner than her video, with skin the color of golden sand, hazel eyes etched with long, dark lashes and thick, naturally wavy ink-black hair that framed her angular face and fell softly to her shoulders. Her name suited her. She had the regal bearing of royalty but without the pomp and circumstance.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you face to face, as well.”
She smiled even brighter. “Please come in. Do we have time?”
“The driver assured me that the ride is short.”
“Great. Come on in. I’ll give you the ten-cent tour.” Her laughter sounded like music, and the tension that had tightened the center of his chest began to loosen.
He followed her inside and stepped down into the foyer which was rich and cozy with color and flowers and books. Logs burned in the fireplace and the soft lighting gave the space an intimate feel.
“Did you have any trouble finding the house?” she asked.
“No not at all. You have a wonderful home.”
“Thank you. If I could just decorate with books I would be very happy,” she said. “It’s my passion, as you can tell.”
“I noticed. But I would be very concerned about a writer who wasn’t in love with books.”
She laughed. “You definitely have a point. Right through here is the dining room, small but functional.” They walked through it, turned a small corner and came into the kitchen.
Where her living and dining rooms were traditional in feel, her kitchen was the complete opposite. It was ultra modern, totally high tech, all white with stainless steel appliances and accessories along with an island counter for cooking and a built-in wok and working sink. Her oven was restaurant size, accompanied by two matching microwaves and an array of blenders and steamers. Sparkling pots hung from ceiling racks, and a corner curio was lined with cookbooks and spices.
“I take it your other passion is cooking,” he teased.
“Oh, can you tell?”
They laughed.
“Books and food. That’s my world.”
“I’m sure it’s more than that.”
She angled her head to the side and looked at him.
“I suppose it is,” she conceded as if processing the information for the very first time. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks, I’m fine.”
“Then I’ll get my coat and we can go.” She led him back to the front.
“I just have to run upstairs. I’ll be right down.”
“Take your time.” He sat down on the couch and picked up one of her novels from the coffee table. Horizons by Grace Freeman. He turned it to the back and read the blurb. It was a novel about a small town in the West in the late 1800s totally populated by blacks. It was touted by The New York Times, USA Today and The Washington Post as a brilliant look at a little-known fact of American history. Right next to it was a paperback romance also bearing her name.
Claude flicked a brow in admiration. Her writing was as eclectic as her living space.
“Ready.” She had her purse in her hand and her evening shawl draped over her arm.
He returned the book to the table and stood.
“Are you a romance reader?” she asked, with a sparkle in her eyes.
“Uh, can’t say that I am.” He chuckled.
“Most men would be surprised at how good they actually are.”
“Hmm. What would my boys think if they saw me reading a…what do they call them…oh yeah, bodice rippers.”
She laughed out loud. “They’d think it took a real man to read a romance.”
“Yeah, after they stopped laughing.”
“You’re probably right.”
He helped her adjust her shawl across her shoulders and then reached around her to open the door. He caught a whiff of her scent and with it a rush of memories. It was the same perfume that Melanie wore. It rocked him. Seeped down through his pores and streamed through his blood.
“Are you okay?”
He looked and Grace was staring at him. He blinked. Tried to push the soft, sensual scent away, but it came closer and touched his hand.
“Claude?”
“Oh.” He shook his head and forced a smile.
“Sorry. Thought I forgot something.”
She frowned slightly. “Did you?”
“No. I didn’t forget.”
“Okay. Can you pull the door shut? It slam locks.”
He did as asked and walked beside her to the car and wondered how he would get through the rest of the evening.
In the close quarters of the car the scent of her perfume clouded his head. While they drove Grace talked about her career as an author, her travels and the fascinating people she’d met and, oddly enough, her shyness.
The gentle cadence of her voice untied the knots in his gut and helped to stem the tide of images of Melanie’s body wrapped around his, her smile, electricity and the sensation of coming alive again.
They arrived at Madame X on Houston Street in Manhattan and walked through the rooms to where the “Lady Jane’s Salon”—a live reading session with romance authors—was already under way. After giving their names, they were escorted to their table and a hostess took their orders while they listened to the erotic reading.
The atmosphere was charged with laughter and energy and Claude couldn’t help but get caug
ht up in it. This was definitely a first for him. The sultry décor, red velvet couches, draperies and lounge chairs gave the space an elegant decadence.
“So this is what you write?” he asked with a smile, getting comfortable on the couch where they’d been seated.
She nodded. “Not quite as steamy, but in the ballpark. And before you ask—no, none of my characters are me. I’m nowhere near as interesting.”
The waitress arrived with their drinks and took their orders for appetizers. Jessica had set them up to have a late dinner at Karuma Zushi on the East Side. The renowned Japanese restaurant was known for flying in the fish from Japan along with special Japanese ingredients. People traveled from far and wide to sample the chef’s omakase, which was one hundred dollars a plate.
Claude raised his glass. “To a wonderful evening.”
Grace touched her glass to his. “To new friends.”
They sipped their drinks. The hostess and one of the founding authors of Lady Jane’s Salon, Leanna Renee Hieber, approached the mic.
“That was Gwynne Forster, everyone. Let’s give her another round of applause.” She waited until the applause died down. “Tonight we have a surprise guest to read for us. Even she will be surprised. Please join me in welcoming to the stage Ms. Grace Freeman!”
Grace’s mouth opened but no words came out. Claude was just as stunned but, even more, he was amused. “Don’t just sit there,” he said as he leaned across the table. “Get on up there and wow the crowd.”
“I’m totally unprepared,” she said in a loud whisper.
“Come on and let me see you do your thing.”
Grace took a deep breath and willed herself up from the seat. The applause grew until she reached the stage. Leanna was grinning as if she’d won something. She leaned close to Grace and kissed her cheek, then whispered in her ear. “Melanie asked me to do her this favor. I have your book on the stand by the mic.”
Grace stood in front of the mic and looked into the packed room. She thanked everyone and explained how she wasn’t prepared for this but she would find a section to read.
Claude leaned back and watched her, totally impressed with her skill and ease in front of a crowd. The portion she read from her romance was racy but not quite as over the top as the previous writer.
When she was done she returned to her seat to the sound of applause and foot stomping. She slid back into her seat next to Claude.
“You were fantastic,” he said.
“Thanks.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe that happened or that the Society would arrange for something like this.”
“I kinda liked it. Almost made me want to go out and buy a romance novel.”
She tossed her head back and laughed.
Dinner at Karuma Zushi was beyond explanation. They were waited on hand and foot. Every wish was anticipated. The food was incredible, and the service and the atmosphere were impeccable.
On the ride home they laughed and talked about their unconventional evening and how much they had enjoyed the two extremes. It was well after midnight when the limo pulled up in front of Grace’s home.
The driver came around and opened the door. Grace and Claude got out and he walked her to the front door.
“I hope you enjoyed yourself tonight,” Grace said as she stood framed in the doorway.
“I did,” he said quietly then slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks.
“I’m going to be honest,” she said.
He looked into her eyes.
“I think you’re great. You have an exciting life. But I don’t think we…you and I…are the connection we’re looking for. At least not long term.”
“Why…I thought—”
She held up her hand to stem the flow of his explanation. “Whoever she is, she’s important to you,” she said softly. “And it’s okay.” She touched his hand. “It’s in your eyes. A woman knows these things.”
“I don’t know what to say…”
“Say you’ll call from time to time or whenever you get things settled with her.”
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You’re fabulous,” he said and meant it. “And I think I’m going to pick up your romance novel.”
She tossed her head back and laughed and wagged a finger at him. “A good romance is just the medicine you need.”
He took her hands. “Thank you, Grace, for tonight, for understanding, for sending me on my way.”
“I’m happy that we had the chance to meet. Perhaps at another time in each of our lives things would have been different.” She shrugged lightly.
He nodded. “Good night, Grace.”
“Good night.”
He turned and went down the stairs.
“Don’t forget to post your review on Amazon,” she called out. That warm laughter in her voice followed him down the steps.
He glanced over his shoulder. “I will.”
On the ride back home in the limo, Claude went over the night in his head. He was sure that he’d been attentive and acted like a gentleman and he’d truly enjoyed the evening. Grace was a wonderful woman. What had been the tip-off to her that his mind and heart were elsewhere? Even Lin made reference that he hadn’t been himself.
As he prepared for bed he knew that part of what was holding him back not only from Grace but from living life to its fullest was a freak accident. Right up to today he still remembered getting the call, not understanding what was taking Regina so long to get to the church. The guests were getting restless. So it made no sense to him what the officer on the phone was saying. Accident. Truck. Regina. Fatal. Sorry.
He crawled under the covers. The sheets were cool against his skin. He buried his feelings when he buried Regina. That was how he was able to survive, to move from one day to the next. Until he grew weary of the emptiness.
He turned out the bedside lamp and rolled onto his left side. He’d hoped that when he found someone it would be gradual, building from an attraction, to friendship, to love. That was the way it had happened with him and Regina. He never expected Melanie. She went against the way he’d planned it in his head and he couldn’t deal with that. Not to mention that she, in essence, worked for him.
How twisted was that? Not to mention that no matter what he may be feeling or thinking, it was all business to Melanie.
He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. Was she with Rafe right now?
Chapter 13
Melanie barely slept a wink. Throughout the night her dreams were plagued with images of Claude and Grace. Her business side hoped that the evening was wonderful for the both of them. But Melanie the woman hoped that it was a flop.
She couldn’t remember ever being in such an awful position. This was so unlike her not to have total clarity in her life. She always knew what she wanted and how she was going to get it, but from the moment she’d met Claude, all things rational went out the window and it was making her crazy. This was the kind of thing that happened in novels and chick flicks, not to her.
To compound the problem her sense of judgment had gone out the window, as well. She’d been wrong about everything lately, particularly about Rafe Lawson and Claude Montgomery. Neither of them had been what she’d expected and had shot her theories about them straight to hell. What did that say about her ability to do her job, to find the right matches, if she could be so utterly wrong in her own life?
Maybe what she needed was to get away for a little while and gain some perspective. But with the planning of the party in full swing, now wasn’t the time. Somehow she’d have to work her way through it.
At least the house was quiet today. Jessica was at her apartment in town. Veronica had a date, Vincent and Cherise were away for the weekend and Evan was off until Monday. Melanie was in the big sprawling house alone.
She wandered downstairs and went to retrieve the paper from the front steps, then went to the kitchen to fix a pot of coffee. While the coffee perked she flipped through the paper, stopping
to read the headlines.
She poured her coffee and sipped thoughtfully. Today was a new day, she determined. What was done was done. It was time to move on. She snapped the paper closed and took her coffee to her office. Just as she sat down at her desk, the business line rang. She started to let it go to voicemail but decided to answer just before the message came on.
“Hello?”
There was a moment of hesitation. “Hello. This is Claude Montgomery.”
Her heart thumped. “Good morning,” she said, pushing cheer and enthusiasm into her voice.
“Sorry to call on the weekend, but I’ll be leaving to go back to D.C. Sunday night. I, uh, know that Veronica was anxious to hear what happened last night.”
“Oh.” Going back to D.C. “Everyone is off today. I’m actually here alone. How did it go?”
“Everything that you all did was wonderful. No complaints. Grace is…a fabulous woman.”
She could hear the “but” coming and almost welcomed it.
“We both decided that…well she decided that it wasn’t going to work.”
There was an immediate sense of relief, almost exultation, which she hid behind a barrage of words. “Sometimes even our best efforts don’t always work the first time. I know that Veronica will want to speak with you more in-depth about what we could have done better,” she rambled on until he cut her off.
“It wasn’t anything that The Society did or didn’t do. I don’t want you to think that at all. It’s…it’s me. I thought this was something that I wanted but maybe I’m not as ready for commitment as much as I thought I was.”
Her shoulders slumped. Whatever faint inkling of hope she’d harbored was dissolving with every beat of her heart. “I see.”
“So, I want to thank you for everything. For trying. I don’t see what sense it makes to drag this out and put Dayna through this with probably the same outcome.”
“You don’t know that,” she said, suddenly desperate—not to hold onto a client but to not let Claude go. Even if he was with another woman, she still, in some weird way, had him in her life. “Why don’t we…talk about this some more before you make a final decision?”
