Texas Love Song

Chapter 2

Setha refused to take an office at Machine Melendez. After all, she really was there only to offer her assistance with the advertising issue. At least it was the issue that gave her the opportunity she needed to get inside Ross Review.

While the man she needed to see was no longer associated with the publication, the advertising angle would hopefully give her the chance to get a feel for the Ross family. Basil Ross especially. She knew how it felt to be wrongly perceived by someone she’d never met.

Sighing, she curved her bare feet beneath her on the rust-colored suede sofa in Samson’s office and reviewed the portfolio he’d given her.

“Better take a stab at educating myself on this so the man won’t think I’m a complete idiot,” Setha murmured, thinking of her meeting with Khouri Ross.

She couldn’t help but laugh as she browsed the glossy artwork for the proposed Machine Melendez ads in the Ross Review. No wonder Avra Ross couldn’t work with Sam, she thought. In her brother’s defense, however, Setha knew he was only seeing dollars and not…well…sex. It was yet another testament to how well he read people. He knew what would sell. That, in addition to the fact that Machine Melendez could have easily been called Macho Melendez.

Setha smiled at the thought. While her brothers were a handful, she was happy that her father had been blessed with three sons to immerse in the world of men. Daughters would have definitely not fared well, but her dad would have certainly tried to…initiate them.

Setha harbored no jealousy or envy toward her brothers. She was quite pleased with being the “softer side” of the Melendez clan. At least, she was quite pleased with letting the men in her life think she was the softer side. They would hit the roof if they knew what she’d been up to over the past several months.

She had to admit they’d have a right to hit the roof. Only to herself could she admit that she’d gotten in way over her head. But then, wasn’t that the Melendez way? Get in deep, be so driven to succeed that it was necessary to fight to get out from beneath it all? And yet, be better for it because of the struggle?

Setha cast aside the artwork and groaned, wearily massaging a stockinged foot. It had been forty-eight hours since the night she’d literally had to run for her life. Whoever her pursuer was, he was no fool. He had seemed to anticipate her moves before she even made them.

Or, perhaps he had help? Setha shook her head to cast off the even more unsettling possibility. Nervously, she twirled a wayward onyx-colored tendril about her index finger. How had the simple act of helping someone turned into the equivalent of opening a can of worms? The more she’d dug for answers—the deeper she’d gotten—the more she’d discovered and the news wasn’t good.

Could her father have really been involved in what she’d discovered? True, most businesses as widespread and lucrative as Machine Melendez often owed its success to a foundation of ugliness but her father, Danilo, was not a ruthless man.

Resting her head on the sofa back, she shut out the voice that revised the statement. Danilo Melendez was not a ruthless father. Setha knew full well that the man’s business prowess was in fact ruthless to say the least.

She wasn’t involved in the business to the same extent as her brothers, but Setha was aware of her father’s tactics. Strong-arming landowners to obtain property for the latest, greatest Melendez facility…there were other stories—ones that put strong-arming landowners in the lightweight category.

Machine Melendez was a monster company with a history of monstrous deeds to account for its greatness. It was the brainchild of Mexican immigrant Danilo Melendez. The parts and services giant had boasted profits in the billions for the past fifteen years and multimillion-dollar balance sheets during the twenty-five prior years.

Even with the economic downturn, Machine Melendez managed to come out smelling distinctly roselike. Danilo Melendez was a savvy businessman who saw the benefit in a diverse industry. Machine Melendez was not only a parts-and-services dynamo. There were holdings in the hospitality, finance and medical industries.

For all the accolades, however, rumors of corruption remained. Such were often the grumblings of jealous competitors. There were occasions still where many seemed to hold merit.

One of the more outrageous claimed Danilo Melendez had ties to a drug cartel out of Mexico City and that he’d served as a money launderer for the organization. It had been stated that in addition to the monetary benefit, Dan’s laundering efforts were repaid in cheap labor from undocumented workers.

None of it could be proven, of course. No one rode the waves of the American dream the way Melendez had without covering any misdeeds with a host of admirable efforts…and friends.

Danilo Melendez boasted as many high-powered connections as he did business deals. Whatever negative attention the man may have attracted from the authorities, it wasn’t enough to have any formal investigations launched.

Dan’s friends were everywhere. Even in the most humble of communities. The man was well-known for sharing his very considerable wealth. Charity galas, hefty donations to public housing beautification and security efforts, child care initiatives—Machine Melendez was well loved by the people.

That was where Setha came in. Whatever her father’s true reputation, she was proud of the charitable efforts of the company and her job to promote them. The head of Melendez Corporate Charities, she took her responsibilities seriously but let her staff receive the accolades and act as the face of the organization. She had no problems taking a backseat. Her image wasn’t important. After all, in the Melendez family, if one was despised, they all were.

Spite was certainly what Avra Ross had to feel for Samson, Setha mused while scanning the purely sexist ads again. She wondered if Khouri Ross had seen them and what his impressions were. Though they’d never met, his reputation had preceded him.

He was the only son of a respected publisher. She knew Basil Ross made few moves without consulting his right hand. Word had it Khouri Ross was exceptionally good at everything he did.

Setha browsed the glossy shots and wondered whether he was truly a cooler head or one of the alpha male varieties she knew so well.

* * *

“What the hell are you doin’?” Khouri caught his sister’s arm and tugged her back from the door just as her hand folded over the lever. “You can’t just go bustin’ in on the man like that.”

“Well, what’s the problem?” Avra propped fists to her slender hips and frowned. “Obviously somethin’s up with him.”

“And it’s probably somethin’ he doesn’t want to discuss with his kids.”

Avra blinked. “You think it’s about a woman?”

“Jesus, Av.” Khouri grimaced over her bewilderment. “Some folks do mix a little pleasure into their lives from time to time, you know? The man deserves that, doesn’t he?”

Avra waited a beat and then nodded. “Yeah…yeah he does.” Their mother had died over a decade earlier and, by all accounts, Basil hadn’t looked at another woman since.

“Anyway, I don’t think this is about a woman.” Khouri’s gaze was fixed on his father’s office door then.

The admission fueled Avra’s determination again. “Well, let’s go find out what’s goin’ on.”

“Wait, Av, that’s not the way.”

His hushed words stopped her easily. The tone never failed to deter Avra from whatever course of action she’d chosen. No one could argue that Khouri Ross had a sixth sense for selecting the right course of action. His batting average was so impressive in that regard that few saw the benefit of making a move until Khouri voiced his opinion. Avra simply slapped her hands to her sides and waited.

Doris Shipman was returning to her office then. “Hey, darlins!” she called.

Khouri slanted his sister a wink. “Hey, Miss Doris, you’re just all over the place this mornin’.”

“Honey, you said it!” Doris waved one hand above her head. “I’m startin’ to feel like a chicken with my head cut off.”

“Well, you’re by far the prettiest chicken I’ve ever seen.”

Doris waved her hand again, giggling like a high school girl instead of a great-grandmother. “Don’t you even start that flattery, Khouri. I’m too busy to be swoonin’ over compliments today.”

Khouri didn’t let up and Doris clearly didn’t mind all that much. Avra leaned against the doorway of Doris’s office and observed the scene. She pitied the woman who tried to ignore her brother. It’d be interesting to bet on how long one could resist should he put the full force of his charm to work then.

“We’re sorry to be barging in on you here, Miss Doris, when you’re so busy,” Khouri was saying once talk of the new grandbaby and the fishing trip Mr. Shipman took to Lake Jackson had ended. “We just wanted to check in on Dad. After the way he raced out of the meeting…we thought there might be something we could help him with.”

The expression dimmed on Doris’s light honey-toned face, losing some of the illumination it held when talk had surrounded her family. “Oh, dear…” She fidgeted with her pearl necklace and glanced toward Basil’s door. “It’s not about business.”

“Is he all right, Miss D?” Khouri moved closer to Doris, cupping her elbow lightly.

Again, Doris angled her head to check Basil’s door. Satisfied by the level of privacy, she patted Khouri’s chest. “He’s gotten bad news about a friend, a colleague, almost like a brother really.”

“No,” Avra breathed, bolting from the doorway then.

“Av!”

Avra was already walking into her father’s office without so much as a knock to announce herself. Basil didn’t seem bothered by the intrusion. He barely turned his head toward the door when it opened.

“Daddy?” Avra rushed around the desk, falling to her knees before Basil’s chair. Her large, coffee-brown gaze searched his face almost half a minute. “Is it Mr. C, Daddy?” she asked, referring to her father’s oldest friend, Wade Cornelius.

Basil nodded, cupping Avra’s face when she gasped. “Shh…” He gestured sweetly and pulled her close as her eyes pooled with water. “Shh…”

“What happened, Daddy?” Her voice was muffled in his shirt as they embraced.

“They…they say they found him dead.”

Khouri stepped deeper into the large sunken office in the uppermost corner of the building.

“Found him?” Avra squeezed her father’s shoulder. “How? When— Do they suspect—?”

“Shh, baby, shh… They don’t know much more than that just yet.” He kissed her forehead and patted the small of her back. “I need a little more time to myself, sugar, all right?”

“Let’s go, Av,” Khouri called before she thought about asking more questions. He moved behind the desk, gently but firmly pulling Avra from Basil’s lap.

“It’s okay, Av,” he soothed while leading her to the door. Before leaving, Avra caught Khouri sending a narrowed meaningful look toward his father. Basil barely sent him a wave, before turning his chair to face the windows lining the rear wall of the room.

Avra was shaking noticeably by the time they were back out in the hall. Khouri’s soft tone and reassuring rubs to her back had her measurably calm soon after.

“Mr. C?” he queried when he and Avra were seated in the small waiting area outside the office.

Avra studied her hands smothered in one of Khouri’s and took solace in the comfort it instilled. “Wade Cornelius. He was my mentor here right out of college. He was a very respected writer—more than Pop even once they got the magazine up and running.” She smiled. “Daddy was more interested in the business end of things—left the writing to Mr. C.” Covering her face in her hands, she inhaled for a few seconds and then continued. “He was a wonderful man. I learned a lot from him.” She sniffed. “That was back when I was naive enough to think I had what it took to be a hard-nosed journalist.”

Khouri listened intently, cupping Avra’s cheek when she wept. “You gonna be okay, honey?”

“Sorry.” She sniffed again frowning at herself for losing reign over her emotions. “Didn’t mean to get sappy.”

“Stop,” Khouri whispered, using his thumb to brush a tear from her cheek. “You’re entitled. Can I do anything?”

Avra laughed amid her weeping. “Just don’t tell me you can’t take over the Melendez ad account. I’m definitely not in the mood to deal with that or anything else heavy right now,” she said, watching as her little brother graced her with one of the adorably guileless smiles that made her heart melt even when she was mad enough to spit nails at him.

“No sweat,” he said.

Avra brushed his face. “Go handle your business.” She kept her smile in place until he was gone.

* * *

Setha had a full evening planned that night. It was to take place right there before the TV in her sitting room.

“What a lucky girl I am.” She sighed, grimly eyeing the two hefty folders on the pine coffee table before her. She’d gone through the Melendez ad file several times, but would take another look once more for good measure before tomorrow morning’s meeting.

The file that held her full attention just then was the one simply labeled with a question mark. Everything inside had proven to be one big riddle after another. Setha fingered the pink message slip that had started it all.

“What now?” she asked herself. Her “stalker” had effectively ruined the meeting she had hoped to have with Raquel Ross at her club. It was a good thing she hadn’t alerted the woman beforehand, Setha thought. She wondered whether she should risk another meeting and then decided it could be a moot point after tomorrow.

The entire reason for visiting the club had been to get a sense of the Ross family—to discover what side of the fence they were really on.

Hmph. Setha leaned forward to brace her elbows to her knees. Would she even know how to make the distinction? Lately, it’d been very difficult for her to tell the good guys from the bad.

That thought made her think of her rescuer from the night in the alley. Definitely a good guy. She hadn’t even told him “thank you” when she ran from his car….

She was lost in her thoughts until something caught her ear from the news broadcast on TV. Frowning, she moved aside the folds of the chiffon robe in search for the remote which rested beneath her rump on the sofa cushions.

“Come on…” she muttered, clicking the rewind button on the DVR.

“…was found dead in his condo. Police have not determined cause of death at this time. Wade Cornelius had a well-respected reputation for fair and intelligent reporting. He will be missed. Once again, Wade Cornelius, dead at…”

“Oh, my God,” Setha breathed.

Chapter 3

“Are you sure it’s all right?” Setha was asking the next morning when she stood in the executive hall of the Ross Review.

“It’s just fine, honey,” Marta Leonard drawled, already leading the way to her boss’s office. “Khouri’s just finishing up with another matter—he’ll be along directly. Already asked that you be shown in here to wait ’til he gets back. Coffee, honey?”

“Oh, uh…no, no, thank you. I’m fine.” Setha put down her things and smiled.

When Marta was gone, Setha regretted turning down the coffee but knew it was for the best. That indulgence would definitely be a mistake since her stomach was already a barrel of nerves.

Following the news broadcast on Wade Cornelius’s death, she needed something different to focus on—to settle her mind. Reviewing more of the lurid shots for the proposed Melendez ads wasn’t the ticket. Instead, she decided to do some research on her new business associate. As a result, her nerves rewound again quite nicely.

The second eldest and only son in a family of four kids, Khouri Ross had a reputation that could epitomize grace under fire. He was known for being wickedly intelligent, very soft-spoken. It was rumored that, when he walked into a meeting, folks waited for his input and tended to agree. Additionally, and probably the asset which fueled the power of the others, were the looks encasing the package.

And what a package. Setha recalled the pictures she’d uncovered. The man was definitely…to-die-for. Tall, he had the sort of lean powerful frame that made any piece of clothing look good. Deep-set eyes, she couldn’t make out the color only that they were bright and striking. Then there was the strong jaw and cleft chin… She wondered if the pictures did him justice?

She’d lived among gorgeous men all her life. It went without saying that she was well aware how difficult they could be if they were vain enough. If Khouri Ross gave her half the grief her brothers were capable of, this business association would be yet another level of hell in her once quiet and easy life.

Shaking off what she could of her nervousness, Setha began a stroll of the office. Smoothing clammy hands across the seat of her putty-colored low-rise skirt, she more closely observed her surroundings. Sadly, the stroll did little to settle her nerves.

On top of to-die-for handsome, intelligent and respected, she could also add “accomplished” to the list. The mahogany shelving which lined the walls abounded with plaques, trophies and pictures of Khouri Ross accepting awards…and looking very nice while he did it.

What really caught her eyes though were the magazine covers. How had this man escaped her radar? Because you’re a party-dodging workaholic who’ll trust a man to friendship but nothing more.

Setha blinked. “Shut up,” she told the silent, responding voice. Stepping closer to the center shelf, she took a closer look at one of the magazine covers. In actuality, it was a calendar cover. Some sort of eligible bachelor thing for one of the city’s numerous big-name charities. She only recognized it because two of her brothers were in it. Setha was more interested in scanning Khouri Ross’s page.

Obviously the calendar had little to do with assisting one in finding the day’s date. Setha’s full mouth curved into a knowing smile, observing the sexy beefcakes inside—her brothers excluded. She gave a playful grimace at their photos and flipped to August and Khouri’s shot.

Every entry was created as a centerfold and Setha took great pleasure in extending the sheet to its full length. She was letting out a low whistle in reference to the devastating image before her eyes, when the life-size version walked through the door.

Khouri softly cleared his throat.

The low rumbling did the trick.

The calendar fell from suddenly weak fingers when Setha spotted the man twenty feet across the room. Her charcoal-black stare widened in tandem to her mouth forming a larger O.

“Sorry.” She blinked, stopping to collect the calendar and put it back in its place.

“Damn,” she whispered when it fell and she stopped again to grab it. Expelling a slow breath, she set it back on the shelf a bit more deliberately.

Khouri watched, smiling more broadly after her curse. She stood and was walking toward him with her hand outstretched when he began to frown.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Ross.” Setha was offering her hand while introducing herself. The frown he wore was hard to miss.

“I’m sorry.” She glanced awkwardly across her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to go through your things.”

Slowly, very slowly, Khouri shook himself out of his stupor. “No, it—it’s all right.” He took the hand she offered.

“Thank you—” she let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding “—for, um, taking the meeting.” Dammit, Seth, get a hold of yourself! When he just stood there staring, she swallowed and wondered whether he’d mind her doing the same. His pictures didn’t do him justice. No sirree, they didn’t do him justice at all.

* * *

Taking Setha Melendez’s lead, Khouri swallowed as well and with no small effort. He even managed a slight nod, while waving toward the office living area. “Would you like to sit?”

Nodding, Setha flexed her hand a bit once he’d released it from his firm grip. She was taking her place in one of the deep merlot-colored armchairs before the desk when she noticed he’d moved to the living area and was waiting for her to join him there. She batted at a loose wavy tendril that had slipped from her coiffure and collected her things before meeting him across the room. He was standing near a long black sofa, so she took that as her cue to sit there.

Remember to blink, she told herself, praying he’d start first. Her mind was too busy making mental images of him to formulate words.

“Looks like we’ve got some work ahead of us.”

“Yes.” She practically breathed the word in response to his observation. She blinked again, reminding herself that she didn’t want the man to think she was a total idiot. Putting her mind to the task at hand, she reached over to grab the folder she’d been reviewing over the last several days.

“Looks like your sister and my brother got a lot of work done.”

“And didn’t come up with much.”

She seasoned her shrug with a smirk. “I can tell they put a lot of effort into it.”

Khouri’s shoulder barely rose beneath the walnut-brown shirt and matching suit coat he wore. “A lot of effort may’ve gone in but a lot of crap came out.”

Setha raised a brow while observing the glossy photo she held. “You don’t agree that sex sells?”

He only spared a second’s glance at the photo before his uncommon hazel eyes returned to her face. “Only if it’s good sex,” he said.

The glossy fell from Setha’s fingers that had once again gone weak.

Khouri bent to retrieve it. Setha fought the urge to shift in her spot as his bright gaze made an astute trek along the length of her legs below the uneven hemline of her skirt.

“So how should we begin this?” she asked once he’d straightened.

Khouri passed her the photo. “That file you’re holding?” he prompted and waited for her nod. He cocked his head toward his desk. “Start by tossin’ it in the wastebasket.”

Setha threw back her head and laughed. Loudly.

“Does your sister know how much you hate her work?” Setha relaxed a bit more on the sofa.

Khouri leaned back, crossing his legs at the ankles. “She hates it herself, so no harm done.”