No woman has ever caught him...until now

Rafe Lawson is driven by two things: his music and living a life away from the influence of his powerful senator father. The woman he meets at a high-profile family celebration won’t change his playboy ways. Still, Rafe is intrigued by the stunning Secret Service agent who never mixes business and pleasure. He has no choice but to jet to DC and use his legendary Lawson power of seduction to win over Avery Richards.

The first female in her family to rise up the ranks of high-level government security, Avery is comfortable flying halfway across the world at a moment’s notice. But her desire for the sax-playing heir to a political dynasty creates more tension than being on presidential detail. Their fathers are enemies who share a long, bitter history. When Avery falls for Rafe, her loyalty to her family is tested and Rafe’s contentious feud with his father could cost them everything. They must now decide what’s most important—the life they’ve always lived or the one they can possibly make together.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Fine.” She smiled.

“Going in?” he asked with what sounded like amusement in his voice.

“Of course.” She took her purse from the passenger seat, extracted the key from the ignition and accepted his hand.

When she was drawn to her feet, mere inches separated them. Her gaze landed on his collarbone and she realized how tall he actually was and how his lean frame belied the power beneath.

Avery swallowed and stepped around him. Her heart banged mercilessly as she walked to her front door with Rafe a half step behind.

She turned. “Thanks so much for inviting me tonight. I had a great time.”

His eyes picked up the light from the moon and seemed to sparkle. He grinned, leaned down and placed a featherlight kiss on her forehead. “Good night. Rest well. I hope you don’t mind if I call on you again.”

“You’re going to fly all the way from Louisiana to DC just to see me?”

“My family has a place in Arlington, Virginia. When I have good reason, I stay there.” He leveled his gaze on her. “Do I have good reason?”

“You might,” she managed to say.

Dear Reader,

Throughout the Lawson-family series, Rafe Lawson has been that elusive, dangerous, sexy shadow that readers were dying to discover more about. Surrender to Me is his story.

To be honest, I was terrified to finally write about Rafe. The stakes seemed so high. But I put on my big-girl pants and dug in. The shroud of mystery around the man was slowly pulled back, and I know that the revelations will surprise as well as endear him even further in your hearts.

Rafe is complicated, a confirmed bachelor with looks, money and charisma sprinkled with a heavy dose of Southern gentleman, and it takes an extraordinary woman like Avery Richards to make him realize that surrendering is not a weakness. Creating Avery, I knew that she needed to be really different. So she is a Secret Service agent skilled at looking for anything out of place. Avery is fearless and focused even as she has her own internal enemies to deal with. I hope that you will laugh, cry, scream and root for Rafe and Avery. I know that I did!

I love to hear from readers. You can always find me on Facebook; please join my fan club at Facebook.com/donnahillfans for updates on new projects and sneak peeks at upcoming works. Also, follow me on Twitter, @donnahill.

As always, thank you all for twenty-five years of support!

Until next time,

Donna

Surrender to Me

Donna Hill

www.millsandboon.co.uk

DONNA HILL published her first novel in 1990. She now has more than eighty titles in print. Three of her novels have been adapted for television. She has received numerous awards and recognition for her wide body of work. In her other life, Donna is an assistant professor of English at Medgar Evers College in Brooklyn, New York, and an adjunct professor at Baruch College and Essex County College. She has an MFA in creative writing from Goddard College. Donna lives in Brooklyn with her family. Visit her website at www.donnahill.com.

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This novel is lovingly dedicated to my tireless editor,

Glenda Howard, who continues to champion my work.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

A warm leg brushed against his. Rafe Lawson glanced over his shoulder through dark eyes still lazy with sleep. He blinked slowly in the dim light of early morning, bringing the body next to him into focus. The night before began to come back to him in brief snapshots. His grandfather Clive’s birthday party. Bourbon. Music. Beautiful women.

He gently lifted the pale blue sheet that covered her body and peeked beneath. Hmm. Very nice. But for the life of him he couldn’t remember her name. And she definitely was not the woman he’d dreamed about all night—the woman he’d met at the party.

They’d only had a few moments to talk. She was part of the Secret Service detail that was assigned to the vice president, who’d made a surprise visit for his old friend’s birthday. Avery! That was her name. The woman from last night.

The unnamed woman in his bed moaned softly and he felt her lush body stretch against him. He eased out of bed and strode to the adjoining bathroom.

Rafe leaned on the sink and assessed his reflection in the mirror. The residue from his night of partying was barely evident beyond the five-o’clock shadow that outlined his jaw.

At thirty-six, his body still bounced back from the wear and tear he subjected it to; whether tearing up the highways on his motorcycle, hours in the gym or nights of indulgence in alcohol and women. He knew, however, that his often wild lifestyle couldn’t be maintained forever. He lived for the adrenaline rush of living on the edge, on his own terms, even to the dismay of family and friends. He did it as much to amuse himself as to piss off his powerful father.

He backed away from the all-knowing mirror and turned on the shower full-blast in the hope that his head would clear about the events that led to the woman in his bed.

By the time he turned off the taps he remembered—and it wasn’t good. The lovely lady was Shante Thornton, who worked for his sister Dominique. He muttered a curse while he knotted a towel around his waist. Back in front of the mirror he wiped the fogged glass with a cloth. His face appeared haloed by the mist. “You’re an idiot,” he grumbled.

When Rafe returned, Shante was sitting on the side of the bed with the sheet pulled up around her. She glanced quickly at him, turned away and clutched the sheet in her fist, but not before he registered the look of uncertainty and maybe embarrassment in her eyes. Without makeup and the fancy gown that was now tossed on an armchair, he could see how young she was. Not underage jail potential, but younger than the women he was accustomed to dealing with. There was a vulnerability that engulfed her like the scent of great sex that still lingered in the room.

He may be a womanizer in the eyes of some, but the truth was he loved women, adored them. He cherished the bodies of women, the soft curves of their shoulders and hips, the sexy spot behind the ear right down to the lobe, and the allure of the collarbone and the lovely space where he could dip his tongue and feel the pulse, and the sensual pull of a woman’s breasts when he held them in his palms was always exciting. Women’s bodies fascinated him and he made it his duty to explore, awaken and satisfy. He treasured their minds equally, and there was nothing more singularly sexy than an intelligent woman. But in every instance he treated them all with equal doses of charm and respect—a mantra that he lived by. Unfortunately, it had gotten him into more trouble than he needed on occasion.

“Mornin’, sugah,” he said while he crossed the room. He sat beside her and felt her tense. “Sleep okay?”

She barely nodded her head. Rafe smiled and that seemed to break the ice.

“I haven’t slept that good in ages.”

“It’s the sheets,” he teased.

Shante laughed softly.

“There’re fresh towels in the bathroom.” He stood. “I’ll fix us some breakfast. Bacon and eggs cool?”

“Sounds great.”

“Coffee? Tea? Juice?”

“Coffee,” she asked more than stated.

“Got it.” He left and as he reached the door he heard her get up from the bed and scurry into the bathroom. Modesty was actually an admirable trait.

* * *

He deftly threw together his morning-after omelet special of cheddar and sharp cheeses, green and red peppers and diced bits of ham mixed with a dash of milk to keep the eggs light and fluffy; a trick he’d learned from his mom. He hummed while he worked and in between every other note he thought about or saw an image of Avery. Rarely did one woman leave that kind of impression on him. He was used to easily seducing the woman that he wanted; a full-on Lawson press. Not this time. He frowned as he replayed their brief encounter.

He’d noticed her the moment she walked in and it was clear, even in an eye-popping black gown, that her presence was more than an invited guest. He could tell by the way her gaze covertly scanned the room, noted the exits and followed at a discreet distance from the vice president that she was part of his security detail—Secret Service. He had an image of a .22 strapped to her inner thigh.

Unlike many highbrow gatherings of politicos and the like that were too reserved for his tastes, a Lawson party was the real deal full of loud laughter, louder conversations and the music to go with it. So of course he had to get particularly close to talk to her.

He gave her time to assess the layout before he approached. He came alongside her. “Can I get you anything?”

She turned cinnamon-brown eyes on him, fanned by long curved lashes. Her smile was practiced, distant, but Rafe didn’t miss the rapid beat of her pulse in the dip of her throat that belied her cool exterior. Her sleek right brow rose in question as she took him in with one long glance.

“Clearly you’re not one of the waitstaff,” she said with a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Rafe Lawson.”

Her eyes widened for a split second. “Oh, the scandalous one.”

He dramatically pressed his hand to his chest. “Guilty as charged, cher, but I have perfectly reasonable explanations for everything.”

Her eyes sparkled when the light hit them. “I’m sure you do, Mr. Lawson.”

“So what can I get for you that won’t interfere with you being on duty?”

She tensed ever so slightly.

“Trust me. I’ve grown up in this life. I can spot Secret Service a mile away. Although I must admit that you bring class to the dark suits and Ray-Bans.”

She glanced past him to where her colleague stood near the vice president. In one fluid motion she gave a barely imperceptible lift of her chin, a quick scan of the room and said, “Nice to meet you,” as she made a move to leave.

He held her bare arm. “Tell me your name,” he commanded almost in her ear. He inhaled her, felt the slight shiver that gripped her.

“Avery.”

Rafe released her and followed the dangerously low-cut back of her dress until she was out of sight.

“Smells delicious.”

Rafe blinked, glanced over his shoulder. Definitely cute, but she wasn’t Avery. He took two plates from the overhead cabinet and set them on the table. “Help yourself to coffee.”

“Thanks.”

He spooned the eggs onto a platter and added the bacon. “Toast?”

“No. I’m fine with this.”

Rafe poured himself a glass of orange juice, straddled the stool and sat. “How long have you been working with my sister, six months?”

“Just about.”

He watched her over the rim of his glass as she tried to remain ladylike when she took a half spoonful of eggs and one strip of bacon when he knew damn well she had to be starving because he was.

He lifted the serving spoon from the platter, loaded it with eggs and plopped it on her plate, followed by two strips of bacon.

“We’ve already experienced carnal knowledge, honey, no point in putting on a show now. Eat like you mean it.” He winked and filled his plate.

“I...want you to know that... I don’t do this.”

“What’s that, Shante, eat breakfast?”

She sputtered a laugh. “No. I mean...spend the night with a man the first time I meet him.”

He chewed thoughtfully. “Hmm. Okay.” He smiled, slow and deliberate. “I consider it an honor, cher.” He watched her sandy brown skin flush then tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. His fingers instinctively caressed the smooth lock. “Eat up. I’ll drop you home before I take care of the rest of my day.”

* * *

Rafe preferred the black Range Rover for his everyday use rather than either of his two cars or his motorcycle. Plus the roominess gave him an artificial sense of distance when he knew it would be the last official time he’d drop a woman at her door. The intimacy of a car made parting more difficult.

“Thanks for a great evening...and breakfast,” Shante said. She smiled shyly.

“It was my pleasure.” He remotely unlocked the doors, got out and came around to her side. He held her hand to help her out.

Shante glanced up at him and he knew this was the “I’ll call you” moment that wouldn’t happen.

Rafe leaned down and placed a long, tender kiss on her forehead, ran his thumb along the line of her jaw, turned and got back in the Rover.

A spark of guilt ignited with the turn of the key. It always did at times like this. He checked his mirrors and slowly pulled off.

No sooner had he driven away and gotten back on the main road than his cell phone rang. He pressed an icon on the dash and his sister Dominique’s voice came through the speaker.

“Tell me that you did not take Shante home with you last night.”

“Well hello, Dom, and how are you today?”

“Don’t play with me, Raford Lawson.”

Anytime his family used his full name he knew he had to brace for the inevitable tongue-lashing. “Okay, I won’t tell you.”

“Damn it, Rafe!”

“What? She’s grown and so am I.”

“That’s not the point and you know it.”

“No. I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me like I know you want to do.”

Dominique sighed heavily. “You run through women like socks, Rafe. Shante’s a nice girl and—”

“And I treated her like a nice woman. There is no way that she could say anything different.”

“I know that. That’s the problem. You treat them all like princesses and then poof, move on. Telephone book of broken hearts.”

“Bit of an exaggeration, sis.” He turned onto the street where his club was located.

“We work together, Rafe. I don’t need her grilling me about you and whining in my ear when you don’t call.”

“What makes you think I won’t call?”

“Will you?” She pushed out a frustrated breath when silence hung between them. “Aggh. If you weren’t my brother...”

Rafe chuckled. “Love you, too, sis. Gotta go.”

“Fine. Try to stay out of trouble.”

“Always.” He pulled into his parking spot. He disconnected the call and cut the engine.

Dominique, unlike her twin Desiree, had no problem saying what was on her mind regardless of how her remarks fell on the ears and souls of her target. She’d softened somewhat since she got together with Trevor Jackson. But even he couldn’t always keep the lid on Dominique. Now that their eldest sister, Lee Ann, was married and expecting, Dominique took on the role as head Lawson woman in charge.

He had to laugh. As much as he loved his siblings they could be a bit much at times, never mind that he was the eldest son. With three females, he and his younger brother Justin didn’t stand a chance.

Rafe entered the club through the back door. He flipped on lights as he strolled through. No matter how many times he crossed the gray marble floors, walked behind the circular bar or looked out onto the eclectic crowd that packed the house night after night, he still got that rush. This was his, the one thing separate and apart from the Lawson legacy of money, politics and backdoor deals, much to his father’s horror.

From the time he was old enough to walk and talk, his father, Branford, began to groom him for politics. And from the moment Rafe was old enough to think for himself he resented what his father wanted for him. The last footsteps he wanted to walk in were his father’s and that caused a rift between father and son that had spanned the better part of his adult life.

Fortunately, his sister Lee Ann married Sterling, a senator, and Justin had taken up the Lawson mantel, gotten his law degree and had begun to carve a name for himself in civil liberties law with his private law firm. It was only a matter of time before he pursued public office.

Rafe went behind the bar and fixed himself a quick shot of bourbon. Sure it was early, but what the hell. He placed his phone on the bar top. 11:30. His staff would arrive soon to prep for the five o’clock opening. He sipped his drink, picked up his phone and called his brother.

Justin answered on the third ring. “You’re on speaker so don’t say anything crazy.” He chuckled.

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

“I didn’t see you leave last night.”

“Yeah, kinda flew under the radar.”

“Hmm, I know what that means. So...what’s up?”

“Look, there was this woman there last night...”

“Oh really?” Justin teased.

“This is different,” Rafe said, pacing in front of the bar.

“What do you mean?”

Rafe paused a moment, trying to piece what was running through his head together. “I don’t know, man. I saw her and...anyway, she’s been on mind.”

“Okay... I know you’re not asking for my advice.” He chuckled.

“Not exactly. More like a favor.”

“Shoot.”

“All I know is her name is Avery and she works for the Secret Service. She was on the VP detail.”

“Whoa. Okay. And...”

“And I need you to use some of your connections to find out her last name and how I can reach her. I’m sure Dad knows, but he’s the last person I’d ask.”

“Hmm. I’ll see what I can find out. Is it really that important?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Don’t think I’ve heard that tone in your voice before. This is new.”

“Guess it is,” he said, the realization hitting him. He took a swallow of his drink. Frowned.

“Actually, I get it. Ran into this woman weeks ago at a bar downtown. Couldn’t shake her, and damn if she wasn’t the bartender at Granddad’s party.”

“What! But you were with what’s-her-name. The one none of us like.”

Justin grumbled deep in his throat. “Yes, the situation got a little awkward. But at least I know where she works. It wasn’t until last night that she actually knew who I was.”

“What does that mean? You been seeing her in disguise? Using a false name?” He chuckled.

“Naw. I just never told her I was a Lawson.”

“For obvious reasons. I get it. Say no more. But now that she knows what’s your next move?”

“I plan to see her again. There’s this connection. Ya know?”

“Yeah, bro, I think I do.”

The front door opened and the club manager Carlos walked in with Paul the house chef and Rafe’s favorite two waitresses Simone and Leslie right behind them.

“Gotta run. Duty calls.”

“Yeah, me, too. Meeting a client.”

“So you’ll check that out for me?”

“No doubt.”

“Cool. And, J...”

“Yeah...?”

“Good luck with your lady friend.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s her name by the way?”

“Bailey. Bailey Sinclair.”

“Bailey. I like it.” He chuckled. “Be easy.”

“You, too.”

Rafe pocketed his phone and greeted his staff, all the while wondering how long it would take Justin to find out what he wanted to know.

Chapter 2

Avery Richards planted her feet, aimed her Glock and fired six rounds in rapid succession. She extracted the earplugs and removed the protective goggles. The paper target floated toward her like a ghost in a bad B movie. Five to the chest and one right between the eyes.

“Not bad.”

Avery gave a cursory glance and chose to ignore the comment.

Mike Stone, often her detail partner and unrequited suitor, stepped into the booth next to hers. She wouldn’t characterize their relationship as adversarial but it was often tense. Mostly because Avery was damned good at every aspect of her job, she had seniority and she didn’t fall under his questionable charms.

Mike was accustomed to having what and who he wanted. The fact that he couldn’t live out what he believed to be his manifest destiny with Avery irked him to no end. It didn’t, however, stop him from challenging her whenever it suited him. Quite frankly she was tired of his bullshit male ego and planned to ask to be reassigned.

She’d been hired under the first female head of the Secret Service. Avery didn’t have the same rapport with her replacement and she didn’t want to play the victim card. But the fact was she didn’t trust Mike and that could prove tragic if placed in a life or death situation. She didn’t want to pull her trump card and ask for favors from her senator father. She needed to work this out on her own. That or simply shoot Mike and put them both out of their misery.

“Ever think about just wounding?” He put on his goggles.

“You. I have, yes.”

He laughed and plugged his ears. “Dead suspects tell no tales.”

She rolled her eyes, holstered her weapon and detached her target sheet. “Have a good day, Mike,” she said. The drip of sarcasm pooled at her feet.

The sound of gunfire followed her out of the target range.

* * *

When Avery pushed through the heavy steel door and entered the long corridor that led to a row of offices, she ran into her friend Kerry Holt.

She and Kerry had trained together when they first joined the service six years earlier and they became fast friends. Kerry was the one person in whom she could confide without it coming back to haunt her.

They exchanged a quick hug.

“I thought you were off today,” Kerry said.

“I am. Just getting some practice in.” She tipped her head toward the range.

“How was that party the other night?”

“I thought it would be the typical stuffed-shirt event, but if I wasn’t on duty I would have had a ball.”

“Really?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She lowered her voice. “I met Senator Lawson’s son, Rafe.”

Kerry’s green eyes widened. “I’ve only seen pictures. Is he as gorgeous in person?”

“That would be an understatement.” She pushed out a breath. “There’s something about him.” Her gaze drifted off.

“Did you give him your number?”

“No! Don’t be silly. I was on duty.”

“So.”

“So? I’m not going to lose my job for a turn-on.”

“You need a turn-on. When’s the last time you got some?”

Avery made a face. “Is that all you can think about?”

“Yes.”

They laughed.

“You’re a mess.”

“Maybe but you still should have given him your number.”

“For what? I live in DC and he’s in Louisiana.”

“Hmm. True. Anyway, what are you doing later?”

“Heading to the gym, then home. Stop by and I’ll fix us some mimosas.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice. I’ll bring Chinese from that place we like.”

“Sevenish?”

“See you then.” Kerry’s pager went off. She pulled it from the clip on her hip and checked the number. “Duty calls.”

“Always. And don’t forget the extra hot mustard.”

“Got it.”

They parted and headed in opposite directions.

Maybe she should have given Rafe her number, but now that she thought about it he hadn’t asked. Just as well. Relationships were difficult in the best of circumstances. Long distance was worse. Beyond that, her career didn’t make for the best in partnerships. At any given time she could be called on to travel halfway across the globe. She’d lost count of how many dinners, getaways and “sleepovers” she’d had to either cancel or end abruptly. Compound that with being the daughter of Horace Richards, the ranking senior senator, and she was never quite sure if a man was with her because of genuine interest or to get close to her father.

Kerry was right, though. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man—in every sense of the word. She did miss being touched, waking up with someone beside her, having doors opened, being told that she was beautiful, having someone to look out for and protect her for a change. Wishful thinking.

She got behind the wheel of her Navigator and headed away from headquarters. The imposing images of democracy stood firm against the horizon; the Capitol, the White House and in the distance the Lincoln Memorial. A surge of pride filled her. This was the life she chose—to protect and defend. It was the life she’d been groomed for since college.

* * *

Avery spent a full two hours in the gym, part of her weekly regime. She not only worked out to stay fit but for health reasons, as well. Her mother had died of a massive heart attack when Avery was only fifteen. The doctors had warned Linda Richards that if she kept up the fried foods, didn’t quit smoking and lose the weight, her outlook was not good. Linda remained stubborn and determined to hold on to her southern-style soul-food cooking, brushing all well-meaning advice aside.

Avery remembered Sunday dinners being more of an extravaganza than a meal. Two kinds of meats—one of which was always fried—collards and string beans seasoned in fatback, six-cheese baked macaroni, sweet tea and pies that would set off diabetic alarms.

Eat up were her mother’s two favorite words.

Growing up Avery believed that everyone ate the way her family did, even as she put on the pounds herself. By the time she turned fifteen, shortly before her mother’s death, she was 190 pounds at five foot five.

Instead of tears Avery mourned with food, pushing beyond two hundred and ten pounds by her seventeenth birthday. It was her own brush with a health scare that finally turned her around.

It was three months before her high school graduation. For about a week she’d experienced shortness of breath and mild dizzy spells. She wouldn’t tell her father. It was bad enough that he looked at her with a mixture of disgust and sadness. The decision was taken out of her hands when she collapsed in the school stairwell.

Two days in the hospital, dependent on an oxygen mask and lectured by doctors, nurses and nutritionists, Avery came home determined to live.

* * *

Wrapped in a towel Avery stepped out of a long, hot shower and walked through her two-bedroom condo. It was almost six. Knowing Kerry she would arrive any minute. She had a penchant for turning up early for any and everything. Avery decided on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts.

After getting dressed she put a bottle of wine in the fridge to chill then curled up on the couch to catch up on the news until Kerry arrived.

There was the usual litany of disasters, fires, floods, home invasions and yet another unarmed black man shot by police.

Avery’s stomach turned with anguish and disappointment. Anguish for the family and friends and community and disappointment in the profession that she was part of.

As the names of the fallen continued to climb she’d begun to question how the country that she loved had devolved into one of fear of the very people sworn to protect you, and she’d begun to question if in fact she should stay in her line of work.

The newscaster skillfully switched gears to talk entertainment politics. Her heart lurched. There on the screen in bold, living color was Rafe Lawson on the night of his grandfather’s birthday party. He was on the small stage in the center of the massive ballroom, playing the sax. Avery leaned in.

“Rafe Lawson, one of Louisiana’s most eligible bachelors, and the eldest son and heir to the Lawson legacy is seen here playing a tribute to his grandfather Clive Lawson. The celebration of the 85th birthday of the patriarch was a star-studded affair that included a surprise visit by Vice President Reynolds, a long-time friend to the senior Lawson. His son Senator Branford Lawson is actively campaigning for the seat of Chairman of the Homeland Security Committee.”

Avery couldn’t tear her eyes off Rafe and wished that she could hit replay when the station segued to the weather. As if deflated she flopped back against the pillows of the couch. Her pulse continued to race and that funny feeling in the pit of her stomach remained. Crazy that he could have the same effect on her through a television screen as he did up close and personal.

For a moment she closed her eyes and inhaled. His scent awakened in her memory. The sound of his voice, slow, easy and deep, whispered in her ear. A shudder rippled through her and her eyes flew open. She jumped up and went for the wine that was chilling in the fridge. She couldn’t wait for Kerry.

She poured a full glass and took a deep swallow. If Kerry hadn’t rung the bell when she did, Avery was certain she would have put on her sneakers and ran Rafe Lawson out of her system.

“Hey, girl.” Avery stepped aside to let Kerry in. “Hmm, smells good,” she said, eyeing the bags in Kerry’s hand.

“I am starved.” Kerry breezed in and went straight to the kitchen to put down the bags. She moved around Avery’s kitchen like it was her own, taking out plates and flatware. “Drinking without me?” she said, noticing Avery’s glass of wine. “Thought we were doing mimosas.”

“We are. I just needed something to take the edge off.”

Kerry stopped emptying the bag of its food cartons. “Why? Something happen?”

“Not exactly.” She twisted her lips to the side. “Sort of.”

“Okay. I’ll bite. What?”

Avery told her about seeing Rafe on television and the crazy way it made her feel.

“Wow. Sounds serious.”

“No, it sounds crazy.” She opened a carton and loaded her plate with stir-fried vegetables and generously drizzled them with hot mustard.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Kerry crunched on a spring roll.

“Sum it up to a pleasant memory and move on.”

Kerry threw her a skeptical glance. “Right.”

“I will. You’ll see.”

Kerry chuckled. “Whatever.”

* * *

For the most part Avery was as good as her word. In the ensuing weeks she’d all but put images and thoughts of Rafe Lawson in her rearview. Every now and again she had a flash but quickly pushed it back where it belonged. Her tough schedule was a big factor.

Since the night of the party VP Reynolds had been so impressed with her that he’d requested Avery as part of his second-shift detail, which was great for her as it left a good chunk of her day free and occupied some of her evenings. Evenings that would more than likely have been spent alone anyway.

She was at her desk reviewing status reports when she got a call from the lobby security advising her to come down.

“Be right there.” She reached into her desk drawer, removed her Glock and slipped it into her underarm holster, then shrugged into her navy blue suit jacket.

Her low-heeled shoes clicked rhythmically against the granite floors. She stopped at the bank of elevators and pressed the down button. Mike walked up and joined her for the wait. Inwardly she groaned and hoped that he wasn’t riding all the way down.

“Morning. Heading out?”

“Good morning. No, just to the lobby.”

“Listen, Avery...”

The doors swished open.

Avery stepped on and faced forward.

“I’d really like to take you to lunch sometime.”

She was so taken aback by the clear tone of sincerity and almost boyish look in his eyes that she couldn’t respond. Her lips parted as the doors closed.

Avery shook her head in disbelief and leaned against the back wall of the elevator. That was new and different. Mike had never formally asked her out. He’d always insinuated what a good catch he was, taunted her about her work ethic and goaded her whenever an opportunity presented itself. This was the Mike she’d never met before, but she still didn’t trust him.

The doors opened on the main floor. She buttoned her jacket, made certain her ID was visible and walked to the security console.

“Agent Richards. I got a call.”

“Yes, Agent Richards. Senator Lawson’s son is here to see you.”

Her heart felt as if it jumped from her chest to her throat and a hot wave rolled through her from toe to head.

She swallowed. “Thank you.” When she turned toward the waiting area, she heard her own gasp when she spotted him. His back was turned to her, but his long, lean form was unmistakable framed within the towering bulletproof windows that looked out onto the nation’s capital. The white collar of his shirt peeked above the black jacket that matched his slacks, but when he turned there was not the expected tie, but rather an open collar revealing the tease of hot chocolate. The aura that wafted around him was palpable, even from where she stood.

“Oh, lord,” she murmured. She couldn’t tell what he saw or what he was thinking behind the dark shades that shielded his eyes, only that his lush lips moved into a slow smile while she approached.

“Mr. Lawson.” She stopped in front of him and hoped that he didn’t sense her sudden anxiety.

Rafe removed his shades and slid them into the breast pocket of his jacket. Bad move. Now she couldn’t think beyond the glow in his eyes and the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

“I hope you don’t mind that I looked you up since I was in town.”

She had a momentary brain freeze. “Well, I’m not sure if I mind or not. I would guess it depends on why you’re here.”

That grin again.

“We didn’t get a real chance to talk the night of the party.” He stepped closer, cutting off the space between them, slid his hands into his pockets and angled his head just a bit to the right. “I thought if I took you to dinner we could pick up where we left off.”

Avery blinked rapidly and shifted her weight. “Dinner? I... I really don’t think...that would be a good idea.”

Rafe gave the barest of shrugs. “Not a problem, only an invitation.”

His smile was just enough to stir the imagination.

Avery licked her bottom lip. “So what brings you to DC?”

“Meeting a friend. He’s playing a set tonight. Maybe if you’re not too busy—not eating dinner—” his eyes cinched with mischief “—you could stop by. You might like it. Good food, adult crowd, great music.” He extended his hand.

Avery glanced down and mindlessly placed her hand in his. The shock raced up her arm and raised the hair on the back of her neck. Her fingertips tingled.

Rafe dipped his head toward her. “I’ll let you get back to secretly servicing,” he said in a wickedly low voice that set her imagination on a chase down the lane of possibility.

“You have a way with words, Mr. Lawson.”

Rafe chuckled. “So I’ve heard.” His gaze ran lazily over her then settled on her eyes. “Good to see you again, Agent Richards.”

“You...too.”

“If you change your mind I’ll be at Blues Alley. Set starts at eight, last set at ten.”

“I can’t promise.”

“No promises needed. Enjoy your day.”

He turned and strode away and Avery felt he’d taken all the energy with him. She watched him push through the revolving door before merging in with the flow of bodies.

She spun away and right into Mike.

“Friend?”

“What?”

He lifted his chin toward the exit. “Friend of yours? I saw you two talking pretty close. Didn’t think you were seeing anyone with you so wrapped up in this job. You really need to think about letting me take you out. Lunch. Dinner.”

She was so annoyed that Mike snapped the spell of Rafe that she barely refrained from lathering him with the cuss words that she only held on to by sheer will.

“Excuse me,” she said and brushed by him.

Her hand trembled ever so slightly when she pressed the elevator button. She replayed when she’d first met Rafe. They’d barely shared more than a couple of sentences. From what she recalled she’d only given him her first name and certainly no reason for him to believe that he could simply show up at her office.

The doors opened. Even more alarming was how he even figured out what her last name was in order to find where she was stationed. She was the damned Secret Service! But clearly he must have used his father’s connections. She didn’t know if she should be flattered or pissed off.

Avery walked down the corridor and back to her small office, and plopped down in the chair behind her desk. Her body still vibrated and her usual methodically organized thoughts were in complete disarray.

She reached for her cell phone and called Kerry. The call went to voice mail, but while she was leaving a message, Kerry called her back.

“Hey, Avery, what’s up?”

“You will never guess who just left here.”

“Don’t make me guess.”

“Rafe Lawson,” she said in a pressed whisper.

“Say what?”

“Yes! He was here.”

“What did he want?”

Avery ran down the conversation.

“So let me get this straight. This fine-ass bachelor flies across the country, takes the time to track you down, asks you out for dinner and you say—no? Are you out of your damned mind?”

“No. I’m...cautious.”

“No. Crazy. What do you think can happen over dinner?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

“I don’t know,” she woefully confessed. She sighed heavily into the phone. “He... There’s something about him that...unsettles me.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I feel as if I lose control when he’s in my space.”

“Girl, girl...” Kerry laughed. “I only wish there was someone to make me feel that way.”

“I don’t. I can’t be all foggy-headed and tongue-tied.”

“Sis, you have got to give yourself some space to live and be a woman. This job can take a toll on the people in our lives and us. No one knows better than me. But every now and then we have to be our own number one priority.”

Avery was quiet. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be in a relationship. She just knew at this stage in her life it was almost impossible if she wanted to be successful. She was good at what she did, and after years of trying she’d finally gained, if not the love, at least the admiration of her father. She didn’t want to lose that over something that probably would never last.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Kerry said, breaking into Avery’s thoughts.

“What deal?”

“I’ll go with you to Blues Alley and after the evening is over if you still feel the same way...I’ll shut my mouth on the subject.”

It would give her a chance to see Rafe again without being out there on her own. “Okay.”

“Great. So you want to go to the first set or the last?”

“First. I’m on duty tomorrow morning.”

“Too bad. I’m off.”

“Don’t rub it in. Meet you out front at 7:30?”

“Perfect.”

“So I’ll see you later.”

“Later.”

Avery disconnected the call and leaned back in her chair. A giddy sensation fluttered in her center. She looked at the time on her phone. Seven hours. This was going to be a very long day.

Chapter 3

It had been several months since he’d been to the DMV area. Driving through the streets of DC brought back a mixture of memories.

He’d partied hard in the nation’s capital, frequenting the many clubs and after-hours spots, either as a musician or one of the revelers. He’d been enamored with the city since his youth, enough that he left Tulane’s grad school and enrolled in Howard University, much to his father’s disappointment, which suited Rafe just fine. The only saving grace was that Branford believed he would be able to keep an eye on his son if he was in the city where he wielded power and also claimed as a second home. Neither reality fazed Rafe in the least. If anything it fueled his bad boy ways: speeding tickets to tabloid news to barroom brawls. Yet somehow he managed to graduate with his master’s degree in music history and composition and built a reputation on campus as one of the most talented sax players of his generation. He’d even been offered a teaching position after graduation, but he turned it down. As much as he loved everything about music he wasn’t ready to be tied down to one place.

The rows of town houses, in a range of browns and dusty red hues, stood in perfectly proportioned squares of grace, adorned with flower-bearing urns all shaded by century-old trees. The neighborhood was reminiscent of times gone by when the roads were cobblestone and horse-drawn carriages were the preferred mode of transportation.

Rafe parked his rented Mercedes out front and took his carry-on from the trunk. He opened the black gate and walked down the short path to the door. Even though he did not stay in town often, he had Alice come twice per month to clean and air out the rooms. He’d called in advance of this visit to make sure the fridge and the bar were stocked. Alice always did an outstanding job, and as usual today was no exception.

When he walked in he was greeted with a vase of fresh flowers in the foyer and the smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen. He dropped his bag in the hall and followed the scent.

Alice was busy at the sink washing vegetables for a salad. Rafe eased up behind her and slipped his arms around her thick waist.

Alice gave a slight squeal of surprise and giggled like a schoolgirl rather than a grandmother of three when Rafe placed a kiss behind each ear. She playfully smacked his hands.

“Still being a rascal, I see. Half scared me to death.”

Rafe kissed her again. “Aw, come on, cher.” He turned her around and looked her over. “Still the prettiest girl at the party.”

Alice’s cheeks flushed. “Oh go on.” She shooed him away.

Rafe lifted the cover of the simmering pot and inhaled pure bliss. “Will you marry me, Ms. Alice?” he teased when he saw the jambalaya.

“I have no intention of standing at the end of the line waiting my turn.”

“Aww, Ms. Alice, if you promise to fix your famous jambalaya at least once a week, I swear I’ll put you right up front.”

Alice’s round face crinkled with laughter. She wagged a finger at him. “One of these days you’re going to run into just the right woman to make an honest man out of you.”

“You really think so?” he asked, growing serious.

She looked him in the eye. “If you slow down and stop running so fast you’ll see her.” She lightly shoved him aside. “Now go on and let me finish up. I’m meeting some friends in town.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rafe retrieved his bag from the hall and went upstairs. His room, like the rest of the house, was as he’d last seen it. But he knew it had been dusted and polished and the linens changed. He went over to the walk-in closet and was pleased to find that his clothes had arrived ahead of him and were neatly hung. He smiled and closed the door. What would he do without Alice?

Rafe slid out of his jacket, tossed it on the club chair by the window then unbuttoned his shirt and let it join his jacket.

A quick shower, a change of clothes and then he needed to get with Quinten about tonight. He was pretty certain that Q would be more than cool with him joining the set tonight, but he didn’t want to take anything, especially their friendship, for granted. He wanted to be sure just in case Avery did show up.

He didn’t understand why it mattered that she cared or whether she showed up. The very idea that he’d gone through his kid brother to find out who she was, rearranged his life to fly to DC to see her and was feeling like a horny teen just thinking about her gave him pause.

This was not his MO. Totally out of character. Although he’d been known to be impulsive at times he was always deliberate when it came to the women in and out of his life and the relationships he chose to pursue. In those instances he’d never been driven by emotion but rather need, desire or simply the wish of a woman that he wanted to see satisfied.

Avery. He was uncertain and he didn’t particularly like it, but he felt challenged to venture down this new avenue.

* * *

Rafe found a parking space a little more than a block from Blues Alley, then took a slow stroll back to the club. As he’d figured when he called Quinten to let him know he was in town, Q was more than happy to have his best friend join him onstage, and Rafe was really looking forward to playing in front of an audience.

He adjusted his sax case over his shoulder and pushed through the doors of the club. He was momentarily delayed by an overzealous security guard who advised Rafe that the club didn’t open until four, but quickly offered his apologies when Quinten walked over, embraced Rafe in a one-arm hug and introduced him.

“This is my man, Rafe Lawson. He’s with the band. Rafe, Phil... He keeps an eye out.”

Rafe extended his hand. “Phil.”

“My apologies.”

“None needed for doing your job.”

They shook hands and then Rafe followed Quinten to one of the back rooms.

“How you doing, bruh?” Quinten asked while he pulled open the door to the mini-fridge and took out a bottle of water. He handed it to Rafe and grabbed one for himself. “Glad you called, man.”

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s good. Can’t complain.” He sat on the side of the desk and twisted the top off the water bottle. “It’ll be like old times tonight.”

“Truth.”

“How’s Rae?”

“Fine as evah,” he said with a grin. “Jamal is in his second year of college. Can you believe that? Tall as me and swears he’s all that.”

The two friends laughed.

“Chip off the old man’s block,” Rafe joked. “I’d love to see him.”

“Yeah, you need to catch up on your part-time godfather duties.”

“Aw man, easy. You got to admit I have never missed a birthday, holiday or graduation.”

“Yeah, yeah, you right. Just messing with you.”

“Talk to Maxine?” Maxine Sherman and Quinten once had a tumultuous relationship, but Q’s heart had been with Nikita. When Nikita died in that car accident, Rafe wasn’t sure if Quinten would ever be right again. Him, their buddy Nick Hunter and his then-girlfriend Parris McKay rallied around Q. Then he met Rae and she literally breathed life back into him. It was well after Nikita’s passing that he found out about Jamal—his son with Maxine. Stressful times, but everything worked out. Maxine married Taylor, a great guy who loved Jamal like his own, and Q and Maxine knew that the most important person was their son. When Jamal started high school he came to live with his father and Rae, and then went to Howard.

“Maxine is doing real well. We talk a couple of times a month.” He smiled wistfully.

“Ever have any regrets about your relationship with Maxine?”

Quinten gave a shrug. “I used to when J was a kid, but we all made choices and when I met Rae...” he grinned “...that was it. Hooked.”

Rafe nodded slowly. “Guess it happens for a chosen few.” He pushed up from the side of the desk, took a swallow of water and looked at his friend. “Me? Not happening. I like my life just the way it is, free, easy, no commitments.”

“That’s what we all say, my brother.” He chuckled from deep in his chest and took a band from his pocket to gather up his mid-shoulder-length locs. He fastened them at the nape of his neck. “Come on up front. Let’s check the stage and the mics. The rest of the band should be here in a few.”

The Quinten Parker Quartet had made a name for themselves touring the States and Europe. Q’s wife, Rae, a star in her own right, added a bit of splash to the quartet with her provocative spoken word.

Quinten asked him more times than he could count to join the band. Each time Rafe graciously turned him down. He enjoyed the liberating feeling of playing where and when he wanted, recording in the studio when he was ready, popping up at clubs to be a featured performer, being his own man with his own business. Totally independent. Being tied to anything or anyone didn’t work for him. He’d tried it. Once was enough.

“Hey,” Quinten said, his tone softened. He anchored his hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “It’s been a long time.” He looked his friend in the eye, knowing.

Rafe’s jaw reflexively clenched. “Yeah, it has. Doesn’t change anything.” His brow arched to punctuate his point.

Quinten held his hands up in submission. “I hear ya.” He pushed open the back-room door and they entered the club space.

Rafe stepped up onto the stage. Q was right. It had been a long time, sixteen years and counting. But like he’d said, time didn’t change anything. So he filled those years with music, good food, expensive liquor, beautiful women, world travel and trying to forget. That was the life he’d created for himself and he was fine with it.

Chapter 4

Mike fell in step next to Avery as they exited the conference room.

“You never did say who the guy was down at security.”

Avery barely glanced at him. “You’re right. I didn’t.” She quickened her pace but Mike matched her stride for stride.

“I’m curious why Senator Lawson’s son would be here to see you.”

Avery slowed for an instant. Her temper flared, but she would not let Mike get under her skin. “How about it’s none of your damned business.” She stopped in midstride and spun toward him. “The next time you have the itch to either check the visitor’s log or review security footage to check up on me, I’ll report you for sexual harassment.”

“Whoa! Just hold on. It’s nothing like that and you know it.”

“Do I?” she challenged. The glint of fire in her eyes held him in place. “Have a good day, Mike, and stay out of my way.”

Avery’s heart thundered. She hurried down the corridor and back to her office. The weekly staff meeting was draining enough without having to deal with Mike and his nonsense. Something had to change.

She closed her office door behind her, sat at her desk and booted up her computer. She did a quick check of her email, then updated her calendar based on the new assignments given at the meeting. Those minor details out of the way, she checked her service weapon in her underarm holster, took her purse from the bottom drawer and headed out for the day.

Inside her car with her office now in her rearview, she felt herself begin to unwind but quickly felt a different surge of tension as the sound of Rafe’s voice came alive in her mind. A mild shudder rippled through her limbs. She gripped the steering wheel tighter.

Seeing him today was simultaneously thrilling and unsettling; thrilling that he went to whatever lengths to find her and unsettling for the very same reason. She was flattered that he sought her out, but the distance that she maintained to protect herself and her space had been breached without her consent.

Clearly Rafe Lawson was the type of man that did what he wanted whenever he desired and he had the money, the connections and the charisma to pull it all off.

Avery parked in the garage and entered the two-bedroom Tudor through the kitchen. Her cell phone vibrated in her purse.

“I’m just walking in the door,” Avery said, catching Kerry’s call before it went to voice mail.

“Just checking to make sure you didn’t chicken out.”

“Very funny. Why would I do that?” She tugged open the double-door stainless steel fridge and took out a bottle of water.

“Because I know you, that’s why. Anyway, what are you wearing?”

“To be honest I hadn’t really thought about it.” She took a long replenishing swallow.

“Hmm. Well, I’m going casual. My white crepe slacks and that magenta blouse that I got from the mall and those strappy white Michael Kors sandals...some accessories. Yeah, that’s what I’ll wear.”

Avery shook her head and smiled. Kerry’s idea of casual was runway ready. “Sounds perfect. Guess I better get moving and find something appropriate so that I won’t look like the poor relation,” she said over her laughter.

“Girl, please, you couldn’t look bad coming out of a street fight. Why do you think I always have to step up my game when we go out?”

“K, please,” she sniffed and finished off her water.

“I’m serious. You are so focused on your job and scoping out bad guys that you are totally oblivious to the effect you have. Rafe Lawson tracking your behind down is a perfect example. Do you have any idea who he really is?”

Avery started toward her bedroom. “Yes. He’s Senator Lawson’s son. He’s wealthy and well connected.”

“You are pitiful. Girl, Google him. He’s a lot more than a wealthy senator’s son. I’ll meet you out front of the club at 7:30.”

“Fine. See you later.” She tossed her phone on the bed. Kerry always made everything more dramatic than it really was. She should have gone into acting instead of law enforcement.

Avery opened her closet door and stood staring at her rather ordinary line-up of outfits, the majority of which were navy and gray skirt and slack suits. She had one formal dress that she’d worn to the Lawson party and her go-to jersey wrap dress in a deep navy blue. She took the navy dress from the rack and laid it out on the bed then went to hop in the shower.

* * *

Avery’s hands shook ever so slightly as she put silver hoops in her ears. Nervous. What did she have to be jittery about? She was going to a jazz club with her best friend, something she’d done hundreds of times. But none of those times had Rafe Lawson invited her.

Her heart beat faster. She drew in a long, deep breath and briefly shut her eyes. Just another night out, she told herself. She took her purse from the dresser, dropped her wallet, keys and phone inside and headed out.

* * *

It took a bit of time to find parking. The lot behind Blues Alley was full and street parking was at a premium. Avery finally found a spot two blocks off Constitution Avenue. The short walk back gave her a chance to put on her game face and settle the flare-up of nerves.

As she approached the club she spotted Kerry standing outside with her focus on her cell phone. She glanced up and smiled when she saw Avery.

“Hey.”

“Hi. You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

“No, just got here,” Kerry said.

“Parking is crazy.”

“I know, I think I got the last spot in the lot.”

“Lucky.”

They both turned toward the entrance and went inside. It had been a while since she’d been to Blues Alley. The last act she’d seen perform was a special appearance by Wynton Marsalis.

“Good evening, ladies. Do you have a reservation?” the hostess asked.

“No. We don’t,” Kerry said.

“It might be a bit of a wait for a table.”

Avery and Kerry took a quick look around. The club was full.

“Busy night,” Avery commented.

“Quinten Parker always draws a crowd. I can get you a setup at the bar until a table opens.”

The friends took a quick glance at each other and nodded in unified agreement.

“Right this way.” The hostess led them over to the bar and took their names for the waiting list.

“Didn’t think about making reservations for a weeknight,” Kerry said as she hopped up on the bar stool. “The band is really good.”

“I think I have one of his early CDs,” Avery said. She placed her purse on her lap and looked around.

“You see him?” Kerry asked knowingly.

Avery adjusted her bottom on the stool. “No.” She linked her fingers together and worked at being unconcerned. But that didn’t stop her pulse from jackhammering in her veins.

“What can I get you, ladies?” The bartender wiped the spaces in front of them with a damp cloth.

“Apple martini,” Avery said.

“Make that two,” Kerry added.

“Coming right up.” He placed a bowl of mixed nuts and one of taco chips with dip in front of them.

* * *

Rafe walked out front from the greenroom along with Quinten to check the crowd.

“You definitely can bring them in,” Rafe said, congratulating Quinten with a pat on the back.

“Blues Alley is my second home when I leave New York.”

“Haven’t been to New York for a minute,” Rafe said. He leaned against the frame of the archway. “Need to get this next album finished.”

“How much more to go?”

“At least three more tracks to lay down.”

“Your last one was off the chain, man.” They bumped fists. “Anytime you want to come up to Harlem I have some of the best engineers in the business. Pure genius. And the next project we need to do together.”

Rafe slowly nodded in agreement. “Yeah. For sure.” He turned his head and when a waitress moved he spotted Avery at the bar. “Be right back.” He started off before Quinten could respond.

Rafe glided between tables and around bodies blocking his pathway to the bar. He eased behind her.

“Glad you could make it,” he whispered against her neck.

Avery felt her entire body tingle. She angled toward him as he came up beside her.

“Rafe,” she managed to say and was caught up for a moment in the light of his eyes.

Kerry turned.

Avery cleared her throat. “Rafe Lawson, this is my friend Kerry Holt. Kerry, Rafe Lawson.”

“Pleasure.” He gave Kerry a gallant nod and a smile. “I have a table,” he said to them both, but his focus was on Avery. “You’re more than welcome, unless you prefer the bar.”

“Absolutely not,” Kerry answered for them both. She stuck a twenty under the bowl of nuts to cover both their drinks, then slid down off her bar stool.

Avery wanted to elbow Kerry but restrained herself. “Thanks. They didn’t say how long the wait for a table would be.”

“My pleasure.” He placed his hand on her lower back as she got off the stool.

“Right this way.”

Avery used all of her concentration to put one foot in front of the other to avoid succumbing to the heat of his large hand right above the rise of her rear.

“It’s the one in the center, up front,” he said close to her ear and she knew it was that thing he did to get close to her and it worked—again.

They stopped at the table and Rafe helped them both into their seats. “Can I get you ladies anything?”

“We’re good for now,” Avery said, and held up her half-finished drink.

Rafe nodded. “Totally understand. But when you get hungry they have a great menu and it’s on the house.”

“Oh, you don’t have to−”

Kerry cut her off. “Thank you. That’s very generous.”

Rafe took a step back. “Enjoy your evening, ladies. See you later?” he stated to Avery in a mouthed whisper.

Avery didn’t respond as she watched him stroll away.

“Oh. My. God,” Kerry whispered and fanned herself with the menu. She leaned forward and stared Avery in the eyes. “Listen here, girl, if you don’t know what you want to do with all that—I’ll handle it for you.”

“He...is...something,” she admitted.

“That’s putting it mildly and he is so charming.”

They laughed and for a moment Avery allowed herself to imagine “what if.”

Kerry raised her glass and shifted Avery’s focus.

“What are we toasting?” Avery asked.

“To possibility.” She grinned.

Avery twisted her lips. “To possibility.”

“Now let’s order our on-the-house dinner, ’cause I’m starved.”

* * *

“Did you research him like I told you?” Kerry asked while she sliced through her medium-well steak.

“No. Didn’t have time.”

Kerry stopped cutting and reached for her purse on the empty chair. She rifled through and pulled out an inch-thick stack of papers clipped together. “That’s what I figured.” Kerry placed the papers next to Avery’s plate. “So I did it for you.”

Avery gave her the side-eye.

“I know. Don’t thank me now.” Kerry proceeded to dig into her steak.

“Kerry,” she said in a hot whisper. “I don’t believe you did this.”

Kerry wagged her fork at Avery. “Let me just say this...” She leaned closer. “That man is a serious catch. Money, looks, connections, well-traveled, educated, talented and other than some minor brushes with the law over a motorcycle accident a couple of years back, he is damn near too good to be true.”

“Then why isn’t he with someone or married if he’s all that?” Avery countered, still unwilling to take the bait. “Must be something wrong.”

“According to the articles he’s been linked to dozens of women, from socialites to supermodels, and none of them have a bad word to say about him.” She shrugged. “Maybe he’s looking for you.” She giggled and winked.

“Sure. Right.” But she couldn’t help wonder why he was single and what if Kerry was right? Now she was being silly. Clearly Rafe Lawson had mastered the art of being a playboy. It was as simple as that.

* * *

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to Blues Alley. We have a very special lineup tonight. He may live in New York but he can call DC home anytime—Quinten Parker and the Quartet.”

The room erupted into applause. “That’s not all. Bringing his own brand of Louisiana jazz is Mr. Saxophone himself, Rafe Lawson.”

Kerry’s eyes widened with delight. Avery’s lips parted in disbelief.

“Did you know?” Kerry whispered.

“No. I had no idea. He told me his friend was playing a set.”

“You do know that among all of his other fineness, he is an amazing sax player with music awards for his albums. Girl, get with the program.” Kerry joined the rest of the audience in applauding the band as they took the stage.

Avery mindlessly joined in and made up her mind that she would actually read up on Rafe Lawson.

Incredible was the only word to describe the first set. Avery remained enthralled with every note, every shift in tempo, and there were no words to explain the rush of sensations that flowed through her whenever Rafe stepped into the spotlight, his long, lean form bent and curved with each note, and transported them with his version of Coltrane classics, the quartets’ numbers and his own originals.

He made love to his audience each time his lips touched the reed and Avery couldn’t even imagine what the real thing would be like.

The room erupted and many of the enthused guests rose to their feet as the members of the band took their bows.

Kerry slapped her palms on the table. “Girl...that was some playing!”

“I know that’s right,” Avery agreed. She slowly shook her head from side to side as the remnants of the experience flowed through her.

Kerry leaned closer. “I’m at a loss as to what to say about your Mr. Lawson. That’s pure sex that floats around him like an aura. I swear I thought that woman in the red dress was going to throw herself or her panties onstage if he hit another high note.”

They burst out laughing.

“Made a complete fool of herself,” Avery said over her chuckles even as she felt the same way the woman did.

“Here he comes,” Kerry said from between her teeth.

“Mind if I sit?” Rafe asked and looked from one to the other, but his gaze returned to Avery.

“Of course. Please,” Kerry said, saving Avery from looking like a fool or simply plain rude.

“Thanks.” He pulled out a chair and sat. “How was dinner?”

“Delicious,” Avery managed to say.

Rafe stroked his smooth chin. “How’d you like the set?”

Avery smiled and grew hot inside. “Loved it. You’re really amazing.”

His deep eyes crinkled at the corners, the dark orbs fanned by thick lashes. He placed the barest tip of his finger on her knuckle and a shot of electricity lifted the hairs on the back of her neck. He leaned in. “Gonna hang around for the second set?”

He was so close she could see her reflection in his eyes, the tiny scar just above his right brow and the perfect curve of his mouth. She had no plans to stay and for the life of her she could not explain even under oath why she said yes.

“Did you drive?”

“Um, yes.”

He pushed back from the table and stood. “See you shortly.” He turned and walked away.

Avery finally breathed.

“My eyelashes are singed from all of the sparks flying.”

Avery made a face. She rested her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her palm.

“He asked if I drove,” she said, her voice low.

Kerry’s eyes widened. “Hmm. I think that’s my cue.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying that he is looking for some personal time that does not include a third party.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m being real. He wants to spend some time with you, not us,” she added wagging her finger between the two of them.

Avery’s gaze followed the spotlight as the band came back onstage. When Rafe took his place, she realized that she wanted that time together, too.

By the time the set was finished, Kerry had said her goodbyes and made Avery swear that she wouldn’t leave out any details.

Avery didn’t know what details there would be to tell, but she promised anyway. In the meantime all she could do was keep her imagination from running out of control.

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