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“Rushmore, Chad. I…uh, don’t have a reservation,” he added.
The woman frowned for a moment, then her expression cleared like a cloud passing over the hillside. “Well, Mr. Rushmore, you’re in luck. My reserved clients aren’t due until the weekend. I have three rooms to choose from—one facing the garden, one along the side—but very private, and one on the ground floor, which gives you easy access to all of our amenities.”
“We’ll need two rooms.”
“One,” Simone piped in, and squeezed Chad’s hand.
He looked down into her eyes, saw her intentions reflected there. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly under his breath.
Simone nodded.
“One room, please,” he uttered, his voice low and personal, his gaze fixed on Simone’s face.
After checking in and exploring the accommodations, Simone and Chad took a tour of the grounds, then sat for a while in the cozy den, talking about his impending trip and looking into the flames that pulsed in the fireplace.
But the inevitable, the underlying reason for their being there arrived, no longer held back by time and circumstance. And almost as if by tacit agreement, they left the room with the fire and danced to one of their own making.
There was no hesitation, no fumbling moments of embarrassment. It was as if they, this time between them, had always been, only waiting for the perfect moment to expose itself.
Chad walked toward Simone as she stood framed in the moonlit window. Watching him come to her, she imagined him as the dark knight, the virile seducer. Her mouth curved into a smile of invitation.
His right hand, smooth for a man, reached out and tenderly stroked her cheek, cupping her chin, easing her face closer.
A warm breath was all that stood between them and their first kiss, as Simone raised her mouth to taste his. Sweet, shocking sensation rippled through her limbs, the energy, the heat of it pooling in her center. A lightness of being, that’s what she thought through the waves of euphoria.
Chad pressed the full length of his body against her. Every line, every curve, every dip was defined, one fitting within the other. She felt the distinctive pulse of his erection swell against her stomach. She wanted him lower, needed to feel him between the heat of her thighs. But she couldn’t rush this. Tonight was to be taken slow, savored and sipped like a fine wine.
So they toyed with each other, from tender nibbles on exposed necks, to long deep kisses lavished over yearning mouths, to hungry fingers seeking warm flesh. They taunted and played, laughed, sighed and groaned, danced against the moonlight, their beautiful naked bodies gleaming like polished wood sculpture in its glow.
When Chad cradled her body against him and gazed down into her eyes, Simone was certain, at that instant, he had more than entered her body, he’d penetrated her soul, the only thing separating them was the thin sheath of latex.
The exquisite shock of it set her entire being ablaze. She became sensation, gratefully submitting to the push and pull of him. But Chad wouldn’t give himself over that easily.
He slowed his dance inside her until he barely moved at all. The thrust was almost indiscernible, which made it all the more maddening. She felt her walls clamp around the length and breadth of him, demanding that he fill her, complete her, satisfy her.
In turn, she raised and lowered her hips in a slow, sensual spiral and reveled in her power when he groaned in sublime agony, trapped within the deep, wet hollow that made him shudder, advance and retreat, and urge in a hot whisper to give him more of the same.
But still Chad refused to succumb to the temptation that writhed beneath him. Her hot passion spurred him on. He wanted to hear her moans, her sighs, the sound of his name on her lips. And he made it happen over and over again as he dipped deep and long into the honey, then pulled away until only the tip touched her throbbing outer flesh.
Her body trembled, heated. Tighter she gripped her thighs around his waist to capture the pleasure that rose at a blinding speed within her.
“Let go,” he whispered in her ear. “Let go and come to me.” He cupped her breasts completely, capturing her peaked nipples between his fingers. And the heat began, starting at her toes, winding its way along the lines of her strong legs, settling for a moment in her hips, rising to the pit of her stomach, then returning to that hot, dark, damp place where she held him, exploding in a torrent of white light and pulsing, shuddering release.
Chad held her there, suspended, wouldn’t let her go, turned up the heat with a deeper thrust, pulled her closer, sealed their bodies, letting his empty completely into hers.
For several moments they lay there, locked together in the final throes of aftershock, the tiny tremors continuing, their breath pushed out in deep, hot riffs.
And they kissed, touched, slept, still connected.
The blare of a car horn jerked Simone out of her daydream. Blinking quickly and shaking her head to clear the vision, she eased across the intersection.
Her heart was racing and she could feel a distinct wetness between her legs.
Chad.
Sure, there’d been other men in the four years since that single night. Some momentarily took her mind away from him, but generally not for long.
Chad.
Tonight would be the first time she’d seen him since she watched him board the plane to Uganda. Four years. Things changed. People changed. Had he? Had they?
No strings, remember?
Chapter 3
Vaughn wearily changed out of her fitted navy blue suit and hung it among the rows of other tailored suits and dresses that filled her walk-in closet. She pulled in a long breath. Somehow, she’d have to ease into the next gear and raise her energy level if she expected to play hostess.
Her day at her congressional office had been grueling at best. The phone rang nonstop from seven-thirty that morning with calls from reporters, her constituents and colleagues, all wanting to know how she felt about the latest instance of police shootings—and most of all, her feelings about her stepdaughter Samantha’s caustic statements.
Her head throbbed as she padded barefoot to the bathroom and popped two extra-strength Tylenols without water.
She gazed intently at her reflection in the goldframed mirror. An attractive, deep brown face confronted her. She could see the fatigue in the subtle puffiness around her almond-shaped eyes and the tension that drew a deepening furrow between her tapered brows. Vaughn slowly turned away at the sound of the bedroom door opening, then closing.
A sudden, familiar warmth inched its way through her body and a smile eased across her full mouth.
She stepped out of the bathroom. The expectation and excitement she felt the first night she’d met Justin Montgomery still made her heart race six years later.
The instant he saw her, all the tension melted from his body and he remembered all over again why he’d married her. Vaughn was everything he’d wanted in a woman. She was intelligent, sensitive, determined, beautiful and the most incredible lover. Even in her forties, Vaughn Hamilton-Montgomery could give these young girls a run for their money.
“Hey, baby,” he crooned, quickly wishing that the rest of the night would be theirs and not shared with the arrivals of their daughters and Chad. But that was selfish. Unfortunately, when it came to Vaughn, that was the way he felt.
Vaughn crossed the carpeted floor and became enveloped in Justin’s strong embrace. Instinctively, his long fingers gently kneaded the taut muscles of her back, then her neck.
Languidly, she lifted her chin, her rich mouth eagerly awaiting to be baptized by his.
The kiss was slow and sweet, the tenderness born from years of knowing each other flowed through them.
Marriage was bliss, Vaughn thought, feeling her body warm to a sizzle, and she wouldn’t change a thing—except the loss of their baby. For that she would always blame herself—her drive and her ambition—the catalysts for her marriage. She’d known how much Justin wanted a child between them, and she’d deprived him as surely as if she’d told him no. And now it was too late, she was sure. They’d made love without protection for all the years of their marriage—and nothing.
She held him tighter, lingered over the kiss a bit longer. Every day, for the rest of their life together, she would make it up to him. That was a promise she had no intention of breaking.
Justin, with a groan deep in his throat, reluctantly moved away. He gazed down into her eyes.
“You look tired, babe.” He brushed her shoulder-length hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Rough day, huh?”
Vaughn released a heavy sigh. “That’s putting it mildly. It was totally draining.” She took a seat at her dressing table, crossed her ankles and swiveled the chair to face Justin. “There’s going to be trouble, Justin.”
He slowly nodded and lowered his muscular frame onto the edge of the bed. “I know. And it looks as if our daughters are going to be right in the front of the line.”
Vaughn pressed her lips together. “You know they’re both right. Things have gotten totally out of control. Not just here, but across the country.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and shivered. “It’s terrifying, especially for black males.”
“Believe me, I agree one hundred percent. But I guess I’m just like every other parent—why my children?” He chuckled derisively.
“I know. But I’m proud of both of them. They have the kind of values and vision that’s been lost these past generations. After the sixties, we became complacent, Justin, simply because we could drink at water fountains, sit where we wanted on a bus or in a diner, and move into neighborhoods we’d been banned from.”
“Legally mandated integration was just a Band-Aid for what really ails this country. Racism,” Justin added. “The Band-Aid covered the sore for a while, but now the decay is oozing out of the sides. The hate is still festering underneath.”
“I’m willing to do whatever is needed to support them on the congressional floor, or in the street,” Vaughn said, the fire underscoring her words.
“And so am I.”
They held each other with just a look, their commitment to themselves and their children needing no more words.
Justin pushed out a breath, and slapped his palms on his thighs. “So—what time is this shindig?”
“Nine.”
Justin checked his watch. “I promised Chad I’d pick him up at the airport. His plane lands at seven.”
Vaughn rose and gently kissed his lips. “Go take a quick shower and change. You don’t want to rush.”
Justin grinned. “Yes, dear.”
She playfully swatted his arm. “I’ll go see what Dottie planned for dinner, while you’re in the bath.”
Dorothy Beamer had been hired during Vaughn’s abbreviated pregnancy to help around the house and look after Vaughn. Dottie was more than just hired help, she was her friend. When Vaughn lost the baby, Dottie insisted on staying, and on nights like this one, Vaughn was glad for Dottie’s comforting presence.
Moments later she heard the rush of the shower as she made her way downstairs. She had a good life, she mused upon entering the high-tech kitchen. She had a great career, a fabulous husband, wonderful children and enduring friendships. Yet she couldn’t help but feel that the foundation of it all was shifting somehow, about to change. Possibly forever.
Chapter 4
Samantha pulled her candy-apple red Mustang convertible behind her sister’s Mazda just as Simone was cutting her engine. She picked up her purse and briefcase from the passenger seat and slid out of the car in concert with Simone.
The locks on both vehicles beeped simultaneously, sounding in an uncanny harmony, and the two strikinglooking young women laughed in unison.
“Hey, sis,” Samantha greeted, her wide mouth blooming into a smile. She strutted toward her sister, her sneakered feet moving soundlessly across the pavement.
Simone took in her stepsister’s carefree attire and casual attitude, both more than adequately camouflaging the keen mind and dancer’s body. Samantha Montgomery was probably one of the most powerful women in the post–civil rights movement era. At first glance, the unknowing would mistake her ingenue appearance for the actions and mannerisms of a young college coed. That was the first mistake, to underestimate her, to misjudge her by her looks. Simone always believed that her cunning sister should have gone into politics herself—made a run for public office. But Samantha insisted she’d rather fight in the trenches than from the air where you couldn’t make out your target.
“Hey, girl,” Simone greeted in return, planting a kiss on Samantha’s cheek.
“I thought I’d see your name smeared all over the papers today along with mine,” Samantha teased, slipping her arm around Simone’s slender waist as they walked toward the house. Samantha truly admired her sister and her ability to contend with all the bureaucratic bullshit and still get the job done despite the odds against her. She definitely had her mother’s warrior spirit, Samantha mused. When it came to dealing the political deck of cards, Vaughn and Simone were at the top of their game.
“I got honorable mention,” Simone joked. “I’m sure they’ll get to me before the week is over.”
Samantha tipped her head toward her sister. “Not to change the subject, but isn’t that Dad’s car?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So he must have already picked Chad up from the airport. Wasn’t his flight due in at seven?”
Simone’s pulse began to throb at her temple. Her throat was suddenly dry. She swallowed. “Yeah, I think so,” she finally uttered, trying to stay calm.
Samantha beamed. “I can’t wait to see him.” She walked faster toward the front door, nearly dragging Simone in the process.
Suddenly, what Simone really wanted to do was run back to her car, turn on the engine and speed away. For weeks, right up until a few minutes ago, she’d been living for this moment, acting it out in her head, rehearsing what she would say, how she would smile and respond when he kissed her cheek.
Samantha stuck her spare key in the door and turned the knob. Simone froze. Samantha turned her head toward her and frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Simone blinked. Her smile flickered like a fading light bulb around the edges of her mouth. She shook her head briskly, the sleek, blunt-cut hairstyle rippling past her cheeks. “Thought I forgot something,” she lied smoothly and wished she hadn’t. Instead, she wished she could tell Sam about the butterflies that were rampaging around in her stomach, or the hot and cold flashes that had taken over her body. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. In all this time, she’d never said a word to anyone about that night. Not a word. It was all she had left of him after his plane soared away—her dream and her fantasy—and she hadn’t wanted to share it with anyone, not even with her sister.
So, here she was, locked in place in front of her parents’ house, her heart racing, her palms sweating, and the best explanation she could come up with was she thought she forgot something.
Simone put on her best smile, slipped her arm through her sister’s and crossed the threshold. Hey, this was the millennium. No promises. No strings.
Justin rose from his relaxed position on the couch when Simone and Samantha entered the living room.
“There you two are.”
Simone’s eyes quickly took in the very classy decor of her parents’ home, with its gleaming hardwood floors, stylish high-arching ceilings, working fireplace and perfect combination of carefully selected antique furniture. Chad was nowhere among the splendor.
“Hi, Dad.” Samantha kissed his cheek and went straight to the bar, mixed herself a short screwdriver and took a quick sip before Simone left Justin’s embrace.
“Where is our guest of honor?” Simone dared ask.
“In the spare room, changing. He should be out in a minute.”
Samantha sauntered over with her drink and took a seat on the paisley-patterned chaise lounge. “Ahhh, that feels good,” she sighed, stretching out her long legs. She shut her eyes. “Any more heat from the other night, Dad?” she asked, referring to possible fallout from the protest.
“You need to talk to your mother about that. Her office was bombarded with calls all day.”
Simone and Samantha groaned in harmony. Hearing their father blast them out was one thing, but their mother was a different story. She was merciless. When angry, she was not one to pull her punches.
“You two should groan,” Vaughn said, whisking into the room with the same vitality that captivated her constituents. Gone was the woman who was bone-tired and deeply worried about her daughters. In her place was a charming, charismatic hostess who looked poised, relaxed and revived, as if she’d just gotten up from a nap.
Vaughn crossed the room, greeting each daughter with a warm kiss and a hug. “But we’ll put all of that aside for the time being and just enjoy the evening. Dottie fixed a great meal and my goal tonight is to relax with my family.”
“Sounds good to me,” Samantha said with relief.
“I’m going to see if Dottie wants me to bring anything out,” Simone offered, pushing herself up from the couch.
Justin turned on the stereo and the sweet serenade of Sarah Vaughan singing “My Man” followed her down the foyer to the kitchen.
When she entered, everything seemed to stand still. He had his back turned to her, unaware of her presence as he was wrapped in animated conversation with Dottie.
“You sure ’ave been missed,” Dottie was saying in her lilting Jamaican accent.
Chad laughed lightly. “It feels good to be back, Dottie, it really does,” he uttered in earnest. He clapped his palms on the countertop and pushed up from the stool. “I guess I’d better join my welcome-home party.”
