Heart’s Reward

Heart’s Reward
Donna Hill

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Dear Reader,

We hope you enjoy Heart’s Reward, the final story in Arabesque’s Match Made series. Over the past three months we have introduced you to the Platinum Society—an exclusive matchmaking service run by Melanie Harte, a third-generation matchmaker, for wealthy, high-profile clients.

Never get involved with the client has always been Melanie Harte’s motto, and her reputation depends on it. Yet suddenly two of her most eligible prospects are pursuing the matchmaker herself. Rafe Lawson is a senator’s son with a player’s charm and a seductive smile. Claude Montgomery is the senator’s ambitious, charismatic and very attractive special assistant. Both men are off-the-charts sexy—and completely off-limits. But as Melanie’s feelings for one of them deepens, it puts more than her company at risk.

We hope you enjoyed the entire Match Made series. And if you missed the first two novels—Heart’s Secret by Adrianne Byrd and Heart’s Choice by Celeste O. Norfleet—be sure to read about those couples and how they found their match made in heaven.

Evette Porter

Editor

Arabesque

This book is totally dedicated to my editor Evette Porter who has the patience of a saint!

Thanks for your support.

Acknowledgment

I want to thank all of the wonderful readers who continue to support my work. You guys are the amazing ones. I could not do this without you.

I hope I continue to write the stories that make you feel good.

A big shout out goes to Adrianne Byrd and Celeste O. Norfleet for their amazing work on this series. Both are hard acts to follow.

I hope you enjoy this steamy conclusion to the Match Made series. I had an interesting time writing about Melanie Harte and the dilemmas she finds herself in. I would love to hear what you think about Heart’s Reward and the entire series. Join my blog, www.donnahill.blogspot.com, and share your thoughts, or send me an e-mail at dhassistant@gmail.com. And you can always visit me online at www.donnahill.com or on Facebook. I’d love to hear from you!

Contents

Prologue

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

Epilogue

Prologue

The Harte mansion sat majestically on the bluffs of Sag Harbor, overlooking the swell of waves across the bay. The nearest neighbor was a long walk away—a perfect location since it served to shield the many high-powered clients that frequented it from prying eyes. To the average person it was simply a fabulously gorgeous home tucked away in the quaint Long Island resort town. But the Harte family and the clients they served knew otherwise. The mansion was the home of The Platinum Society, the country’s most elite and discreet matchmaking service.

Tonight, however, the mansion shone like a beacon. Its glass windows were lit up by the brilliance of crystal chandeliers and the shimmering glow of candlelight. The line of cars obscured the winding driveway and wrapped around to the back of the house. Music from the live band could be heard drifting across the water, gently wafting through the night air.

Melanie Harte moved among her guests with an assured grace. She had hosted more of these soirees than she could count. Her summer gatherings were an opportunity for her clients to meet and mingle and relax and enjoy some of the perks that their huge fee afforded them. They were always lively affairs, and every party was invariably punctuated with at least one surprise. Tonight was no different.

In the midst of all the music and good food, Melanie grabbed the microphone.

“I hope everyone is having a wonderful time tonight.” Her sultry voice rang out over the ebb and flow of conversation until it dimmed. All eyes turned in her direction. “You know how much I love these gatherings and a chance to see all of you.”

“We love you, Melanie!” someone shouted from the side of the room.

The crowd burst into spontaneous applause.

“I love you back! But I have something we can all shout about.” She introduced Sergio, who came up to the mic.

Sergio Alvarez had graced the cover of hundreds of magazines and women practically fell over themselves to get his attention. But he’d had no luck in finding a woman who wanted him for who he was and not the picture on a cover or the size of his wallet. He’d been referred by a satisfied client and, once again, The Platinum Society struck gold. Tonight he announced his engagement to Valencia Martinez, a professional photographer who was successful and financially secure in her own right. They made the perfect couple and Melanie could just see the headlines when it was announced that Sergio was officially off the market.

The guests whooped with joy for the happy couple and the band segued to Earth Wind and Fire’s Celebration.

It was nearly 2:00 a.m. by the time the last guest filed out. Melanie locked the door, kicked off her shoes and went to join her family in the kitchen.

“We’re all crashing here tonight,” her nephew Vincent announced, draping his arm around his wife, Cherise. Veronica, his sister, and their cousin Jessica were seated at the table with their heads nestled on their folded arms.

“Fine with me. You know where your rooms are.” Melanie yawned.

Jessica stood and stretched. “Pretty great about Sergio and Valencia.”

They all hummed their agreement, too tired to do much else, and began to drift to their rooms murmuring their good nights.

Melanie set the alarm and turned out the lights. From the top of the stairs she looked out at the room that had been filled with happy, eager people searching for and in some cases finding love.

She turned and opened the door to her bedroom. Her work at least for tonight was done. Tomorrow was another full day. She yawned again. She was going to need every wink of sleep she could get.

Chapter 1

Melanie Harte reluctantly stirred from a deep sleep. She’d dreamed of Steven last night and the three beautiful years they’d spent together. It had been nearly a decade since his death. And although the loss did not feel as painful as it once had, a dull, nagging ache still remained. Widowed at the age of twenty-six, the tragedy had taken all the effervescence out of Melanie’s naturally bubbly personality like a soda gone flat. Like her mother and her grandmother, Melanie believed in everlasting love and that there was that special someone for everybody. With Steven gone, so was everything that she’d believed in. At least that is what she’d told herself.

So it was her grandmother, who she’d been named after, and her mother, Carolyn, who came to rescue their wounded darling and immersed her in the family business. Melanie was sure it had saved her life or at least saved her from a life of loneliness.

She worked side-by-side with her Gran and her mother, finding the perfect match for those seeking true love. But their clients were not your casual romance seekers. They were the elite, those rare birds who soared in the stratosphere of celebrity, wealth and high society, whose lifestyles, professions and often notoriety actually worked against them when it came to romance. So they turned to The Platinum Society, Melanie Harte and her expert team of matchmakers to find them that special someone—for a very large fee, of course. Her business afforded her the luxurious lifestyle to which she’d grown very comfortable and accustomed to—a mansion on the bluff of the historic African-American enclave of Sag Harbor in New York’s Hamptons, a private jet, a new car every year, a yacht, a hefty bank account, entree to premieres, parties and private dinners virtually in every city in the United States and Europe, an extensive wardrobe and friends around the globe.

It was a good life, she mused as she poked her head above the billowy taupe-colored comforter and squinted against the morning sun. Its intensity and beauty reflected across the water and beamed down through the skylight and the floor-to-ceiling windows of her bedroom. A beautiful summer day was on the horizon and Melanie was sure that the beaches, shops and streets would be teeming with tourists and locals out enjoying the day. She realized the temperature had risen considerably overnight as she sat up and planted her feet on the floor beside the bed. She stood and crossed the room to adjust the central air.

Tugging her silk robe around her, she scurried to the bathroom and turned on the bathtub jets for her morning soak.

She had a thriving business, she thought as she poured bath salts and a capful of baby oil into the bath water, a devoted family and more money than she could ever spend. She was happy. Wasn’t she?

By the time she emerged from the sanctuary of her bedroom suite, the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and homemade biscuits tickled her nose. She’d reluctantly hired a personal chef, Evan, after a stellar recommendation from one of her clients. She usually only hired a chef and caterers when she was hosting a party. But she’d come to realize that after the end of a hard day and because she was alone, she rarely ate. And if she did it wasn’t anything healthy. As a result, she’d put on a few extra pounds in the past few months. Pounds that she was determined to shed with diet and exercise. Now she had the incentive to use her home gym.

Dressed in a pearl-gray sleeveless silk jersey top and pants, she walked into the kitchen—her three-inch heels clicking against the floor—to greet Evan and have breakfast.

“Good morning, Evan,” she said, swiping a flaky biscuit from the plate on the counter.

Evan turned around from the stainless steel commercial-grade oven with a spatula in his hand. “Good morning. I was preparing an omelet for you. Your nieces and nephew are in the dining room.”

“They’re here already?”

“They arrived about an hour ago. There’s fresh fruit on the table. Coffee or tea?”

Melanie grinned. “Tea.” She eased alongside of him to see if she could get a peek at the omelet ingredients. His omelets were to die for and so nutritious.

Evan immediately covered the bowl of ingredients. “Let it be a surprise. Go join the family. I’ll bring your breakfast shortly.”

Melanie made a face and walked away.

Vincent, Veronica and Jessica were seated around the dining table that could expand to seat ten.

“Morning, Aunt Mel,” they chorused.

“How is everyone?” Melanie asked as she poured a glass of orange juice.

“Good,” Vincent said. “I went over the accounts last night and—”

“I don’t know how Cherise stays married to you,” Veronica interjected with a mouth full of pineapple slices. “All you do is work.”

Vincent glared at his sister. “Trust me, I make sure my wife is very happy.”

“Cherise never complains,” Jessica said, putting in her two cents. “All of Vincent’s work seems to keep Cherise very happy.”

“You’re much too young to understand, Jess,” Veronica said. “A woman wants more than things. She wants to be wined, dined and romanced. Right, Aunt Mel?”

“You’re absolutely right, Veronica,” Melanie agreed. Jessica made a face at her cousin. “But Vince was taught by the best, Grandma Harte. I’m sure he knows how to take care of home.” She winked at her nephew.

Evan brought Melanie an overstuffed omelet and set it down in front of her with a flourish.

“Hmm,” Melanie uttered in appreciation. “Thank you, Evan.”

“Anyone need anything?” he said, looking around the table.

“We’re good,” Vincent said.

Evan nodded and walked back into the kitchen.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” Melanie asked, cutting into her omelet stuffed with mushrooms, bell peppers, spinach, tomatoes and feta cheese.

Jessica, the youngest and the one who was always prepared for any eventuality, pulled out a folder from the leather briefcase that sat at her feet. She placed it on the table and flipped it open.

“And you accuse me of having a type-A personality,” Vincent said to his sister, lifting his chin in Jessica’s direction. They all shared a laugh.

Jessica ignored the barb. She told him about the latest inquiry from a Wall Street executive who was seriously in the market for a permanent companion.

As the team was reviewing the client’s background, the phone rang.

Melanie turned around and plucked the phone from the cradle behind her. “The Platinum Society, Melanie Harte speaking.”

“Mel, it’s Alan.”

“Alan!” she said over a blossoming smile. “I’m going to put you on speakerphone.”

“Dad?” Veronica and Vincent chorused.

“Uncle Alan,” Jessica added.

“Hey, everybody,” he called out.

“Where are you?” Melanie asked.

Alan Harte was a career diplomat in the State Department. He traveled the globe at the behest of the U.S. government. At any given time he could be called upon to travel across continents for weeks or months on end.

“Actually, I just landed at JFK. I’m here in New York for the next few months. Or so they tell me,” he added with a chuckle. “Thought I’d come out to the Harbor later today.”

“Of course! We’d love to see you. And you’re staying here,” his younger sister insisted.

“I’ll think about it, sis. I’m in New York but it’s not a vacation. I’m on the clock. Getting back and forth from the city to Sag Harbor may be a bit much. But I can certainly spend a couple of days there. I miss the kids. And you,” he added, his voice warming with affection for his sister. “And…I, uh, have a favor to ask.”

“No problem. What is it?”

“We’ll talk about it when I get there.”

“Can’t you give me a hint?”

“Let’s just say I may have a client for you.”

The Platinum Society was a family-run business that went back two generations. The current Melanie Harte made it three. Since its inception, well before Melanie’s birth, the first Melanie Harte was the consummate matchmaker. Legendary among her circle for pairing up just the right people, the first Melanie Harte realized that she could turn what came naturally to her into a business because she was being asked by everyone from college professors to executives to find them that perfect someone. But it was her daughter, Carolyn, who’d graduated with honors from Columbia University with an MBA in marketing and a BA in psychology, who took the mom-and-pop operation to the next level. She taught her daughter everything she knew, but it was Melanie who took the company platinum.

Melanie and the team put off discussing the new client, who was so eager to find a mate that he was willing to pay an extra twenty-five thousand dollars in addition to the standard fifty-thousand-dollar fee. That, to Melanie, was a red flag. She was glad they were temporarily putting that assignment on hold.

Meanwhile her nieces and nephew were busy trying to figure out who Alan’s client was.

“It’s probably some Secret Service guy,” Jessica said. “You know they don’t have time to find anyone.”

“Do they make enough money to afford us?” Vincent asked.

Melanie shot her nephew a look and bit back a smile. One thing she could say about Vincent, he kept his eye on the bottom line.

“I’m sure Alan told them what we require,” Melanie said. “But as you all know we can make an exception if the situation warrants it.”

“Aunt Mel, the last exception was in 1955 by your grandmother,” Jessica stated skeptically. She was the resident historian of The Platinum Society. She knew everything there was to know about TPS from the very first day to the present. She’d catalogued all of Grandma Harte’s notes and Aunt Carolyn’s floppy disks and created a comprehensive history and profile of the company, complete with successes, failures, marriages and births in a digital archive and Web site that included narratives, photo galleries, videos and podcasts. “But of course the decision is up to you, Aunt Mel,” Jessica added.

The trio looked at her and groaned good-naturedly.

“As soon as I can get all the details on our new client, I’ll get busy on a profile and run him through the database for potential matches,” Veronica said.

“Uncle Alan has some pretty cool friends,” Jessica said. “If he’s true to form, this assignment may be as much fun as it is lucrative.”

Melanie smiled. “I’m sure you’re right.”

It was nearing two o’clock when the black Range Rover pulled onto the winding driveway of the Sag Harbor mansion. Melanie spotted it from her ground-floor office window. She hopped up from her desk and darted out into the hallway.

“He’s here,” she yelled, quickly walking toward the door.

Veronica and Vincent emerged from the kitchen. Jessica bounded up the stairs from the indoor gym, a towel draped around her neck.

The smiling quartet stood in the archway as Alan Harte strode toward the door.

The word that always came to mind when describing her older brother was debonair. There was an air of almost old-world movie star power that radiated from the six-foot-three, two-hundred-and-twenty-pound hunk. An impeccable dresser, handsome, intelligent, well-traveled, funny and financially in the black, with a great job—Alan Harte was a single woman’s dream come true. But he loved his freedom, which had led to the demise of his marriage. As her former sister-in-law used to say, Alan may have said his vows to her, but he married his job.

“Always good to come home,” he said, softly kissing cheeks and hugging his son, who was the spitting image of his father.

Vincent took his father’s overnight bag and brief case, while his sister and cousin hooked their arms possessively through his with Melanie closing ranks.

“How long are you in town?” Veronica asked.

“I’m thinking a month or two, maybe longer. I’ll know in about a week.”

“Are you going to stay here for a few days at least?” Melanie asked, and with her question she realized how much she’d missed her brother.

Their sister Phyllis—Jessica’s mom—died during childbirth and their parents and grandparents had been gone for many years, so it was just the two of them to look after the next generation.

Alan draped his arm around her shoulder. “Actually, I was planning on staying through the weekend.”

Everyone cheered in delight.

“I do have a favor, though.”

“Sure,” Melanie responded.

Alan looked from one expectant face to the other. “I mentioned in my call that I had a potential client for you. Well, there’s a private party and reception at the American embassy…”

All eyebrows rose on cue.

“Black tie, invitation only.”

“Get to the good part, Uncle Alan.”

Alan chuckled. “That’s where your new client will be tonight. I thought it would be a great time to meet him, so I finagled invitations for all of you.” His voice lowered. His tone turned mockingly serious. “I presume you have something suitable to wear?”

Whoops of laughter echoed around the room.

Alan tossed his head back and laughed. Man, it was good to be home.

Vincent checked his Rolex. “What time do we need to be ready, and uh, can I bring Cherise?”

“I got you covered, son. Call that pretty wife of yours and tell her that the Hartes are partying tonight. A car will be here to pick us up at seven.”

All three women’s hands immediately reached for their hair at the same time.

“I’ll give Leona a call and let her know we’ll be at the shop in a half hour,” Melanie said quickly. After all, a woman’s crowning glory was her hair. She turned to her brother. “With all of the excitement you never told me who our potential client is.”

Four sets of eyes landed on Alan. “His name is Claude Montgomery. He’s the chief of staff for Senator Lawson.”

The doors to the conference room opened and the corridor filled with conversation. Some voices were raised in laughter, and others were low in muted discussions.

Claude loosened his tie. He veered off from the throng of suits that filled the hallway. He checked his watch. A three-hour meeting. Inwardly he groaned. Most of the time had been spent arguing points that had been debated for the past month. Typical Washington politics. He fully understood the frustration of the President and the American people. He was just as frustrated. No one else seemed to mind. It was business as usual on Capitol Hill. He strode down the hall, putting on his game face to deter even the most relentless lobbyist.

“Mr. Montgomery, these papers need your signature,” his secretary said, waylaying him. She carried a folder under her arm that bulged. Her smile was sympathetic.

He’d hoped to be able to sneak away under the radar, tie up some loose ends in his office and catch a plane to New York.

She quickened her step to keep up with him. “I know you have a flight to catch. I’ve tabbed the pages that you need to sign.”

They turned left and walked down another corridor lined with doors. Name plates identified the offices. His office was around the next turn. He opened the door and let her go in first. She crossed the room and stood in front of his desk.

Joyce had worked for him since he was named chief of staff for Senator Lawson. Six years. She knew him well, and that meant catching him when she could. She was a master at timing his entrances and exits. She was smart, discreet and damned good at her job, Claude thought. What he appreciated most was that she never wielded her sexuality. Joyce Holden was stunning. She was an exotic mix of East Indian and African American with a luminous honey-brown complexion, wide dark eyes and silky black hair that hung like a veil to the middle of her back. Her body rivaled a Victoria’s Secret model. He’d been hesitant about hiring her for all of those reasons. He didn’t need or want the distraction. But her professional demeanor dwarfed her allure. He gave her a chance and there wasn’t a day that he’d regretted his decision. They were co-workers, equals and friends. He wouldn’t be able to manage without her.

He took off his jacket. His stark white shirt appeared to gleam against his rich chocolate complexion. There was a line of women in D.C. who vied for Claude’s attention, Joyce thought. She placed the folder on his desk and opened it. What she admired about him was that he never mixed business with pleasure. In all the years she’d worked for him, there was never even a whisper of impropriety. He was often the topic of discussion among the female staffers. They all wanted her take on his availability and their chances with him. Her answer was always the same: “Set your sights elsewhere.” She was one of the few people that knew anything about his personal life and what had scarred him. Her loyalty and admiration of him would never allow her to share that knowledge.

“These are the staff reviews that you approved for this quarter.” She lifted them out of the folder and handed them to him one at a time.

As chief of staff he was responsible for more than one hundred employees who were part of Senator Lawson’s team, from file clerks to committee members. It was his job to know each and every one of them by name, their responsibilities and their ability to do what they were hired to do. He also took time to get to know them personally, their families, their long-term ambitions, their shortcomings and strengths. If the team looked good, Senator Lawson looked good. He had the senator’s ear and his complete confidence, and every member of the team knew that if they wanted to get ahead they needed to stay on the right side of Claude Montgomery.

“Long weekend coming up,” he said, glancing at the document in front of him. “Any special plans?” He scrawled his signature at the bottom. Joyce handed him the next file.

“Me and Luke and the kids are going to Seattle to spend some time with his parents.”

“How is his mother?”

She handed him another document. “Better. But she hasn’t been the same since the stroke.”

He glanced up and caught the unhappy look in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I wish there was something else I could do. I know it must be a real strain on Luke.”

“You’ve done more than anyone could ask. The therapist and home attendant that you got for her has made a world of difference and took a lot of weight off of Luke’s and his father’s shoulders. We can’t thank you enough.”

He waved off the sentiment. “If you need more time, just let me know. We’ll work it out.”

They pushed through the paperwork and finally closed the folder.

“Your flight leaves in an hour. I have the car waiting for you outside.”

He stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. She walked to the corner and handed him his briefcase on his way out of the door.

They walked out together.

“Try to enjoy yourself. I know how much you hate those gatherings.”

He groaned. “I’ll try.”

“Have a safe trip,” she said.

He walked out of the building and into the late afternoon breeze. “Thanks.” He waved goodbye and jogged down the stairs to the waiting Lincoln Town Car.

Within moments he was reclining against the lush interior upholstery of the car and speeding through the streets of D.C. Before long the iconic images of the White House, the Washington Monument and the Capitol building became smaller until they disappeared in the distance.

He leaned back against the soft leather and closed his eyes. Getting out of town and back to his home in Westchester was always something that he looked forward to. It was an opportunity for him to unwind and shed the rigors and stress that confronted him in his life in Washington. Unfortunately, the demands of the job didn’t allow him to get home as often as he would have liked. That reality pricked him more so today. Rather than roaming the cozy rooms of his home, listening to music, maybe catching up with a friend or taking his bike out for a spin along New York’s highways, he was going home to get ready for a stuffy black-tie dinner. The very thing he worked at not doing—at least as much as he could.

He had Alan Harte to thank for this one, he thought, as he followed the line of boarding passengers and took his seat in coach. Alan could convince the devil to change his ways. He smiled to himself.

They’d been friends for years from Claude’s early days of doing community work back in his home state of Louisiana. Alan was newly divorced and climbing up the ranks at the State Department. They’d met during an education forum in Baton Rouge and had been friends ever since. It was Alan who’d introduced him to Senator Lawson.

They tried to get together as often as they could, but with Alan’s constant traveling and Claude’s busy schedule it was often difficult. So when Alan strong-armed him into attending an embassy event, he relented for old times’ sake. He’d said that it was high time that Claude had a woman in his life—not that Alan ever would again—and that his sister Melanie was the one who could make magic happen.

Claude had no real interest in a permanent relationship. At least he didn’t think he did. But in the weeks leading up to today the notion began to take shape in his head. When he looked at his life, it was a complete success. He had what most longed for. Yet, there were times when the loneliness of his life hit him. Like today, when Joyce talked about her husband and kids and visiting relatives during the brief time off. Most days he didn’t miss that kind of thing. But more often than he cared to admit he’d begun to long for a life that he’d almost had—once.

He fastened his seatbelt and opened his copy of The Washington Post. He turned to the arts and entertainment section.

The captain announced that they were next in line for takeoff and they should be landing at New York’s LaGuardia airport on time.

He folded the newspaper on his lap, leaned back and shut his eyes. Might as well catch a quick nap, he thought. He had a long night ahead of him. As he drifted off into a light sleep he wondered fleetingly if Alan’s sister was as good as he claimed she was. He’d always spoken of her in such glowing terms, and curiously enough in the years that he and Alan had been friends, Claude had never met Melanie.

He’d seen pictures and he’d often wondered if she was as attractive in person. There was something about her smile and her eyes that drew him. And he often wondered with the business that she was in if there was a man in her life. He’d never ask Alan anything like that, so it was ironic that their first meeting would be with her in the role of matchmaker for him.

He was the last person to even think about using a dating service, but Alan insisted it was much more than that—and he’d guarantee a wonderful outcome.

“Then why don’t you use it?” Claude had asked after Alan had all but browbeaten him into attending the gala and meeting Melanie.

“First of all, I’m family. That would be like winning the sweepstakes grand prize and being an employee of the company that sponsored it.”

Claude just looked at him, shook his head and chuckled. “Whatever, man. I’m only doing this because we’re friends.”

Alan slapped him on the back. “You won’t regret it. Promise.”

That remained to be seen, Claude thought as he finally put his key in the door to his Westchester home. It remained to be seen.

Chapter 2

Melanie had been to her share of high-class soirees—from Paris to the Caribbean, rubbing elbows with athletes, billionaires, movie and television stars, corporate moguls and media-shy executives. But it was always a treat to be in the company of real power, the political machine that made the decisions about everything from health care to appointments to the Supreme Court. There was an unmistakable energy that emanated from the men and women in politics that could be found nowhere else in the world. For Melanie, it was a definite turn on.

Tonight the party was being hosted by the newly named American ambassador to Spain, which decidedly influenced the evening’s décor, entertainment and menu.

Alan escorted his small entourage through security and took them into the grand ballroom. When Alan said black tie, he wasn’t kidding. The men were decked out in tuxedos, some with tails and cummerbunds. The women perfectly complemented their escorts’ attire in cocktail dresses and evening gowns. But it was the jewelry that competed for attention, sparkling from ears, wrists and throats with enough joint wattage to light up the heavens.

Melanie preferred cocktail dresses over full-length gowns. She had great legs and used every opportunity to show them off. Tonight she’d chosen a bronze Vera Wang dress that was so close to her natural skin tone that she almost appeared naked were it not for the rhinestone appliqué that framed her décolletage. Her stilettos, in a matching color, accentuated her five-foot-nine height. The dress hugged her upper body, dipped dangerously low in the back and flared from the waist to just above her knees.

A trio of Spanish guitarists played in the background as the wait staff, outfitted in traditional dress, moved in and around the well-heeled crowd.

“You probably know a lot of these people,” Alan said as he and Melanie made their way across the room, nodding and smiling at familiar faces.

Vincent had taken his wife, sister and cousin to get drinks while Alan and Melanie mingled.

Alan lifted his chin. “There’s Claude over by the balcony talking to the attorney general.”

Melanie followed the direction of Alan’s gaze and spotted Claude. Perhaps it was the timing, a sixth sense or kismet, but he turned his head in her direction at the very moment she focused on him.

A sudden rush like that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when the roller coaster drops down from its highest point at breakneck speed swept through her. Air shot up from her lungs and lodged in the center of her chest. His eyes, as dark and mysterious as the edge of the universe, held her in place. The barest hint of a smile teased his mouth and her before he gave her an imperceptible nod and turned back to his conversation.

Claude Montgomery was a standout in any room. There was a commanding air about him, a swagger that amplified his deep chocolate skin, broad chest and long legs. Wearing an Armani tux, Claude Montgomery was damn-near edible. He was a shoe-in for Idris Elba’s better-looking brother. Whoever was lucky enough to land him was in for a treat—at least in the looks department. She’d have a better idea once they did his profile. In the meantime she needed to regain her composure and quit imagining herself naked in his bed.

“Come on. I’ll introduce you,” Alan said, oblivious to the shift in her world that had just taken place.

The last time Melanie was nervous about meeting a man was in fifth grade when she got called into Principal Harrison’s office for starting a hunger strike in the lunchroom to protest the lousy food. That was a long time ago. But she hadn’t forgotten the racing pulse, wobbly knees and damp palms.

As they approached, the conversation drew to an end when the attorney general was pulled away by his wife.

Claude deposited his empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. His broad smile was in full effect as he extended his hand to Alan.

“Good to see you, Al,” he said, shaking his hand heartily while slapping him on the back with the other.

They both turned to Melanie and there was that look again that seemed to suck her into his soul.

“Claude, this is my sister Melanie. Mel, Claude Montgomery.”

The seas parted and disappeared into the background. It was only the two of them waiting to cross that great divide.

Melanie reacted first. “Alan has been singing your praises,” she said, extending her hand toward him.

Claude took her slender fingers in his hand and brought them to his lips. He placed a feather-like kiss on the back of her hand. “Your reputation precedes you,” he said, his voice low and throbbing like distant thunder.

“I do hope that’s a good thing,” she said forcing herself not to concentrate on the currents of electricity that shot up and down her arm.

“Most definitely. Can I get you a drink?”

“Thank you. Yes.”

He raised his hand and signaled for a waiter, who was at their side almost instantly. He plucked a glass of champagne from the tray and handed it to her.

“Thank you.” She took a tiny sip. “Alan says you’re chief of staff for Senator Lawson. I’m surprised we haven’t met before.”

“I try to stay away from these shindigs whenever possible,” he said with a gleam in his eyes. Melanie grinned.

“I’ll let you two get acquainted. I’m going to look for my son and company,” Alan pressed Melanie’s shoulder and walked off.

“So, Alan tells me that you are the consummate matchmaker.”

Melanie lowered her gaze for a moment. “That’s the rumor,” she answered, her tone teasing. “And I understand that you may be interested in our services.”

Claude drew in a long breath. “I’ve been considering it for a while now,” he said, the levity gone from his voice. “My job takes up a great deal of my time and I believe I’m reaching the point where I’d like to come home to more than paperwork, my BlackBerry and cognac.”

Hmm, he likes cognac. A man with taste.

“I see. Believe me, I totally understand. If I didn’t know better I’d think I was talking to my brother.”

Claude chuckled. “I don’t think Alan will ever settle down again. He lives and breathes his job.”

“Tell me, what type of woman are you looking for?”

His deep gaze played across her face, like the sun warming the earth, and something stirred inside of her.

“There you are.”

They turned in unison to see Senator Lawson come up beside them.

“Melanie. Melanie Harte?”

Melanie beamed. “How are you Bradford?”

He captured her in a hug. “I had no idea you’d be here. What a pleasant surprise.”

“It’s good to see you, too.”

“I knew her grandmother, God rest her sweet soul. I watched this little lady grow up. Her grandmother introduced me to my late wife Louisa and the rest is history,” he ended with a wistful chuckle. He lowered his voice. “I understand you took over the business.”

Melanie nodded. “I did, along with my nieces and nephew.”

“Wonderful! We’ll have to talk before the night is over. I want you to meet my son Rafe.” He looked around. “If you’ll excuse me, I want to catch Senator Morgan before he tries to slip out.” He lightly bussed Melanie’s cheek. “Don’t leave before we talk.”

“I won’t,” she promised, squeezing his hand.

The newest Supreme Court justice walked by and waved at Melanie.

“Congratulations,” Melanie mouthed.

“Call me,” she said in return before being swept into a crowd of senators vying for her attention.

“You travel in lofty circles,” Claude said, finishing off his drink.

“My grandmother and then my mother traveled in these circles all their lives. They made sure that I knew everyone that they did. I really don’t think about it much. It’s part of my life, which happens to help with the business that I’m in. I’m totally unimpressed by status and celebrity at this point. Once you strip that all away, the real person emerges. That’s who I want to get to know. And most of them, once you get beyond their public personas, they’re just regular folks with the same wants, needs, flaws and fears as everyone else. They simply have the money and the power to hide it better than the rest.”

“Point taken.” He paused a moment. “So what do you see beneath my layer?”

She looked up into his eyes. Her heart suddenly thumped. “That’s what we’ll have to find out. Won’t we?”

“You’ve been monopolizing this beautiful woman all night, Claude.”

Claude turned to his left. “Rafe. Your father was just looking for you.”

Rafe chuckled and his light-brown eyes sparkled in the light. “I’m sure he was,” he murmured, the hint of his Louisiana accent seeping through. He stepped closer and zeroed in on Melanie. “Raford Lawson,” he said, taking her hand. “Melanie Harte.”

“My pleasure.” He kissed her hand. “Dance with me.”

She hesitated a moment. “Of course. Please excuse me, Claude.”

Claude gave a short nod of his head as Rafe escorted Melanie onto the dance floor.

“So Melanie Harte, what brings you to this stuffy affair?” He took her hand in his—the other went to the small of her back as they swayed to the music.

Melanie laughed lightly. “My brother Alan invited me.”

He arched his neck back and looked down into her face. “Alan Harte is your brother?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” he said over his laughter.

“You’re that Melanie Harte. Your grandmother fixed up my daddy and mama.”

“So the story goes.”

He stepped back, released her and made a gallant bow. “I am in the arms of greatness,” he teased.

Melanie shook her head and chuckled. “You are much too dramatic.”

He swept her back into his arms and whispered deep in her ear. “I’ve been called much worse.”

They danced together for two more songs before Melanie begged off.

“Save the last dance for me,” Rafe said with a light kiss on her cheek.

He was definitely a charmer, she thought with amusement as she watched him saunter away toward a group of beautiful women, who all but swooned when he approached. Melanie shook her head and smiled.

“I see you’ve already become acquainted with my son,” Senator Lawson said.

Melanie turned in his direction. “Yes. He’s certainly a charmer.”

The senator chuckled. “Oh, is that what you call it?”

“What would you call it?”

“Oh, I’d never say what I thought to a lady.” He winked. “But I will say that he needs taming. Rafe is a free spirit. Can’t get him to settle down to anything serious. But I think the right woman could do what me and the whole damn family have not been able to,” he said, his Creole background filtering through. “That’s where you come in. I’d like to secure your services.”

“Are you sure he would be agreeable?”

“Every now and again I can get the boy to listen to me. And if it has anything to do with women, he’ll listen.”

Melanie’s right brow rose for an instant. “I’m sure we could find someone special for your son.”

“Good. I’m counting on it. I want Rafe to step into my shoes one day and I want him to have a good woman at his side—someone strong enough to stand up against some of his foolishness.”

She drew in a breath, reached in her purse and handed him her card. “If he’s willing and when he’s ready, have him call me.”

The senator took the card and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “It will be sooner than you think.”

Melanie moved around the room, chatting with many of the familiar faces and catching up on the political gossip. Throughout the evening she caught glimpses of Claude and each time her insides quaked. It was clear that he was a man completely comfortable in who he was and how he’d gotten there. She noticed the way he held his muscular body, never lording his height over people but rather inviting them into his space. He focused on people when they talked as if they were the only person in the world that mattered. He was intelligent, witty, a great dancer and well-connected. Yes, on the surface, Claude Montgomery was a man that any woman would desire. Not to mention that his sex appeal was off the charts.

Then there was Raford Lawson. There was no doubt that Rafe could charm a blind woman out of her panties. He was breathtakingly gorgeous from the natural waves of his ink black hair, the honey brown of his eyes, his dark sweeping brows down to his imported Italian shoes. He was wealthy, spoiled and brought up to believe that he could have whatever he wanted. He was like an unbridled Arabian stallion: magnificent and wild, never harnessed and never ridden. His father was right. It would take a special woman to rein in Rafe Lawson. Inwardly, she smiled. The Platinum Society would certainly have their work cut out for them.

As the family was preparing to leave, Raford stopped Melanie at the door. He took a sip of his bourbon. “My father insists that you can find me the perfect woman.” He extracted the card his father had given him from his pocket and held it between his two fingers.

“It’s what we do.” A glint lit her eyes.

The corner of his exquisite mouth curved upward. “You’re on Ms. Harte. Expect my call.” He winked and walked away.

“What was that about?” Veronica asked, draping her wrap across her shoulders.

Melanie turned to her niece. “It seems that we may have two new clients instead of one.”

“What do you think about Claude?” Alan asked as they headed back to Sag Harbor, cocooned in the luxury of a stretch limousine. Everyone chimed in except Melanie. Sensing she was being scrutinized, she glanced up and focused. “What?”

“You were definitely someplace else,” Alan teased.

“I was asking what you thought of Claude.”

That’s exactly who she was thinking of when she’d zoned out of the conversation. “I’m sure we can find someone for him. On the surface he totally fits our criteria. Of course we’ll know much better after Veronica works up his profile.”

“And Senator Lawson wants us to find someone for his son,” Veronica added.

“Rafe?” Alan asked, clearly surprised.

Melanie nodded her head. “That’s what he told me.”

“And Rafe agreed?”

“He told me in no uncertain terms that I would be hearing from him,” Melanie said. “It was almost a challenge.”

Alan chuckled and leaned back against the plush leather seats. “Trust me, it will be.”

“Rafe, are you ready to leave? I’m tired.”

Rafe turned his gaze away from the entourage as they said their good-nights. He focused on the lovely woman in front of him. For a moment he couldn’t recall her name. It didn’t matter really. They all loved being called sweetheart or baby. He set down his glass on the tray of a passing waiter and turned his hundred-watt smile on his date.

“Not too tired,” he teased, trailing his finger along the curve of her exposed back.

She purred with pleasure and moved closer to him. “Never too tired for you. You should know that by now.”

He probably should, he thought while he absently nuzzled her neck, imagining Melanie’s warm caramel skin beneath his lips. The truth was this woman who was ready to do whatever he asked was one of so many like her. Beautiful, nameless women that saw the Lawson name, heard whispers about his skills in the bedroom and put themselves in his path. He loved women. All types of women. Tall, thin, thick, short, black, white, Latina, Asian. They were all wonderful, willing and desirable in their own way. And the southern gentleman in him compelled him to please as many of them as he could.

His trio of sisters—Lee Ann and the twins Dominique and Desiree—steered all of their friends clear of their playboy brother and admonished the youngest Lawson, their brother Justin, not to follow in their big brother’s footsteps.

Rafe grinned to himself as he helped his date with her wrap. He loved his family dearly, even though he constantly remained on the receiving end of their reprimands. But no amount of scolding, threats of being cut out of the family fortune or hints of scandal stopped him in his relentless pursuit of women.

It was in his nature. It was in his blood as sure as the champagne that flowed through it now. He accepted that. He knew that deep inside he was looking for something. He simply didn’t know what that something was and he would not stop until he found it.

Rafe slid into the back seat of the chauffeured limo. He tossed his tuxedo jacket across to the other side of the horseshoe-shaped leather seat. He leaned toward the mini bar and uncorked a bottle of wine. He poured a glass for himself and his date, confident that before the night was over her name would come back to him.

“Rafe,” she cooed, leaning forward to expose her heavenly depths. “I was hoping you’d like to join me and some close friends for a weekend in Cancun.”

He looked at her over the rim of the flute. Her makeup was a little too heavy and he concluded it was to mask her acne. Her body was lovely but he could tell from experience that it didn’t come naturally. She did have interesting eyes and a lovely mouth. Kissable. That much he did remember. “Sounds appealing.”

“Say yes.” She all but batted her eyelashes.

It was as if the action lifted the veil that had covered his eyes and he wondered why he was with her. What was he doing? “I’ll check my schedule and get back to you.” He smiled to soften the disappointment. “Where do you live again, cher? Forgive me.” He held up his glass. “One too many.”

“Park and 62nd Street.”

“Of course.” He winked at her and tapped on the partition that separated them from the driver.

The Plexiglas whirred downward.

“Park and 62nd,” Rafe instructed. He reclined against the thick leather back seat. He ignored her pout.

“I thought we were going to your place,” she whined.

“I’m sorry, cher. Not tonight. Maybe another time.”

She flopped back against the seat and folded her arms tightly to her body, elevating the expensive enhancements. Rafe turned his attention to the traffic outside the window, lighting up the night sky with the gleam from streetlights that danced off their hoods, their headlights illuminating onto the blacktop. It seemed to create a magical lightshow, much like his life. It was all smoke and mirrors. He’d mastered the art of illusion. The ability to charm and woo, to talk his way into and out of anything he wanted.

He draped his arm along the back of the seat and drummed his long fingers against the firm surface. He hated these introspective moments, those times when all of the scolding, threats and warnings from his family stirred his conscience. In those moments he came face to face with the pointlessness of the life that he led.

His father was a powerful senator, his sister Lee Ann had the education, skills and family lineage to move into politics. The twins, when they weren’t trying to spend the family fortune, were both involved in philanthropy. His brother Justin was being primed for the political arena. Rafe’s unambitious lifestyle went against everything that the Lawson family stood for.

“Much as I loved your mother, God rest her soul, she spoiled you rotten, boy. Doted on you like you were the king of damned England and enabled all of your philandering ways,” Bradford Lawson had said, glaring at his son with the same vehemence that he reserved for his opponents on the senate floor.

Rafe endured the periodic tongue-lashing from his father with practiced chagrin. There was probably some truth to what his father said, although he would never admit it to him. His beloved mother had been his rock, the only one in the family who understood him. She knew how to rein him in without holding him in place.

God he missed her. There was an emptiness in his soul since she’d been gone and he filled it with one woman after another, wild parties, good liquor and tabloid-worthy adventures. For a while the space would be filled, but inevitably the emptiness would return.

Maybe his father was right. Maybe he did need a good woman in his life to help him settle down. And his thoughts shifted to Melanie.

She was different from the other women he had known and bedded. She couldn’t care less who he was. She was independent and didn’t appear to need the arm of a man to make herself look good or feel important. She already was—all qualities that were rare in the women he saw. Melanie Harte.

“You’re smiling again,” his date said, cutting into his thoughts. He turned from the window and realized that she was sitting right by his side. “I thought I’d done something to upset you.”

His smile wavered and held. He stretched a finger toward her chin and gently lifted it. Yes, she had beautiful eyes and kissable lips. He remembered now. Her name was Stephanie. His gaze caressed her slightly over-made-up face. He leaned forward and pressed his lips toward her kissable ones. She sighed ever so softly.

“Should we bring the wine up to your place?” he said against her mouth. He felt her body loosen with delighted relief.

The idea that he was the source of her happiness, real or imagined, only helped to reaffirm his mantra. He couldn’t disappoint a woman. After all, he was a southern gentleman.

The car pulled to a stop in front of Stephanie’s building on Park Avenue. The driver opened the door. Rafe stepped out first and helped Stephanie to her feet. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side.

She laughed and it was the music that always made him weak, made him dance—the sound of a woman’s laughter.

He walked behind her as the building doorman greeted her. She turned, her smile bright and her eyes inviting.

His dimple appeared. The elevator door closed behind them. He’d let Melanie Harte try to reform him tomorrow.

Chapter 3

When Melanie walked into her office the following day, the team had already assembled. No matter how appealing a client might be or how much money they had, it was protocol that the decision to take on a new client was unanimous.

“Hey, Aunt Mel,” the trio said in unison.

“Morning, troops.” She set her cup of coffee on the side table. “Everyone have a good time last night?”

“Absolutely,” they agreed.

Melanie took a sip of her coffee and settled down on the overstuffed couch. Her office was an eclectic blend of functionality and comfort. Her high-tech equipment was housed inside floor-to-ceiling wooden cabinets that were rolled out for use. The video screen was mounted on the wall for full presentations of clients and their prospects. The bay windows looked out onto the bluffs and ocean beyond. Pale peach walls were adorned with one-of-a-kind pieces of art. Glass and chrome were the focal accessories, with conversational seating throughout. Fresh flowers graced the tables, shipped in weekly from the florist. This was TPS central, where all of the decisions were made.

“I’ve done some preliminary work on Mr. Montgomery and Mr. Lawson,” Veronica said, “based on observation and what I was able to pull from the Internet. I’ll have a full profile of each once we set up the meeting.”

“You certainly didn’t waste any time,” Melanie said. “Let’s see what you have so far.”

Veronica pressed a button on the console and the screen lit up. The first screen was filled with basic data about Claude and Rafe—date of birth, physicality, where they lived, profession, education and relationship status.

Melanie stared at the near life-sized images of Claude and felt her body come alive in response. She knew she’d have to keep her lusty thoughts to herself if she was going to be effective in finding a suitable match for him.

The sound of male voices coming in their direction drew everyone’s attention. Moments later Alan stuck his head in the door.

“I thought I smelled smoke,” Alan joked. “All this brain power brushing up against each other like kindling.”

“Very funny,” Melanie said.

“I brought company.”

Claude stepped into the frame of the door. “Good morning.”

“Morning.”

Melanie’s heart banged in her chest and a sudden rush of heat flooded her body. She shifted in her seat, reached for her coffee cup, realized her hands were shaking and changed her mind. She folded her hands in her lap.

“He insisted that I stop by today,” Claude explained. “I told him I should have called first for an appointment.” He was talking to everyone in the room, but his gaze had settled on Melanie.

Her throat was bone dry.

“Not a problem,” Jessica said. “Roni was just going over your preliminaries.”

“Was she?” Claude’s brows rose in question. “And what might those be?”

“Basic data,” Veronica said matter of factly. In addition to being the profiler of the business, Veronica was an Internet and computer whiz. If there was a grain of sand to be found, Veronica would find it. She had search programs and software that Melanie didn’t want to know anything about. Google was archaic as far as Veronica was concerned.

“It’s all protocol,” Melanie said, finally finding her voice. “We build a profile on all of our clients. It’s how we make an appropriate match.”

Claude crossed the room. Melanie caught a subtle whiff of his scent. Her pulse fluttered. He sat down in one of the matching side chairs.

“Sounds very…calculated, for lack of a better word.”

“Part calculation, part chemistry,” Jessica offered.

“Our responsibility is to match the wants and desires, intelligence and personality of two people, and ask all the questions that two people who are attracted to each other never ask until it’s too late.”

Claude stretched his long legs out in front of him. Alan clapped him heartily on the shoulder. “They’re really pretty harmless,” he teased.

Claude glanced up at his friend. “You sure? I sorta feel like a science project.”

“Once we match you up with the woman of your dreams, you’ll forget all about this technical stuff,” Melanie said with a wave of her hand.

Claude zeroed in on Melanie. “Is that a promise?” His eyes moved across her face, heating everywhere they landed.

Melanie slowly stood. “You’re in very good hands.” She picked up her mug and walked out. Alan followed.

“Thanks for doing this, sis.”

“Sure. Business is business. Claude seems like a good guy. I’m sure we’ll find someone for him.”

Melanie caught the serious tone in his voice. She looked across at her brother. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing that you won’t find out.”

Melanie stopped walking and folded her arms. “If there’s something I need to know, tell me, Alan.”

Alan inhaled deeply. He dug his hands into his pants pockets. “About ten years ago, Claude was engaged. On his wedding day, his fiancé’s limo was in an accident on her way to the church.” He looked down.

Melanie’s hand went to her chest. “Oh, I…I’m sorry.” Her eyes flew toward her office. She could see Claude in conversation with the team, fully engaged, laughing and nodding. Her spirit ached. She knew all too well about that kind of loss, the emptiness that was left behind. After Steven she had her grandmother and her mother to pull her through and then the business. Who had been there for Claude? Had he ever found closure? Was his job all he had? The questions nagged at her like an itch in the center of your back—difficult to get to.

“He’s not like me. He’s more than his job,” Alan said as if reading her thoughts. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I’m going to run into town. Buzz me on my cell when your team has finished picking my man apart.” He winked and strode out, leaving Melanie with thoughts of Claude swirling in her head.

Melanie was in her sitting room, putting together the list of potential guests for her annual Summer Jam. Claude left several hours earlier with Alan and was given the assurance that TPS would be in touch with him shortly. Vincent logged in Claude’s $25,000 deposit and created a file for him. Jessica and Veronica were busy putting together a complete profile of Claude based on their extensive interview.

As hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep her mind on the task at hand. Her thoughts and unsettled emotions kept getting in the way. Giving into her frustration, she closed the social calendar software program on her computer with the intention of getting a light snack. Just as she got up, her office phone rang. It was nearly five o’clock, the official end of the business day, she thought, mildly annoyed. She started to let it go to voicemail when she thought about the mantra of her business. “It’s never too late or too early to deal with a paying or potential client.”

“The Platinum Society, Melanie Harte speaking,” she answered in her cheerful professional voice.

“I would think you would have someone else doing the mundane task of answering the phone,” the definitively male voice said, the slight Creole accent unmistakably that of Rafe Lawson. “However, I couldn’t be happier that it’s you.”

“Mr. Lawson.” She sat back down.

He chuckled. “Ah, the lady remembers.”

“I tend not to forget names, faces and voices.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m picking up where we left off. My father is insistent that I find myself a suitable woman who can make an honest man out of me. You indicated that you were up for the challenge.”

“My company,” she clarified, not wanting to head off in the wrong direction.

“Of course.” He breathed into the phone. “So…where do we begin?”

“I’ll switch you over to Jessica, and she’ll set up an appointment.”

“I’m leaving for the West Coast tomorrow afternoon. I hope you can slip me in before then.”

His statement sounded innocent enough, but Melanie didn’t miss the sexual innuendo. She chose to ignore it.

“If there is a time slot, I’m sure we will accommodate you.”

“Actually it would only take a little over an hour to drive out there. You’re in Sag Harbor?”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“I like to know who I’m getting in bed with…so to speak.”

Melanie’s body flushed. “Hold on a moment.” She placed the call on hold and pressed the button for the main office. Veronica picked up.

“Hey Aunt Mel, what’s up?”

“I have Raford Lawson on the line. He wants an appointment as soon as possible. He’s leaving to go out of town tomorrow afternoon.”

“Let me check with Jess.”

Melanie tapped her manicured nails against the table while she waited.

“We can see him this evening if he’s really insistent or first thing tomorrow at nine.”

“Thanks. I’ll get right back to you.”

She took Raford off hold. “Tonight at seven or tomorrow morning at nine. Your choice.”

“The sooner the better. I’ll see you shortly.” He hung up without saying goodbye, a testament to his arrogance.

Slowly Melanie hung up the receiver. Her gut told her that Raford Lawson was going to be a handful of trouble. And she was just the one to put him in his place, even if he was a senator's son.

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