The Ladies of TLC

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MILLS & BOON

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To all my readers who have been so supportive

over the years. I thank each and every one of you

from the bottom of my heart.

Donna Hill

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

Chapter 1

T onight would change her life. She knew it. Anticipation tingled in Savannah’s veins. Had anyone asked her years earlier if she would ever be able to lead a double life, lie to family, friends and her husband about what she did in her spare time, she would have laughed in their faces. She spun her office chair away from her computer screen toward the ringing multiline phone.

“Billings and Tate, Attorneys-at-Law, Savannah Fields speaking.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” came the always chirpy voice.

“Hey, Mom.” Savannah noticed the flashing blip on her computer screen from the corner of her eye, indicating a new e-mail. “What’s up?” she asked as she opened the e-mail and read the note from her boss, Richard Billings. He needed a case file pulled to prepare for court. Savannah switched the call to her headset and walked to the file cabinet.

“I just wanted to remind you about the meeting tonight.”

“I’ll be there. I told Blake we were having our monthly pep meeting.”

Mother and daughter chuckled.

“If Blake only knew what TLC really was,” Claudia said.

“He’d have a fit.” Savannah imagined the expression of appalled disbelief on her husband’s face.

To the casual observer Savannah Fields was a highly paid paralegal for a small but busy corporate law firm in midtown Manhattan and married to Blake Fields, the very sexy architect and builder of upscale apartment complexes and office buildings. They lived a solid, upper-class lifestyle and enjoyed all of its perks. But Savannah, her mother and two dozen more New York women had a life that not even their closest friends would ever suspect.

“Well, tonight is important so try to get there early. I don’t want you to miss out on anything and I want a good seat.”

Savannah flipped through the files until she located the one she was looking for, then pushed the metal drawer shut. “You want me to pick you up?”

“No, I’ll take my car.”

“See you later, Mom, and no speeding,” she warned. Claudia Martin was notorious for her lead foot.

Claudia scoffed at the reprimand. “I’ll try.”

“If you get there before I do, save me a seat. Gotta go. Love you.” She smacked kisses into the phone before disconnecting the call.

“Savannah…”

She looked up into the deep-set green eyes of her boss, who was a dead ringer for an older version of the actor Keanu Reeves.

“Hey, Richard. I have that file for you.” She reached for it on her desk and handed it over.

“Thanks. Look, I know this is short notice but I’m going to need you to stay a little longer tonight.”

Her stomach knotted. “Tonight!” Her normally even timbre rose two octaves as she jerked her neck to the side.

Richard held up his hands and inadvertently took a step back. His friend and business partner Jack Tate had just been talking about a book by playwright and actor Tyler Perry— Don’t Make a Black Woman Take Off Her Earrings. He might not be up on all the black vernacular, but he got the sense that if Savannah took off her earrings at this precise moment he was in trouble.

“You know you will be paid well for the time. But I really need your help preparing for Monday.”

Savannah pursed her lips and folded her arms beneath her C-cup breasts.

“Richard,” she said, assuming her mother tone, “how many times have we been through this?” She pinched her lips and titled her head to the side.

Richard’s hopeful expression turned sheepish. “I—”

She threw up her hand, palm facing Richard. “Don’t answer. It was a rhetorical question. You can’t keep waiting until the last minute. I know you’re a brilliant attorney, which I hope to aspire to one day. But in the meantime I have a life, which begins promptly at 5:01 p.m.” Her right brow rose to emphasize her point.

Richard took the well-deserved tongue lashing. They’d had this conversation at least once every couple of months for the past five years that they’d worked together. Savannah would chew him out, he took it and eventually she would help him out.

Any other time her “Richard traumas,” which she’d dubbed these episodes, wouldn’t be more than a minor annoyance, but today was different. However, she also knew that no matter what, Richard never asked her to do anything if he didn’t really need her help—which was a lot.

Savannah blew out a breath. It was going to be a long night, but she could swing it.

“Fine,” she conceded as they both knew she would. “But I’m warning you, I’m leaving at 7:00 p.m. sharp. And if you’re not done then you explain to your client why he’s going to jail.”

Richard grinned, the dimple in his left cheek flashing. “Fair enough.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” she grumbled, and reached for the ringing phone while waving Richard away.

“Billings and Tate…”

“Hey, baby.”

Savannah’s insides did a slow sensuous dance. Her eyes darkened and a warm smile moved languidly across her mouth.

“Hey, baby, yourself.” She cuddled the phone close to her. “How’s everything?”

“Busy as usual,” Blake said with a light chuckle.

Savannah and Blake had been married for six years. Most people thought they were still newlyweds. Savannah adored her husband. He was the man she’d dreamed about since she was a little girl and when they met at an out of the way lounge in the West Village she knew that dreams did come true.

The attraction between them from the very first night was comparable to what authors who write romance novels call “hot and instantaneous.” Blake wasn’t just good-looking—Blake Fields was f-i-n-e, with a capital F. It always amazed her that she was the one who landed him. She knew she was no showstopper. Actually she was quite ordinary looking and had to watch her weight with the diligence of a priest trying to save souls—it was an unending job. But she cleaned up well, as she would tell herself when she looked in the mirror. She knew all the makeup tricks and what clothes complemented her solid frame. More often than not, many people mistook her for Nia Long. Not to mention that Savannah could make Blake Fields see heaven when they made love.

“Busy is good,” she said in response to his statement.

“I think I’m going to have some exciting news to share but I don’t want to be premature.”

Savannah grew jumpy with excitement. “You know I hate secrets,” she pleaded, although she kept plenty herself. “Can’t you at least give me a hint?”

“Okay, you beat it out of me.” He cleared his throat. “Remember I told you about the housing-complex deal that was on the table?”

“Yes.” Her pulse kicked up a notch and she held her breath. The housing complex would revitalize downtown Brooklyn and was touted to be the biggest single development in decades in the area.

“W-ell…” He drew out the word.

“Come on Blake,” Savannah begged.

“We won the bid and they love my design.”

“Blake!” she squealed, and jumped up from her seat. “Oh, my goodness, that’s incredible. I knew you could do it, baby.”

Blake laughed deep in his throat. “I am sailing! This is major. This project is so high profile. I’m going to be on the map for good.”

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, breaking down each word.

“This calls for a celebration. I thought we could go out tonight.”

The wheels of elation came to a grinding halt.

“Tonight?” she croaked.

“Yeah.” He paused. “Oh, you have that thing tonight.”

She heard the disappointment in his voice. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think. There was no getting around missing the meeting at TLC, not to mention the extra time she would have to spend at work.

“Look, I’ll be finished by nine, nine-thirty. It’s Friday. Let’s go for a late dinner and spend the day in bed tomorrow.”

“Hmm, I like the sound of that already,” he said, perking right up. “I’ll make reservations at The Cabaret and I’ll leave tomorrow in your very capable hands.”

“Perfect,” she purred into the phone. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant no later than ten.”

“Can’t wait. I’ve been aching for you all day,” Blake said, his voice growing thick.

Savannah squirmed in her seat and licked her lips. “I’ll make it worth your while,” she cooed.

“I intend to hold you to that. See you tonight.”

“Love you,” she whispered.

“Love you right back.”

Slowly Savannah hung up the phone. Well, she certainly had her day cut out for her.

Chapter 2

B lake hung up the phone just as his assistant Jasmine poked her head in the partially open door.

“Blake, they’re waiting for you in the conference room.”

“Thanks, J. I’ll be right there.” He took his jacket from the back of his chair and put it on as he walked out. Jasmine handed him a manila folder as he passed her desk.

This meeting would be brief, Blake mused as he continued down the short hallway. Tristan Montgomery said she wanted to confirm some dates. That was something that could have easily been taken care of on the phone, but Ms. Montgomery never missed an opportunity to visit his office under one pretext or another.

“Sorry for the wait,” he said, opening the door and stepping right inside. He shook hands with Tristan and then her latest assistant. As usual Tristan was dressed to exploit all of her attributes. Today it was a burnt orange number that dipped a little too low for nine to five.

“Not a problem,” Tristan said. “Jasmine made us very comfortable.” She let her eyes wander up and down his body.

Blake cleared his throat and smoothed down his tie as he sat. “So what do you need clarified, Ms. Montgomery?”

She pouted. “Please, Blake, we’re in bed together, so to speak. You can at least call me Tristan.” She rocked him with her expensive smile.

Blake sidestepped the comment and straightened his tie again. He opened the folder that Jasmine had given him before glancing up and across the hardwood table. Tristan was staring at him as if he were a rare delicacy that had been set on the table for lunch. He wanted to tug his tie off. It was suddenly cutting off his circulation. Being in the same room with Tristan Montgomery always did that to him.

She was one of the few black elite that was born into money. Her late father, Graham Montgomery built his fortune in the real-estate game. He’d started off by renting apartments for a small agency. Learning everything he could about investment property, he bought his first building at the age of twenty-five. Upon his untimely death at sixty-two, Graham Montgomery was a billionaire with property dotting across the country, from high-rise office buildings to luxury condos and strip malls. Before his death he started to stake a claim on one of the Hawaiian Islands. With his passing, his only child inherited it all.

“Uh, based on the rollout schedule I don’t anticipate any problems,” Blake said, keeping the conversation on track and his eyes on the documents in front of him.

Tristan slowly rose from her seat and rounded the table like a panther on the prowl until she stood slightly behind him. She placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned down to read the notes in front of him. Her left breast brushed his shoulder.

Blake tugged at his tie. “I was pretty sure that Jasmine gave you a copy,” he said, trying to keep his voice light.

“You know how it is with copies…”

He was forced to look up at her. “No, actually I don’t.”

Tristan grinned and eased back. “They’re nothing like the real thing,” she said as she returned to her seat with the folder in her hand. She made show of reviewing the timeline.

“Were there any questions that you had in particular?”

“Actually, yes.” She flipped the folder shut. “With you being so busy with the design and overseeing construction, when will you ever have any free time?”

“Excuse me?” He couldn’t believe that she went there—and in front of someone else. Maybe this was all some kind of game, a test of some sort.

“You know the old saying—all work and no play…”

“I’m sure I’ll find time to relax. My main priority at the moment is getting this job up and running. That’s it,” he added, looking her deep in the eyes.

She lifted her chin ever so slightly. “I’m sure you have everything under control. But since it’s my money that is financing it, I want to make sure that every i is dotted and every t is crossed.”

“Of course. I can assure you that there is nothing to worry about.” He glanced from one woman to the other then stood, hoping she would get the hint. “Is there anything else that we need to discuss?”

“Yes, your availability next week.”

He frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I’m hosting a dinner party at my penthouse next week.” She picked up her clutch purse from the table. “There are several people I want you to meet, potential clients.”

“Sounds wonderful. Both me and my wife, Savannah, love dinner parties.” He reached across the table, snatched up the folder and tucked it beneath his arm.

Her eyes tightened just a hint. “I’ll be sure to get all the details to Jasmine.”

“Great. I’ll walk you both to the elevator.” He held the door open for her. When she passed she ran her hand along the sleeve of his suit jacket.

“Armani?”

Blake swallowed. “Yes.”

She grinned, her hazel eyes darkened. “I can always tell. You’re a man with good taste. I like that in a man.” She brushed by him and walked out.

Once they were gone, Blake released his long breath of tension. He stopped at Jasmine’s desk. “Listen, the next time that woman comes here you make sure you buzz me after five minutes.”

Jasmine tried not to laugh. “Don’t tell me she hit on you.”

“I won’t.” He walked off to his office.

Once inside the safety of his own space, he took his tie off completely. Tristan was a gorgeous woman there was no doubt about that. And he knew a come on when he saw one. In all the years of his marriage he had never strayed or contemplated straying. He was more than happy with Savannah and he didn’t need the distraction of a hot socialite to ruin his track record. He certainly hoped that Ms. Montgomery stayed on her side of the dividing line. Mixing business with pleasure could bring nothing but trouble.

He reached for the phone to make reservations for dinner. A pleasant dinner with his wife and a long night of good loving was just the thing he needed to dislodge the memory of Tristan’s lush body brushing up against his.

Just as he finished with his phone call and had his reservation confirmed for ten, his close friend and business partner, Steven Long, knocked on the door.

“Come in.” He hung up the phone. “Hey, man.”

“Hey, yourself.” He stepped inside. “I got a whiff of Ms. Hotstuff.” He chuckled. “What brings her to our neck of the woods again?”

“Nothing that couldn’t have been handled on the phone. She claimed she wanted to go over the rollout schedule.”

“But what she really wanted was to roll you out.” He plopped down in a chair opposite Blake.

“Very funny.”

“But true. That woman has a thing for you, man. Every time you step into the room her eyes light up.”

Blake grimaced. “I’m a married man.”

“I really don’t think she cares.”

“Is it that obvious that she’s…”

“I’ll put it this way, even Stevie Wonder could see it.”

Blake shook his head. “I’m trying to keep this all on the up and up. The last thing I need is to get our wires crossed.”

“Like I said, she doesn’t care. But, hey, if you don’t want it feel free to send her in my direction. I sure as hell wouldn’t throw her out of bed.”

Steve was a notorious hound from back in their college days at Moorehouse University. He’d slowed down just a little when they headed off to MIT for grad school where they received their engineering and architectural degrees, but Steven still needed a secretary to keep up with the women he dated. Not much had changed in the years since. It totally escaped Blake why Tristan had latched on to him and not Steven who was single and always available.

“She’s having some kind of gathering at her penthouse next week.”

“You know how I love hotsy-totsy parties,” he joked.

“Yeah, anyway, she’s supposed to send over the information to Jasmine. Said she has some people she wants me to meet—potential business.”

Steven nodded. “Cool. I’ll pencil her in. Wonder if she is going to have any of her rich, single girlfriends around.”

Blake held up his hand. “Don’t even think about it. I don’t want to screw up this deal when some fling of yours goes bad—as they tend to do.”

Steven held his hand to his chest. “You wound me, dawg. Can I help it if I have a short attention span and the ladies can’t take goodbye for an answer?”

“Whatever. Just don’t mess this up.”

“I don’t think it’s me you have to worry about. Ms. Thing isn’t one to take no for an answer and sooner or later she’s gonna want yours.”

Blake shot him a look of disregard but the truth of the matter was that Steven was right.

Chapter 3

S avannah’s three-inch heels clicked like shotgun fire against the concrete of the underground employee parking lot. Her navy blue skirt suit with the pristine white tank top and a strand of real pearls around her slender neck gave her the appearance of the legal eagle she could easily become.

For a woman of only five foot five she had a long stride. She swore it came from her devout adherence to Pilates. She believed she could use all the help she could get in keeping her weight under control and giving her compact body more of a sleek and lean appearance. And as she had come to discover since becoming a member of TLC, looks were definitely deceiving.

She used her remote to disengage the alarm on her black SUV and hopped up inside. The garage had a few cars left of those still burning the after-hour oil. She checked the dashboard clock against her watch—seven-forty. She cussed under her breath and put the SUV in gear, her skirt rising up her thighs to a provocative level. She’d wound up staying longer than she’d planned and now she would really have to make double-time.

Quickly maneuvering around pillars and yellow directional arrows, she used her monthly pass card and zipped up the exit ramp and out into the approaching twilight. As she made her way to the FDR she silently prayed that traffic would be light. She entered the FDR from 34th street and went north. Thankfully there was an open lane and she grinned as she watched the speedometer climb to 70 mph. At that pace she’d reach Harlem in about fifteen minutes.

In record time, she pulled onto the street that housed TLC headquarters, which was tucked away in an upscale brownstone directly across the street from the Pause for Men day spa. If she wasn’t a married woman she could certainly spend her free time man watching with all the hotties that came in and out of there. Of course, parking was at a premium and it took her another five minutes to find a spot a block away.

Savannah checked in at reception, showing her ID, and then went upstairs to where the meeting was being held.

The main room was buzzing with chatter from the members of TLC who were using the time to catch up and share stories before the formal meeting began. Savannah waved to Leslie and Dina, two of the women she recognized. They were both high up in the ranking, having been part of TLC for about five years. As a result they got the best assignments. Savannah’s goal was to one day be on par with both of them.

She walked over to the refreshment table and poured herself a cup of fruit punch just as Claudia came up behind her.

“I was wondering when you were going to get here.”

Savannah turned to see her mother. As always Claudia Martin was ready for her close-up. Claudia, unlike Savannah was tall and still slender. Her skin was butter soft, the color of warm honey and so flawless the only makeup she ever used was lipstick and mascara. Both mother and daughter loved clothes by St. John and Claudia wore hers well. Tonight she chose a red jersey sheath with a matching jacket. Gold was her accessory.

Savannah leaned up and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Richard had a last-minute project.”

Claudia made a face. “What else is new? One of these days you need to tell him just where he can go.”

“Mom!” Savannah scoffed and bit back a laugh. “He’s my boss and it’s my job.”

Claudia waved off the comment. “Humph.”

“Ladies, if everyone could take their seats we’re ready to get started,” Leslie announced from the small podium.

Claudia grabbed Savannah by the arm and hustled her to the front. “I got us a spot on the antique loveseat.”

The main room or ballroom of the brownstone was set up like an English parlor, with heavily decorated seating in a variety of brocades and velvets, crystal chandeliers, mahogany tables, gilded mirrors and a marble fireplace. It was like stepping back in time.

Savannah and Claudia took their seats. After several moments of shuffling and jockeying, the rest of the women found seats and settled down. As Savannah surveyed the assemblage she was still intrigued by the array of women who made up TLC—everything from business executives to fashion models, housewives to single mothers and in all shapes, sizes and nationalities. To everyone outside of the elite organization TLC meant Tender Loving Care body products and its members were the equivalent of Avon or Amway sales reps. They were far from it.

“The June meeting of The Ladies Cartel will now come to order,” Leslie announced. “We have a great deal to cover tonight—old business and new assignments.”

Claudia squeezed Savannah’s hand with anticipation. Savannah felt the rush of adrenaline. If she was lucky she would get her first assignment. She’d only been with the organization for a little under a year but in that time she’d made great strides in learning the intricacies of the Cartel’s operation; self-defense techniques, surveillance equipment and how to shoot a gun if necessary. She’d been recruited by her mother and she couldn’t have been more stunned than if her mother announced that she was indeed Santa Claus.